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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Drive By Houses - Sir Roy Grounds Hill Street House

Do you peer nosily into front gardens and windows as you drive by, hoping for a glimpse perhaps of the inside, maybe even a piece of art or a section of curtain?  I do.  

We pass some interesting houses on the way to work, a trip of short cuts, rat runs and roundabouts, trying to beat the cars queued at the obvious intersections.    

This house in Hill Street Toorak was designed by Sir Roy Grounds for himself in 1952.  Reaction to the house was mixed but it still won the Architectural Medal in 1954.    Grounds is an icon of Australian 20th century architecture, responsible for works including the Water Wall at the National Gallery of Victoria.   He formed a partnership in the early 1950s with two other significant architects: Robin Boyd and Frederick Romberg. 

The house was rediscovered by a cardiologist in 2003 who lovingly restored it to its current intact condition.  The walls were relined with ash, and the joinery is consistent throughout (this is important given so much of the house can be seen from other rooms).    The Knoll chairs work wonderfully in this room.   

(images from Dedece.com)

This elevation shows the unusual nature of the house - a circular courtyard in a square structure. 

The courtyard has black bamboo:

Here is a shot of the exterior and the dining area: 

This is a close up of the lined circular wall:

And the living area, with just the perfect furniture.  

The house is now owned by Georgia Danos, who owns Grace Boutique in Hawksburn (see below).  It has changed a bit but the light, symmetry and the harmonious structure have remained. 

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Happy Easter

HAPPY EASTER...

I love these little chocolate praline eggs which I found in Haighs (the best Australian chocolate maker by some margin).  They match the specklediness of our kitchen bench.  I prefer them to the brown chocolate eggs, I don't know why.  And I think they look quite becoming in my favourite green dish (etruscan glass) which was purchased on a long ago trip to San Gimignano. 

I hope you all have a fabulous Easter.

I for one will be trying to recover from my throat \ chest infection, watching the leaves turn orange (although hopefully not all at once, that would be a bad sign), eating roast lamb, green beans and garlicky rosemary potatoes and spending time with my beautiful children and divine husband.    

And maybe a glass or two of medicinal pinot noir.   And not forgetting some medicinal dark chocolate.   And some medicinal laughter. 

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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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Mirror Mirror on my Verandah

Just a little thank you to all those readers who suggested that I get some mirror pre-cut at a glass shop. I am obviously a bit brain dead so it had never occurred to me that a glass shop would do this. 

In an effort to make my front verandah less stern, I have put in a mirror, a bench and some cushions and a little table painted the colour of a weak cafe latte and some cacti.

This frame is actually a large Christmas wreath left over from December which I found at Perfect Pieces.  

The glass man cut some mirror to fit and stuck it on.

Hopefully the ficus will grow over the side wall of this part and turn it into a lovely sunny reading bower.

This is now just the place to enjoy this wonderful book by Edward Hollis, which contains some nice biting architectural criticism, and the gripping history and people behind buildings from the Parthenon to a casino in Los Vegas.

Which is much more preferable to the Melbourne F1 Grand Prix which I can hear in the distance as I write. 

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A Little Beefeater in the Forest

In late 2008 some work and a wedding took us to London, where we did lots of fun things as well as work, and we did one cliched tourist thing, which was visit the Tower of London on Remembrance Day. It was quite memorable to stand in the cold for that minute of silence at 11 am with crows cawing overhead, and all the tourists (except some confused ones), standing still whilst the guard blew the Last Post.

In the overpriced shop we bought two costumes for our children, a Knight of St George for my daughter and a Beefeater for little P. When I say costume I really mean T-shirt material with a pattern printed on but they look pretty good.  I am a big fan of costumes and dress ups for children and sometimes the simple kitsch things are the best. 

Here is a little beefeater wandering in our garden.  He doesn't have a bearskin hat but he does have a sword to go with the running and the screams of 'I'm Ironman - kill kill' (disclaimer - he did not get that phrase from me).

Apologies for the sporadicism of my posts. I am battling a night time cough, a semi cold, and gastro. And both children are sick.  And I have lots to do.   But still I think I might pop my son into his costume tonight and we can both have a laugh about the funny beefeater people.

 

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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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