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 

Chilli and Sesame Spiced Pecans

Grade 3 in primary school was one of my favourite years of school. I had the loveliest teacher, Mrs Scully, who married during that year. She was kind and sympathetic to my mathematical foibles and encouraging of my curiosity and talents always cheering on my wins. Not only did she marry that year but became pregnant and, I now suspect, unwell. During her absence she was replaced by a few different teachers plugging the gaps. One in particular, a kindly retired older lady, Mrs Kirby, captured my attention. She, like me, could be inclined towards daydreaming and no doubt frustrated some, but not me. We grew carrots from carrot tops, experimented with iodine drops on bread (that’s an interesting one) and we explored history. She announced, one day, that we’d be beginning our first ‘project.’ Taking out our prized scrap books and exploring the subject, she explained how this homework task should be completed while encouraging us to take wide latitude and explore the topic. One which encompassed geography and history she introduced us to the spice islands. I was fascinated, as you can imagine. I came home excitedly telling mum about the big project I was to complete, I felt like such a big kid in my nine year old body. All of a sudden that huge collection of small jars in Mum’s cupboard were fascinating. They had a history and value as a commodity, they were like the paints for the palette of portraits of history. Mrs Kirby clearly knew her topic and knew how to excite a room full of curious little faces.

We went to the bookshelves that framed our fireplace taking out all the relevant volumes of our encyclopaedia collection. Mum helped me find the relevant tomes in which a region to Australia’s north faded into a collection of islands previously known as the Spice Islands, a place where nutmeg, mace, clove and pepper set European traders and the use of spice worldwide on a new course.

We carefully made small packages of each spice using glad wrap, sticking each one into the pages of my scrap book labelling with their exotic names. I made a map of the archipelago burning the edges and soaking it in tea in my attempt to replicate an ancient artifact to include in the pages of my discoveries and treated that book with kid gloves. Proudly walking into school the morning that project was due I presented my findings to Mrs Kirby for share time. With enthusiasm she opened that book, eyes wide, sniffing enthusiastically at the potpourri of fragrance wafting up from my precious book holding a collection of spices from Mum’s kitchen drawer.

That project comes to mind often. It was the spark that lit the flame of a love affair with spices for me and perhaps paved the path of curiosity like crumbs on a trail to follow. They appear often in my cooking, in cake, soup, curries and even nibbles. That same curiosity inspired by Mrs Kirby still moves me today.

Late last year on a trip to my favourite spice store I noticed a jar of a style of chilli I’d not seen before. In fact I’d only ever seen it in paste form, so obviously, intrigued I bought a jar. Sprinkled on eggs, in toasties and on salads I’d become quite familiar with the flavour but was wondering what else I could do with it. It inspired me to combine it with its paste form, a few other complimentary ingredients and of course glorious Australian pecans.

Wonderful teachers spark curiosity in their young charges which, hopefully lasts a lifetime and inspires lifelong discovery.

Ingredients:

1 Tb maple syrup

2 tsp gochugaru paste (Korean chilli bean paste)

¼ tsp freshly ground black pepper

2 pinches of salt flakes

¼ tsp sesame oil

1 Tb sesame seeds

3 Tb extra virgin olive oil

3 C raw whole pecan halves

½-1 tsp of fresh Gochugaru flakes to taste or half that of dried chilli flakes crushed up. (I use this one)

Method:

Preheat oven to 160c and line a large baking tray.

In a large bowl combine oil, syrup, chilli paste, seasonings, sesame oil. Whisk well until emulsified and completely combined. Sprinkle in sesame seeds, whisk again to distribute evenly through the oil mix. Tip in pecan halves and stir thoroughly until all nuts completely coated in the mixture, scraping the sides of the bowl ensuring all the mixture coats the nuts. Tumble the mixture onto the tray and spread evenly. Bake for 30 minutes turning and stirring halfway through cooking. When times up remove from oven and sprinkle over the gochugaru or chilli flakes and stir again. I like to do this straight out of the oven while the nuts are still sticky. The flakes with stick to the nuts and give another and different layer of spice flavour.

To cool, spread a sheet of baking paper over your kitchen bench or a clean cool tray. Tip the cooked nuts onto the tray to cool. This effectively removes them from any remaining moisture and from the heat of the tray and helps them cool quickly. Nuts will keep cooking in their own heat after being removed from the oven so this step is important to avoid a burnt flavour from the residual heat.

Deep Fried Zucchini

You know the scene. Quiet shuffling about, murmurs of good morning, bags put away, staff congregating in the tearoom. Bleary eyes focused on a morning brew to wake them up, avoiding returning to desks, a day’s work awaiting their attention. Leaning on the wall scrolling phones warm cup in the other hand, morning greetings muttered, the congregations grow. As the caffeine settles in and flows through veins eyes brighten, shoulders rise, eyes, however, remain averted from clocks avoiding the inevitable. Conversation begins, gathered near the water cooler folks begin to chat, a polite “how are you today?” of “did you see….on tv last night?” The water cooler conversation, the centre of millions of workplaces, where workers commune, bond and share. Sharing secrets and stories funny and sad, hashing out problems professional and personal pouring their hearts out and supporting colleagues and friends. The tearoom, staffroom or whatever you call it, is the social and emotional heart of millions of workplaces the world over.

I’ve written before about my early career in hospitality. It’s a busy sometimes demanding industry. The experiences and personalities you encounter widely varied, fascinating, funny, sad and everything in between. If there’s any workplace in which ‘water cooler’ or staff room conversation is needed it’s those in hotels and restaurants. Many of the stories could make you toes curl with horror or your sides hurt with laughter. Sometimes the challenges of being ‘up’ for customers or dealing with the plethora of personalities and needs presented require a big debrief during and after shifts.

The hotel I worked in was not of a refined nature. It had a themed restaurant using a concept imported from the US and therefore offering ‘American style’ food, burgers, nachos, philly cheesesteak, all the favourites. Like many hospitality properties of it’s ilk the staffroom was well stocked with staff meals freely available. Usually dishes made from surplus, they were fine and nourishing but not as delicious or appetising, obviously, as the meals served to paying diners downstairs. And sometimes the de-brief or bonding session required, needed something more than a quickly shovelled down, free meal.

We were lucky where I worked, we could buy meals off the menu for a nominal fee outside service hours. On particularly busy days or when staff were tired or needing a rest before heading home ‘splurging’ on a restaurant meal before leaving was a common treat. I discovered many delicious dishes I’d never heard of spending that $5 sometimes, (I know, 5! It was a long time ago remember) many of which have remained with me. One is a dish I’d never seen or heard of even though I’d travelled to the states a few times on family holidays. It was one well shared with pals, a finger food, one we could dip and munch on while nattering, Deep Fried Zucchini with Ranch Dressing. It was weirdly one of those dishes not especially eye popping or intricate in it’s execution but particularly delicious and popular.

Little morsels like these are perfect little nibbles to fuel conversation, maybe with a delicious drink or shared amongst friends next to other tasty things.

Ingredients:

1 large zucchini cut in to 1 cm slices

1/3 c plain flour

½ tsp each of onion powder, garlic powder and salt flakes

¼ tsp ground white pepper

1 tsp dried oregano

1 egg beaten with a tsp of milk

1 c panko breadcrumbs

10 g finely grated parmesan cheese

2 Tb sesame seeds

Neutral flavoured oil for deep frying

Dressing ingredients:

½ c sour cream

1 tb garlic ailoi

1 tsp finely chopped fresh dill (or ½ tsp dried)

½ tsp salt flakes

Method:

Combine all dressing ingredients cover and store in fridge.

Set up three bowls. In the first one combine flour, spices, salt and oregano. In the second bowl the egg and milk was and in the third the breadcrumbs, parmesan and sesame. Take each slice, one by one dip in the flour mixture, then egg then crumb mixture like if you were making a chicken schnitzel. Place them all on a plate to rest before cooking. A little 30 minute rest before cooking helps set and hold a little making them easier to work with.

Fill a medium saucepan 1/3 the way up with the oil. In my pan this took ¾ ltr. Over a medium heat warm the oil to 180c. If you don’t have one use the cube of bread method. Drop a small piece of bred in the oil and if small fast bubbles form at the edges and it moves gently its ready. If it boils it may be too hot. I like to tap the heat down sliglty to med low once I’m happy. You can obviously use an electric deep fryer if you own one, I don’t so cant offer any advice beyond that.

Drop in 3-4 slice at a time cooking for one minute in total. Stay with them, give them a gentle turn halfway through cooking to ensure even browning. Remove from oil with a slotted spoon, placing on plate lined with paper towel to drain the excess oil.

Serve warm when all cooked with the dressing, a glass of your favourite ‘something delicious’ and solve the world’s problems while bonding. Alternatively it’s a delicious starter on an antipasto board or to hand out with dollops of dressing at a drinks get together.