tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86322456959493087432024-03-12T11:57:51.468+11:00Another Bloody Food BlogI. Blog. About. Food. Thereyago.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-79212612375367776462014-02-06T22:19:00.001+11:002014-02-06T22:32:06.179+11:00Kitchen Resolutions<div style="border: 0px; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'Droid Sans', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.428571em; margin-bottom: 0.714285em; padding: 0px;">
<span style="line-height: 1.428571em;">And so we find ourselves properly in the swing of 2014. Here in Australia we begin the year with terrifying heatwaves, politically incorrect clothing, boozy barbecues and the love-it-or-hate-it Hottest 100 playlist.</span></div>
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No contest - we're a country that knows how to burn things and party hard.<br />
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Many of us also start the year with hearts full of good intentions and minds backed by steely resolve. I will. I shall. I <i style="border: 0px; line-height: 1.428571em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">must.</i> This year, I became one of them. Because it's my year, dammit... and I don't just mean it in an aspirational Jerry-McGuire-ish fashion either.<br />
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I mean that it's ACTUALLY my year. According to the Chinese Zodiac, I'm a Horse - and 2014 is the Year of the Wooden Horse. I remember my mother owned a thick red zodiacal almanac which she referred to frequently, much like you'd check the weather or the traffic on your smartphone now. <br />
The almanac was kept in a long, low bookshelf in my playroom, which also house a number of toys and my collection of Malory Towers paperbacks. It's surface was also home to an Apple 11E, as well as our heavy black rotary telephone and the slide-lever address book. </div>
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As a child, I'd learned how to read quickly. With a natural inclination for words and letters, it didn't take long before I'd found myself poring intently through the red book too. <br />
My father is a Dragon; my mother a Sheep, my brother a Tiger and me, a Horse. Our zodiacal personalities were interwoven into our lives, just like we would <i style="border: 0px; line-height: 1.428571em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">never</i> drink iced water and <i style="border: 0px; line-height: 1.428571em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">always</i> take off our shoes before entering a house - a simple state of being.</div>
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To this day, the thought of riding a real, living, breathing, snorting, galloping horse remains nonsensical. It is not out of any special sense of respect or reverence for them; it is only that I can no more imagine riding a horse than I can imagine saddling up and riding another human. I am them, and they are me. </div>
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So. Let us pull back from memory and look to the present. These goals for 2014 are not complex; in the most earnest and human of ways, I am merely striving for clarity and focus, flavoured with a healthy dash of peace and quiet. You know, the whole '<a data-mce-href="http://zenhabits.net/doing/" href="http://zenhabits.net/doing/" shape="rect" style="border: 0px; color: #047ac6; line-height: 1.428571em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" target="_blank">chop wood, carry water</a>' thing.</div>
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The kitchen is a good place to start.</div>
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<b>1. Sharpen</b></div>
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One resolution fulfilled - my two cook's knives and paring knife have just come back from being professionally sharpened. Oh, the joy of a blade gliding through a lemon without resistance. As well as <a data-mce-href="http://lifehacker.com/5896693/use-a-sheet-of-paper-to-make-sure-your-knife-is-as-sharp-as-it-should-be" href="http://lifehacker.com/5896693/use-a-sheet-of-paper-to-make-sure-your-knife-is-as-sharp-as-it-should-be" shape="rect" style="border: 0px; color: #047ac6; line-height: 1.428571em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" target="_blank">being much safer to work with</a>, they are again a pleasure to use. <span style="line-height: 1.428571em;">If you reside in Melbourne get your knives to the <a href="http://www.chefsales.com.au/" target="_blank">London & American Supply Store</a> on Elizabeth Street quickish. I paid a small amount of money ($9.00 per chef's knife and they give you a discount voucher for next time, winner winner chicken dinner) for a great deal of steely, stabby happiness. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.428571em;">Actually, here's a tip: If you're feeling particularly grumpy or fed up, you know, in that cross, hormonal kind of way - don't get a $95.00 haircut, <i style="border: 0px; line-height: 1.428571em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">get your knives sharpened</i>. It's soooo good and much less expensive. I guarantee you will be blessed with an almost giddy feeling of smugness the next time you chop tomatoes.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2L0qkeN8QecN62z7oHkw9EL0XHpU0dicfU_FfJYA59fyN71RFShbnXenesa-87ln6Sds6MiSiEClsCtLi27eu9phWtT58wsitIUg2i2juZ38Z7E0Lr0RuOYBoP9010Glmly3C53qaZdiU/s1600/london_american.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2L0qkeN8QecN62z7oHkw9EL0XHpU0dicfU_FfJYA59fyN71RFShbnXenesa-87ln6Sds6MiSiEClsCtLi27eu9phWtT58wsitIUg2i2juZ38Z7E0Lr0RuOYBoP9010Glmly3C53qaZdiU/s1600/london_american.jpg" height="190" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>2. Cull</b></div>
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In every kitchen, there is always <i style="border: 0px; line-height: 1.428571em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">that</i> drawer. You know the one - with the gadgets and the whatsits and the dooverhickeys. Not all of them are necessary. I have deemed the strawberry-topped silicone cup lid holder essential and the icing pen (don't ask) non-essential. Obviously each household has it's own set of priorities, so pare accordingly. Hint: If you didn't use it in 2013...</div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.428571em;">3. Learn</b></div>
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Wine. Fermentation. Fresh-milk cheeses. These are three areas of interest I know nothing about.<br />
Therefore, a little education is no bad thing.</div>
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<b>4. Hold Fast</b></div>
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Stolen from a sailor's knuckles, this sentiment can also be applied to the kitchen. Know thyself and be resolute. Yes, I know Mason jars are ever-so-hip right now, and kale is here to stay. However, there is a fine line between widening one's repertoire and jumping on a bandwagon. </div>
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If a culinary happenstance sparks a light within, if it has been of benefit to your skills and ability, embrace it - nobody regrets their sous vide setup. <br />
There are some really <a data-mce-href="http://ruhlman.com/2013/08/friday-cocktail-hour-the-man-harrison/" href="http://ruhlman.com/2013/08/friday-cocktail-hour-the-man-harrison/" shape="rect" style="border: 0px; color: #047ac6; line-height: 1.428571em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" target="_blank">interesting</a>, <a data-mce-href="http://www.choice.com.au/blog/2013/september/buying-a-thermomix.aspx" href="http://www.choice.com.au/blog/2013/september/buying-a-thermomix.aspx" shape="rect" style="border: 0px; color: #047ac6; line-height: 1.428571em; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" target="_blank">innovative</a> things out there which are likely worth your effort, time and money.</div>
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Then there are trends. Those retro paper straws that end up disintegrating into your beverage. <br />
The overpriced macaron bought from the not-very-good cafe. The cronut.</div>
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What you bring into the the kitchen is a relationship, not a one-night stand... and I mean absolutely no disrespect to one-night stands.</div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.428571em;">And so the list ends on that somewhat ribald note. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.428571em;">Have a most excellent 2014. May your wit be fierce and your mettle indomitable.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-67938795290899931352013-12-28T10:08:00.000+11:002013-12-28T10:41:13.419+11:00KThxBai 2013No Christmas post - the reindeer has left the building. No Birthday post - that should have been in early October.<br />
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It's not because I don't love writing. It's not because I've stopped eating. It's just... 2013 was a rollercoaster. The kind that has you scrabbling in your seat, screaming in the wind and shaking afterwards, looking for a trashcan to heave your stomach contents into. <br />
Some parts were amazingly great, others not so. Some days were white Negronis, laughter and kind company. Some days were espressos in succession, rounded out with a menthol cigarette and a raggedy soul.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2nvonZrgfVW04B-a4jpV6wz3nIPnOB8ozdygZSu5aaUrMyKgNhqadyNaVVuhgr0ZVWIHlNE-DCd_kIIkPnu0MiRo5Aaz_5shjoyd5_TwcwmN9bQZY4WxqydwXZn1dNrhyphenhyphenR4QNndBfChyphenhyphenf/s1600/hanna-seweryn04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2nvonZrgfVW04B-a4jpV6wz3nIPnOB8ozdygZSu5aaUrMyKgNhqadyNaVVuhgr0ZVWIHlNE-DCd_kIIkPnu0MiRo5Aaz_5shjoyd5_TwcwmN9bQZY4WxqydwXZn1dNrhyphenhyphenR4QNndBfChyphenhyphenf/s320/hanna-seweryn04.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From photoseries "Be A Woman" by <a href="http://www.pageseparses.com/hanna-seweryn/byc-kobieta/" target="_blank">Hanna Seweryn</a></td></tr>
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But it's all learning though, isn't it? And there was <i>a lot</i> of that.<br />
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<b>Cookery</b><br />
Thanks to <a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/book/9780811876438?redirected=true&gclid=COakn_vBz7sCFU1fpQodVDYA7g" target="_blank">Ruhlman's Twenty</a>, I learned the art of fearless braising. Braised dishes used to be daunting challenges as I was convinced that specific recipes were required for lamb shanks, oxtail stew, osso bucco, etc. It's silly to think I'd panic, searching for the correct recipe to conduct what is essentially a wabi-sabi affair - perfection in imperfection. <br />
Once I read <a href="http://www.bookdepository.com/book/9780811876438?redirected=true&gclid=COakn_vBz7sCFU1fpQodVDYA7g" target="_blank">Twenty's</a> chapter on braising, it all made simple sense. Now I can cook a veal shin without getting a headache from reading four different cookbooks. Excellent.<br />
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<b>Booze</b><br />
You couldn't meet nicer people than the crew at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/The.Wigs.Cellar" target="_blank">The Wigs Cellars</a>. Their range of bitters alone is staggering.<br />
Wigs isn't just a bottle shop - it's an education. Even my buffoon's palate now knows when a scotch is peated and smoky and when a gin is floral, herbal or a little of both. I love you guys - and not just in an embarrassing drunk way either.</div>
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<b>Food With Friends</b></div>
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<li>Jon and Tessa's epic barbecues, where it's <i>not just meat and carbs</i>. Asparagus! Broccolini! Corn! I could have wept with joy. Never have I been so grateful for vegetables in someone else's home. </li>
<li>"This teh tarik is pretty good", Jo-Ann comments as she sits across from me at <a href="http://www.mamak.com.au/" target="_blank">Mamak</a>. A part of me can't believe she and Lidia are here - the last time we were all together was 18 years ago in Malaysia.<br />I can honestly say that if I'd been shot by some wise-ass, silencer-wielding, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sterling_Archer" target="_blank">black turtleneck-wearing secret agent assassin guy</a><i> right then </i>I would have died happy. <br />Note to self - 18 years is much too long.</li>
<li>Narn finally takes me to <a href="http://www.urbanspoon.com/r/71/1642840/restaurant/CBD/Seoul-Metro-Melbourne" target="_blank">Seoul Metro</a>. Under the innocuously named 'Rice Wine Cocktail' they have a blueberry and makkoli concoction which is as intriguing as it was delicious; I'm still trying to figure out what they put in it. Luckily, it comes in jugs. Taeyang's <a href="http://youtu.be/Ho1y-4mXIL0" target="_blank">Ringa Linga</a> plays in the background as we drink, eat crispy chicken and L.A. rib stew. A calm evening of good food and excellent company. </li>
<li>Speaking of cocktails, darlings Alex and Yvette took The Boyfriend and me out to <a href="http://www.urbanspoon.com/r/71/760246/restaurant/Melbourne/Borsch-Vodka-Tears-Prahran" target="_blank">Borsch, Vodka & Tears</a>. The food was amazing and the company sublime, but what wins the Honourable Mention is a drink named "Your Mother Was A Hamster and Your Father Smelt of Elderberries". <br />Python fans, <a href="http://borschvodkaandtears.com/menu/" target="_blank">I am not making this up</a>.</li>
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<b>The Restaurant As Neutral Zone (but not in a Trek way)</b><br />
This was a year which involved a lot of heavy discussion about relationships, careers, future directions and friends/family. A lot of these discussions took place in restaurants, fast food joints, cafés and drinking establishments. The Boyfriend and I have discovered that some things are just too heavy to take home with us and serious matters are better explored over food and drink. <br />
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Shout-outs go to <a href="http://www.pieface.com.au/" target="_blank">Pie Face</a> for it's cheerful anonymity and easily accessible napkins, <a href="http://www.gusto-barkly.com.au/" target="_blank">Gusto at Barkly</a> for it's consistency and proximity (I'm annoyed that I can't go there as often, they do lovely pizzas and pastas and I have become somewhat gluten intolerant) and <a href="http://www.urbanspoon.com/r/71/778151/restaurant/CBD/Gogo-Sushi-Melbourne" target="_blank">Gogo Sushi</a> for it's service and perfectly-sized nigiri which doesn't feel like you're trying to swallow a boat. Most nigiri in this town is just too big - it <i>is</i> supposed to be a one-bite matter after all.<br />
Also, anywhere which did a decent G&T and/or coffee. Let's just say this year, I drank a lot of gin and black coffee.<br />
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<b>In Other News</b><br />
The Age says that <a href="http://www.goodfood.com.au/good-food/eat-out/from-haute-chicken-to-smoky-barbecue-what-well-be-eating-in-2014-20131115-2xla0.html" target="_blank">Korean will be the 'next big thing' in 2014</a>.<br />
*howls with laughter*<br />
I'll just be over here making this week's <i>banchan</i> and prepping tonight's <i>soondubu jigae</i> with <a href="http://youtu.be/D20bTiJNQpQ" target="_blank">MFBTY</a> and <a href="http://youtu.be/9EIYWmRkeRE" target="_blank">Epik High</a> playing in the background... and no, I'm not Korean.</div>
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So that's it. Thank you for making it this far. I hope 2014 finds you in good health and happiness. </div>
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May your glass be full and your plate brimming with all good things.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-75388815620711991282013-10-13T21:54:00.000+11:002013-10-13T21:54:03.929+11:00The Buffet Cart At Century's EndDuring the my placement for the final year of my journalism degree, I stole food - regularly.<br />
It was the end of 1999 segueing into 2000 and my journalism placement was with a national news organisation in Malaysia. My father knew the Managing Editor and nepotism opens a lot of doors. <br />It was also where the family home was and I was still a citizen at the time, even though we'd all held permanent residency in Australia since the late 80's. <br />
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Press events were often held at smart hotels (the Hyatt was the best) and there was <i>always </i>a buffet. Danishes, curry puffs, eclairs, croquembouches, miniature fruit tarts and tiny sandwiches were just... there. People just ATE. Malaysia is food crazy, and there's no better way to entice the local press than with a generous spread.<br />
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Channel V held a three course lunch at an upmarket restaurant for press folks during the launch of an anti-drug campaign. It was incredibly fancy at the time, the thought of an entree, followed by mains, then gosh-golly <i>dessert </i>was mind-blowing. The cutlery was expensive and heavy, the napkins were linen and folded elegantly. Most people in the room were used to eating their meals family-style; all courses on the table at once, shared with others - this is the norm in South-East Asia. <br />But there was no truffling about here; this was serious, a proper meal worthy of the Anglosphere.<br />
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Perhaps they thought a serious issue warranted serious eating? Drugs are a big no-no in Malaysia. <br />Growing up, I remember that by the main road going into the city there was a prison, and on the outer prison wall there was a painting of hangman's noose with the word 'Dadah' splashed garishly across. 'Dadah' means 'illegal drugs' in Bahasa Melayu, so drugs = punishable by death.<br />
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Anyway, nobody really cared about stupid kids getting wasted and dying by capital punishment - sure, there was some high-falutin' ministerial guy who gave a speech and two smokin' hot VJ's, but nobody would have stayed if we hadn't been fed. <br />
I remember they served a pasta dish which incorporated seafood, and some lovely strawberry-chocolate thing for dessert. Speech? Sorry, I can't recall.<br />
<br />
The thing that struck me was that nobody, ever, asked any questions at these things. <br />
The drill was simple - go to press event (junket, conference, whatever). <br />
Arrive, greet your journalist buddies. <br />
Grab a plate, fill 'er up. Eat, chat amongst yourselves. Some official eventually announces the start and you sit down, settling in to listen to a bunch of talking heads telling you about a product you don't care about, a public figure you don't care about, or some worthy cause you vaguely pretend to care about by nodding your head at the appropriate intervals (your mouth is full, remember?).<br />
The talking heads eventually stop, and there would be Question Time.<br />
<br />
Silence.<br />
<br />
Hey, you grabbed a press kit at the door, so why bother? For your article (I use the word loosely here) you're just going to recycle the information that some PR schmuck so thoughtfully prepared earlier.<br />
<br />
More silence.<br />
<br />
No questions? Good.<br />
<br />
No questions = no problems. They were happy for us to keep eating.<br />
<br />
And so I ate and stole by the bagful. It was easy to grab a few extra pastries and sandwiches, wrap them in the thoughtfully provided napkins and shove them in my handbag. <br />I'd share the plunder with friends I'd made back at the office, the Economics Desk editor that became strangely fond of me, or the stringers and occasional cameraman who I travelled with. <br />We went everywhere in white vans. It was a lot of fun, eating, gossiping and smoking in the back. <br />We placed bets on whether or not <a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Y2k" target="_blank">Y2K</a> would be an actual pain in the ass and what <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abu_Sayyaf#2000" target="_blank">Abu Sayaaf</a> would do next.<br />
<br />
Not exactly <a href="http://www.empireonline.com/50greatestcomiccharacters/default.asp?c=44" target="_blank">Jenny Sparks</a> territory, but as far as shenanigans go, these were pretty good ones to farewell the last 100 years.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-87464228022850499012013-08-23T23:39:00.000+10:002013-11-06T21:17:25.845+11:00The No-BrainerYou've got one. I've got one. <br />
In fact, between us we might just have a few. <br />
If we sat down to chat about it (over a cup of tea and some fresh scones) we'd tally 'em up, realising that we've probably had more than just one or two. <br />
That one in your old neighbourhood. <br />
The other one near that place you used to work. <br />
Another where you used to hang with the old crew from high school/college/illegal street-racing.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Food replicators - the key to digestive democracy? /image from de.memory-alpha.org/ </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It's the saving grace on a Friday night - the answer which benignly presents itself when we are blessed/cursed by dear friends as The Person Who Chooses The Restaurant.<br />
<br />
Like Batman appearing when Gotham flicks on the Batsignal , the No-Brainer Dining Establishment is a proper superhero. The gastronomic version of the Little Black Dress, it is versatile, interesting (but not too strange) and totally reliable.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
My current NBDE is ShangDong MaMa in a little arcade off Melbourne's Bourke Street. <br />
Being regional Chinese, it's ethnic enough to flatter the most adventurous diner's unspoken need for gastro-credibility (are we, as a people, insecure down to our very forks?) yet serves a number of dishes which are safe for even the most constrained eater.<br />
<br />
Case in point.. no, wait... let's just cut to the chase and call this the tale of Jacqui and Jocelyn. <br />
I'd call it the Tale of Two Great Aussie Blondes, but Jacqui turned to the (dye) bottle a few years back and it's working great for her. So I've had to use their real names instead. <br />
<br />
Jacqui specifically likes to eat in places where a majority of the patrons do not share her genetic make-up. <br />
A dim sum restaurant full of Anglo-Australians? Nope. A spot down an alley full of not-white folks slurping Taiwanese beef noodles? Now <i>that's</i> where we're headed.<br />
Jacqui is a frequent visitor to Asia and can beat me in a chilli-eating contest hands down. She's actually better at Being Asian than I am. She owns a great collection of fake designer handbags, for starters...<br />
<br />
Anyhow - Jacqui likes ShangDong MaMa. <br />
It meets the 'there-are-loads-of -actual-Asians-eating-there' criteria. <br />
It meets the hipster-esque 'in-a-slightly-odd-location' criteria (it's not <i>on </i>Bourke Street, it's in an arcade <i>off </i>Bourke Street). <br />
It has comforting-yet-not-Anglo food (dumplings, it seems everyone in Melbourne loves dumplings) done interestingly/differently enough to be noteworthy (the fried dumplings are wrapped in a slightly unusual way). There are also plenty of challenging condiments for the brave - hot chillies and good-quality red vinegar are very well represented. <br />
<br />
This pleases the adventurous eater.<br />
<br />
Now we come to Jocelyn. Jocelyn is not a picky eater. She has a lap band. An actual Health Consideration, unlike the picky eaters who are claim to be "vegetarian" (but will eat chicken) or "coeliac" (but can't resist a slice of chocolate cake). <br />
I know actual vegetarians, coeliacs and people who can't be in the same room with a peanut and SHAME ON YOU BASTARD PICKY EATERS FOR CO-OPTING THEIR ACTUAL HEALTH CONDITIONS/LONG-HELD BELIEFS TO MERELY DISGUISE YOUR PATHETIC AND WOEFULLY INFANTILE PALATES. <br />
No wonder chefs don't take anyone seriously any more. "Allergies", my ass. It wouldn't be so bad if picky eaters didn't LIE about it, making the actual afflicted suffer even more. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9UOLyK1-zy-SkXHgi6uWiT7ukLU9FrKM04qr-HVRhjNST50K8b0NDWZlRKxNvEHYR5FeWu3L7ICdOV7ebYg4BuhP0sk8_YYmo9jYTf5qOfGWG-wF9lJGljeFFWzS_6Ye2TtiQ4v7EUtTH/s1600/lego_stark_tamealltherares.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9UOLyK1-zy-SkXHgi6uWiT7ukLU9FrKM04qr-HVRhjNST50K8b0NDWZlRKxNvEHYR5FeWu3L7ICdOV7ebYg4BuhP0sk8_YYmo9jYTf5qOfGWG-wF9lJGljeFFWzS_6Ye2TtiQ4v7EUtTH/s320/lego_stark_tamealltherares.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">/image from tamealltherares.tumblr.com/</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Sorry, that was a rant. <br />
<br />
Also, I'm sure the good people reading this blog would never do anything so sneaky or underhanded as lying to the chef due to sheer spinelessness, right? Right.<br />
<br />
Okay, now that's over...<br />
<br />
Jocelyn has a lap band, meaning that she has to be conscientious about what she eats. <br />
Chillies are out (because the burn just sits and doesn't go away) and so is a large plate of rich, fatty carbs/protein/anything (because it's just not possible). <br />
Luckily, she's open-minded about food and smart about her consumption. Interestingly, her criteria for ethnic restaurants is <i>exactly the opposite</i> of Jacqui's - she goes to places where people look like her i.e. predominantly Caucasian/Anglo-Australian. <br />
This does not meant she wants the watered-down version of tasty, authentic food - it means that she wants <i>food she can actually eat</i>. Meaning no chillies and no crazy spices.<br />
<br />
It's a pretty reasonable request.<br />
<br />
So whilst dining at ShanDong MaMa with Jocelyn and Other Awesome Folks Who Don't Eat Much Chinese Food, we get the dumplings (there's that not-Anglo-yet-familiar dichotomy again), the wonderfully named 'Daryl' noodles (our buddy Daryl was super-chuffed about this), the house fried rice and some stir-fried broccoli with garlic.<br />
It was all interesting, authentic, regional, delicious, non-greasy and non-spicy. It was also homely, comforting, easy to digest and the servings weren't stupidly large.<br />
<br />
This suited Jocelyn and Co. rather well.<br />
<br />
Plenty of white folks eat there. Along with plenty of Chinese, Italians, Greeks, Indians and other many-hued humans who appreciate good food.<br />
<br />
So how does ShangDong MaMa tick all the boxes? It does this by posessing a number of key elements shared by all great No Brainer Dining Establishments.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Ability to get what <i>you</i> want. You can eat family-style, or have your own dish. You can drown things in chillies... or not. You can have a Coke or winter melon tea. It's all good.</li>
<li>Getting the basics right. Even if it's just broccoli with garlic.</li>
<li>Any 'weird food' is weird for a reason. ShangDong MaMa do "Melbourne Dumplings" because the restaurant is located right in the middle of Melbourne and the dumplings use typically 'Melbourne' ingredients; it's an homage, not an overreach. <br />Also, lemon and parsley are surprisingly great ingredients that are perfect for dumplings.</li>
<li>It tastes like home. Maybe not your home, but somebody's. If the food is like how Mum/Grandma/Auntie makes it <i>somewhere in the world</i>, it's a winner.</li>
<li>It's centrally located, so you can do the 'let's meet there after work' thing.</li>
<li>It's clean. No greasy walls. Thank goodness.</li>
</ul>
<br />
I've come to realise that the No-Brainer Dining Establishment is way more necessary then a Little Black Dress. I mean, you can't <i>eat</i> an LBD. You can go to a funeral in one and maybe blue, burgundy or peach flatters you better anyway. <br />
But you can eat your heart out with family and friends at an NBDE.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.urbanspoon.com/r/71/1721113/restaurant/CBD/Shandong-Mama-Melbourne"><img alt="Shandong Mama on Urbanspoon" src="http://www.urbanspoon.com/b/link/1721113/biglink.gif" style="border: none; height: 146px; padding: 0px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<br />
<i>Do you have a favourite No-Brainer? What are your benchmarks for a good one? <br />Comment below! </i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-49717083282831540282013-07-28T19:53:00.000+10:002013-07-28T19:55:23.448+10:00The Practical Applications Of Forensic EatingSunlight fills the restaurant. It's one of those days that give hope for the potential spring to come; bright, crisp and sunny. It is still necessary to don extra layers (we Melbournians are very fond of cardigans and blazers) yet cheerful enough feel the sun's warmth on your face, your nose, the tops of your ears.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lunch is near it's end and today and I have dined solo. It is not a heavy meal - a slice of pig's head terrine accompanied by good bread and a host of small pickled items - cornichons, walnuts, piccalilli and some type of onion relish. </div>
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<a name='more'></a></div>
<div>
There is room for more.</div>
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<div>
Small sweet items are kept in an open wood cabinet by the coffee machine, farthest from my table. <br />
I ask the waitress about today's offerings, but can barely hear a word she says; the noise of the dining room combined with her speaking in the direction of the sweets cabinet is a disadvantage - my hearing is quite poor (blame loud gigs and clubs; the Foo Fighters and that Nick Cave gig dancing right next to a speaker) so the voice I'm engaging with needs to be facing towards me, not away. <br />
The words 'home-made quince', 'cupcakes' and 'cake' sneak their way through. <br />
A leap of faith is made - I tell the waitress I want "the quince thing". </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Not one of my more erudite moments.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It comes to the table and I stare at it. <br />
<br />
"The quince thing" turns out to be a small tart, no bigger than the base of a large coffee mug. A singular round shell, blind-baked then filled with what looks like ground almonds and baked again - a classic frangipane number. <br />
It is topped with two neat, fat slices of salmon-pink quince, one draped coquettishly over the other. The shortcrust pastry is a butterscotch colour, like Danish furniture made of vintage blonde wood. <br />
I tap the edges and the sound is thick yet hollow, pleasing. This is good pastry.<br />
I plunge the small dessert fork in and carve out my first bite. The almonds smell warm and toasty, their texture damp yet crumbly. It is sweet without being overwhelming, the pastry providing a firm biscuit-like crunch. A small piece of quince accompanies the next mouthful, it's deep and honeyed flavour accompanying the almonds perfectly.<br />
<br />
Each bite is careful, savoured, examined and enjoyed. There is also a lot of looking, poking and thinking. <br />
I am aware there are shades of creepily unnerving obsession in what I am doing; eating but not 'just eating'.<br />
However, perhaps it is not obsession, but determination. I am determined to take full pleasure in my meal and doing so is an act of selfish, wilful defiance. <br />
Because the days of enjoying a really good dessert in a calm, meditative fashion are numbered.<br />
There is always a smartphone, reminding you about emails, texts or some other violation of your time and attention. Or someone talking at you whilst you do your best to be interested, your brain cartwheeling to find a clever and relevant remark. Or the people at the next table have a child on the loose. Or the environment is full and noisy; all elbows and tight spaces and bouncing voices. <br />
<br />
There is always <i>something. </i>It's never a private moment just between you and the delicious tart/well-made coffee/artfully constructed sandwich/whatever-lovely-thing-it-is-you're-too-distracted-to-appreciate.<br />
<br />
And that, my friends, is a terrible shame.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-4853184029287526812013-06-29T19:01:00.000+10:002013-06-29T19:07:32.191+10:00Simple Cakes For Complex Times<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Ch-ch-change. Scary, no? Economies churn, technology overruns, we change jobs and cars, we acquire new smartphones, pets and even the occasional child. And don't even get me started on hair! <br />
Mine went from auburn to pillar-box red and is now black/purple - ombre shades of <a href="http://daekazu.deviantart.com/art/Maleficent-from-Sleeping-Beauty-315946623" target="_blank">Maleficent</a>.<br />
<br />
In the midst of madness, we find sanctuary in small things. Now, I use the word 'small' with some hesitation - 'small' does not infer meaninglessness or unimportance. Ever had your favourite tinned soup disappoint you with a "New, Improved Recipe!" or favourite nail polish discontinued? <br />
Sure, it's technically a small matter... but it still <i>feels </i>big. That kind of stuff stays with you.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
Here are two small things which are in fact, very big. The first is an apple cake I make every fortnight which serves as a simple, economical after-dinner treat. The recipe is nabbed from <a href="http://www.davidlebovitz.com/" target="_blank">David Lebovitz</a> who originally nabbed it from <a href="http://www.doriegreenspan.com/" target="_blank">Dorie Greenspan</a>. <br />
It is an extremely <i>forgiving</i> recipe with easily available ingredients. It can also withstand a surprising amount of tweaking and substitutions. No rum? Then raid the liquor cabinet - try bourbon, whiskey or port. If you don't have four apples, three will do. It's inexact nature is part of the charm. It is a lovely cake to make if you've had a harried, challenging day.<br />
<br />
The second thing is a recipe for a <i>gâteau aux noisettes</i> (hazelnut cake), as promised in my <a href="http://anotherbloodyfoodblog.blogspot.com.au/2013/06/quick-and-dirty-cake-post.html" target="_blank">previous post</a>. Although it is fancy-sounding and French - actually, both this and the apple cake are French - it is again very simple.
<br />
<br />
It is popular myth that during the height of the Revolution, Marie Antoinette uttered, "Qu'ils mangent de la brioche!" - now infamously translated as, "Let them eat cake!"<br />
Modern life is now a constant revolution (could you imagine in 2003 what 2013 would be like?) so yes, we shall eat cake. And lots of it.<br />
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<b><u>Simple French Apple Cake</u> (Serves 6-8)</b><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Simple French Apple Cake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>ingredients:</b><br />
<ul>
<li>115g flour</li>
<li>pinch of salt</li>
<li>3/4 teaspoon baking powder</li>
<li>4 apples, a mixture of varieties is nice. If your apples are very big (like we have here in Australia) then it's okay to use 3.</li>
<li>2 large eggs at room temperature</li>
<li>150g sugar</li>
<li>3 tablespoons rum. If unavailable, I've had good success with either bourbon, whiskey, or port. If you don't have any liquor, just increase the vanilla extract to 1 1/2 tablespoons.</li>
<li>1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract</li>
<li>115g butter (any type), melted and cooled to room temperature.*</li>
</ul>
<b><br /></b>
<b>to make the cake:</b><br />
<ol>
<li>Preheat oven to 180°C. Adjust your oven rack to the middle of the oven; this is where you'll be placing the cake.</li>
<li>Butter a 20cm circular springform pan, then line the bottom with baking paper. If you have a pan that's larger, that's okay too, but the cake will be flatter.</li>
<li>Peel and core the apples, them chop them into 3cm chunks. It doesn't have to be exact.</li>
<li>Whisk together the flour, salt and baking powder in a small bowl.</li>
<li>In a separate, larger bowl beat the eggs until foamy, then whisk in sugar, rum and vanilla extract.</li>
<li>Gently whisk in 1/2 the flour mixture into the egg mixture, then stir in 1/2 of the melted butter until just combined.</li>
<li>Repeat the above step with the remaining flour mixture and melted butter.</li>
<li>Once you have a smooth batter, fold in the apples until they are coated with batter. Scrape into the springform pan and smooth the top as best you can with a spatula. As long as it's generally even it will be fine, there's no need to be fussy - the apples will cook down and the batter will rise.**</li>
<li>If using a regular gas oven, bake at 180°C for 60 minutes, or until a knife inserted comes out clean.<br />If using a fan-forced or a super-duper-bells-n-whistles oven, check the cake after 45-50 minutes.</li>
<li>Once done, let the cake settle and cool in the pan for 20 minutes, then run a butter knife around the inner edge to loosen the cake from the sides of the pan if needed - sometimes the apples can stick. The cake does have a tendency to come away from the sides however, so this step is only marginally necessary.</li>
<li>Turn out from the pan, remove the baking paper and serve.</li>
</ol>
<div>
The cake is very moist and lovely by itself, however a little thick cream or ice-cream is a nice addition.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
It will keep for up to 3 days, covered. As it is so moist, it's best kept covered under a cake dome.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Notes:</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>* I melt the butter in a Pyrex measuring jug in the microwave, on High for 30 seconds. If the butter is too hot, just dunk the bottom of the jug into some cold water to cool.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>** At this stage, it will look like you've got more apple than batter. As long as the apples are coated, it's fine, there will be lots of lumpy apple bits.</i></div>
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<b><u>Gluten-Free<i> Gâteau Aux Noisettes </i>or Hazelnut Cake</u></b><b> (Serves 6-8) </b><br />
Adapted from Wivine De Stoop's 'The Pleasure of the Table'<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gâteau Aux Noisettes aka Hazelnut Cake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>ingredients:</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<ul>
<li>4 large eggs, separated</li>
<li>120g castor sugar</li>
<li>90g dark chocolate buttons.</li>
<li>120g unsalted butter, cut into cubes</li>
<li>pinch of salt</li>
<li>120g ground roasted hazelnuts, with skins if possible*</li>
</ul>
<br />
<b>to make the cake:</b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<ol>
<li>Preheat oven to 200°C. Butter a 20cm circular springform pan, then line the bottom with baking paper.</li>
<li>Melt the chocolate and butter together in a bain-marie, stir until smooth and combined. <br />Take the bowl containing the chocolate/butter mixture off the heat. Immerse the bottom of the bowl a sink containing some cold water so the mixture cools to room temperature. <br />Do not let the water come into contact with the mixture.<br />Alternatively, put the chocolate and butter together in a Pyrex jug and microwave on High for 45 seconds, then stir until smooth and combined. Then immerse the bottom of jug in cold water. Again, do not let the water come into contact with the mixture inside.</li>
<li>Beat the egg whites in a medium-sized bowl until firm peaks form. Set aside.</li>
<li>Beat the egg yolks and sugar together in a large bowl until pale, then whisk in the melted chocolate/butter. Whisk in the salt and ground hazelnuts, then fold in the beaten egg whites until just combined.</li>
<li>Spread the cake mixture into the prepared springform pan.</li>
<li>Place the pan in the oven and immediately turn the temperature down from 200°C to 180°C. <br />Bake for 30-35 minutes in a regular oven, or until a skewer inserted into the middle comes out clean. If the cake shows signs of browning too fast, cover the top of the pan with foil.</li>
<li>Once done, turn off the oven, open the oven door and let the cake settle and cool inside the oven for another 30 minutes.</li>
<li>Turn out from the pan, remove the baking paper and serve.</li>
</ol>
You could go a little crazy and decorate it with icing and coloured sugar like in the picture - that particular cake was made for a party.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
However, it is delicious plain and has a beautiful, dense, brownie-like texture. Store in an airtight container for up to 4 days... if it lasts that long ;-)</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>Note:</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>* It is much cheaper to buy whole roasted hazelnuts from a deli or nut shop and grind them yourself - just whizz them in a food processor until the texture resembles almond meal. Not sure about overseas, but buying ready-processed hazelnut meal from supermarkets in Australia can be expensive.</i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-32271814625075372882013-06-12T15:41:00.000+10:002013-06-13T23:25:17.095+10:00Quick And Dirty Cake PostThere's been quite a bit of upheaval going on here at Casa De Panda (yes, Panda is my nickname, or Miss Panda if you're feelin' all curtsy-ish and formal). The Supreme Overlord Of All He Surveys aka Manic The Cat got ill and died quite suddenly, and frankly I've been quite exhausted and unwell too. <br />
All my food intolerance seem to have acted up and I am currently surviving on rice, natto, scrambled eggs and black tea. I could kid myself and say I'm on a detox regime, but the truth is far more depressingly monastic. Tea is wonderful, but what would be even <i>more</i> wonderful would be a creamy hot chocolate laced with Baileys and cream. <br />
<br />
So this post is just mainly photos of cakes I baked last month. While I've provided links for the recipe and icing for the tres leches cake, I absolutely promise I'll provide the recipe for the Alladin Sane-iced <i>gâteau aux noisettes</i> in my next post. As for the black forest cake - it tasted delicious, but the recipe for it is quite temperamental and needs quite a bit of tweaking. <br />
May I suggest we just enjoy it with our eyes?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tres leches cake for Miss Izbit's 1st Birthday.</td></tr>
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A child's first birthday party is more for the parents and their adult friends than the actual child, don't you think? Cakes shaped like fairy princesses, Sesame Street characters or Darth Vader (yes, <a href="http://www.wilton.com/shapedpan/Darth-Vader-Pan" target="_blank">there is a mold</a>) come later in life, once the capacity for speech has developed and the child can haughtily point and declare "I want...!"<br />
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With this in mind, I set out to make a cake which tasted nice and could be simply decorated. <br />
The occasion called for a Crowd Pleaser. After doing a test bake, <a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2009/09/tres-leches-cake/" target="_blank">a tres leches cake using The Pioneer Woman's recipe </a>was declared The One. It was the embodiment of the word "pleasant" - Doris Day disguised as baked goods. As the cake would be sitting out for several hours, food safety was a concern, so I decided to use <a href="http://www.joepastry.com/2008/swiss_meringue_buttercream_smbc/" target="_blank">Joe Pastry's recipe for Swiss Meringue Buttercream</a> for the icing.<br />
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The attending crowd was suitably pleased. The Birthday Girl showed her appreciation by cramming a portion in her mouth, then in the face of another child. Success!<br />
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As lovely as the tres leches is, it is not for everyone. Heck, I confess, it was barely even for me. It is stabbed thoroughly then drowned even more thoroughly in a mix of cream, condensed milk and evaporated milk. So if you have issues with dairy or gluten (I have varying degrees of both) then it is Far Too Much To Handle. Although delicious, it is a One Serving Is Enough sort of cake.<br />
<br />
So enter this bad boy:<br />
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This <i>gâteau aux noisettes </i>(hazelnut cake) and I have been friends for a long, long time. My former boss uses it as her go-to dish for potluck occasions. New employees have been greeted by it's charms and it has graced plenty of morning teas. Truly, the office was a better place because of this cake. </div>
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There are only about 5 ingredients and the hazelnuts give it a beautiful flavour, it is truly a (gluten-free) delight. </div>
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Finally, Miss Tessa's Black Forest Birthday Cake. In terms of delight, there is no substitute for a luscious, layered cake. Juicy cherries meet whipped cream in chocolate cake, drizzled with cherry brandy. Holy foodporn, Batman! No wonder you feel a bit naughty eating it. <br />
As a child, Black Forest Cake was a very occasional treat, definitely in the realm of Grown-Up Food. And now I'm (technically) a grown-up with an oven, I can bake and eat it whatever I want, whenever the whim takes me.<br />
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With adulthood comes taxes. However, you also really <i>can</i> have your cake and eat it too. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-39947555836757543392013-06-05T23:00:00.000+10:002013-06-05T23:05:05.305+10:00Goodbye, Old Friend<i>Warning - Sad and probably depressing post ahead.</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't normally eat whole blocks of chocolate. <br />
I am just not that sort of person.</td></tr>
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<i><b><u>Tuesday, 4th June 2013</u></b></i><br />
<i><b><u><br /></u></b></i>
There is a book out there called "Love, Loss and What I Wore" by Ilene Beckerman. It was also turned into a play by Nora Ephron and her sister Delia Ephron.<br />
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I haven't read the book, or seen the play.<br />
<br />
But now I'm thinking about it because I recently read Stacy London's book, "The Truth About Style," where she referenced it. "The Truth About Style" is a recommended read - it's not nearly as fatuous as it sounds. I'd even argue that it's not even really much about clothes at all. <br />
It's memoir disguised as fashion flim-flammery.<br />
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Just like how this post isn't about... oh heck, I don't know even know what it <i>is</i> about.<br />
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<b>Love</b> - I love my cantankerous ginger cat. He's a temperamental one, but I love him anyway. <br />
We've been together for a long time. Longer than any lovers. Longer than most friends.<br />
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<b>Loss </b>- The vet today has informed me that he has cancer. The very advanced, aggressive kind. It has spread to his lungs. By the end of this week, he will be euthanased.<br />
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<b>What I Ate</b> - For breakfast: Two tablespoons of EasiYo natural yoghurt in a rice bowl. <br />
For lunch: Another two tablespoons of yoghurt, this time with a few cherries I had leftover from making cake, also with a drizzle of honey because I need the energy to get through this horrible day.<br />
For grief: Nearly all of a 100 gram block of Lindt (dark chocolate, orange).<br />
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<b>What The Cat Ate</b> - His name is Manic. He got that name from his first owner, who was a bit of a jerk. I am his third owner, but I've known and lived with him since he was a young cat. I missed out on his kittenhood, but we've lived in four houses together since 2001. <br />
He's always just... been there. Been here, with me somehow.<br />
Sorry. Ahem.<br />
Manic has been eating 'Hill's Prescription Diet, a/d Critical Care'. I don't know what the 'a/d' stands for. I know that the stuff in the can is a meat purée composed mainly of liver and boosted with vitamins, mushed so that it is easy for ailing, fragile animals to eat. <br />
The Boyfriend and I have been hand-feeding it to him, as he just can't do solids. Be assured, there is almost nothing more wretched and heart-crushing than singing the <a href="http://bigbangtheory.wikia.com/wiki/Soft_Kitty" target="_blank">Soft Kitty song</a> to your sick cat while hand-feeding him because he's too weak to eat by himself.<br />
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<b><i><u>Wednesday, 5th June 2013: Postscript</u></i></b><br />
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Last night, Manic slept at the end of our bed. By the morning, he had inched his way up, settling himself nearer to us. It would be the last time. <br />
His breathing had become laboured and heavy, his chest rising and falling in great heaves. He wasn't able to make it to the litter box. <br />
I called the vet - fortunately, they do home visits.<br />
When the vet came and administered the sedative, Manic looked up at me, rested his chin on my hand and started to purr. His eyes then shut softly, asleep. <br />
He was then given the euthanasia solution intravenously. In a moment, he was gone. <br />
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Manic the Cat died peacefully at home, at around 12:45 pm. He was settled and comfortable on his favourite blanket, facing the sun. <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-1839284902065074612013-05-31T15:21:00.000+10:002013-06-01T00:53:20.327+10:00Preserving One's Sanity - Some Essential ItemsSo, May was Cakegeddon. It was cake-tastic, cake-splosive, cake-apocolyptic, even. <br />
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So. Many. Damn. Cakes.<br />
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I logged some serious hours in the kitchen. My kitchen is small and not considered to be a "fun" place to hang out in. Productive, yes, rewarding, yes, enjoyable in a soul-fulfilling and satisfying manner - yes! But not "fun". While my house is old and pretty (fancy folks call it 'vintage'), it means that it's not built on an open plan, so the kitchen is a completely separate space. In modern kitchens, kids do their homework at the breakfast nook while Dad cooks bacon and watches football simultaneously.<br />
My house ain't built like that. At my house, if you're in the kitchen, you're <i>cooking</i>. <br />
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It can get a little crazy-making in there, especially if you're baking what feels like a thousand cakes (okay, four). So here are a few things I use to make kitchen life a little more streamlined and (I hate to say it) "fun".<br />
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<b>Oven Thermometer</b><br />
Even the best oven can lie, or tell fibs that throw you off. If you've done all the hard work of measuring, separating, mixing and other arm-busting activities, you don't want betrayal on the home stretch.<br />
Get an oven thermometer and (I learned this the hard way!) and <i>put it in the same spot where you'll be putting your baked goods</i>. Then simply move it using mitts or tongs and replace it with the item-to-be-baked.<br />
The bottom of my oven is an insanely different temperature than the middle. It took a Black Forest cake developing a ski slope-like protrusion to figure that one out. You could put a Matchbox car at the top and it would have rolled off with enough velocity to make a child giggle. I laugh about it now, but at the time...<br />
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<b>Happy Sounds - Music and Podcasts</b><br />
Dishes feel like drudgery, don't you think? Music and other pleasing noises makes it less so. Quality speakers are important here, especially now that <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loudness_war" target="_blank">music, especially in it's now-common digital form, regularly loses it's dynamic range</a>. An <a href="http://store.x-mini.com/" target="_blank">X-Mini</a> lives in my kitchen, which I plug my smartphone into for both tunes and podcasts. It is superb. The Boyfriend accidentally threw out my previous X-Mini (R.I.P little fella) during a merciless cleanout and I was aghast for weeks until a new one was procured. During that time I opted for no sound over bad sound - one just cannot go back. Plus, it is a Singaporean invention and in matters of engineering and excellence the Singaporeans are trustworthy bunch, nearly on par with the Germans.<br />
Moving along; podcasts I'd recommend are <a href="http://themoth.org/" target="_blank">The Moth</a> and <a href="http://www.foodisthenewrock.com/" target="_blank">Food Is The New Rock</a>. <a href="http://themoth.org/" target="_blank">The Moth</a> is wonderful - the basis of it is "True Stories Told Live". Some stories really do make you laugh out loud (like Ernesto Quiñonez's tale of "borrowing" people's dogs to make some extra cash), others are scarily relatable (like Adam Gopnik's "Rare Romance, Well-Done Marriage") and others are so sad, you almost can't stand it and want to hit Pause, except you cannot because if you did you would be committing the unsaintly crime of <i>interrupting</i> (Damien Echols' "Life After Death" will either make you cry or get angry. Or both). And I hate interrupters, don't you? Anyhow, the Moth is compelling, do check it out especially if you consider yourself a worldly and literary sort. <br />
<a href="http://www.foodisthenewrock.com/" target="_blank">Food Is The New Rock</a> is great, BUT can be a little hit-or-miss. It is best if you are either a huge music or food nerd to get quality bang for your auditory buck. It has some real gems, however. Did you know that Cheech Marin's nickname is an abbreviation of "chicharrón"? Or that he was taught how to make matzoh ball soup from the late, great and golden Estelle Getty? He is also a comfortable conversationalist and an immensely likeable, well-mannered chap. Marvellous.<br />
Anyway, playing something enjoyable while you cook or clean makes your culinary stronghold a merrier place. It is an undertaking of very little effort in return for much soul-pleasing reward.<br />
Music-wise, I have a bracing fondness for the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judgment_Night_(soundtrack)" target="_blank">Judgement Night soundtrack</a>, one of the first albums in the 90's to feature a mashup of rap and metal. Sonic Youth, Run DMC and Living Colour are just some of the great artists on there - this album is <i>always </i>on the playlist.<br />
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<b>Something To Hold Your Cookbook Up</b><br />
The <a href="http://www.arnottsgadgetman.com/book4.php" target="_blank">PageBoy</a> bookrest is small, cheap and good. It can take a tome like <a href="http://ruhlman.com/2011/09/ruhlmans-twenty-cookbook/" target="_blank">Ruhlman's Twenty</a>, or a little guy like <a href="http://lky.ph/" target="_blank">Lucky Peach</a>. There are some fancier ones out there, but I've tried a number of them with no luck. <br />
This one works.<br />
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<b>Comfortable Shoes</b><br />
I have a pair of basic, ancient Crocs. They are embarrassing to clap eyes on, but again, they just <i>work</i>. They provide support to my weary arches and my legs don't feel like one of Dante's circles after hours of standing. If not Crocs, then my trusty black Converse which I wear <i>everywhere</i>. On a side note: I always wear shoes in the kitchen. Sharp knives, toffee-making, meandering pets, you can't navigate all that potential for bloodshed without shoes.<br />
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<b>An Apron and Something To Control That Hair</b><br />
An apron is necessary because, well, what else am I going to wipe my flour-encrusted hands on? If the apron has a pocket it gives you extra style points, as it means you can clip a timer straight onto yourself like a kitchen McGyver, like You Mean Business. Which is really cool.<br />
Oh, and The Hair. For the love of all that's holy, <i>restrain the hair</i>. Shannon Bennett seems like a lovely chap and astounding chef, but his hair drives me nuts. Nathan from "Masterchef: The Professionals" also seemed like a great guy, but <i>my God the hair</i>. There was always just this one lock that would hang down and it was... unsettling.<br />
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There you have it - the items which I require in my kitchen which are not food and are not in the direct business of making food. <br />
<br />
Rather, they have the combined purpose of pulling me back from the brink of chaos. <br />
<br />
They provide order, comfort and reliability - just a few little things that no cook should be without. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-26822715636205378102013-05-14T19:10:00.000+10:002013-05-16T23:13:35.234+10:00Frozen Bread And Salty Yolks - The Cheapskates Guide To Groceries<div>
Like most people, I go food shopping once a week. That's when the big list gets made and when I know it's time to get more self-raising flour, eggs, bread or tomatoes. Sometimes though, stuff just <i>dies</i> mid-week. Got a bunch of spring onions? Most of 'em floppy by Wednesday. Ate half a baguette? The other half goes stale, languishing in the bread bin. NOOOooooo!</div>
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It took most of my adult life, but I finally became a Grocery Scrooge. No more shall my onions wilt! Yes, I shall freeze my perishable seafood! Yeah, I'm making it sound like a bigger deal than it really is, but the truth is I hate wasting food because it's money down the drain... or in the bin. <br />
Money that could be spent on shoes, <strike>illicit street drugs</strike> nail polish, or a can of Ortiz anchovies.</div>
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So here's what I do to get more food in my mouth, while saving some sweet sweet dirty cash.</div>
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<li><b><i>Italian Week = YES. Italo-Mexi-Thai-Grecian-Chinese Week = Aww hell NO.</i></b><br />I get that in the 21st century we home cooks are supposed to be as schmancy and cosmopolitan as James Bond's flight itinerary. We've Got Skills and can wield both a wok and paella pan with equal dexterity. Damn, has Marvel made a comicbook about us yet, <i>because they should</i>. The ability to cook food stemming from different cultures and regions is a fabulous undertaking. <br />However, I assure you there is no pressure to cook food from wildly different etymologies every night of the week. <br /><a name='more'></a>The great advantage of doing Italian Week, Spanish Week or Chinese Week is that many dishes within the cuisine share the same ingredients. <br />If you're doing South-East Asian, that bunch of lemongrass you've got can go into a curry, a meat marinade and a laksa. If you're doing British and have bought rosemary, you can use it to flavour gravies, add it to oven-baked vegetables and shove some inside a roasting chicken along with half a lemon. Yay, no more lonely leftover herbs dying in the fridge!<br />Cooking this way also helps if you are tired and time-poor. I personally don't have the energy to grind laksa spices <i>and</i> roll vine leaves for dolmades within a few days of each other. Devoting a week to one type of cuisine versus doing brand new things every day also makes the hunting-n-gathering process more streamlined. Think about it - if you require both matzoh meal and dried shrimp paste, that's two different speciality stores you'll have to hit. Plus, you'll have two non-complementary ingredients which go with nothing else. They'll take up space in your pantry, forever alone.<br />Another, more cerebral advantage is that you have a week to really get to know and understand the foundations of a particular cuisine, which begets those wonderful Zen-like moments of glorious-ass knowledge which makes you feel all smug and stuff.</li>
<li><b><i>Mr. Freeze Is Your Friend</i></b><br />I freeze bread, poultry and seafood. The steps I take are <i>a) Take it out of it's original packaging b) portion it up and c) wrap it really, really well</i>. <br />For a <b>baguette</b>, I slice it into thirds - that seems to be the portion size which works well for me and The Boyfriend. Each third is wrapped tightly in aluminium foil then popped in the freezer. An hour and a half before eating, I take what's needed and leave in on the bench to thaw. Or it can be taken straight from the freezer and placed in a hot oven (180°C or 350°F) for 5-10 minutes. <br />No microwaving! This dries the bread out and unless you're making croutons, dry bread = sad bread.<br />For shelled <b>prawns </b>and <b>scallops</b>, I take them out of their packaging. Then I pat them dry, removing excess water or ice (scallops, especially, are unhappy when drowned). They're then portioned up as needed and put in freezer bags. If I'm feeling especially virtuous, I'll even label them before putting them in the freezer. For more information about seafood storage, <a href="http://www.sydneyfishmarket.com.au/FISHline/tabid/60/Default.aspx" target="_blank">FISHline</a> is da bomb.</li>
<li><b><i>Save The Onion (The Green Ones, That Is)</i></b><br />Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, I used to buy a bunch of spring onions (or 'scallions' for you wacky Americans) each week. Then, no matter how many stir fries, banchan or rice dishes I made, I'd have a heap left over. The heap would then expire and have to be binned. Gah! It was so crazy-making! I don't care how cheap it is, if stuff ends up in the trash and not in my belly, I get so mad that my eyes start twitching funny and I start shaking my fist a lot. <br />Then one day, my spring onion woes were over. I found <a href="http://wendyinkk.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/how-to-keep-spring-onion-for-days-or.html" target="_blank"><b>this bloody ingenious method of keeping spring onions fresh</b></a>, courtesy of the glorious and wonderful <a href="http://www.wendyinkk.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">WendyinKK</a>. My life is now free from Onion Rage because I get to keep 'em crispy fresh for a whole damn fortnight. I dearly wish I could yell "Booyah!" right now like a sports fan, but that may be detrimental to whatever dignity I have left.</li>
<li><b><i>Eggs Are A Bit Special</i></b><br />Everyone has leftover egg whites or egg yolks. The whites can be frozen as is, no problem - just make sure that whatever you freeze them in is completely, utterly oil-free. If there is any oil present, the whites can't be used for meringues or pavlovas because they simply won't whisk up well.<br />They'll keep for up to 12 months, frozen. <br />Now, you <b>can</b> freeze yolks too, but they'll need a pinch of either salt or sugar beaten into them first. Otherwise, they turn into these weird, tough gelatinous balls. Trés icky. You may also want to label accordingly, because nobody wants salty crème caramel or a sweet omelette!<i> </i></li>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-9460839590646248192013-05-10T13:17:00.000+10:002013-05-10T13:17:05.462+10:00Beyond Existentialism, Now At Your Grocery Store <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-51223437746413666792013-05-08T22:43:00.006+10:002013-05-16T23:13:48.868+10:00Two Chicken SoupsThe weather here in Melbourne has turned properly autumnal. Summer is a memory, and the with the turning of the seasons come the usual rituals - woolly jumpers resurrected from the back of the wardrobe, sales of hot water bottles and electric blankets start to rise as the temperature drops and alas, the inevitable cold besmirches your body. Or it's the 'flu. Or some random virus that's going around.<br />
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So here are suggestions for two types of chicken soup, both pretty low-effort. Because no-one feels like cooking when they're sick (or at least, I don't) they're 'cheat' soups - so make sure you've got some powdered chicken stock or bouillon cubes in your pantry. <br />
I was pretty ill last week and trust me, you don't feel like doing much other than wrapping yourself in blankets and groaning a lot. Making soup from scratch is for healthy people. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3qvqKvnsEZiZibh8L2oAYbh6I2z-qyU1lWrDgCn5NbQxVtbAwQbclZKEPYHFlwzGiZhW42Qa3Hc8VkcGWtwjYogOdNTCl6wcb8qIeZLtSy-DStAh0-zFvD-p2HU0EWsajkIu-L55_Q-q_/s1600/loki_crushed_whale_noises.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3qvqKvnsEZiZibh8L2oAYbh6I2z-qyU1lWrDgCn5NbQxVtbAwQbclZKEPYHFlwzGiZhW42Qa3Hc8VkcGWtwjYogOdNTCl6wcb8qIeZLtSy-DStAh0-zFvD-p2HU0EWsajkIu-L55_Q-q_/s320/loki_crushed_whale_noises.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Animated GIF from <a href="http://nerdyworld.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Nerdy World</a></td></tr>
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<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<b><i>Seriously Low-Effort Soup</i></b><br />
You've dragged yourself into the office because you're a workaholic, or there's a project deadline which must be met and you're the only fool that can get the job done.<br />
<br />
You are The Person Who Can't Be Sick Right Now. Well, you are sick. Really sick. You're running a fever, sweating like a Tour de France competitor and you're blowing your nose or coughing in a way which makes your co-workers flee. Next to you, a zombie looks downright perky.<br />
<br />
Let's be frank - you <i>think </i>you're The Person Who Can't Be Sick Right Now, but you're really being That Jerk Who Shows Up At The Office To Show Off How Hard They Work Who Actually Spreads The Plague.<br />
<br />
No wonder your boss sends you home, you sanctimonious asshat. Plus, Gina from Accounts is going to be furious when she falls ill a day or two later. You'd better buy her a real fancy cocktail the next time after-work drinks roll around.<br />
<br />
Oh yeah, the soup. Since you are near death, this one's easy. Raid your pantry. Find some chicken stock - bouillon cubes or powder, it doesn't matter. Make stock according to package instructions (most often, it's a 1 cube or 1 teaspoon to 1 litre of water). <br />
Throw in some macaroni or other small pasta you've got hanging around. Try not to perish. Drink. Go lie the f**k down, take whatever pills your doctor has prescribed and try not to sneeze on anything.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Cheat's Chicken Soup</i></b><br />
You've called work to say you aren't coming in, because you feel like crap and you don't want to share your crap-making germs (you know how angry Gina can get). <br />
<br />
You've slept in a little and have woken up feeling sore and gross. You have to leave the house to get to the doctor anyway, so you may as well grab some stuff from the grocery store on the way back.<br />
<br />
You need; 1 already-roasted chicken, 1 brown onion, a stick or two of celery with leaves, a carrot, a bay leaf, 3-5 peppercorns, a handful of fresh parsley (stalks and all), 1 chicken bouillon cube or 1 teaspoon powdered chicken stock. Oh, and grab a loaf of white bread too.<br />
<br />
You will; Strip the roasted meat and skin from the chicken in a slow and meditative fashion. You're ill, remember? Take your time. Set aside.<br />
<br />
Put the stripped carcass and bones in a large pot - add enough water to cover. Add the bouillon cube or teaspoon of powdered stock. Roughly chop the onion. Add to the pot. Chop the celery into bite sized pieces, cut the carrots into bite-sized pieces. Roughly chop the parsley. Add these to the pot. <br />
<br />
Throw in the celery leaves, bay leaf, peppercorns and a damned good dash of salt and pepper.<br />
<br />
Bring to the boil with the pot lid closed, then turn the heat down to the a simmer, leaving the lid open just enough so the whole thing doesn't boil over. <br />
<br />
Set the timer for 1 hour. Make yourself a sandwich with some of the chicken meat you've set aside and that loaf of white bread. This will give you strength.<br />
<br />
Go watch The View. Or Ellen, or whatever dreck happens to occupy the world of daytime television.<br />
When the timer goes off, tend to the soup. Give it a taste. Too bland? Add more salt or stock powder, whatever's necessary. This ain't no dinner party. I've added fish sauce (only 1/4 teaspoon at a time, that stuff is potent) or light soy at times. <br />
Remember, you are ill and this is a judgement-free zone.<br />
<br />
Once you're happy with the way it tastes, turn off the heat. Grab a bowl. Put some chicken meat it in, ladle some soup on top. Put some carrot and celery pieces in. Eat.<br />
<br />
Like those Hallmark cards say, "Get Well Soon!"
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-78339865234687566092013-05-01T22:45:00.000+10:002013-05-16T23:14:04.268+10:00Science! The Little Cup That CouldIn this special volume-centric post of 'Science!' we take a look at a small wonder - the Little Plastic Cup that comes with your rice cooker.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8554/8698522480_c06a4e0da5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8554/8698522480_c06a4e0da5.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(L) Egg cup for comparison (R) The Little Plastic Rice Cup</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Some of you have kept it - wise move. Many folks toss it out along with the packaging, assuming it's a nondescript item which serves no purpose. You know how much rice you want, right? <br />
Plus, you've other measuring cups and can't possibly cram more stuff in the drawer of assorted gadgets, whotsits and geegaws that every kitchen has. <br />
<br />
Yeah, sure thing buddy.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Well, this cup isn't <i>like </i>the others. It's special. Using the metric system, the standard capacity of The Little Plastic Cup is 180 ml.<br />
180 ml corresponds to a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese_units_of_measurement" target="_blank">traditional Japanese unit of measurement</a> called a "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cup_(unit)#Japanese_cup" target="_blank">gō</a>". As rice cookers were originally a Japanese invention, it makes sense that a gō or 180 ml became the standard measure to be used in rice cookers. Although Japan now uses 200 ml as it's standard cup measure, the gō is still used today for rice and sake. <br />
<br />
In my own experience, I've found that dry medium-grained rice (which roughly doubles in volume when cooked) as measured out in The Little Plastic Cup provides just-right portions of rice to accompany the family-style Japanese, Chinese and Korean meals I love to cook. <br />
There's a good amount of rice in the bowl, yet enough room is left to add vegetables, fish or meat. <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8267/8698522826_45c0d38b48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="172" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8267/8698522826_45c0d38b48.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">180 ml of rice in the rice bowl (L) and The Little Plastic Rice Cup (R).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
While it is no sin to have leftovers - rice is very forgiving in this regard - I found that rice measured out in regular metric 250ml cups yielded amounts of rice which didn't work comfortably in a rice bowl. <br />
Eating rice out of pasta bowls (excluding risotto of course) feels odd - not to mention that it also makes you feel like a glutton. The worst is when you've still got lots of rice, but less of the other dishes to balance it out.<br />
Disaster!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8139/8698522338_e3d111bbba.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="170" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8139/8698522338_e3d111bbba.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">250 ml of rice in the rice bowl (L) and a Standard Metric Cup (R).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Also, when your rice cooker manual refers to a cup, it means <i><b>the cup that came with the cooker</b></i>, especially if you've purchased it from a manufacturer whose head offices are located in a country your Nan may have dubbed "the Orient". Don't be the fool who prides themselves on cooking 'authentically' who purchases a Zojirushi, Tiger or even a Panasonic - then idiotically throws the cup away.<br />
<br />
So cherish the glory which is The Little Plastic Cup. It's your rice cooker's best friend. <br />
It is the Milo to it's Otis, the GIR to it's Zim - and you wouldn't want to mess with that, right? Riiiiight.<br />
<br />
Oh, and if your gadget drawer is full - just store the cup inside the cooker when not in use. <br />
<br />
Small is good - respect the cup.
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-46361831983120134652013-04-26T18:06:00.001+10:002013-06-29T15:44:51.013+10:00An Offall-y Big Adventure Part 1 - Kidneys{This adventure is in two parts, documenting my experiences with types of offal I'd never cooked before. We start with kidneys, then move onto brains. Let's go!}<br />
<br />
The blonde behind the counter is grumpy. Kidneys were clearly an 'out-the-back' item, not in easy reach within the gleaming display cases of steaks, fillets and other more familiar, muscle-centric parts. <br />
"How many do you want?" she asks curtly.<br />
"Umm... 250 grams?" I reply.<br />
"How many would that be?"<br />
"I'm not sure... um... how big are they? They're lambs' kidneys, right?"<br />
She nods, making a vague motion with her hands indicating they're sized anywhere between a 20-cent coin and a <i>char siu bao</i>*.<br />
"I'll just, umm... just a good handful, thanks".<br />
<br />
She yells something to a chap out the back, he yells something back. I stand quietly, waiting for the kidneys, trying not to die of awkwardness. Eventually, a large brown parcel is proffered to me, feeling a lot more like 500 grams than the asked-for 250 grams. The price is $2.40. I hand over the money and skulk away, feeling confused and a little foolish.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>The lovely people who write cookbooks say you should forge a relationship with your meat person, your fish person and your vegetable person. In theory, this is a Good and Wise, Beneficial for Everyone Involved.<br />
In practise, it's actually a little challenging and significantly less bucolic. When you see a celebrity foodperson on TV sniffing a heirloom tomato whilst chatting away to a friendly apron-wearing providore, please understand that you are looking at a longed-for ideal, a glorified depiction of what perhaps <i>was</i>. It is not fluorescent-lit reality.<br />
<br />
The reality is that nobody really respects kidneys. They are cheap and probably always have been. They are best cooked either long and slow, which requires time, or really, really quickly, which requires skill. <br />
People who know what to do with them (the same demographic of people who are probably friends with their butcher) are probably either professional chefs or are aged over fifty. Or they have a mother tongue which isn't English. In any case, People Who Respect Kidneys are a small, ever-shrinking demographic. Interestingly, these are the very same people who are increasingly fetishised as foodie-ism continues to take over the known universe [ahem Fergus Henderson cough cough]. <br />
<br />
{sigh}<br />
<br />
Look, I know it's a rant, but I guess my point is I felt a little sadness when that brown parcel got handed to me, like it was not precious, not special. I wanted my Kidney Virginity to be popped in a loving and gentle fashion. I was, after all, making a surprise dinner for The Boyfriend of steak and kidney pie, something he loved eating as a child.<br />
<br />
Maybe the blonde was just having a bad day, probably because she has to deal with clueless idiots like me who have no expertise, no history. The reality is that me, and people like me are part of the problem.<br />
We like to think of ourselves as cultured, interested, daring. However, we are instead time-poor, skill-poor and have only a negligible connection to any sort of culinary heritage. We eat takeout pad thai while watching Masterchef. We look up new restaurants on Urbanspoon but feel uneasy calling our parents for cooking advice because the family situation is 'complicated'. <br />
We would like to be more friendly with the butcher, but the butcher is a merchant who operates in The Real World. The fact is that there is not much money to be made from dreams or memories, let alone the silly whims of a woman unfamiliar with variety meats.<br />
<br />
Oh. You'd probably like to know what happened to the kidneys. The brown parcel was brought home and put in the fridge, then unwrapped the next morning with great trepidation. Prior research on the Intertubes recounted various experiences, ranging from the awful (one woman bought them from WalMart and they smelled like poo! Wha..?!?!) to the encouraging-yet-cautionary (they may smell a bit barnyard-esque, or ammonia-ish, or 'earthy' but remember you're eating an endocrine organ which filters pee, so as long as it's fresh <i>just get over it already</i>).<br />
<br />
Warily, my hands tugged at the brown paper, pulling out a plastic bag beneath. Lips pursed and squinty-eyed, I plunged my hands into the wrapping. Would it be squishy, odd, unmanageable? Here goes nothing. <br />
<br />
My fingers found a firm lump of... something heart-shaped.<br />
<br />
Seriously, lambs' kidneys resemble hearts. Not heart-as-anatomical-organ but <i>hearts</i>, as in <i>Valentine</i>, Hallmark, love. They were cute! Each kidney was about 3-4 inches across and about an inch-and-a-half wide. They were a dark red/brown oxblood colour, the same not-really-red shade Peugot uses for it's pepper mills. The texture was smooth, firm and adorably chubby. <br />
<br />
Raising one towards my face, I sniffed cautiously and smelled... nothing. I cut one into half, removed the white inner core, then sliced it again. Frankly speaking I didn't know that the hell I was doing, so I decided that I'd cut each kidney into four equal-sized bits and hope for the best. After seasoning according to the recipe (which I will give below, patience, shh...) they were fried up along with chunks of steak. <br />
<br />
It was only then they released their odour. Sticking my nose over the sizzling pan, I was hit with a waft of deep, earthy tang. <i>There</i> is was. The smell. No wonder opinions were divided, no wonder it was kind of a big deal. That smell says a lot.<br />
<br />
So let's formulate a not-quite theory, a speculation, if you will. Kidneys are an indicator of the animal's health, it's life. Lambs' kidneys are inspected as part of a cursory health check of the animal, which is why whole kidneys are quite frequently sold with a cut or a gash made in them. In comparison, muscle is straightforward, inoffensive and uncomplicated. Muscle is as muscle does, be it loin, chop or roast. <br />
Organs, however, are the secret-keepers, the holders of the history and mystery within each animal. What did our dear little lambs eat? How were they kept? Were they happy or scared? See, this what the kidney knows, and when it hits the frypan with a sizzle the smell - <i>that smell</i> is a revelation, the tale of the animal's life unfolding before you. The uncensored version.<br />
<br />
There is actually no point in telling you what the kidneys I purchased smelled like, because yours will be different. Do know this - it will be distinct. It can either leave you intrigued and sniffing more to get to know it better, or it will be, well, gross and immediately off-putting. Once you're exposed to la grand odeur, your nose and your brain will conspire to let you know <i>right then</i> whether cooking them was a good idea... or not. <br />
<br />
In the end, mine smelled musky, grassy and very rich. Not quite petrichor**, but definitely brown and wet and full of life. After I finished the stew and seasoned it well, I dug a spoon into the mahogany depths and had a taste.<br />
<br />
"Hoargghy shhhz zaz gud." <br />
Or, "Holy s**t, that's good!" <br />
It was still very hot. Ever tried to talk with hot food in your mouth? No? Don't.<br />
<br />
The dinner went really well. I'd cut little hearts into the pastry top and although the parmesan shortcrust shrank alarmingly, the hearts kept their shape and the steak and kidney stew underneath was glorious. <br />
The Boyfriend informed me that the kidneys were perhaps cut a little too large for his liking, but that was only a minor quibble. To him, it tasted delicious and to me, that's the only thing that matters. <br />
<br />
We had leftovers the next day, which were even nicer.<br />
<br />
<i>A note before we begin: As mentioned above, the pastry I attempted was not successful. Savoury pastry is my nemesis, so I will <b><u>not be providing a recipe for pastry</u></b>. Research into other recipes suggests using frozen puff pastry for your pie top, which is an excellent idea. You could also go all out and make a full English steak and kidney pudding using a <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/wordofmouth/2012/mar/01/how-cook-perfect-steak-kidney-pudding" target="_blank">home-made suet crust</a>, in which case I tip my hat to you in admiration of your astonishing mad skillz and awesomeness. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The stew recipe below can be used for both.</i><br />
<br />
<b><u>Steak and Kidney Stew For A Pie - adapted from Nigella Lawson's 'How To Be A Domestic Goddess'</u> (Serves 6-8)</b><br />
<u><i><b><br /></b></i></u>
<b>ingredients:</b><br />
<ul>
<li>2 tablespoons flour</li>
<li>1 teaspoon English mustard powder</li>
<li>500g stewing beef, cut into 1-inch pieces</li>
<li>250g lambs' kidneys, chopped</li>
<li>30g butter</li>
<li>2 tablespoons olive oil</li>
<li>2 shallots, chopped</li>
<li>200g fresh shiitake mushrooms, quartered (you can also use portobello or field mushrooms)</li>
<li>150ml stout or dark ale</li>
<li>150ml beef stock</li>
<li>salt and pepper to taste</li>
</ul>
<b><br /></b>
<b>making the stew:</b><br />
<ol>
<li>Put flour, mustard powder, salt and pepper to season into a plastic bag; a large ziploc one would do nicely. Pop your beef and kidneys into the bag, seal it up and give it a good shake; you want a nice even coating of the seasoned flour on the beef and kidneys. </li>
<li>Heat the butter and oil in a casserole and brown the meat in batches, removing each batch to a dish. It's better to err on the side of small batches rather than large, as overcrowding the casserole can lead to the meat being stewed prematurely. If you get a nice brown crust on the edges of your meat, that's great!</li>
<li>Once you're done with the meat, fry up the shallots until softened slightly, then add the mushrooms. Continue frying, adding more oil if necessary. As you fry, the onion and mushrooms should pick up all the tasty brown bits the meat has left behind.</li>
<li>Put the meat back into the casserole and over a medium flame add the stock and stout. Bring it up to the boil and stir gently, scraping up any remaining floury bits from the bottom of the casserole.</li>
<li>Cover with a lid and put on the lowest simmer for 1 1/2 hours. If you own a simmer mat, now would be the time to use it. Check after an hour - if the stew is too liquid you can leave the lid slightly open so it evaporates down to your liking. </li>
<li>Once it's cooked, taste and adjust seasoning if needed. Put aside to cool.</li>
</ol>
<br />
* Chinese steamed pork bun.<br />
** The scent of rain on dry earth.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-11819938359600281242013-04-19T08:00:00.000+10:002013-04-19T08:00:06.430+10:00Watch Out, We Got A Badass Over HereSure, I might look like some small-time city gal, but ya know what? Life's for livin' dangerously, and I know what it's like to live on the edge.<br />
<br />
Why, just tonight The Boyfriend went out with his pals and I went crazeee, baby. <br />Got myself not one, but TWO lots of deep fried deliciousness - some veggie balls and a serve of confit duck spring rolls. Got 'em from Ebi Fine Food down there on Essex Street. Sure, they got the healthy stuff too, soba noodle salad, some real fresh fish, but tonight... I'm dangerous.<br />
I even got the "strange but good jap icy pole" which I ain't seen before. In this cold weather!<br />
No clue about the contents - could be green tea and grape Jell-o for all I know.<br />
<br />
Now, here's the kicker; I sat down in front of the teevee, then ate it all with my bare hands. Like a savage.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrKefU0tFT3ryQjWsArsXmYLD-NUoH1_NXaYSSBj9NlW62XCJKyC7HrEtesVOa5ujp_5wDOVRkVNrkzyjN8y396D4h-G9aSscXvOOJdZQnB37P0vKL9dXSKFDoTijeD8BJjNfCAe1qt2t/s1600/tough_guy_finger_snapping.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQrKefU0tFT3ryQjWsArsXmYLD-NUoH1_NXaYSSBj9NlW62XCJKyC7HrEtesVOa5ujp_5wDOVRkVNrkzyjN8y396D4h-G9aSscXvOOJdZQnB37P0vKL9dXSKFDoTijeD8BJjNfCAe1qt2t/s400/tough_guy_finger_snapping.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image from <a href="http://sensational-sexbot.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Sentient Machinery</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
That ain't the only thing I done. The list of crimes is long and deep. The kitchen police are gonna bust down my oven door and burn me in the crusts.<br />
<br />
There's a place for me in Hell's Kitchen somewhere...<br />
<a name='more'></a><b><br /></b>
<b>List of Charges - Pleading Guilty To The Following:</b><br />
<br />
Froze egg whites in a container which used to hold full-fat coconut cream... <i>and it's not even labelled</i>. <br />
<br />
Dipped cocktail-party prawns into some anonymous red sauce... <i>without asking what it was first</i>.<br />
<br />
Ate at a restaurant down an alleyway because the sign looked interesting... <i>didn't use smartphone to find a review.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Put thawed pastizzis in the oven which had been sitting on the bench... <i>when the instructions said "do not thaw before cooking"</i>.<br />
<br />
Grated some lemon rind for a carrot cake... <i>didn't wash the lemon .</i><br />
<br />
Disobeyed the 3-second rule... <i>left dropped chocolate on the floor for 5 whole seconds.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Is a 'foodie' living in Australia... <i>hates the term 'foodie', doesn't own a single Margaret Fulton cookbook.</i><br />
<br />
Bit down into a rock-hard icy pole... <i>has fillings in both front teeth.</i><br />
<br />
Cut tomatoes... <i>which had been kept in the fridge, with a chef's knife that hasn't been sharpened for months.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Used a teaspoon measure for salt... <i>tapped it on the bench and put it straight back in the drawer.</i><br />
<br />
Met Anthony Bourdain...... <i>didn't blog about it</i>.<br />
<br />
Ate freshly microwaved popcorn... <i>immediately</i>.<br />
<br />
Bought steak for tartare... <i>from the supermarket, not the butcher</i>.<br />
<br />
Has food blog... <i>uses cameraphone only</i>.<br />
<br />
Eats noodle soup... <i>never with chopsticks (the payload is better with a fork and spoon, why go through the pain?)</i><br />
<br />
Recipe calls for a teaspoon of chopped parsley to garnish... <i>it's just stupid garnish, okay? I refuse to buy an entire bunch for a single damn recipe because that s**t is not a real vegetable and redemption does not come in the form of tiny green flecks. If you really want to taste parsley then go make <a href="http://www.sbs.com.au/food/recipe/68/Tabbouleh/" target="_blank">tabbouleh</a> okay? Rant over.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Thinks cupcakes are just fine...<i> really believes they're just small muffins in drag with massive self-esteem issues.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Really loves her pet rabbits... <i>but knows which one is large-saucepan-size (Lulu, although she used to be medium-saucepan-sized) and which is stockpot-sized (Tifa, she was always the bigger one) in case of sudden apocalypse. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Loves her pet cat...<i> but yeah, if it came down to it would probably eat him too.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Loves her boyfriend...<i> you can guess the rest.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht5GuhreoGFi392sy5YwDw3O74Rru0pFhDLafJA8Ewm3vX1_v4QUhK_-7UgLkE94mWd0_DFuyxidO1oIh-mF-Q3m7WUP9Ebwue1vFygfRIBAC2pLsmpBm5Fr5Hd_46802mxHTVJT1q-LVc/s1600/youre_terrible_muriel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht5GuhreoGFi392sy5YwDw3O74Rru0pFhDLafJA8Ewm3vX1_v4QUhK_-7UgLkE94mWd0_DFuyxidO1oIh-mF-Q3m7WUP9Ebwue1vFygfRIBAC2pLsmpBm5Fr5Hd_46802mxHTVJT1q-LVc/s320/youre_terrible_muriel.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-31684714240502116832013-04-16T16:32:00.000+10:002013-06-29T15:38:19.194+10:00Greed, Inadequacy... And A Recipe For One Mad, Bad Chocolate PavlovaA lone blueberry flops to the left of the pavlova, a criminal fleeing the scene. The raspberries are studded unevenly across the surface. Some are huddled together like hostages, while others lie solitary and stranded, lost and away from the herd. The strawberries are leaking their dark balsamic syrup, sullying the white skirts of cream with rusty drips.<br />
<br />
As I poke another errant blueberry into the Sorry Heap it dawns on me that I possess the plating skills of a toddler drunk on laudanum. <br />
<br />
Plating is like sex. If you think about it too hard, too much, or generally obsess about it, it's probably going to be awful. Or perhaps I've just conjured up this platitude to comfort myself; the correct placement of fruit eludes me so thoroughly and I am very, very bad at it. Either way the facts are unassailable - I cannot make food look pretty.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
Food blogging and food photography are presented as two sides of the many-Googled coin - common parlance states that you cannot have one without the other. "Pics or it didn't happen", isn't that what the hip kids say?<br />
<br />
Well, sod it. Some food demands to be ravished immediately - camera be damned. The Sorry Heap does not look attractive (at least when presented by my fumbling self) but I tell you, it tastes like divinity incarnate and inspires an unholy greed. <br />
<br />
The Heap in question is a chocolate pavlova laden with double cream and piled ambitiously with blueberries, raspberries and strawberries. It's dark cracking richness is offset by the cream's fulsomeness. The raspberries are tart and sharp, contrasting their velvety pillowness. The blueberries shudder, then give with a satisfying pop-snap when bitten and the strawberries have turned into jujubes of sour sweetness due to a balsamic/sugar maceration.<br />
<br />
I eat plate after plate, standing at the kitchen bench, surrounded by half-filled, mostly pillaged plastic punnets of berries. The pot of cream still sits there, a section of it's torn lid still hanging on, a spoon sticking out the top. <br />
<br />
Pieces of chocolate inside the meringue meld brusquely between my teeth then into the berries and smooth cream, providing another texture which surprises. I cannot stop eating and I cannot stop this feeling of wonder and wildness and my hands are messy with crumbs and there is cream on my elbow and on my cheek and the juices from the strawberries have run down the backs of my hands and I do not care for presentation, do not care for sight, as taste and texture and sweetness and light all flood my mouth as memories of this are created and cherished and are born anew, gasping, alive.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Chocolate Berry Pavlova - adapted from </u><a href="http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/Forever-Summer-Nigella-Lawson/9780701176150" style="text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Nigella Lawson's 'Forever Summer'</a> <br />(Serves 8-10)</b><br />
<b><br /></b><b>ingredients for chocolate meringue base:</b><br />
<ul>
<li>6 egg whites*</li>
<li>300g castor sugar</li>
<li>3 tablespoons of cocoa powder, sieved</li>
<li>1 teaspoon red wine vinegar</li>
<li>50g roughly chopped dark chocolate or the smallest dark chocolate baking buttons you can find</li>
</ul>
<br />
<b>ingredients for topping:</b><br />
<ul>
<li>500ml double cream</li>
<li>200g raspberries</li>
<li>100g blueberries</li>
<li>200g strawberries, quartered if large (you want all the fruit to be roughly the same size)</li>
<li>1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar</li>
<li>1 scant teaspoon castor sugar</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
<b>making the chocolate meringue base:</b><br />
<ol>
<li>Grab a bowl and toss the strawberries with 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar and 1 teaspoon castor sugar. Cover with clingwrap and pop in the fridge. </li>
<li>Preheat your oven to 180°C. Line a flat baking tray with baking paper.</li>
<li>Now, get a large bowl and ensure it is absolutely, spotlessly grease-free* - this is what you'll whip the egg whites in. Use electric beaters or a stand mixer - don't bother with a hand whisk because your muscles will complain (unless you're Thor, with forearms the size of Christmas hams).</li>
<li>Beat the whites until soft, glossy peaks form, then beat in the castor sugar gradually. Keep beating until the meringue is stiff and shiny - peaks should point up with only the slightest hint of collapse at the tips. Stop beating. </li>
<li>Sprinkle on cocoa powder, then add red wine vinegar and chocolate - gently fold them into the meringue until just incorporated. The idea is to avoid deflating the egg whites.</li>
<li>Mound meringue mixture on top of baking paper in a large circular blob, about 20-23 centimetres across (about the size of a large dinner plate). Roughly flatten out the top and sides.</li>
<li>Place in the oven and immediately turn the heat down to 150°C. Cook for 1 hour 15 minutes. </li>
<li>The meringue is ready when it looks crisp and dry, both around the edges and on top. It will be the colour of a pale, milky hot chocolate. </li>
<li>Do not be alarmed by a few cracks, and please resist all temptation to open the oven door. You don't want your efforts to deflate! </li>
<li>Once time is up, turn off the oven and open the door slightly. Leave the cooked meringue in the oven to cool completely*. It may still be slightly soft in the middle on the underside, giving you a hint of the glorious dark choclate-y squishiness within. This is A Good Thing. </li>
</ol>
<b>assembly:</b><br />
<ol>
<li>Once cooled and you're ready to serve, invert the meringue onto a large, flat plate. </li>
<li>Drain the strawberries from the balsamic syrup until you're left with a small heap of glistening ruby fruit. Set aside.</li>
<li>Spread the meringue with cream, then pile all the berries (including the drained strawberries) on top in whatever organised or haphazard manner you wish. </li>
</ol>
<br />
You now have a glorious Chocolate Berry Pavlova. Cackle madly whilst steepling your fingers. If you have a white cat handy, now is the time to stroke it like a Bond villain. Excellent.<br />
<br />
Serve to your grateful minions, who will fall upon it like wolves tearing apart prey. This recipe will serve 8-10 people, but the chances of them wanting seconds is high. <br />
<br />
<i>*Notes:</i><br />
<i>- You'll have 6 egg yolks remaining after making this recipe. They may be saved by freezing: Break the yolks, then add 1/2 teaspoon salt. Stir gently. I like to divide the yolk mixture into thirds, then freeze in small containers so that each container contains roughly 2 yolks. The reason why all this palaver is necessary is because yolks turn into hard gelatinous balls when frozen without salt. Or you could simply make a <a href="http://www.rockpool.com/2011/08/creme-caramel-the-food-i-love/" target="_blank">crème caramel</a>... </i><br />
<i>- Grease is the enemy of egg whites. Wet some kitchen paper with white vinegar, then wipe down the inside of your mixing bowl. You may also wish to give your beaters a quick rinse with vinegar too.</i><br />
<i>- The meringue base may be stored in an airtight container in a cool, dry place for a few days. This is useful if you, like me, find meringue-making a slightly fraught process and need a day or two to recover.</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-50786244760283802102013-04-12T01:22:00.000+10:002013-06-29T15:23:12.136+10:00Aunt Adele's Hot Milk ToddyEven in the 24th century, it seems a glass of warm milk is still the prescribed remedy for sleepless nights.<br />
<div>
Not just any glass of milk, mind you, but Aunt Adele's hot milk toddy. <br />
<div>
<div>
Made in a replicator. </div>
<div>
In space. </div>
<div>
In your funky space quarters (where the towels and pillows are made from an uncomfortable looking shiny material). </div>
<div>
As prescribed by your starship's doctor, Dr. Beverley Crusher. </div>
<div>
Who got the recipe from her good friend <strike>bald man whom she flirts with</strike>, the Enterprises' Captain Jean-Luc Picard - Adele was his aunt.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b><u>Aunt Adele's Hot Milk Toddy</u> (Serves 1 insomnia-riddled Startfleet officer of any rank)*</b></div>
<div>
<b><i><br /></i></b>
Ingredients:<br />
<ul>
<li>250ml milk</li>
<li>A pinch of nutmeg</li>
<li>1 teaspoon honey</li>
<li>1 tablespoon brandy (optional)**</li>
</ul>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Heat the milk in a small saucepan until hot, but not boiling. Add the honey and stir. Once the honey has been incorporated, add the brandy if using. Bring it all up to a gentle simmer. </div>
<div>
Turn off the heat, add the nutmeg and stir. Pour into a sturdy glass or mug. Drink and try to avoid all distortions in the space-time continuum, as well as bodgy inter-dimensional aliens that kidnap you in your sleep.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image by <a href="http://psiwaves.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">psiwaves</a></td></tr>
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<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div>
You know you watch too much of a certain show if you end up rifling through your pantry trying to figure out how they make the food. </div>
<div>
I'll pass on the <a href="http://www.startrek.com/database_article/gagh" target="_blank">gagh</a>, however.</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>* Not suitable for androids.</i></div>
<div>
<i>** A 'toddy' is a traditional warm drink with an alcoholic element incorporated. Nutmeg is mentioned as one of the toddy's ingredients on the show (Star Trek: The Next Generation) so it's in the recipe above. <br />Alas, from here things start to come undone. Alcohol as we know it is not replicated on the Starship Enterprise NCC 1701-D (although some of the real stuff is in <a href="http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/Guinan" target="_blank">Guinan's</a> secret stash). <br />'Synthehol' is a commonly used substitute on the ship, however it barely gets you drunk. So I've added the brandy as a suggestion, as an ode to proper boozy toddies. Unfortunately it would seem that a 24th century toddy is not a toddy at all!</i></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-13007529734163172972013-04-08T20:59:00.000+10:002013-04-16T17:42:25.654+10:00The Family Meal: Home Cooking With Ferran Adrià by Ferran AdriàLibraries are wonderful places. It was at my local library that I stumbled across
Ferran Adrià's cookbook 'The Family Meal: Home Cooking with Ferran Adrià'. Although there was no-one else in the stacks,
I grabbed it quickly and furtively, hugging it to my chest and adding it to the
already considerable number of books I'd chosen that day.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8530/8620944057_13857e8e44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8530/8620944057_13857e8e44.jpg" width="245" /></a></div>
<br />
I'm ashamed to say I only opened it when I got home - the
lure of Adrià's name was too great.
Whilst I devour books like whales swallow krill, perhaps I should have
been more discerning?<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After all, at first glance 'The Family Meal' appeared to be
your typical large format coffee-table-cum-cookbook affair published by
Phaidon.<br />
<br />
I own another Phaidon book
which I have never cooked from ('Breakfast, Lunch and Tea: The Many Little
Meals of Rose Bakery' by Rose Carrarini) and have never had any practical luck
with a book of this size and cheffy reputation.
As I write, Tetsuya Wakada's 'Tetsuya' sits languishing on my
bookshelf. <br />
I know I will not make his
checkerboard tuna and hamachi with orange oil, or any of the other one hundred
and fifty or so recipes that are within.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thankfully, this book isn't the languishing type.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
Before you start cooking from 'The Family Meal' it is
helpful to be a fairly relaxed, yet somewhat capable cook. It is also helpful to approach 'The Family
Meal' as inspiration for systems, ideas and meal planning, not just a storehouse
of recipes. Actually, regarding most
recipes, anywhere, ever - as long as the principals remain the same, most
experienced cooks substitute and alter according to taste, availability and
whimsy. Seriously, nobody is going to
break down the door and arrest you if you sneak in an extra garlic clove or
three.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Who you'd buy it for:</b>
A young couple or single person setting up their first
home/apartment. It would be nice if they
knew how to cook an omelette, or at least had an experienced person to call for
help if the flour gets lumpy when making a roux. Noobs, but not <i>total</i> noobs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Why you want it:</b> One
of the most accessible, practical and organised cookbooks ever. There are 31 complete meals comprising of
starter, main course and dessert with pictures of every step involved. Each meal also has a corresponding time chart
telling you when to do what, which is a godsend if timekeeping is not a strong
point - it's certainly not one of mine.
You can mix and match the meal components.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The book itself is large, and not just for vanity's sake -
it's made up mainly of photographs with instructive wording to accompany
it. There are pictures of
everything. If you're a 'visual person'
you'll really appreciate this. <br />
Oh, and it's useful if you ever need to cook for 2, 6, 20 or
75 (75?!?!) people. Very
cooking-for-a-crowd friendly and economical, as most recipes do not have a lot
of ingredients but still maintain their integrity.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Why you don't want it:</b>
Vegetarian options for main courses are limited. Some mains are just meat alone with no
accompanying vegetable or carbohydrate.
There is a bit of an assumption that you'll have bread at the table when
eating - fine if you're European but potentially a little disconcerting for
others. However, if you're an Atkins
fan, this book is pretty sweet. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Also,
this is not the book to buy if you want the-best-this or
most-depth-of-flavour-that. It has good
basics, but if you want the recipe for the most awesome slow-cooked Mexican
pork ever... then go buy a different book (or watch Robert Rodriguez do it
<a href="http://youtu.be/gO8EiScBEjA" target="_blank">here</a>.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'The Family Meal' has a lot going in its favour. The tone of the writing is down to earth and
extremely practical. The language is
direct and explanatory; the book is based on the staff meal (the 'family meal')
that was cooked and eaten every day at elBulli before the beginning of
service. No gels, agar-agar or sous vide
here - Adrià states, "The food we like to eat at elBulli is the same as
what most people like to eat."
That's why the book contains recipes for tasty yet uncomplicated dishes,
such as ossobuco, tomato & basil salad, chocolate cake, fish stew and even
cheeseburger.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In fact, Meal 1 consists of Caesar salad as a starter, a
cheeseburger with crisps as the main and the super-easy Santiago cake as
dessert. The Boyfriend and I had this
for dinner last Wednesday night - we went from sighing mournfully at the open
fridge door to chewing food in under 40 minutes, which includes making the
dressing and the burger patties from scratch.
A godsend, especially if you get violently hangry* like I do.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'll admit, Meal 1 has you looking at it suspiciously saying
to yourself, "Is this real food? Why are you asking me to buy potato
crisps? Ferran, I have great respect for your work, so why feed me like I'm a
soccer hooligan?"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, I haven't got a
scary-famous-Catalan-chef-who-has-changed-the-world-of-gastronomy-as-we-know-it-blah-blah-blah
sitting here with me, so I'll surmise the answers.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes, it's real food.
You still have to make the dressing for the salad, which involves
whizzing together garlic, anchovies, oil, egg yolks and vinegar to form an
emulsion. The process is similar to
making aioli or mayonnaise, except in the book it's just one of the stepping
stones to making a good salad, as opposed to an complicated affair which has
you trotting off to the supermarket to buy a bottle because that sort of stuff
is 'too hard'. It isn't. Just grab your stick mixer and make the damn
dressing already. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Okay, next - the potato crisp thing. Hmm... potato crisps go nicely with burgers
and crisp manufacturers really can do it better. I mean, no-one makes their own potato crisps. No-one.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And finally... well, Meal 1 sounds pretty basic (if you're a
real foodie <strike>wanker</strike> then you might even be annoyed) but it's a good start. Accessibility forms the spiritual backbone of
the book, and there's nothing more accessible than a burger/salad combo.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For a slightly more <strike>food snob</strike> sophisticated approach, we
also tried the mussels with paprika and the baked sea bass. Instead of sea bass I used trout, which is
fine as the book acknowledges that substitutions are at times necessary and
even suggests them. Phew.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Again, this meal was easy, efficient to prepare and tasted
good. I did not make the suggested
dessert of caramel pudding, as I still had leftover Santiago cake. Adrià notes that certain desserts are not
really feasible to prepare in small quantities, so he tells you how long the
leftovers keep for and how to store them.
What an astonishment of sensibility! I like it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It sounds like an oxymoron but this isn't a cookbook you'd
purchase based on recipes alone. The
heart of the book is about organisation, systems and economy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
'The Family Meal' is not just a volume of delicious recipes
(though none have disappointed so far) but rather a clever strategic guidebook
about how to cook simply and eat well. In fact, you may even get your money's worth.<br />
<br />
*<i>hangry: hungry + angry (= very, very bad, with an extensive blast radius made of terrifying rage)</i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-41451518645855397982013-04-07T22:43:00.000+10:002013-04-07T23:01:02.166+10:00I'm ashamed to admit this but... the great thing about a Quarter Pounder, some fries and a Coke is that all can be consumed one-handed while watching Doctor Who.<br />
<br />
Because two-hearted, time-travelling aliens in blue boxes are more interesting than my dinner.<br />
<br />
I'll walk myself to the gallows, thanks.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-47036705285902146632013-04-05T18:23:00.001+11:002013-04-07T22:44:55.260+10:00Science! Acids - Taming the Onion<div>
Today I'm going to talk to you about the sour stuff. Sugar, spice and everything nice is all well and good, but we need the tart stuff, the zingy stuff, the stuff with bite. Take a mojito, for example. It's the lime which gives it that satisfying sourness, a good square kick in a sea of sugar. Sometimes, you need that in a drink. Or a salad. Or even a cake. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Food acids are our friends, because they provides a pleasing balance in each mouthful. Growing up in Malaysia, I recall rich, bombastically flavoured laksa always served with a side of green <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calamondin" target="_blank">calamansi</a>. You'd squeeze it onto that bowl of hot raging deliciousness, much like you'd squeeze lemon onto battered fish. <br />
<br />
If a mouthful of food were a discoball (stay with me here) the various flavours of the food - salty, sweet, pungent, earthy, umami, etcetera, would be the little mirrored tiles. The sourness, the <i>acidulant </i>in that mouthful would be the flashing lights bringing all those flavours to life.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8390/8620397439_4ca00d5f3f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8390/8620397439_4ca00d5f3f.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Red onion... only better.</td></tr>
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<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Okay, let's leave the 70's now and come back to the kitchen. Here, acidulants are most often liquids, such as juices (lemon, lime), vinegars (white, balsamic, rice, red wine) or extracts (verjuice, tamarind). </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The more molecularly-minded among you may possess a jar of citric acid crystals in your gastro-kit, but personally my pantry ain't that fancy.</div>
<div>
<br />
Chemically speaking, acidulants have a pH level of less than 7, adding a sour or tart note to a dish. <br />
I won't go into the hard chemistry side of things because there are other <a href="http://www.elmhurst.edu/~chm/vchembook/184ph.html" target="_blank">much more well-informed people for that</a>, not to mention I failed my Chemistry O Level spectacularly badly (my apologies, Mrs Thiagarajah!). Other forms of kitchen hoodoo using acidulants include making <a href="http://www.pickyourown.org/pectin.htm" target="_blank">jams and jellies</a> as well as pickling. Mmm... pickles. See below for some quick pickled onion magic.<br />
<br />
On a more useful note, here's a few handy ways to use acidulants in the kitchen:<br />
<br />
<b>White vinegar for a happy meringue:</b> Grab some kitchen paper, soak it in a little white vinegar and use it to wipe down the insides of the bowl you're going to whip your meringue in. This dissolves any surface oils because <i><b>oil is deadly for meringues</b></i>. You will not get soft peaks, hard peaks or any happy peaking if you have an oily bowl. Oil + egg whites = sadness. In fact, while you're at it, you should give the beaters a rinse in white vinegar too.<br />
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<b>1-to-4 rule for salad dressings:</b> One part vinegar/citrus juice to four parts oil, then season to taste - that's the basis for most well-balanced salad dressings. According to Stephanie Alexander in her <strike>bible</strike> book, 'The Cook's Companion', "...There is a famous saying that a good dressing demands a miser for the vinegar, a spendthrift for the oil and a wise man for the salt."<br />
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<b>Say no to brown fruit:</b> Squeeze lemon juice into a bowl, then use a basting brush to coat sliced apples, pears and bananas. If you find the lemony taste a bit strong use a more dilute solution of 1 part lemon juice to 4 parts water and dip the fruit pieces in.<br />
Fruits turn brown when cut because of oxidization - that's when enzymes in fruit get exposed to air and the exposed surfaces begin to brown. It's definitely not harmful, but not exactly attractive. I wouldn't do this for every apple I eat, but if I was making a fancy fruit platter for someone I'd definitely grab that lemon.<br />
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<b>Tame your onion:</b><br />
I don't really want to call this a recipe, more of a suggestion. A way of making something nice even nicer. Basically, you just get a red onion, slice it finely, then toss it with a generous amount of red wine vinegar and a dash each of salt and sugar. Leave it for a few hours (4 minimum), overnight if you can. What happens is that the onion and the vinegar get to know each other a little better, resulting the onion turning from a purple-crimson shade to a soft ruby pink. It also goes a little limp, perfect for draping over salad leaves, fish, pulled pork or anything else which could use a hit of soft, sweet sharpness. You now have a very nice condiment. The raw onion is transformed from being an assertive take-charge fellow to one which now plays nicely with others and brings an apple to school for teacher. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1) Grab your onion</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">2) Slice finely</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">3) Toss with a generous slug of red wine vinegar. Sprinkle sugar and salt.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4) Cover with clingwrap and leave overnight (or 4 hours minimum).</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">5) Ta-daa!!! Pink, soft deliciousness. Add it to stuff to make said stuff more tasty.<br />
Your work here is done. </td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-4400180376515806322013-03-27T22:29:00.000+11:002013-03-28T13:17:07.484+11:00Thank You For Being A Friend - The Naked Chef Appreciation Post<i>Travelled down the road and back again</i><br />
<i>Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidant</i><br />
<i>And if you threw a party</i><br />
<i>Invited everyone you ever knew</i><br />
<i>You would see the biggest gift would be from me</i><br />
<i>And the card attached would say</i><br />
<i>Thank you for being a friend</i><br />
<i>[Theme song from 'The Golden Girls']</i><br />
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Ladies and gents - that's how I feel about Jamie Oliver. Or more specifically, that's how I feel about his first cookbook 'The Naked Chef', which I bought (wait a sec while I fire up the wayback machine) in 1999.<br />
It's heart <i>was </i>true, it was indeed a pal and a confidant. It taught me to make stock, use an oven for more than box-mix cakes and that fresh herbs had no substitute.<br />
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I firmly believe that the popularity of The Naked Chef (the show and the book) was the reason why fresh basil and other herbs have become supermarket staples. The start of the Noughties was grand - no Y2K, living out of home, regular shagging and no more trekking to the Asian grocer for good coriander. And no, it's not bloody cilantro or Chinese parsley it's coriander, dammit.<br />
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Frankly dear reader, I wasn't born knowing the difference between a brunoise and a chiffonade and there was no incentive to care - let's just say my family <i>used to</i> have the sort of money (as in once-upon-a-time, as in no, we don't any more) which facilitated other people cooking for you.<br />
Then along came a foppish blonde boy on the television, who seemed to really like food and cooking for people. He spoke to you like a friend, chatting simply about how to make a nice salad and why roasting a chicken and sharing it was a good thing to do. The format of the show was brilliantly casual. Jamie cooks for his old band, his boss, his girlfriend. Jamie cooking with other young cheffy pals (friends in the kitchen doing kitchen-y things!) , even for his own birthday. The laissez-faire friendliness of it all was gobsmacking.<br />
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On the other side of the screen, I slowly found myself considering... possibilities. Suddenly, the 'whys' turned into 'why nots' and next thing you know I was making pastry, shoving lemons into chickens and buying different tomatoes. I was cooking proper meals and enjoying them with people I liked. <br />
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It was lovely.<br />
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God, I could yak on about Jamie for hours. He was so <i>necessary </i>at the time. He's certainly had his critics and has been accused of many things, including starting the craze for 'celebrity' chefs. <br />
However, I argue that he wouldn't be a celebrity if he didn't start out as a fairly pleasant and approachable fellow who knew how to cook. In retrospect, the tone of The Naked Chef cookbook was a studious exercise in hand-holding. His 'Basic Bread Recipe' states:<br />
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<i>The important thing is not to lose your confidence now; if you don't think it's proved enough, leave it a bit longer and check the warmth for any draughts.</i></blockquote>
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Stage 9. Now it's time to cook your loaf. After all your hard work, don't spoil your efforts. You want to keep the air inside the loaf, so don't knock it, put it very gently in the oven and don't slam the door. Bake according to the recipe time and temperature in the variations which follow, or until it's cooked. You can tell if it's cooked by tapping it's bottom (if it's in a tin you'll have to take it out) - if it sounds hollow it's cooked, it it doesn't then pop it back in for a little longer.<br />
Stage 10. Place the bread on a rack to cool - for cooking time see each recipe variation. You're going to love this bread!</blockquote>
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To pull this off without condescension was remarkable.<br />
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You know, this was supposed to be a post about pastry and having a Super Awesome Pastry Day With Ninja Catching Powers (all will be revealed) with my good rockin' buddy Tessa (hi Tess!). <br />
Instead, it's turned into a huge Jamie Oliver Appreciation Post - because his Short Crust Sweet Pastry recipe is what we used and it's a reminder that The Naked Chef cookbook and I have been through a lot together. <br />
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First chef's knife, first quality set of pots, first time making pasta. First car, first serious boyfriend, first time signing a lease. The car has been upgraded (twice), the boyfriend is long gone (upgraded too) and I've moved houses plenty since then. But I've still got the knife and the pots. I still know what to do with a pasta machine. Most importantly, I've still got 'The Naked Chef.'Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-74895102625145001762013-03-16T18:06:00.000+11:002013-04-07T22:51:43.421+10:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Part of the reason I'm so happy that <a href="http://khristianneuy.com/" target="_blank">Khristianne Uy</a> won 'The Taste' is because she and her partner remind me of <a href="http://www.comicvine.com/hazel-mcnamara/29-25078/" target="_blank">Hazel</a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> and <a href="http://www.comicvine.com/foxglove/29-25077/" target="_blank">Foxglove</a> from Neil Gaiman's </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Sandman</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> series. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Hazel (also a chef) was a slightly more minor character than Foxglove and the thought of her groovy flesh-and-blood doppleganger winning a cooking show on the teevee makes my dorky heart melt.</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-38068014440788962932013-03-15T02:50:00.000+11:002013-03-15T11:21:57.359+11:00Ham and Cream Cheese RamenOppan ramen time! Heyyy, sexxy lady... *horsey dance*<br />
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Welcome to Ramen Atrocities 101. I'm your host and today we will be consuming -<br />
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Ham and Cream Cheese Ramen!<br />
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Broke? Bits & pieces in your fridge which won't make a proper meal? Folks, ramen (or ramyun, or rameyon) is your friend. It is kind, forgiving and <strike>hides the dead bodies for you</strike> gets along well with even the most improbable accompaniments. It's almost the Mother Teresa of noodles. <br />
It's especially parent-friendly, being fast, cheap and you can hide a myriad of vegetable and proteins in it. So bugger feeling bad for not feeding your teenagers organic quinoa-and-samphire salad sourced from you local farmers market... or something.<br />
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"But a dairy product in soup noodles? Madness I say!" Or... madness, I <i>said</i>... until I actually tried it. <br />
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<a href="http://youtu.be/Eqkz6dX-OTE" target="_blank">I saw this lass doing it</a>, and vowed that my next instant noodle foray would be more than a meal, it would be an experiment. I'd heard of the whole ramen-with-cheese thing before, but regarded it with a deep suspicion normally reserved for emails promoting discounted Cialis. I did not approve.<br />
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So - the main finding of said experiment was *drumroll*... cheese is <b>bloody delicious</b> but it <i><b>has to be plebeian cheese</b></i>. This cannot be overstated. The cheese of choice is processed 'plastic' cheese, such as Kraft singles because of the silken manner in which it melts into the soupy noodles. Actually, pretty much any Kraft cheese product works. Nothing with a rind, nothing you can't buy from the supermarket or corner shop. The cheese must be the cheese of the people - dairy as democracy, if you will. <br />
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Ahem, where was I? Oh yeah - ramen. Try it like this - it tastes (surprisingly) delicious.<br />
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<b>You will need:</b><br />
1 x packet ramen/ramyun/rameyeon/ohcomeonpeoplewhat'swiththephoneticspellingalreadyIgiveupgeez<br />
1 x slice of ham, sliced into strips<br />
1 x desired quantity of not-posh cheese. Today I just chopped off about a finger's width from a block of Philadelphia cream cheese. If you're a beginner to ramen madness, I recommend starting with one slice of square, plastic-wrapped cheddar and taking it from there.<br />
1 x chopped spring onion for garnish and guilt-appeasement greenery<br />
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<b>Note:</b> Broccoli florets, frozen peas, corn, baby corn, shredded carrot, bean shoots, bok choy and other vegetables can be added with remarkable success. Just make that your vegetable matter is adequately sliced & diced so as to cook quickly. Experiment.<br />
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I use Shin Ramyun, a popular Korean brand. It comes in Red (spicy, you'll need a glass of milk to go with it if you're a pedas* weakling like me) and Black (more beefy than spicy). Hey, if it's good enough for K-pop stars Beast, its good enough for me. <br />
One day I'll have a pantry full of products endorsed by celebrities. <i>Classy.</i><br />
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So, there are two packets of flavouring - one soup base and the other <strike>unnecessary chaff added just to make you feel better about eating something green</strike> dehydrated vegetables. Rip 'em open and throw the contents in the pot with the round noodle cake. </div>
Add enough hot boiling water to the pot to cover - or more if you like it soupy. Simmer on medium-low heat for about 4 1/2 to 5 minutes. <br />
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Accompaniments! Sliced ham and cream cheese I had left over from making icing for a carrot cake. <br />
Look at me making use of leftovers! Ooh so thrifty frugalista yeah *dances*.<br />
Add the ham to the noodles and stir, letting it get nice and hot. Aww yiss...<br />
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Pour out into a bowl. Place the cheese evenly on top, then sprinkle on your spring onion bits. </div>
Then eat, dammit, EAT.<br />
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The cheese will melt and it goes creamy and oh-so-nice, like when you add dollop of sour cream to soup. Sooo gooood. </div>
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Thank you for experiencing Ramen Atrocities 101! My work here is done.</div>
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*<i>pedas: Malaysian or Indonesian term for the chili-esque burn as found in food. I prefer this over the word 'spicy' because gingerbread is spicy but won't blow your head off like a chilli-packed rogan josh. Semantics matter.</i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-6492335865036929032012-01-25T06:23:00.000+11:002013-04-07T22:52:01.222+10:00The Best Meal In The Year Of The DragonThe title of this post sounds premature, I know. In this vast city of restaurants, cafes and yes, even food trucks, the 'best meal' is always something to be chased, hunted and consumed.<br />
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But this 'best meal' wasn't about the food. It was about seeing my Dad again for the first time in many, many years. <br />
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We had a huge, terrifying falling out around 2006. I'll skip over the details - messy and complicated, the past isn't worth picking over. Let's just say that he was the most traditional of Chinese fathers and I was the most un-filial of Chinese daughters. When Mum passed away in 1992, there was no middlewoman to deal with the unruliness and mess that comes with having with kids, no filter between him and the rebellious, confusing child. <br />
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So to be sitting down at lunch and sharing a meal with him and my brother last Saturday was mind-blowing. It was the most awkward, confusing, amazing, mysterious and unexpected thing I could comprehend.<br />
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I received my lunch invitation via my brother Andy - he said that he and my father were thinking of going to lunch to celebrate the Lunar New Year, and would I like to come? <br />
Stunned, I asked, "Is that okay with Dad?"<br />
Andy replied, "It was his idea."<br />
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And so it went.<br />
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I have a theory, but no actual evidence as to why my father wanted to resume contact. He didn't tell me <i>why</i> this most astounding of meals came to be. He is Not A Talker. He came from an age when Men Did Not Have Feelings. One of the first international students to study in Australia under the <a href="http://www.dfat.gov.au/publications/colombo_plan/index.html" target="_blank">Colombo Plan</a>, he was terrifyingly ambitious and determined in a steely, set-jawed, Gordon Gecko kind of way. He owned an engineering firm. He bought not one, but two Porches. He paid for overseas holidays, built his own computers and ordered his shoes from Bally. He was (still is) a Doer, not a Talker. <br />
He is, after all, a Metal Dragon.<br />
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Maybe he thought it would be nice to have the family together again, in this year, his celestial animal year. Maybe.<br />
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I'll never know - but that's okay. That's <i>more</i> than okay. It was just wonderful to be sharing a meal with Dad again.<br />
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Happy Lunar New Year, everyone! May 2012 bring you a few extra dollars and whole lotta love.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8632245695949308743.post-64249464131284182882012-01-05T18:48:00.000+11:002012-01-05T23:58:19.167+11:00I Believe The Term You're Looking For Is 'Amazeballs'Yeah, this is a post about soup. <br />
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A sweet soup. Made of beans. Red adzuki beans. It's one of those 'weird Asian desserts'. </div>
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But you know what?</div>
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It's tasty as hell. Easy to make. Even *gasp* good for you. And contains one sacrilegious, gosh-darn-crazee ingredient guaranteed to make generation of Chinese grandmothers roll in their graves. As well as an optional extra which doubles as a sticky yet-oh-so-right choking hazard.</div>
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So now that you've got the emergency room number on speed-dial, let us foray, explore, plunder. <br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/glamourbeastie/6640755523/" title="IMAG0605 by The Lady Panda, on Flickr"><img alt="IMAG0605" height="414" src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7175/6640755523_e978788e3b.jpg" width="500" /></a>
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<b>Red Bean Soup with Grilled Mochi</b></div>
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This was a pretty common after-school treat Mum used to have on hand when I was growing up as a child in Malaysia. Sweet soups (otherwise known as 'Tong Sui' in Cantonese) are common as desserts, snacks or 'elevenses' in Asia, with different soups touted as being good for you in different ways. </div>
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For example, you might partake in dose of sweet potato and ginger soup if you're down with a cold, as the sweet potato assists with removing cold and stagnancy, whilst ginger promotes warmth and circulation. When the Chinese go on about food being medicine and vice versa, they are <b>very definitely not kidding.</b></div>
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So, what of the humble adzuki bean, then? According to <a href="http://www.rdog.com.au/main.php?id=foodfortheseasons" target="_blank">Professor Lun Wong's book 'Food For The Seasons - Eat Well and Stay Healthy The Traditional Chinese Way'</a>, red or adzuki beans are "sweet and sour, warming and remove damp. They clear heat and remove toxins by freeing up urination which benefits the kidneys. Adzuki beans also alleviate swelling and calm down skin infections. Adzuki beans are useful for anyone with diarrhoea and anyone wanting to lose weight." </div>
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Wow. Who knew? I sure as hell didn't, especially not when I was a kid with my face crammed in a bowl of sweet, red, mandarin-scented goodness. I just knew I wanted more. And with the heat of summer recently, the craving stirred as an adult too. </div>
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Sometimes, Western-style sweets can be a little heavy when the weather is hot, especially if there's wheat or dairy involved. If you're feeling a little bloated, a little warm and lazy, the marvel of a good 'tong sui' can save the day (or at least your appetite!)</div>
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<b><u>The Recipe - Red Adzuki Bean Sweet Soup with Grilled Mochi (serves 6-8)</u></b></div>
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Ingredients:</div>
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<li>1 cup washed dried red adzuki beans - soaked overnight (at least 4 hours)</li>
<li>1 cup sugar</li>
<li>1.5 litres water</li>
<li>2 good dashes of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orange_bitters" target="_blank">Fee Brothers Orange Bitters</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.japantimes.co.jp/text/fg20111230f1.html" target="_blank">Dried mochi rice cakes</a>, 1 piece per person</li>
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What you do:</div>
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<li>Rinse your soaked beans and put 'em in a big pot.</li>
<li>Add the sugar to your beans. It can be almost any type of sugar, but I wouldn't recommend palm - too treacle-y. <br />White granulated sugar is the easiest to come by, but you can experiment with <a href="http://www.thechinesesouplady.com/rock-sugar/" target="_blank">yellow rock sugar</a> or <a href="http://the.honoluluadvertiser.com/article/2003/Feb/26/il/il16ataste.html" target="_blank">brown slab sugar</a>. </li>
<li>Add the water and bring to the boil. <br />Once it's at a rolling boil, turn down and simmer gently on the lowest heat you can manage. <br />Put a lid on the pot, but leave it open just a crack to let some steam out.</li>
<li>Let it simmer away for about 2 hours. <br />By now the beans should have softened to the stage where you can squish' em between your fingers, and the liquid should be a dark, opaque red-brown.</li>
<li>Now, this next step is <i>what I like to do</i>; if you're an elderly Cantonese grandmother you should look away now. Step away from the computer and switch the darn thing off, because you will not approve. <br />I can see you shaking your head already. Ok? Ok. <br />...<br />...<br />...<br />For the rest of you: <u>Just before turning off the heat, <i>add two good dashes of Fee's orange bitters</i></u>. <br />Yep, the type that goes in cocktails.<br />I know. <br /><i>I know</i>. But let me explain. <br />Traditionally, you'd add a piece of dried orange or mandarin peel at the start. It gives the soup a deep, burnished waft of citrus and a lovely tang. Like a swing of the hips whilst wearing a pencil skirt and high heels, it gives it a bit o' dat sumfin' sumfin'. <br />Well, the addition of Fee's orange bitters does the same thing, with equal depth of flavour. <br />And no, it's not a terrible, one-dimensional orange cordial flavour - it's more like that verging-on-bitter scent that you get when you're peeling citrus fruit with your fingers, the perfume from the oils. <i>That's</i> what it's like. <br />Deep, like the very<i> soul</i> of an orange. So just <i>add the damn bitters already</i>. Good.</li>
<li>If you like your soup thicker, you can jam a stick blender in the pot and whizz away to your liking. Otherwise, leave it as is.</li>
<li>Grill the mochi until puffy and crackly-brown on the outside. You can do this in a toaster oven or under the grill. Also, placing the mochi pieces on an oiled piece of aluminium foil helps things be less messy. </li>
<li>Serve the soup in small bowls, with a piece of grilled mochi cake in each bowl.</li>
<li>EAT!</li>
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This can be served hot or cold. Either way, it's delicious, tastes freakin' <i>amazeballs</i> and is full of good stuff. <br />
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Oh, and if you're in Australia, you can get Fee Brothers Orange Bitters <a href="http://www.nicks.com.au/Product/View/Fee-Brothers-West-Indian-Orange-Bitters-(150ml)/481664" target="_blank">HERE</a>. <br />
And no, I don't have anything against using dried orange/mandarin peel - I just happened to have the bitters in the booze cabinet and no oranges or mandarins in the house. I may be a heathen wench, but I don't do it on purpose!</div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12237874727002148424noreply@blogger.com0