Chorizo, Tomato and Ricotta Dip

It’s that time of year in Australia again. The time when the tribal battles of parochial football fans supporting the two last teams standing in each of the two football codes comes to its crescendo.

I wrote about the parochialism of the period here and the history of Aussie Rules here highlighting two of the favourite foods accompanying the event over those two posts. Parochialism a characteristic born of competitiveness and origin. In thinking about this year’s football culminations, I’ve been reflecting on the food traditions we look forward to and their place in setting the scene and anchoring us to the festivities. For some families it’s party pies, other sausage rolls or maybe even hot dogs. Perhaps others love a sausage sizzle or a half time barbecue. Whatever the selection its often the same thing served every year, a dish that reliably everyone knows will be served, that they look forward to and indeed would be aghast at missing out on should the host decide to diverge from tradition and try something new. Like I’ve said many times these traditions anchor us in place and offer a sense of security in the same way comfort food does irrespective of what your idea of that is.

For many the geography of their favourite football team provides a sense of place, something this weekend’s AFL grand final will demonstrate as Sydney take on Brisbane. Fans will travel from both states to cheer on their teams in the hope of inspiring their club onto victory filling the stadium with their energy and roars of adulation. Geography is something that can also drive a sense of pride and loyalty to food itself as much as our favourite sporting team. Such is this pride and parochialism it can drive a population to protect its food creations in the way it would protect it’s borders were they also threatened. The globalisation of food and communication has created a universal appreciation of the creations of many countries. This in turn has given food lovers the world over an appreciation of tastes from corners of the world they may never have visited perhaps evoking a desire to travel to that location and indulge that love. I’m looking at you pasta and cheers to you Champagne. And that’s the other element of this, naming the foods evocative of these locations after the place in which they’ve emerged. The fervour in the battle to protect that heritage and uniqueness of these much-loved foods and beverages is akin to ones seen in campaigns to protect borders or indeed our favourite sporting teams.

The most prominent one and perhaps the fight that’s inspired a plethora of other such protectionist crusades is the ongoing one that guards the heritage of the much-loved drink champagne. It all began in 1891as a result of the Treaty of Madrid, a system established to provide legal protection of such products in the way we now know them as trademarks. The fight to protect the treasured drink that was the root of a culture of it’s own in the Champagne region of France bubbled along (see what I did there? lol) with another layer of protection in the Treaty of Versaille after world war one going on to receive official recognition in the region as one of afforded control of the product of its heritage (known as AOC) in 1936 with 70 countries globally acknowledging and recognising this int their production of sparkling wine. The foundation on which this protection is established has gone on to protect the golden bubbles noted in several prominent cases one that saw 3000 bottles destroyed in California when a sparkling wine was labelled as Champagne as recently as 2008. Likewise fashion house Yves Saint Laurent lost their branding for a perfume called Champagne and a small Swiss town, who’d historically made a still wine named after their town since 1657 conceding that right in 1999. This fierce battle has forced other European wine regions to establish their own titles for sparkling wines created in their cultures spurring similar safeguards over their own creations such as Spain’s Cava and Italy’s Prosecco. More recently items like feta and parmesan cheese have also been the subject of similar movements though so far have failed, their battles continue.

Such fervour continues in perpetuity much like the way our family traditions continue. It’s one I recognise in myself as many of you would. But I’m also a curious cook and one who loves trying something a little different sometimes and I love challenging that flavour comfort zone with something a new.

This year neither of our football teams are in the grand final. Additionally neither of the teams competing are from Victoria (that’s a whole other essay about parochialism but I digress) so we’re taking advantage of the long weekend and kicking off the camping season with a mini break in the country. Being away from the normal football viewing environment of home I’ve rethought the menu. We’ll still be watching the game with our friends but the footy food will be a little different though inspired by a few foods endemic in other food cultures. The two-hour game time requires finger food one can nibble on as the game progresses. This year we’ll enjoy a platter of grilled baguette slices with ricotta cheese, thanks Sicily, bright sweet cherry tomatoes and barbecued chorizo, way to go Iberian Peninsula. A joint project by the wonderful mediterranean region if you will, served in the Australian bush. A union of some of the world’s best food cultures served at the bottom of the world.

This is a super simple recipe/idea. There’s now real science to it, it’s just really delicious and looks lovely. Every time I serve it friends demand the recipe. It’s more of a list of instructions that any lesson in cooking. It is however a lesson in food, in keeping it simple both for the eater and your preparation.

You could absolutely serve this already prepared in the way you would a loaded bruschetta (there’s Italy again) were you wanting to serve as a finger food at a party or just as I do as a platter to keep things easy and social.

Ingredients:

1 baguette sliced

Olive oil for brushing bread

200gm or a generous ¾ c of firm ricotta.

2 Tb Greek yogurt, sour cream, crème fraiche or cream

120gm/ ¾  cup chopped cherry tomatoes. I chop them in eighths.

1 chorizo peeled and chopped. The cured variety, not the raw sausage like one that needs cooking

3 tsps olive oil

¼ tsp dried oregano

Red pepper flakes, chilli flakes or even this dried spice mix (my personal fave) or similar.

 Method:

In a bowl whip together the ricotta with the oregano, one teaspoon of the olive oil, yogurt or alternative and salt and pepper to taste set aside.

Warm a griddle pan or barbecue to medium heat and cook. Brush the baguette slices with olive oil. Cook them in the pan in batches or on the griddle area of your barbecue to make lovely lines. These are obviously attractive but also add another taste dimension. Set out on your platter. Also on the platter make a puddle with the ricotta mixture making an indentation of sorts in the middle to hold the tomato pieces.

In the same pan or on the BBQ cook chorizo until just starting to sizzle. We don’t want to render all the fat out and make the pieces dry. While the chorizo is cooking spoon the tomato into the ricotta puddle. Returning to your pan remove the cooked meat and immediately tip on top of the tomato and ricotta layers. We want the heat form the sizzly meat to draw juice and flavour out of the tomato without cooking it.

Sprinkle of the red pepper/chilli flakes over and drizzle with remaining 2 teaspoons of olive, serve immediately. Prepare for the ooooos and ahhhhhs 

One Pan Sausage and Lentil Stew

I’m sitting at my desk, alternating between staring out the window at my garden and the quiet street free of passing traffic and distraction. Unentertained (is that a word?) I look down to my phone, doom scroll, play a word or two on words with friends, check socials look up again. The radio is humming away in the background with mindless chatter, maybe I should switch to music, something classical known to feed the brain and settle it into productive intellectual waves of thought and creation. Or maybe not.

How can I tell you a story about something delicious that makes you want to cook and eat it? For the first time in 98 issues of Food, Finds and Forays I’m a little stumped. My husband often says ‘I don’t know how you think of something to say every week,’ I always just shrug and think oh it’s easy…until today. Usually, at worst the way to get things flowing is to sit down and magically the words come.

It occurs to me this is almost a metaphor for how this recipe was born and indeed many others, both mine and your own.

We hear all the time from our most admired food writers about seasonality and inspiration. At the recent Sorrento Writers Festival this was a strong theme through the panel discussion titled For the Love of the Cookbook. My mind pondered this during the discussion. Do I do this? Certainly my tastes and cravings reflect this and lead my hands to feed them in such a way.  With this thought still tootling around in my head, no idea what ia was making for dinner, the sun shining Autumnal warmth and mid morning hunger rumbling (never a good away to go shopping, but still) we headed off to our local Sunday Farmers Market. It’s become quite a well known one, not in a particularly scenic setting but always hosting excellent producers many of whom have been coming for the ten years of the market’s existence.

On this occasion my husband joined me. He commented on the bustle of the crowds out enjoying the sun, he noted the familiarity of many producers and with interest of some of the new ones since last he came. I bought a bunch of my favourite leaves, cavolo nero, it’s crisp bright rich forest green leaves creased with folds from veins running higgledy piggledy through the long lush leaves proudly filling half my basket. I could feel my husband’s gaze wondering what I was planning on feeding him with a big bunch of green leaves at my fingertips. Thankfully for him opposite my favourite veg farmer was a new vendor, a beef farmer.

We chatted with the farmer and perused her offerings. It was one of those interactions that makes you fall in love with farmers markets and entices you to try their wares. No sales pitch, no slick fast talking just sharing their love of the land and their animals and hoping you’ll give their meat a try. Obviously we did, we bought some of her sausages, mince for a ragu and some steaks. I still didn’t know what I was going to make for dinner but at least I knew what the star of the show would be.

Later at home, having put my haul away I made a start on dinner. I’m not normally a huge fan of sausages but had an inkling these would be good ones so that’s where I started. I knew I also was yearning for some greens so the cavolo nero was next. Slowly an idea formed, a bit of this, a dash of that, a cup or two of something else. Not what he was expecting at dinner timenhaving seen the sausages come out, but definitely something he enjoyed. It’s delicious, it’s hearty, wholesome and most importantly seasonal.

Ingredients:

2 Tb extra virgin olive oil

500gm Sausages, choose ones with some flavour rather than plain if you can.

1 small onion thinly sliced

1 large capsicum (pepper)in large chunks, any colour is fine

2 garlic clove thinly sliced

¾ tsp smoked sweet paprika

2 tsp plain flour

1 Tb tomato paste

5 sprigs thyme, leaves picked

1 ½ c beef stock

1 c canned brown lentils (keep the rest to pop in a lunch time salad)

1 large handful chopped cavolo nero, sub in your favourite green if you wish

Method:

Heat half the oil in a large heavy based pan (such as cast iron if you have it) over medium heat. Add the sausages and brown on all sides. They don’t need to be cooked through just nicely browned on the outside, remove and set aside keeping warm.

Add the remaining oil to the pan and reduce heat to low. Add the onion and capsicum and cook gently five minutes until softened. Add garlic and cook briefly until fragrant. Increase heat to medium and sprinkle over paprika and thyme leaves and cook stirring constantly, again until fragrant, a minute or two. Sprinkle flour in and stir well ensuring it’s well combined and cook off for a couple minutes keeping it moving so it doesn’t catch. Now pop tomato paste in stirring well, it will look like a big gloopy mess, don’t panic that’s fine. Pour in masala mixing constantly and let it bubble for a few moments then start slowly adding the stock stirring constantly so it’s all combined and a nice smooth sauce. Tumble in the lentils and greens, combine well. Place sausages back into the pan gently snuggling them into the sauce, reduce heat to low an loosely pop the lid almost all the way across the pan and simmer for 30 minutes. Stir a few times while it cooks to ensure it doesn’t stick to the bottom.

Serve with mashed potatoes, rice, pasta or just a simple salad and mop up the lovely sauce with crusty bread.

Chicken, Apple and Camembert Salad

I attended the Sorrento Writers Festival this last week. At the southernmost tip of Port Phillip Bay skies were overcast and grey as they often are down there the waters of the bay like glass, not a breath of wind ruffling the surface. As a young woman I spent many peaceful weekends in this quiet seaside village, walking the clifftops, daydreaming in the shadows of sandstone mansions handed down through generations, the gentle lapping of the tides my soundtrack keeping beat of my footsteps like a whooshing metronome. Whilst popular in summer months Sorrento was still a relatively tightly held area with the summer bustle relatively contained compared to other towns.

A lot has changed down there these days. Famous brand shops dot the main street. Cafes old and new pop up and an international luxury hotel chain has reimagined a beautiful old sandstone hotel with a glamourous makeover. Notably too, the Writers Festival has joined the calendar and in doing so, for one long weekend, has created a hum on Ocean Beach Road.

A smile crept across my face as I took the final turn to the hub of the village. It was a reminiscent day trip as memories washed over me. I met my husband and was married in this town so it holds a special place in my heart adding to my excitement. After finding a parking spot which took more effort than I remembered I headed to the main street for a quick walk before meeting friends for lunch. I was struck by the hum of activity and air of excitement the event generated in the town. Small groups of friends excitedly chattered about sessions they had attended rehashing the nuggets they’d learnt or with anticipation for talks to come later in the day.

After a delicious lunch at a French bistro with some equally excited pals we trundled down the hill to listen to an afternoon session titled The Art of the Cookbook. Featuring two doyennes of Australian cooking and two young stars of the food world a hush fell over the room. Literary creative and author (the best way I can think of to describe her) Jaclyn Crupi introduced Stephanie Alexander, Belinda Jeffrey and Julia Bussutil Nashimura with her warm and humble wit. Wrangling the decades of experience and anecdotes these three women brought to the panel was no mean feat but with her own skill she kicked off with questions for the women about their own cookbook colections. Different responses emerged including recollections of culls during house moves and picking through collections to optimise the content on their shelves. In exploring what did and didn’t make the cut the obvious question was posed….. “How many books do you have in your collection?” As the panellists answered, my sheepish’nish bloomed. Not counting a couple of decades of food magazines my cookbook collection alone exceeded any of those of the featured authors. I leaned to my right to share this fact with one of my companions to which she gasped. I smiled, a little bit proud of the number but pondering the thoughts explored on the topic and my friends reaction. Am I reaching a number needing a cull too. And like one of the panellists who hasn’t culled yet how on earth could I let any of them go? What if I moved one on that contained a skill or recipe I suddenly wanted to master.

I have wondered if the magazines could be the sacrificial lambs. Why do I hang onto them? Are they some kind of trophy I like to store almost like a story of my learning and loyalty to them? Or am I a food literature hoarder?

There are indeed recipes in those magazines I refer back to know by heart and hold as favourites. But do I know which issue they’re in? Or do I even remember the year in which they were published? Well actually no I don’t. I do, however, know that I first heard of Mangomisu in a summer issue of Delicious. Jamie Oliver’s Chocolate Tart, the first one I ever made, chosen for a friends getaway weekend came from Delicious too. I also made a salad that’s reached family folk lore. It’s one even my kitchen avoiding sister-in-law loves to make and share. A ‘special salad’ as it were that evokes oohs and aahs. An unconventional combo perhaps who’s flavour always explodes and prompts compliments from diners.

It's these recipes and writing we learn from most often I think. Recipes that are little nuggets that grow to be favourites that stick in your mind. Ones that evolve and are re-shaped by your own growth in tastes and skills.

As I drove away from that inspiring afternoon in Sorrento, my mind buzzing with ideas, the overcast skies were starting to dim. I felt inspired and open after the day I’d had as the long drive home in traffic stretched out before me. My mind as it does turned towards dinner, and the dishes discussed and recipes I’d recalled. That salad from a long time ago popped into mind and how I could make it my own and make it dinner, another idea was born.

Maybe I’ll hang onto that collection a bit longer.

Ingredients:

¼ c slivered almonds

2 Pink lady apples cut into 8 wedges and cored

25 gm butter

1 Tb olive oil

500 gm chicken tenderloins

Rocket/Arugula

100 gm camembert cheese cut into wedges

Dressing:

1 tb lemon juice

1 scant tb honey

3 tsp Dijon mustard

2 Tb extra virgin olive oil

3 sprigs thyme leaves picked

Salt and pepper

Method:

Combine all dressing ingredients, whisk and refrigerate.

Warm a large frypan (we’re going to use the one pan for all the steps) over medium heat and dry fry the almond slivers. Move them constantly by swirling the pan, don’t leave them, they will cook quickly and can go from golden brown to burnt before you know it. Remove from heat and tip from the pan to a cool plate to arrest cooking and allow them to cool.

Return the pan to the heat over med-low heat and add the butter. Melt until just starting to foam and add the apple wedges. Cook 3 minutes one side with out disturbing then turn and cook 2 minutes the other side again without moving. We want to caramelise the outside of the flesh, warm it through and preserve a little bite in the middle. Remove apple to a plate to cool slightly. Wipe out the pan with paper towel and return to the heat over medium heat.

Season chicken pieces with salt flakes and freshly ground black pepper. Warm oil in the pan, add chicken and cook undisturbed until well browned. Turn and cook until cooked through. They should have a little bounce in the middle to maintain moisture but obviously being chicken you want it cooked through. Remove and allow to cool slightly on a plate while you begin to assemble your salad.

On a serving platter sprinkle a bed of rocket. Dot over half the apple wedges and punctuate with the cooked chicken tenderloins. Add in the camembert wedges evenly across the salad, pop the remaining apple on here and there and sprinkle a little extra rocket over. Sprinkle over roasted almond slivers and finally to serve pour over half the dressing. Serve the remaining dressing in a jug alongside the salad for those of us who like to slather on extra flavour as you dine.

Notes;

~Chicken breast cooked then sliced will work here too, we’re just huge fans of tenderloins and they’re super economical.

~You may like to slice up your chicken to build your salad if you think that’s easier to eat especially if you’re serving this as part of shared table or buffet.