To zucchini or not to zucchini?

I am faced with a conundrum. A query, a question an insurmountable mountain of doubt and indecision. Because I love love LOVE zucchini flowers, predictably stuffed with goat curd and fried in a crispy coating, a classic combination that will never grow naff or tired in my eyes. But if I eat them now I won't experience the satisfaction of a full-grown, adult-sized zucchini. No prize winning, beribboned behemoths to show at the fair. No green-tinged frittata or ratatouille at the height of summer. Nothing with which to assuage my latent penis-envy. And besides, it feels a little bit like eating a baby, especially when you've witnessed the tender little shoots first poke their soft little heads through the soil. You feel like a cannibal midwife, your hideous gaping maw salivating over succulent flesh. Nightmarish stuff! 

So I daily count my intended victims, waiting for the day they number enough for a meal. And they sleep innocent of my plotting, beneath their shady leaves, on their cosy beds of mulch. 

Happily, should I hesitate long enough, the decision will be taken out of my hands as my vulnerable little pups enter adulthood. Like Humbert Humbert losing his lust for a grown up Lolita, suddenly a delectable flower will be nothing more than soggy green veg.

An oven full of naughty

Call me crazy, but at the moment I am experimenting with a diet free of sugar, wheat and dairy. So what should I choose to make but cheesecake? It could have been worse, I was contemplating tiramisu and I'm off coffee as well. Why exactly I should choose to restrict my diet so aggressively is anyone's guess. Perhaps a need for order and control in a seemingly chaotic and violently random universe. Anyone else feel an overwhelming need to organise their underwear draw? OCD aside, an occasional descent into loss of control is healthy and normal, that's why nothing could stop me from licking the bowl to my heart's content.

This cheesecake is of the baked variety and the ricotta gives it an unexpected lightness. It is not too sweet and the salted butter in the crumbly biscuit base adds to the slightly savoury quality. I am serving it with sliced strawberries macerated for about an hour in balsamic vinegar and a little sugar. Stopping at just once slice is sure to be a challenge, that's why I'm getting the damn thing out of the house as quickly as possible. 

Baked Ricotta Cheesecake

Recipe adapted from Breakfast Lunch Tea, Rose Bakery

butter, for greasing

800g ricotta

200g cream cheese

2/3 cup caster sugar

grated zest and juice 2 lemons

pinch ground cinnamon

5 eggs

1 egg yolk

200ml pouring cream

180g digestive biscuits

60g melted butter

pinch ground cinnamon

Preheat oven to 180°C

Butter a 25cm springform tin and line with baking paper on bottom and sides.

To make the base process biscuits, butter and cinnamon in a food processor until crumbs. Press onto base of tin.

Mix ingredients for filling together in the following order, mixing well after each addition: cheeses, sugar, lemon zest and juice, cinnamon, eggs and yolk, cream and flour. 

Pour into tin over biscuit base. Bake about 45mins or until just set, not browned but just beginning to puff up. Remove from oven and cool in tin before taking out.

Nourishing Sunday

There is nothing I want more at the close of a weekend, whether I have been working or relaxing, than a soothing, nourishing meal. Something I can cook in a jiffy with little to no thought or effort. That makes me feel like I am a good girl regardless of where my weekend has taken me. A Sunday night clean slate. It used to be pho or chicken and corn soup - made with a box of stock and a can of creamed corn! Lately however, I can't get enough of this recipe adapted from the Gourmet Traveller Slow Food Cookbook. There is something so comforting about the flavour of miso and the little chewy grains of barley, contrasting beautifully with the silky tofu. If you can't be bothered or can't seem to remember to soak the barley overnight, just give it a 10min boil before starting the braise, to par cook it.

Pumpkin, pearl barley and miso braise

2 tbsp vegetable oil

1/2  small Jap pumpkin, cut into 2cm wedges

1 cup pearl barley, soaked overnight in cold water, drained

1L chicken stock

1 tbsp mirin

1 tbsp soy sauce

1 tbsp rice wine vinegar

1 heaped tbsp shiro miso

300g silken tofu, cut into 2cm cubes

4 spring onions, cut into 4cm lengths

1 sheet nori

Combine stock, mirin, soy, vinegar and miso in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer, whisking to dissolve miso.

Heat oil in a large heavy based casserole and brown pumpkin in batches. Return to pan and add barley and stock mixture. Simmer for 25-30 mins or until pumpkin is tender.

Add onion and tofu and simmer until tofu is warm.

Serve hot, garnish with crumbled, toasted nori.

Golden Granola

This is the granola that has cured my breakfast aversion. Not that I ever had anything against the 11 o'clock weekend brunch kind of affair. It was more specifically a cereal aversion, the midweek 'must eat something before running out the door' kind of breakfast that was not my cup of tea. In that case, a cup of tea was more my cup of tea. As a child I would sneakily rinse a clean bowl and spoon to fool (not very successfully) my parents into thinking I'd broken my fast. For someone so into food it seems strange that I was so willing to forgo any chance to dine. Various health kicks as an adult failed to convince me of the merits of muesli, some of the blame at least must go to sultanas, which I find, I cannot quite say why, utterly revolting. Truth be told, I cannot think of anything worse than munching on a mouthful of dry, raw oats; I am not a cow and do not like the feeling of chewing my cud.

So I began making this muesli not for myself but for my boyfriend. The muesli I was buying for him was, apparently, delicious, and at about $8.00 a breakfast it would want to be! I thought I could do much better at a fraction of the cost. Once I had made it, filling the house with a delectable biscuity fug,  I found myself munching on handfuls of the stuff at random moments throughout the day. Giving in to the inevitable, I soon made it a integral part of my morning routine.

The quick oats may seem a strange addition. I discovered by accident, one day when I ran out of the regular, that the quick oats clump up with all the seeds and honey, forming crunchy little biscuity nuggets that improve the granola tenfold. You can really put any grains, seeds or nuts you like, granola is after all a very personal thing, we are all much too fragile and childlike in the morning to be challenged. I like to sometimes swap the macadamias for hazelnuts and when we go camping I add dried cranberries and peaches.

Granola

400g rolled oats

400g quick porridge oats

200g macadamia nuts

300g raw almonds

50g linseed

80g coconut flakes

60g pepitas

60g sunflower seeds

60g sesame seeds

60g poppy seeds

2 tsp cinnamon

1/2 cup apple juice

1/2 cup vegetable oil

1/2 cup honey

zest of one orange

Preheat oven to 180°C. Mix all dry ingredients together in a large bowl. 

Place juice, oil, honey and zest in a saucepan and heat gently until honey is melted. Pour over dry ingredients and mix well.

Spread evenly over 2 deep roasting trays and bake for 30-45mins or until evenly golden brown and crunchy. Stir  and rotate trays every 5 mins or so to prevent edges burning and to brown evenly. 

Cool and store in airtight jars for up to 2 weeks. Serve with natural yoghurt, milk and fresh fruit.

Cauliflower cheese

Oh Cauliflower, you prince of vegetables! Embraced tenderly with green tendrilly love by your gently   encircling leaves. How is it possible for a vegetable to taste so much like cheese? How is it possible for a vegetable that tastes like cheese to taste so good with cheese? Cauliflower cheese, cauliflower soup with cheese, cauliflower risotto....with cheese. Here I have paired this classic match with another likely couple, caulflower and almond. The almond meal crust recipe was borrowed from one of my favourite blogs of the moment, Roost - a simple life. It's super fragile but so worth it for the nutty crunch, and great if you are gluten intolerant. I served it with a simple herb salad dressed with a zesty red wine vinegar.

Roast cauliflower, goats cheese and sage tarts with an almond crust

1 1/2 cups almond meal

1/2 tsp salt

1 tbsp chopped sage

1/4 cup olive oil

1/4 cup grated parmesan

1 tbsp water

1 cauliflower, finely chopped

2 whole garlic cloves

olive oil

salt and pepper

10 sage leaves

3 eggs

1/4 cup goat yoghurt

1/4 cup grated parmesan

salt and pepper

40 g Meredith dairy goat cheese

In a bowl, combine first six ingredients and mix thoroughly. Press into 5 well-oiled mini tartlet pans. Place on an oven tray and bake at 180°C for about 20 mins or until lightly browned. Cool in the fridge for 20 mins then gently remove from cases, placing on a baking paper lined oven tray. 

Meanwhile, place cauliflower, sage and garlic in an oven tray. Drizzle over enough olive oil to coat lightly and season with salt and pepper. Mix well, spread out evenly and bake for about 30 mins or until  soft and beginning to colour. Remove from oven and cool slightly.

In a bowl, whisk together eggs, yoghurt, parmesan and salt and pepper to taste. Squeeze roasted garlic from skins and mash with the back of a fork. Add to egg mix with cooled cauliflower and mix well. Spoon into tart cases, mounding cauliflower up. Break feta into small pieces and scatter over tops of tarts. Return tarts to oven and bake at 160°C for about 15 mins or until egg is just set. Cool for about 15 mins to allow almond crust to firm-up. Serve at room temperature.

Bogan Nostalgia....

Lately I have been having a certain feeling about Apricot Chicken. This feeling is tinged somewhat with shame as a love of Apricot Chicken is undeniably bogan. But mostly the feeling is of nostalgia. Just as certain songs become associated with certain periods in your life, like the song you listened to on repeat for 3 days after that messy break-up, so do certain flavours. In my first year of uni I lived with a Mrs Fegan, an older lady who provided room and board for a ridiculously small fee but mostly for the company. Her cooking repertoire was straight from working class 1970s Australia, she was the kind of cook who thought Spag Bol was 'a little bit fancy'. Not that I was complaining, I am the last person who would ever refuse a good, crispy pork chop and creamy butter-rich mash. But my favourite meal was without a doubt her Apricot Chicken. It was always served with boiled rice in a classic brown pyrex casserole and I don't think it had many more ingredients than chicken and canned apricots. Yet somehow that taste will always be linked with that momentous time in my life.

I recently inherited my mother's old brown Le Creuset casserol that she has had for over 30 years, it has been crying out for a good Apricot Chicken cook-up. This version, adapted from my new favourite cookbook, Feasting by Karen Martini, is a world away from the plain old version of Mrs Fegan's.

2 tsp salt

2 tsp ground cumin

2 tsp ground coriander

2 tsp ground cinnamon

1 tsp freshly ground black pepper

2 tsp ground turmeric

2 tsp dried chilli flakes

1 free-range chicken, cut into 10 pieces

100ml olive oil

1 red onion, sliced

10cm knob ginger, cut into matchsticks

3 cloves garlic, sliced

2 green chilli, split

4 roma tomato, chopped

1 pinch saffron threads, soaked in a little hot water

2 sprigs marjoram, leaves picked

1/2 cup white wine

200g dried apricots

zest and juice of 1 lemon

2 tbsp honey

500ml chicken stock

1 handful pistachio kernels, plus extra to garnish

mint and coriander to garnish

steamed basmati rice and natural yoghurt to serve

Place salt, cumin, coriander, cinnamon, pepper, turmeric and chilli flakes in a large plastic bag with the chicken. Shake to coat.

Heat olive oil in heavy based pot and brown chicken on all sides. Remove from pan and set aside. Add onion, ginger, garlic and green chillies and cook until soft. Stir in the chopped tomato, soaked saffron and marjoram and cook until tomatoes are pulpy.

Add the wine and apricots and bring to simmer. Add stock, honey, lemon zest and juice and return chicken to pan. Add water to just cover if needed. Bring to simmer then cook, covered for about 10 mins. Uncover and cook another 15mins or so, until chicken is tender and sauce has thickened. Stir in pistachios, garnish with herbs and serve with steamed basmati rice and yoghurt.

To market, to market....

If you are anything like me, God forbid, you know that the only thing worth doing on a sunny Saturday morning is to take a trip down to the local farmers' market. The only thing more wonderful than the artisan produce is the chance to chat with the people who make it. There is no one as passionate about a cheese as the cheese-maker who stirred the curds, inspiring stuff for a cheese enthusiast such as myself. So, my morning's loot included a dense and nutty 100% rye loaf, half a smoked eel, a lump of ridiculously naughty triple cream brie (that according to said cheese-maker must be eaten with Champagne), a punnet of strawberries that tasted like REAL strawberries and these glorious baby carrots. 

I have been having quite the love affair with baby carrots lately, especially those of the purple variety. I've been eating them with braised rabbit, (because a creature that likes carrots so much must taste good with them), and as a very pretty addition to crudité. But my favourite is roasted whole, with good quality olive oil, flake salt, pepper and fennel seeds, until just starting to caramelise. Today I served them with braised Puy lentils and some of the smoked eel that I brought home from the market. 

A country style Christmas...

I know it's only October but already my heart hears the merry jingle of Christmas bells, bringing reminiscence of Christmas' past. Last Christmas we had a quiet family lunch under the trees. I love the contrast of the rustic and sophisticated; cool green grass between our bare toes, crystal flutes and silver cutlery clinking musically in our hands. Champagne on the lawn. As for our hungry tummies, a veritable seafood extravaganza of lobster, freshly shucked oysters, scallops seared on the BBQ and beautifully hued beetroot-cured ocean trout. And that just the first course! I can hardly wait 'till December.....

 

Java Jive

Oh glorious coffee, how I miss thee! 79 days, 7 hours and 33 minutes since last your creamy crema kissed my trembling lips. Not that I'm counting or anything. But seriously, how long can I go without coffee? It certainly is an exercise in self-control if nothing else. 

Apples for Jam

As far as I am concerned, there is no such thing as too much of a good thing. Last time I was faced with a glut of apples I did what any sensible person would do and got my jelly legs a dancin'. Beautiful golden apple jelly, glittering with flecks of fresh picked herbs. Some went to friends and family and the remainder went wonderfully, melted in the pan, with a juicy pork chop. It also makes a lovely substitute for mint sauce with lamb.

Apple & Garden Herb Jelly

makes about 9 x 300ml jars

6kg apples, chopped

3.5L water

zest of 2 lemons

large handful of herbs such as mint, parsley, tarragon, lemon balm, lemon verbena

Combine above ingredients and boil until pulpy. Strain overnight in a jelly bag or old pillowcase suspended over a large container. Discard solids and keep liquid.

juice of 2 lemons

strained apple juice

3.725 kg white sugar

Combine in a large saucepan and bring gently to boil. Stir to dissolve sugar and skim.

Bring to rolling boil and cook until it reaches setting point*. Stir frequently to prevent a skin forming and skim any solids that rise to the surface.

Cool about 20 mins then add two large handfuls of chopped herbs that include parsley, mint, tarragon and lemon verbena.

Decant into warm sterilised jars and seal.

* You can test for setting point by dropping some of the jelly mixture onto a plate that has been chilled in the freezer.  If the jelly holds the line when a finger is drawn through it it has reached setting point.

"Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?"

William Shakespeare  

High tea in the afternoon

These sunny spring afternoons make me feel nostalgic for simpler times. Jane Austen's world of tea and crumpets beneath the trees, a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves, the muted tinkle of a teaspoon gently stirring a porcelain cup. Dreamy pastels and lacy crinolines? Yes please! 

These are some photos of an afternoon tea I did for an 80th birthday. I wouldn't mind a high tea right now...

Radishes!

It's that time of year again, time to get the seeds in the ground as the earth warms gently in the spring sun. I never get over the excitement of that first tender little seedling pushing it's fragile tendrils through the dirt. And it's always the radishes that first courageously venture into the sunlight, blazing the trail for some of the slower veg. Good on you brave little radishes, welcome to the world baby girls!