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Heavy Rotation: Polenta, Goat's Curd & Tomato Salad

Monday, May 24, 2010


This dish, first enjoyed at my lovely neighbor Catherine's, haunted me for days before I finally got my act together and made it.

It has been on heavy dinner rotation ever since.

CB, who normally dismisses anything leafy as inadequate for the evening meal, devours it every time.

The key lies in the sizzling chorizo and grilled polenta - both hearty and hot enough to keep things from drifting into girly salad territory.

When serving myself, I double up on spinach and tomatoes and cut back on polenta and sausage, thus deferring my inevitable trip to the cardiologist for another day.

Meat for him, salad for her, and everyone is happy.

Polenta, Mozzerella Goat's Curd And Tomato Salad 
(adapted from Donna Hay's Magazine, 50th Issue Edition, Warm Salads article)
serves 4

3 cups (750ml) chicken stock
1 cup instant polenta
60g butter, chopped
 ½ cup (40g) 1 cup finely grated parmesan
sea sald and cracked black pepper
extra-virgin olive oil, for drizzling
300g truss cherry tomatoes
2 chorizo, sliced
80g 125g baby spinach leaves
360g buffalo mozzerela, torn ½ cup goat's curd

dressing
2 tablespoons white balsamic vinegar
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 clove garlic, crushed minced

Preheat oven to 220℃ (425℉).  Place the stock in a saucepan over medium heat and bring to the boil.  Gradually whisk in the polenta and cook, stirring for 2-3 minutes or until thickened.  Remove from heat and stir through the butter, parmesan, salt and pepper.  (At this point, I found my polenta to be too thick and mealy; by adding a bit of hot water, just a splash at a time, I eventually got the creamy - not runny - consistency and volume I was after.  Play this step by ear.)  Pour into a lightly greased 20cm X 20cm tin and refrigerate for 45 minutes or until set.  Turn out onto a board and cut into wedges.  Place on a lightly greased baking try and drizzle with oil.  Roast for 15 minutes or until golden and crisp.  Set aside and keep warm.

While the polenta is roasting, make the dressing.  Place the vinegar, oil and garlic in a bowl and stir to combine.  Pour the vinegar and garlic into a glass jar, season with sea salt and ground pepper, screw on the lid and shake until the salt disolves.  Add the oil and shake vigorously until the dressing is emulsified. Set aside.

Place the tomatoes and chorizo on a baking tray and drizzle with oil.  Roast for 3-5 minutes or until the chorizo is crisp and the tomatoes are tender.  Scatter the spinach leaves on the plates or platter, top with the polenta, followed by the tomatoes and chorizo.  Dot with goat's curd and spoon over the dressing.

Enjoy.

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Thick, Chewy Granola Bars

Thursday, March 4, 2010


I have just made my third batch of Thick, Chewy Granola Bars in as many days.

After spying this recipe, I thought:

Gluten-Free.
Easily customized.
Breakfast on the go.
Freezable. (Yes, I am obsessed. And on the hunt for a deep-freeze.)

Perfect.

The first batch never made it out of the pan, let alone all the way to the freezer.

The second batch included some modifications intended to dial down the treat factor and amp up the nutritional value.

Apparently, these alterations were not sufficient, as their sweetness led to a topsy-turvy argument with my seven year old:

After downing a bar in record time yesterday morning, he asked, "What's for breakfast?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. "That was breakfast."

Speaking slowly, in a tone usually reserved for folks teetering on window ledges, this child, who wouldn't normally touch a nut or an oat for love or money, explained,

"That wasn't breakfast... that was a treat. Where are the eggs?"

He may have a point.

But this is a treat I am feeling pretty darn good about.

The recipe says to let the bars cool for 20 minutes before cutting, but I defy you not to eat them warm, straight out of the pan.

Especially if you include a handful of dark chocolate chips.

I did. Hence the need for batch number three.

Here's my take on Thick, Chewy Granola Bars:

1⅓ cups quick rolled oats
½-¾ cup evaporated cane juice¹
⅓ cup almond meal²
1 tsp salt
¼ tsp cinnamon
3 cups mixed fruits, nuts and seeds³
⅓ cup natural peanut butter
1 tbs vanilla
6 tbs melted butter
¼ cup maple syrup
2 tbs light corn syrup
1 tbs water

Preheat the oven to 180ºC/350ºF. Lightly grease a square pan and line with baking paper. Combine the dry ingredients, including the fruit and nuts. In a separate bowl, whisk together the wet ingredients, including the peanut butter. Add the wet ingredients to the dry and combine until moist and crumbly. Spread the mixture into the square pan and, using a large piece of cling wrap as a barrier, press the mixture down using your hands until it is firmly packed and evenly spread. Bake for 30-40 minutes, until the edges brown and the top is golden. Allow it to cool in the pan (if you can resist nibbling) before cutting and wrapping individually. May be stored in the freezer.

Notes
1. Evaporated cane juice (a sugar cane product) is a less refined alternative to the regular sugar in the original recipe.
2. The original recipe called for 1/3 cup of finely ground oats (blitzed in a food processor), but I swapped it for almond meal for added protein and because my food processor has died.
3. I used 3 cups of: dried cherries, chopped; toasted almonds, chopped; pistachios; sunflower kernels, pepitas; shredded coconut; and a small handful of dark chocolate chips or finely chopped 70% dark chocolate.

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Roast Beetroot, Goat Cheese & Walnut Salad

Tuesday, March 2, 2010


Have you heard about food52? I just did.

Sadly, I was too late to enter the "Your Best Beet" contest, but reading about it triggered memories of this salad that I simply could not shake.

The craving had to be satisfied and at lunchtime today, it was.

And it's a good thing I was alone.

Earthy beets, creamy chevre, tart vinaigrette, crisp grassy cress and sweet, crunchy walnuts.

One serve was not enough.

Roast Beet, Goat Cheese & Walnut Salad
serves 2
2 beets
1 bunch watercress
1 handful walnuts, toasted and chopped roughly
1/4 log chevre, crumbled
2 Tbs chives, chopped fine

Walnut Vinaigrette
juice from 1/2 lemon
sea salt, to taste
1/4 cup walnut oil, or to taste

Preheat the oven to 180º C. Wrap the beets in aluminum foil and cook on a baking sheet for two hours, until tender. Set the beets aside to cool with the aluminum still on; once cooled, their rough outer skin will easily slip off. Cut the beats into roughly 1 inch cubes and set aside. Wash and dry the watercress, discarding any rough stems. Make the vinaigrette, dissolving the sea salt in the juice of 1/2 lemon, before adding walnut oil. Taste test with a lettuce leaf and adjust, if necessary. Toast the walnuts and chop roughly - you don't want lots of walnut dust. Toss the watercress with the vinaigrette and pile onto the plate(s). Toss the beets in some vinaigrette and scatter around the watercress. Sprinkle the lot with chevre, walnuts and chives. Tuck in.

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Sunday Night Supper: Crustless Onion Quiche

Monday, February 22, 2010


This recipe has everything.

It is inexpensive, easy, simultaneously light and rich, vegetarian and low-carb (if you care about such things) and, most importantly, delicious.

Which is why it has been a household favorite for ten years running.

Served alongside a green salad and a chilly glass of white wine, Crustless Onion Quiche is the perfect Sunday Night Supper.

The recipe comes from one my most loved and well worn cookbooks, Patricia Wells At Home In Provence: Recipes Inspired By Her Farmhouse In France.

It is a classic.

If you associate French food with heavy sauces and feats of culinary contortion performed by grouchy men in toques, open this book and be inspired.

Patricia's approach is everything I love: seasonal, simple, sophisticated, grounded.

Hers is real home cooking, that has neither been dumbed-down nor requires a degree from Cordon Bleu.

Patricia suggests serving the quiche warm, 'cut into thin wedges'.

I divided the entire dish into four equal slabs and it was gone seconds later.

The proof, my friends, is in the empty dish.

Enjoy.



Crustless Onion Quiche, from Patricia Wells At Home In Provence

500g/1 lb onions, peeled
3 Tbsp unsalted butter
1 Tbsp fresh thyme leaves
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Freshly grated nutmeg, to taste*
4 large eggs
1/4 cup whole milk
3 Tbsp heavy cream

Preheat the oven to 220ºC/425ºF. Generously butter the bottom and sides of a pie dish. Slice the onions in half lengthwise. Place cut side down on a cutting board and slice crosswise into very thin slices. In a large unheated skillet, combine the onions, butter, thyme, salt, pepper and nutmeg. Sweat over moderate heat, covered, until the onions are soft , about 8 minutes. They should not carmelize or turn brown. Taste for seasoning and set aside. Crack the eggs into a medium-size bowl and whisk just to blend. Whisk in the milk and cream. Season with salt and pepper. Transfer the onions to the prepared pie dish, smoothing them out with the back of a spoon. Pour the egg mixture over the onions. Season with additional pepper and nutmeg. Place in the center of the oven and bake until the top is a deep golden brown and the custard is firm, about 30 minutes. To test for doneness, insert the tip of a knife in the center of the quiche; it is done when the knife comes out clean. Do not underbake or the quiche will be mushy, not firm. Let sit for 5 minutes to firm up.

*Note: the freshly grated nutmeg is key; if you substitute ground nutmeg, you will not get the desired result.


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Sunday Night

Monday, February 1, 2010



An organic rabbit pie from my favorite shop;

Fig, Pancetta & Blue Cheese Salad;

Australian Open Men's Finals on television;

And a chilly glass of the local sauvignon blanc.  

Love the end of summer.


Fig, Pancetta & Blue Cheese Salad

For the salad, crisp the pancetta with a bit of olive oil, either in a frying pan with a bit or on a baking sheet under the grill/broiler.  Slice figs in halve or quarters, depending upon how big they are.  Place them on a baking sheet lined with aluminum foil, cut side up.  Top with dabs of butter and sprinkle with brown sugar.  Grill/broil until the sugar carmelizes.  

For the dressing, mince a shallot and combine with sherry vinegar, salt and black pepper.  If you have the time to let this mixture macerate, all the better.  Add a bit of crumbled blue cheese, some drippings from the fig pan (there should be plenty of buttery, sugary, figgy liquid) and a bit of olive oil.  I always mix my dressing up in a glass jar with a tightly-fitting lid.  Shake, shake, shake, taste for seasoning by dipping in a leaf of rocket, and adjust as necessary.  Pour over the rocket, sprinkle with blue cheese, top with lightly crumbled pancetta and adorn with figs.  

Beautiful.  


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Love Letter, Of A Different Sort

Friday, January 29, 2010


Dear Husband,

I hate to do this in a blog post, but we’re modern people, and I thought you should know: 

I have found my soul mate. 

Culinary, that is.

His name is Nigel.

I love him despite this.

He cooks. 

He eats.

He writes.  

I have been reading his diary, and let me tell you:

The man can put a sentence together.

He’s English and bangs on about crazy things like trifles, mullet, and blood pudding, but it doesn’t matter. 

We are of one mind. 

Listen:

“When I say butter, I mean unsalted.  When I say sugar, I mean the unrefined golden stuff from Mauritius.  Pepper is ground from a mill as I need it and not, absolutely not, ever bought ready ground.  Oh, and when I refer to a grill pan, I mean one of those heavy ridged cast-iron grill pans that sits on the hob.  You can now get them quite easily from cookware shops and department stores.”

Okay, so I've never bought sugar from Mauritius.  

I didn't even know sugar could come from Mauritius.

It doesn't matter.  

Sugar pretensions aside, his food is uncomplicated, but inspiring; simple, but not mundane.

Seasonal, honest, and real.

He had me at hello.

I hope you understand and can put jealously aside to enjoy his food. 

We’ll be eating lots of it, starting with this:

Nigel understands that bacon makes everything better.

What more can I say?

Love, 

Kate

p.s. My heart is still yours, even if my stomach belongs to him.  I think you know who has the firmer end of the deal.    

images from www.nigelslater.com

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Summer, Made Edible

Wednesday, November 11, 2009


Is there anything sweeter than the first corn of the season?  

 Technically, we may be jumping the gun, but temperatures dictated that we pull out this tin. 


Record breaking heat-waves in November (for those in America, think May) are just plain scary, but we chose to embrace the upside, with butter dribbling down our chins.
  

And summer (however early) would not be summer without this salad.  Fresh, cool, simple, delicious.

Tomato Basil & Goats Cheese Salad
Three tomatoes on the vine, sliced 1/4 inch thick
1/2 bunch basil leaves
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
1/4 jar marinated goats cheese 
red wine vinaigrette 

Layer the tomatoes, slightly overlapping, on a platter, seasoned with sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper, and dress lightly with Red Wine Vinaigrette.  Top with basil leaves, pinches of marinated goat's cheese, and a sprinkling of red onion.  Done.

For the Red Wine Vinaigrette
Why anyone would ever buy commercial dressing is simply beyond me, when it is so easy and guaranteed to be better, fresher, cheaper, and so darn easy.  

1 French shallot, finely chopped
Red Wine Vinegar, to taste 
Sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper
Extra-virgin olive oil
Small piece of marinated goats cheese, crumbled 

Combine shallot, salt, pepper and vinegar in a jar with a tightly fitting lid and shake.  Do not hold back on the salt and pepper - season generously  and dissolve the salt in the vinegar, remembering that you'll be adding a fair bit of olive oil later.  If you have the time, all the better to then pop this combination macerate for a few hours or over-night.  Add the goats cheese and olive oil to taste (I like my dressing quite sharp - almost equal parts vinegar:oil).  Shake the jar until the dressing is emulsified, then test the seasoning by dipping in a lettuce leaf  (or, in this case, basil), and adjust as necessary.  


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Experimentation

Friday, October 9, 2009



I have joined Joslyn's online cooking group, and the inspiration provided by the other participants is contagious.

The idea is to expand culinary horizons - our own and those of our children - by introducing a new dish each week and then reporting, honestly, on the outcome.  

This week's new dish: Chicken Wings & Stir Fried Asparagus, served with brown rice.  

The result: Three thumbs-up, one big thumbs down.

DB wrote the dissenting opinion: 

"Yuck.  This looks disgusting.  I'm not eating it."

"You're like Sam, from Green Eggs & Ham," chided WB.  (I love a good literary reference.) 

"Try it."   

He did.  

And, eventually, he ate it all.  But I think I'll have to chalk that up to the Dinner Rule, rather than the innate appeal of the dinner.  

The Dinner Rule goes like this: You must try at least one bite of everything.  If you don't like it, you don't have to eat it.  But if you don't, no dessert.  If you do eat everything on your plate, you get dessert every, single time.  I can count on one hand the number of times my kids have gone to bed without dessert.

The rest of us thoroughly enjoyed this combo, adapted from Kylie Kwong's Recipes And Stories, of course. Especially when we used the reserved baking liquid as a dipping sauce.  Best of all, WB, who normally screwsup his nose at the sight of naked, undisguised asparagus, gobbled it all up, without comment.  

All in all, a winner.  

Chicken Wings For Four
1 1/2 kg Chicken Wings
1 1/2 Tablespoon Brown Sugar
1/2 Cup Honey
2/3 Bunch Coriander (Leaves Only), Finely Chopped
1 1/2 Teaspoon Fish Sauce

Sauce
5 Cloves Garlic, Diced
1/2 Cup Light Soy Sauce
1/2 Cup Dark Soy Sauce
1 1/2 Tablespoon Fish Sauce
1 Teaspoon Sesame Oil
2/3 Bunch Coriander (Roots, Stems And Leaves), Finely Chopped
2 Tablespoons Brown Sugar

Preheat oven to 170 degrees Celsius.  

Place sauce ingredients in a baking dish and stir to combine.  Add chicken wings and coat well with the sauce.  Sprinkle with brown sugar and drizzle with honey.  

Bake, uncovered, for 20 minutes, then increase the heat to 220 degrees Celsius and cook for a further 10 minutes or until the wing tips are crispy and caramelized.  

To serve, arrange chicken wings on a platter and sprinkle with chopped coriander leaves and fish sauce.  Pour remaining sauce from bottom of baking dish into individual bowls for dipping.  

Asparagus With Garlic
2 bunchs green asparagus, woody ends trimmed
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

Finely chop 2 large cloves garlic, add to a hot frying pan with a tablespoon of olive oil and a good pinch of sea salt.  Add asparagus and saute for a couple of minutes.  Pour 1/4 cup of water into the pan, cover with a lid and allow to steam for a minute, or until asparagus is just tender.  Drain off any excess liquid and serve immediately.  

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Make This

Tuesday, September 8, 2009




In the past, Asian cooking has had me flumuxed.  

Time and again, I would traipse down to Chinatown, armed with high hopes and a shopping list of exotic ingredients.  I would spend hours chopping, dicing, mincing and grating.  I followed every recipe to the letter, standing red-faced over a steaming wok, surrounded by countless bowls of garlic, ginger, and the like, watching and waiting for the magic to happen.  

It never did.   

No matter what I was making or how much care I took, the food felt heavy, glutinous, over-sauced - just one step removed from fairly average take-away.  

And then, I met Kylie.  

For me, opening a Kylie Kwong cookbook is like entering a culinary portal where producing light, delicately balanced, Chinese-inspired cuisine is suddenly within my power.  

Her approach is simple: use only the freshest, best-quality ingredients you can afford and then don't tamper with them too much.   Let the food stand on its own merits.  

In South Australia, where we have access to beautiful, locally grown produce year round, this is easy to do, and the quality of the raw ingredients, I find, is more than adequate to make up for any personal failings of my own.  

Add to this the fact that Kylie Kwong is a natural teacher and story-teller, and I am 90% of the way there.  

When I read her recipes, which are more essay-and-tutorial than ingredient-and-sequence-of-events, I feel that I am entering her world, seeing food and cooking through her eyes, as an engaging and gratifying, whole-of-life experience rather than a chore, undertaken out of necessity and in isolation.  Her passion is both palpable and infectious.  

Most importantly, the instructions are comprehensive enough to provide the final, and previously missing, ingredient: confidence.  With Kylie, I never feel that I am cooking in the dark, aiming for target I cannot even see, let alone taste.

Stumped for a weekday dinner menu for guests, I recently turned to her website and, of course, found the answer:



Although I'd never attempted either dish before, I was confident that they would turn out - thanks to Kylie, not me.  And they did.  Teamed with brown rice and blanched asparagus, topped with soft-boiled eggs, dill and parsley (another Kylie special), it was a simple, lovely meal - special and delicious, but not too taxing for a Tuesday.  Success.  

Thank you, Kylie.  

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Size Matters

Wednesday, August 26, 2009



This weekend, still giddy over the abundance of new season vegetables and filled with the gospel according to Alice, I joyously prepared a simple spring lunch: roast chicken, lightly blanched vegetables and a pot of aioli for dipping.


Apparently, vegetables in their naked, undisguised form - whole and uncut, no less - were too confronting for my family.  

After much coaxing and cajoling, which quickly gave way to threatening and demanding, the boys wouldn't touch them.  

I was left with the lot, and they left the table having consumed their own weight in roast chicken.  

Even Chris, I suspect, ate his greens out of a mix of fear and duty. 


As discussed previously, there is an inverse ratio between the size of the vegetable and the volume my children will willing ingest.  

This relationship was proven, once again, when many of the same vegetables, plus a few extra, made a reappearance in the form of Fried Rice.

Twenty minutes and two empty bowls later, I reflected: 

When it comes to vegetables, size definitely matters.
 
Fried Rice
2 cups cold rice
a knob of butter
2 rashers bacon, diced
1 onion, diced
1 carrot, diced
1/2 head of broccoli, cut into small florets
1 zucchini, diced
1 large handful baby spinach 
1 head of bok choy, diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
roast chicken, shredded
1 egg, scrambled

Optional: prawns/shrimp; left-over beef, pork, or fish; sprouts; grated ginger and corriander/cilantro, for a Thai feel.

For me, Fried Rice is a kitchen sink affair.  Whenever I find myself with  a bit of left-over rice, it's a handy way to use up any lingering bits and pieces that, on their own, are too small to constitute a meal or side dish.  For that reason, although the recipe above specifies quantities, they are really just a guideline - I tend to use whatever I've got and, with the exception of the garlic, bacon and onion - and, of course, the rice! - there are no rules.   I generally aim for a 50/50 ratio of rice/veg.  

Melt the butter in a large pan.  Add the diced bacon and onion, cooking gently - the onion shouldn't brown.  Add the diced vegetables and minced garlic, seasoning with sea salt.  Cook until tender.  Add the chicken and cook till warm.  Meanwhile, quickly scramble one egg OR, crack an egg into a small, microwave-proof bowl, scramble with a fork and zap it for 30 seconds/till cooked through.  Break up the scrambled egg and add it to the pan.  Add a bit more butter, allow it melt and then add the rice and cook till warmed through, tossing frequently.  

Note: The rice must be cold, or it will turn into a gluey mess.  Trust me.  I found this out the hard way.


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Have You Been Eating Your Veggies?

Tuesday, August 18, 2009



Forgive me for the intermittent blogging, but I've been partying hard with the ladies.  

Alice had me up way past midnight on Tuesday.  Thursday, I woke up at 3 in the morning to find Kylie in my bed.  Make that, my head.  


Spring fever has rendered me delirious.  Even in my dreams, I am slicing carrots into matchsticks.  
  

Now, if your eyes have stopped rolling at the thought of a woman who actually fantasizes about vegetables, a confession: I suspect these visions are fueled as much by guilt as by new-season inspiration.


For several weeks now, my children have been existing on a mostly protien + carbohydrate diet. 

Roast chicken (courtesy of Coles, not Kate), ham sandwiches (leg ham off the bone - not processed - but still, pig is pig), and toast.  Lots of toast.  Throw in some pasta (okay, a lot of pasta), fruit, the odd sausage and a few carrot sticks, and you've got the whole picture.  


Nothing too egregious, but we haven't exactly been scaling the heights of the food pyramid, either.  Now that spring is here, it is time to turn over a new leaf.

Speaking of the food pyramid, do you ever look at it and wonder how on earth anyone could possibly get children to consume (let alone prepare) 5 servings of vegetables every day?


My own answer to this challenge is soup.  

Specifically, Minestrone.

Served along with some crusty bread and a dollop of pesto (or, in the case of WB, heaps of  Parmesan Reggiano, which he insists on grating himself, directly into the bowl), this is one sure fire way to pump a week's worth of vegetables into my children in just a few sittings.

General Notes
There are no rules with minestrone, which is part of it's beauty.  This is cooking fast and loose.  You can use whatever vegetables and herbs are in season and to hand.  But there are a few basic principles worth mentioning:

1. I always start with a bit of chopped pancetta or bacon, sauteed in olive oil.  It makes all the difference and transforms this from mere vegetable soup into something heartier that, with the addition of crusty bread, even men-folk will consider a real meal.  

2. I always toss in the heel of a piece of parmesan.  Never throw those out - they are gold.  

3. Garnish is key.  A healthy drizzle of good olive oil and a dollop of fresh pesto.  Or, a sprinkling of cheese.  I use imported Parmesan Reggiano, freshly grated.  It costs the earth, but it is so superior that you'll only need a smidge to make a tremendous imact.  (Which is why I snatch the grater away from WB when I see him adding quantities that could cut into my retirement fund.)

4. Cut near-equal volumes of the the aromatic vegetables (onion, carrot, celery) to a roughly uniform size and shape, to ensure even cooking.  Add them to the bacon and saute, seasoning generously with sea salt and freshly grated black pepper - sauteing and seasoning the vegetables along with the bacon will give them much more flavor.  If you are including root vegetables, such as potatoes or parsnips, sautee and season them along with the aromatics.

5. If you are adding tender fresh beans or other delicate vegetables (which will cook much more quickly than root vegetables, such as potatoes, carrots and parsnips),  hold back on adding those until the final stages of cooking.  

6. In a perfect world, I would always put a bowl cannelini beans out to soak the night before I make my soup, but the reality is that I am simply not that organized and usually reach for the organic canned variety.  The same goes for canned tomatoes, which, when tomatoes are out of season, are a much better option, anyway.  Whenever I go to the supermarket, I try and grab a can of each so that I never run out.

7. Again, in a perfect world, I would always have homemade chicken stock on hand, but, sadly, I am hopelessly imperfect and have been known to reach for (a) homemade stock from the gourmet deli, which is hideously expensive, (b) high-quality, mass-produced stock from the gourmet deli, also very expensive, and even, on occasion, (c) Knorr chicken stock cubes (gasp).  The kids certainly couldn't tell the difference, but to avoid excessive expense and/or consumption of chemicals in the future, I recently resolved to make a pot of stock a week.  Three weeks later, so far, so good.  

8. I never add pasta to my minestrone (cannellini beans tick my starch box), but many people do.  If you do choose to add pasta, I would recommend preparing and storing it separately, as opposed to chucking it in the pot, as the pasta will turn soggy and absorb most of the liquid.  

9.  I blend some of the soup with a hand blender, because (a) the kids eat more veg when it isn't individually identifiable and (b) I like the texture.

10. Think big - make lots.  

Minestrone, One Way
Small piece or several slices of pancetta, chopped
2 onions, chopped
3 carrots, peeled and chopped
3 zucchini, chopped
3 stalks celery, chopped
2 stalks celery for the bouquet garni
fresh herbs, any combination of the following: thyme, marjoram, basil, rosemary, parsley
heel of parmesan
3 large cloves garlic, minced
2 cans peeled Roma tomatoes
1 litre chicken stock 
3 cups (or two cans, drained) cannellini beans
Good olive oil and pesto* and/or freshly grated Parmesan Reggiano, to serve

In a large, heavy-bottomed pot, saute the pancetta or bacon in several tablespoons of olive oil over high heat, stirring frequently.  Add the onions, carrots, celery and zucchini.  Season generously with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper.  Add two tins tomatoes, garlic, chicken stock, parmesan heel, and bouquet garni*.  Simmer for an hour, or longer, until the vegetables have softened.  Add two tins of drained cannellini beans.  Taste and adjust seasoning.  Using a hand-held blender or standard blender or food processor, blend approximately half the soup, being careful not to over-do it - there should still be plenty of vegetables in tact.  This step is, of course, optional, but I do find it helps with the vegetables go down with the children.

Ladle into warm bowls.  Garnish and serve with crusty bread.

Bouquet Garni
There is more than one way to make a bouquet garni.  A clear or delicate soup would dictate the use of cheesecloth, which allows you to infuse your dish with the flavour of the herbs, without risking any stray, and unwelcome, leaves.  

Minestrone is a fairly rustic affair, so I opt for a bourquet garni formed from by stuffing fresh herbs between two celery stalks, which are then tied together (second to last photo, above). The celery stalks are a less precise vessel for you herbs (wrapping the cooking string around the whole length of the stalks reduces the chance of finding rosemary leaves or thyme twigs in your bowl later on), but they impart additional flavour, which I like, particularly if you leave the potent celery leaves on the stalks.

Pesto
Again, for me, pesto is fast and loose.  No prescribed quantities; I tend to think in fistfuls.  Fresh basil (approximately 1/2 a bunch), a handful of pine nuts, a clove or two of chopped garlic, several good drizzles of olive oil, and a handful of freshly grated parmesan.  Blitz in the blender or processor, adding more olive oil as needed and a heavy pinch of sea salt, to taste.  

1

Tim's Tomato Soup

Thursday, August 6, 2009




Ladies and Gentleman, fire up your baking sheets.  Here is my interpretation of Tim's Tomato Soup.

12 Roma tomatos, stemmed and halved lengthwise
2 large carrots, stemmed and halved lengthwise
1 small-medium bulb fennel, thickly sliced lengthwise
(3.5 cups chicken stock - optional)

Note: This yields approximately 7.5 cups of soup if you go Rustic and 4 cups if you go Delicate, so you may want to double the recipe.  You'll be glad for any leftovers.

Preheat oven to 200 C/400 F.  Depending upon the size of your oven and baking sheets, brush one or two with olive oil and arrange vegtables cut-side-down.  Brush the backs of the vegetables lightly with olive oil.  Cover tightly with aluminum foil.  Pop in the oven for one hour.  

Beware the inevitable burst of steam when you open the oven - stand back.  Carefully check the carrots for tenderness - they should be completely cooked through; if not, return to the oven for a further 15 minutes or so.  Remove baking sheets and allow to cool.  

There is a lot of liquid at this stage in the process, so once mine were cool enough to handle, I used a spatula to transfer the vegetables to a large pot before tipping in the liquid - less chance of losing any of those precious juices this way.  Using a hand-held blender, purree until there are no visible solids.  The fennel is quite fibrous, so check you blender blade lest it is being strangled by a twisted, ropey knot.  

Decision point: are you aiming for rustic and hearty?  Or delicate and almost frothy?  

If I am making this for myself, I always opt for rustic, because I am just that kind of girl.  But if the soup is intended for company, I opt for delicate. 

Rustic
Add chicken stock, season with sea salt and blend.  Heat and serve with toasted cheddar or gruyere on thick slices of sourdough.  Dunk with unselfconscious abandon.

Delicate
Pass the puree through a fine mesh sieve one, two, or three times, depending on how fastidious your are feeling.  I always find this step messy and tedious, but it does produce a lovely - and entirely different - result.  This is the extremely talented Tim originally presented it, and it is well worth the extra trouble if your soup is going to play an opening role in a luncheon or dinner party.  Season with sea salt.

If you are feeling really decadent, the final addition of a dollop of double cream and a sprinkling of tiny chives would be a nice touch.  Alternatively, paper thin slices of baguette toasted with parmesan or gruyere, floating on top or placed along side, would not go amiss.  

4

a visit to BabyCakes

Tuesday, July 21, 2009



No, these are not from Magnolia Bakery.  They are from BabyCakes, on New York's Lower East Side.  But if Carrie Bradshaw ever went vegan (or developed a wheat intolerance), I can assure you, this is where she would have been snacking, alongside Natalie Portman, Mary-Louise Parker and Jason Swartzman, to name a few devoted fans.  


And, if Carrie had visited BabyCakes, a generation of women would have been downing Frosting Shots instead of Cosmopolitans.   And then Manolo Blahnik would have had to reinforce his stilletos with titanium steel, lest they crumble like empty soda cans under the weight of our behinds, but as BabyCakes, which opened in 2005 - is post-Carrie, we don't need to go there. 

Okay, I know what you're thinking: celebrities endorsements aside, Vegan + Gluten Free = Yuck.  

(Also, When is she going to get off the whole gluten-free thing?  Soon, I promise.  Stay with me here.)

I know that's what you're thinking, because that's what I was thinking, too, when I first read about BabyCakes in the New York Times in 2005, in a small piece titled "Indulgence For Those Used To Saying No".  I happily filed that under "irrelevant" and turned the page.

Fast forward four years and one lactose and gluten intolerant child later to this video.

Skinny as they are, these do not look to me like girls who do deprivation.  And I'll say this for them: they give good video.  

Suddenly, a trip to BabyCakes, "New York's Most Talked-About Bakery", was high on our itinerary.

Did the bakery live up to the hype?  

Well, that depends on who you ask: me or our target audience member, DB. 

You know how men can smell over-eagerness and desperation at fifty paces?  Apparently that radar kicks in well before the tender age of five.  

I was desperate for him to love this place.  And he knew it.

How else could I explain, after days of being told "I'm sorry, you can't have that" in restaurant after restaurant, DB's utter reluctance to sample anything in the bakery?  

The walls were pink, the glass cases were loaded with sweets, the girls were cute in their little uniforms and everything about the joint screamed "SUGAR!!!"  

Okay, it was really agave nectar, but is sure sounded like "SUGAR!!!" to me.  

Maybe if I'd acted in a casual, throw-away manner....

Maybe if I hadn't built it up over the course of the 30 minute walk from Chinatown....   

Maybe if we'd taken a cab.  

I quickly blew $56 on cupcakes and cookies (stocking up for every conceivable treat scenario over the coming week, in duplicate for his brother) and then had to coax  DB to take just one little bite of the cupcake I had travelled 13,000 miles to get.  

There was no joy.  

WB liked them.  

Go figure.  


I had spent the entire morning educating everyone in our party about this place, trilling about how BabyCakes had won NY's Best Cupcake Award.  Not the best vegan cupcake - the best cupcake, full-stop.  Expectations were high.

And at the risk of blaspheming, I have to admit that I was not convinced.  

The chocolate cupcake I had was nice - very good for a gluten-free cake, in fact, but not on par with the non-allergy variety I regularly churned out at home.  The vanilla cupcake was leaden and saw-dusty.  Maybe someone's hand slipped when adding the xanthum gum.

My faith began to waver.  

But, having read the BabyCakes cookbook in advance of our visit, having fallen for the hipster grooviness of baker Erin McKenna, with her fabulous writing style and contagious zeal, having come so far with such high hopes, I had way too much invested in this place to give up after one batch of cupcakes.  

I was determined for BabyCakes to be our personal dessert salvation, whether DB liked it or not.  

Do you see anything wrong with this picture?

And then I tried the Chocolate Chip Cookies.  Faith restored.

They were excellent.  Excellent.  By any standard.  And this comes from a girl who once accidentally doubled the butter content on the Toll House recipe, discovered she like it better that way, and hasn't looked back since.  Even DB could not resist finishing one in short order.  And then another.  And then another.  

Soon, I was back on a second, solo visit to restock on cookies and sample the other wares.

The Chocolate Chip And Coffee Brownies.  Swoon.  Apparently, it took six months of incremental adjustments to come up with the right consistency.  It was worth it. For a tutorial, you can see Erin McKenna teach Martha Stewart to make them by clicking here.


I asked the girl behind the counter, If I were to get one thing, what should it be?  Without hesitation, and in chorus with a colleague who overheard the question, I was told "The Cinnamon Toastie".  

The Cinnamon Toastie.  Oh my.  It was gone so fast, I didn't get a photo, so I used this one from Tara Donne.  You can see Erin McKenna teach Martha Stewart to make it by clicking here.  

The Bake-Off
Back at home, armed with my cookbook and $150 of new pantry ingredients (cruelty-and-allergy-free desserts do not come cheap), I was eager to enter this brave new world of baking.  Morning tea with a bunch of families presented the perfect opportunity. And, to determine whether BabyCakes really had the goods, or whether I was blinded by a zealous faith born out of desperation (not to mention a weakness for good hair and slick videos), I decided to conduct a little experiment:

I would bake four BabyCakes recipes, tell no one  that they were vegan and gluen-free (not words that normally whet the appetite), and let the results speak for themselves.  

With all the concessions and missing out that folks with food allergies have to do in countless social situations, where food plays such a prominent role, I wanted home to be one place where DB doesn't have to hear "You can't have that."  But with food so important to me, I cringe at the thought of serving something that tasted like a compromise.  

Would people notice that there was something different?  Were these baked goods so good, in fact, that they could not only "pass" but really delight people?

The answer was a resounding Yes.

The Apple-Cinnamon Toastie (this is the Cinnamon Toastie, as above, with one cup of roasted apples thrown in for good measure) was a hands-down favorite by any standard.  One friend was so smitten he polished off most of the loaf singlehandedly, but everyone who managed to snag a slice was equally enthusiastic.  A very satisfying result.

The Chocolate Chocolate Cookies were a definite hit with the younger crowd.

The Brownies faired well, but we didn't run out, which I found surprising.  Too much competition?  There were no fewer than NINE platters on the table, as friends came with their own tasty contributions, so it's not surprising that guests didn't sample everything.

I was left with a lot of Banana Chocolate Chip Bread.  Again, too much competition?  Only a few piece were missing in the end (with a thumbs up from one taker), so maybe it just didn't have street appeal.  Not sure.

Most importantly, in every case, people enjoyed the food on it's own merits and were genuinely surprised to learn that they'd been eating allergy-free fare.  

As for DB?  
This time, I tried the non-challant approach.  It kind of worked.  For him, both the Apple-Cinnamon Toastie and the Banana Chocolate Chip Bread were immediately out of the running by virtue of their fruit content.  Should have seen that coming.  The Chocolate Chocolate Chip Cookies passed muster, but he did request that, in the future, I leave the chips out.  That's right: no chocolate chips.

I was beginning to suspect that he was messing with my head.  

And then we hit on his favorites: the only two desserts I made that day that did not come from the BabyCakes book.  Chocolate Mudcake Cupcakes (from Woolworth's brand boxed mix - an anathema to me, but he loves it) with Marshmallow Icing and my allergy-free interpretation of Rice Krispies Treats.  Recipes to follow later this week.

As it turns out, DB harbors no fantasies about living a parallel life in NY as an impossibly skinny, cool baker with great boots (his father will be relieved), nor is he swayed by the good hair or slick videos.  As good as BabyCakes turned out to be, DB likes Mommy's baking best.  Sorry, Erin.  

And as much as I wanted her to win him over, I was tickled to discover  that his heart - and his tummy - are still mine. And that's just the way we like it. 

 

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