Good Things Autumn 2011: Burmese Statues and Gwyneth Paltrow

The little things are infinitely the most important (Arthur Conan Doyle). 

In the face of bone aching fatigue last week, I have found lots of pleasure in tiny achievements.

Like this embroidered cushion I found at Safari.  In the background is my fiddle leaf fig tree, which almost died when I was in hospital in January because no one thought to give it the thimble full of water it needs to survive each week. I am slowly nursing it back to health but it is still too straggly.  Such a shame because it had a beautiful full shape when I first bought it.  

Pepper the Burmese cat managed to knock over this (Burmese!) statue we have in the front hall.  Of course the Burmese army had already taken care of her head, feet and arms (the statue I mean not the cat).   But her leg broke in two. I fixed it with Kwik Grip or something equally unmentionable.  I know that is not the correct way to mend supposedly ancient Asian artefacts but there you have it.  You can barely see the mend line. 

I don't mind being called Princess Jane by my daughter.  Note the little copyright symbol. It is not easy to explain the concept of copyright to an 8 year old but I think we got there.   And now her intellectual property is protected!

Oh Scanlan & Theodore how I love thee.  And your grey cardigans.  No I don't need another to add to the collection.  But it called my name and its siren song was answered.

Australian candle with Liberty-esque wrapping.   It's true I bought it mostly for the presentation.  Very superficial I know.  It smells nice but I still think Americans (think Tocca, Voluspa) make the best candles. 

Can we talk about Gwyneth?  I almost felt a bit ashamed buying this book and my husband teased me for a good five minutes.   I am completely absolutely anti celebrity chefs. I don't even watch Master Chef which is practically a crime in Australia.  I have no celebrity chef books. I loathe Gordon Ramsay.  I liked Nigella when she was thin and wrote for UK Vogue in the early 1990s.   I still love her books but only because I was an early adopter and she writes so well.

And Gwyneth herself is so multi talented, with her unusually named children, not very good interior design taste (at least that is what I think - check out these pics of her NY apartment), very nice Hampton's kitchen, okay singing voice, macrobiotic passions, kind of saccharine website and wardrobe to die for.  She's so earnest.   And that can be annoying.

But this book really resonated with me.    There are a few reasons for this. 

First, she speaks authentically of her love for her father (who died several years ago from complications of throat cancer) and her naive belief that he could be cured if he changed his diet.  (As an aside I have thought many times since my diagnosis whether my diet could be a cause. I think I eat pretty really well but according to the evil Internet breast cancer can be caused by all kinds of things ranging from milk to coffee.  It is of course so natural to blame yourself for these things (was it stress? was it the pollution from the street? what about deodorant? Could that be the cause?) and diet is always high up the list.)  Her father taught her to love to cook and eat.  He loved American foods: burgers, pancakes, hotdogs et al, and some of his recipes find their way into the book.  

Second, she really wants her children to eat well, cook with her, and to share magical times around the table.  This too is what I want for my children.  And I am at the stage where my son won't eat green or slightly green tinged things and my daughter won't eat most butter or dairy products.  So I am desperate to cook them things they will eat with enthusiasm.  And this notion of hiding the good items in what you cook for children is weird.   I want them to know what they are eating and come to love it naturally. 

Third, this book made me want to cook and eat.   Surely there can be no higher recommendation? These days of course we can get any recipe we want for free.  So why buy a cookbook?  I look for a way of viewing cooking which I can relate to.  Presumably if you enjoy cooking one or two of a favourite cookbook writer's recipes, you will enjoy cooking more.  That is why our Marcella Hazan cookbooks are falling apart through overuse.

Over the weekend I cooked the following from this book: kale crisps, cheesy stuffed burgers, duck burgers, macaroni cheese (which she makes with mascarpone and Parmesan), oatmeal and raisin cookies (no butter and no eggs), white bean soup with cheesey croutons, zucchini with pasta and berries with caramelised cream.   All the recipes worked well, and the children loved them all.

This is not a macrobiotic book by any means. There is a lot of cheese and dairy and eggs and pancakes.  There are also some nice zen meals like soba noodles and savoury rice bowl. 

Finally, I have ticked a few book purchases off the to-do list.

Two books for my husband's birthday which always must be history although unfortunately Mr Fitzsimons is a journalist which may make the history a bit 'chatty and accessible' which my husband does not like at all.   Oh well.

And the new Geraldine Brooks book set in Martha's Vineyard in the 1660s.  If you have not already, please read her earlier books - Year of Wonders (set in plague torn England) and March (Dr March from Little Women's experiences in the Civil War) are both completely brilliant. 

And truly finally, some toast with avocado, fetta, mint and olive oil has been giving me much comfort lately.

I am so boring that I realise as typing this that I have already done an avocado on toast post.  But I love it so much. 

In fact I think I could easily find enough posts to run a 'Things on Toast' blog for a good couple of years (other ideas for alternative blogs - Dollshouses (but that might attract some weirdos) or Celebrities with No Interior Design Taste).

Weird Chemo Side Effect No 4: my eyebrows are definitely thinning out. I hope to hold on to them for the next 6 weeks.  I have probably in the past said something stupid like I will stay in my bedroom for the duration if I lose my eyebrows.  However, now it is potentially happening, I just don't care.  On the bright side, it makes me look just that little bit more like Gwyneth. 

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Radicchio Rosso

Just think for a minute of all those things you wouldn't eat as a child or even a 20 year old.... my list includes:

• coffee (which I didn't drink until I was backpacking in Europe at 25 and was pretty desperate for sustenance)
• mushrooms (it's a texture thing)
• olives (texture again)
• ham (don't ask) 
• celery (urrggh - still can't eat it.  I don't even like typing the word.  I am pretty certain also that I am not alone in my loathing for this pointless, stringy, takes up too much space in my fridge vegetable). 

and most critically, any bitter leaf at all - endive, rocket and radicchio.

Who would have thought that now, radicchio is one of my favourite things to eat.  

So when I saw this Taitu bowl at the wonderful shop Emporium Botanica I had to buy it.

And why did I have to buy it?  So I could put a bitter leaf salad in it.   And the kitschness of putting a radicchio salad in a radicchio bowl doesn't even upset me.  That is age for you.  I will eat it torn up with some goat's cheese and ripe figs and a honey and dijon mustard dressing.

There are two ways I love to cook this leaf.  

The first is a pasta sauce: the radicchio is shredded and cooked down slowly in butter and bacon until it becomes brown and almost creamy. Then add about 100 ml of thickened cream and cook until it reaches a saucy consistency (yet another brilliant Marcella Hazan recipe) . 

The second is much more simple: cut the radicchio into evenly sized wedges and cook slowly in olive oil and splash of balsamic vinegar until caramelised (this may take 20 minutes or more).  Toss through some pine nuts and sultanas plumped up in water and serve with pan fried chicken breast and some aioli (thanks Neil Perry).

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Fig Sorbet for Cato

I mentioned in my peach sorbet post that I would try fig sorbet, also a recipe of Marcella Hazan.

What fascinated me most about her recipe is that she gives two variations: one where the figs are peeled and one where the figs are unpeeled.    She says the unpeeled fig sorbet has a 'keener' taste whilst the taste of the peeled fig sorbet was more subtle. 

I was interested in the taste difference, it's true. 

But mostly I think I was interested in the colour difference. I mean what colour would fig sorbet, peeled and unpeeled, actually be?   Pistachio green? Pale cream?  Pinky blush?   I had to know.  

Before we get there, here are some lovely fig paintings, the first by Charlie Baird

The next is by Luis Melendez which you can find in the Louvre: 

And this delicate depiction by Craig Stephens: 

Here are the two sorbets.  As you can see the peel makes a marked difference.   It makes the sorbet much stronger, and much more textured.  I do prefer the peeled, I think. I have decided this after extensive comparative taste tests.     My son wouldn't even try the unpeeled one.   I guess brownish greenish icecream is not everyone's cup of tea.  

 (peeled fig sorbet)

(unpeeled fig sorbet) 

And what, you may ask, does Cato have to do with all this?

Figs are ancient, and records indicate they were consumed by Sumerians as long ago as 2500 BC.  And they have always been a symbol of prosperity and wealth.

As it happened, Marcus Cato (the Elder) was most concerned about the threat from Carthage, in Libya, to Rome. 

The story is told that to illustrate the danger, he, in making a speech to the Senate, contrived to pluck an 'African' fig, plump and ripe, from the folds of his toga which he said was obtained in Carthage just a day or so ago.  When the Senators gathered around to admire it and its ripeness, Cato remarked that Carthage was only three days sail from Rome and hence 'must be destroyed' (from Plutarch's Lives). 

This occurred in approximately 152 or 149 BC depending on which account you believe.  And some time after this 'stunt' (as it was suspected that the fig in fact emanated from Cato's orchards outside Roma) the Third Punic War commenced, and Carthage was indeed destroyed.   For more on the interesting debate about the timing of this, see here.   (Yes it's true, a whole blog devoted to the Third Punic War. Well why not.)  

I have always rather wanted to meet Cato (the Elder, and indeed his grandson the Younger, depicted sourly in the second of Robert Harris's amazing trilogy about Cicero).  

So this fig sorbet is for you, the two Catos.

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Restaurant Inspiration - Guillaume at Bennelong and Peach Sorbet

Summer is over and soon the leaves will start turning orange and dropping into my garden en masse.  To use up very ripe end of summer stonefruits, there is nothing better than a fruit sorbet. 

I started an intermittent series last year where I cook something I have eaten in a restaurant.  This was our dessert at Guillaume of Bennelong, where we ate in January.  It is described as strawberries and blackberries with lemon verbena cream, meringue and a trio of raspberries.   This strawberry sorbet was smooth and rich and delicious.

Guillaume is a rather fine dining restaurant located in this anonymous little structure on Sydney Harbour. 

See the little sails on the right - that is where the restaurant is located.   It shrieks Special Occasion (shudder).

However, I had a marvellous meal here, and it was a restaurant which disproved the oft quoted rule that the quality of the food in a restaurant is in inverse proportion to the view. 

The peaches this year have been nothing short of superb.  The orchards got rain and sun at just the right time and we have been feasting on peaches for months now. 

In honour of Guillaume Brahimi, here is a peach sorbet.

First step is to double check the recipe.  In my case this involves reassembling the cookbook from whence it came.  It really is time to bite the bullet and buy a new copy of this book.

Pile the peaches up attractively for a last shot:

Peel and remove pips.  It all looks a bit like a massacre at this stage. Avert your eyes if you need to.  But not whilst holding knife.

Put in food processor with about 100g of caster sugar (the actual recipe calls for 680g peaches and 100g sugar. I find about 6 peaches makes 680g.  You can adjust the proportion of suger down if you do not have enough peaches).

Add a little lemon juice after liquidising. 

Put into ice cream maker.  As an aside, can I just say how much I love this appliance. I am not an appliance person.  We do not have a microwave (yes I am the only person I have ever heard of with children and no microwave), we have no toasted sandwich maker, milkshake maker or popcorn maker (all of which incidentally populated my childhood kitchen in the 1970s so there is obviously something going on there).  

And if you look at the photo above you can see that I have a set of scales which date from 1947.    

But I do have a Girmi GranGelato maker and it is heavenly.   Simple to operate (it has an on/off switch and that is it) and easy to clean, it makes icecream and gelati in about 15 minutes. In my case I had to set it up in the hallway because Certain People were complaining about the churning noise.  But don't let that put you off buying one.  

Here it is once churned suitably.   My camera cannot really capture the pinky blush colour of this sorbet, with little flecks of red (where my peeling skills failed me). 

Divine.
Next up (when I find them), fig sorbet.

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Diary of my Day - in Tomato Time

Yesterday my day began with tomatoes, and ended with tomatoes. It also had a tomatoey middle.

Let me explain.

Breakfast is a bit of a challenge in my house. My son is always absolutely starving, and my daughter is what you might call picky. I barely eat myself between negotiating what everyone will eat and serves of toast, milk, juice, different spreads, picking bits of jammy toast from the floor etc.

Having run the gamut of cinnamon on toast, Nutella on toast, Vegemite on toast and just dry toast, I have managed to introduce my daughter to tomato on toast, one of my favourite snacks ever. I slice tomatoes, place them neatly on a piece of grainy toast which has been lightly buttered and drizzle with olive oil and Maldon salt and pepper. I love the contrast between the warm toast and the salty cold tomato. And guess what? She likes it too (minus the butter of course because she doesn't like butter).

Unfortunately tomatoes are not really in season at the moment. The choice yesterday was tiny cherry tomatoes. And have you ever tried to slice a slippery cherry tomato as opposed to just chopping it willy nilly? You need a really sharp knife and concentration which I do not have at that early hour. After I bandaided my cut finger, I discovered that the slices were so tiny that nine of them fitted on the slice of toast. And then, because my daughter also likes it this way, I cut the toast into nine (yes, nine - 3 x 3) tiny little toasty squares so that there was one piece of tomato on each section. Then I carefully drizzled with olive oil and a tiny sprinkle of salt. And it was all scoffed down in 30 seconds flat, confirming my view that persuading a child to eat often comes down to presentation.

And if that doesn't convince you that I am crazy, nothing will.

The middle of my day was a lunchtime meeting at work. We rotate the catering, and it is rarely inspired. Yesterday was tomato and lentil soup with a heavy hand in pepper, and a so called pumpkin soup which tasted like a thick tomato soup. We all complain about the food. It gives us a sense of team solidarity, which I think you need to get through the tough times. (Side note - on good days we get the lunchboxes from our local which happens to be one of the best restaurants in Australia - Vue de Monde - fantastic and really good value).

My day ended with tomatoes because last night I made pasta with my favourite tomato sauce which, and I know this is a big call, is the best tomato sauce for pasta ever (in the history of the world).

I know it's wrong and in breach of anti-dumping laws but one of the only things I like about supermarkets in Australia is the profusion of very cheap tinned Italian tomatoes. They bring a taste of summer to the darkest day, and I am very sorry to the local producers - your fresh tomatoes are bliss but your tinned are not a patch on those produced by Italia.

I have been engaged on a search for the best tomato sauce for pasta for many years. This is because:

1. Monday night is always pasta night. Except when the routine seems unbearable and I change my mind about this. Then it becomes noodle night.

2. I really need a quick brainless pasta recipe I can cook which will be amazing and foolproof for those emergencies.

3. I feel that many tinned tomatoes (and indeed, regular real round tomatoes) do not often have the best flavour. The challenge therefore is to maximise the tomatoeyness and minimise the tinny or watery flavour you can get.

About 3 years ago I struck gold. I have to thank Marcella Hazan for this. I have previously mentioned how her books are falling apart at the seams through use. Her Classic Italian Cookbook actually has 4 different tomato sauce recipes. The one below is the one I love. It produces a rich deep dense flavour and I highly recommend it.

Ingredients

One tin of Italian tomatoes (450g)
One onion peeled and sliced in half crossways.
About 50-75 g of good quality unsalted butter depending on how naughty you feel.
a pinch of sugar
salt and pepper

Method

Put all ingredients into a heavy based saucepan. Once the butter has melted stir to incorporate. Cook at gentle simmer for about 45 minutes. Check and stir occassionally. The sauce should be reduced but not too gluggy. Remove onion bits before serving.

Serve with boxed dry pasta (cooked!) - I usually use spaghettini. How easy is that? Make it now!

Images (1) Real Simple (2) Delia Smith (3) Martha Stewart

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Currently eating and cooking: lots and lots of silverbeet

I am having a mad silverbeet (Swiss chard) obsession. Before a month ago I don't think I had ever even eaten it, being more a spinach kind of person. But my local fruit and vegetable people have been stocking baby silverbeet and I have discovered that I rather like it. I love the smooth - lumpy texture of those deep green shiny leaves. I love the fact it actually has a taste.

There must be a reason I crave it. Perhaps all that iron is doing me some good.

Here are the two ways I have been cooking it. You could also use these for rainbow chard (pictured below) or English spinach:

Creamed silverbeet (after a Neil Perry recipe from 'The Food I Love')

Ingredients
Small bunch of silverbeet (this will be about 6 or 7 stems)
Sea salt
25 g of butter
2 tbs of finely chopped brown onion
2 finely chopped garlic cloves
About 100 ml of thickened cream (but see below)

Method
Remove the leaves and wash. Discard stems (or put in your compost). Roll up leaves and slice roughly. Put the leaves and a couple of tablespoons of water and the salt into a saucepan and heat over medium heat, stirring until the leaves wilt and shrink (about 4 to 5 minutes).

In a frying pan melt the butter and cook the onion and garlic over gentle heat until lightly browned. Add the silverbeet leaves and cook until tender. This may be up to 10 minutes depending on age of silverbeet. Note that silverbeet does take longer to cook than spinach. Once cooked, add the cream and let warm through. The cream should not drown the silverbeet, but make it pale and creamy. If you add too much it will run out of the silverbeet in the next step. Once the cream is warmed through, blend the contents of the pan - I do this with a stick blender (ie a vitimiser) rather than a food processor.

Check seasoning, it may need freshly ground pepper. Serve immediately.

Sauteed silverbeet (from Stephanie Alexander's 'Cooks Companion')

The best part of this recipe is that the stalks are all used up, which makes me feel like an efficient 1940s housewife operating on war time rations.

Ingredients
12 stems of sliver beet
3 tbs olive oil (actually I usually use more)
1 small brown onion or red shallot, finely chopped
2 cloves finely chopped garlic
1/2 cup currants (or not too shrivelled raisins)
1/2 cup lightly toasted pine nuts


Method
Separate silverbeet stems from the leaves, trim stems and cut into 1 cm square pieces. Wash the leaves and roll up and slice. Heat half the oil in a heavy based frying pan and saute onion until pale gold. Add the stems and garlic and saute for 5 minutes. Add sliced leaves to the pan and trickle over remaining olil. Cover pan until leaves are softened, then remove lid and stir. Add currants and pine nuts and cook, stirring reasonably regularly until the stems are tender but the leaves are still glossy and green.

Images: Martha Stewart

Yum. Last night I found a silverbeet gratin recipe. I will try that tonight. I hope it's not possible to overdose on silverbeet!

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