Afternoon Tea Loaf

I’m 51. I dwell in the middle, the space between the seasons, between two phases of life. The one where summer’s glow shrinks away awaiting a new dawning in spring, towards summers of the future and the next phase.

I wake nightly, eyes springing open, alert. I toss and turn searching for a return to slumber, desperately trying to keep my mind in the inert state of the wee hours and rest. Though I fight earnestly my brain springs into action, alert awake. The hours pass, thoughts trawl, the ‘problems of the world’ turned over tenfold solved and rehashed. Oudtside my window in waving eucalypts the birds start to stir, their song rising from a murmur, the rousing call of a kookaburra calling the chorus to a crescendo. Then the choir recedes and the dawn emerges as my eyes heavily fall into the nothingness of sleep. I wake soon after, the the day slowly gathering it’s usual cadence. Reluctantly flinging the doona off I arise and start the day expecting fatigue and exhaustion to sweep over me. Though in need of coffee the wave of fatigue hasn’t quite found me. I’m tired but awake, not as tired as I expect my mind is alert though foggy the night’s strange mix of wakeful sleepiness hanging from my shoulders like a cape I’m not keen to wear. Ideas sparked through excite me though I need to reach through holes in the fog to grasp them and bring them to life. Joints ache and waves of ‘summer’ sweep over me making my hand flap like a fan to relive the sudden flush of heat. While my mind and heart remain in a youthful place my body gently reminds me I’m entering an autumn of sorts. One where deep restful sleep eludes me and bright sparkling sunshine begins to wain to make room for the waxing of a new type of sunshine and life’s second summer.

It's no surprise then that I reflect on life in such a metaphorically manner this week. The warm balmy summer days drawing to a close here making room for the shift in seasons. Nature begins her pack down in preparation for hibernation and rebirth this week. Autumn started here yesterday. It’s a topsy turvy season, a space in the middle. Where some days dawn cool and brisk, the world moving a little slower and things a little less bright. Then as if to remind us nature hasn’t quite shifted yet our weeks are punctuated with days illuminated with warm sunshine and vigour until eventually the hibernation arrives and the earth settles down for a rest preparing for spring’s bud and summers bloom.

It's in the space in the middle, in the wee hours when my mind decides rest is for the young and the old and not the ones in the middle, that if I allow it, ideas are born. Where I imagine the next chapter and my next bloom that I also imagine what that will look, feel and taste like. Renewed energy and vigour, fresh ideas and ambitions and days filled with different flavours.

I imagined this Afternoon Tea Loaf during one such interlude in sleep. Where a mixture of summer’s fruits dried in dry parched sunshine were plumpled with dark malty sweetness and salty melted butter folded together with spices and a combination of flours, eggs and yoghurt to form a rustic loaf to compliment a moment of down time in the afternoon, perhaps with a pal or on a picnic adventuring in the wild. She’s dark flavourful, rustic, nutty and just a little spicy, sturdy and resilient she’ll last and brighten your day and make you smile.

Ingredients:

210 gm mixed dried fruit chopped.

200gm butter

¾ c (180gm) dark brown sugar (regular brown is fine if that’s all you have)

2 Tb treacle

2 tsps cocoa (unsweetened, dutch style)

1 c flour

½ c spelt flour (the wholemeal type is tastier)

½ c almond flour/ground almond

1 tsp ground cardamon

½ tsp allspice

1 ½ tsp baking powder

½ tsp bicarb soda

2 eggs

½ c Greek style yoghurt

1 tbs oil (neutral flavour, I’ve used grape seed)

1 tsp vanilla extract.

Method:

Preheat oven to 180c (fan forced) grease and line a loaf tin, 9.5cm x 20cm.

Combine butter, fruit, sugar treacle and cocoa in a medium saucepan over low heat until butter is melted and sugar mostly dissolved. Pour into a bowl to cool.

In a large bowl combine dry ingredients and whisk together with a balloon whisk to thoroughly combine and aerate.

I another small bowl combine eggs, yoghurt, oil and vanilla and whisk together to completely combine.

Pour all the wet ingredients over the dry ingredients and fold through to mix together until just combined. Tip into the loaf tin and pop in the oven for 50 minutes or until a skewer in the middle comes out clean. You’ll need to check the cake at the 30 minute mark and perhaps cover with foil. There’s a lot of sugars in the mixture which burnish and form a lovely crust quite quickly but will burn if left uncovered.

Allow to cool in the tin for ten minutes before using baking paper to gently lift from the tin and cooling on a rack. Serve with or without butter…but it’s much nicer with butter…or even a thick spread of ricotta.

Cauliflower, Carrot and Chickpea Fritters

I’ve come across a new phrase recently “February, the Mother’s New Years.” I loved it and had a rye chuckle to myself accompanied by a knowing nod. No doubt a revelation and saying arrived at by some clever clogs Mum somewhere who’s exhalation and sigh of relief waving kids off to a new school year registered with the weather authorities as a brief gale of wind. One, women, Australia wide, also identified with also nodding along as they surveyed their lives on those first few days of the school year as routine resumed and we all hopped aboard life’s treadmill for another lap around the sun.

I recalled this time vividly reading this. Both excited for the return of some routine and quiet during the day as much as I was also sad to have to resume the early mornings, the rushing around and those lunchboxes. I always quite enjoyed the languid slow pace of those 6-8 week summer holidays kicking off with the festivities of Christmas and followed by sunny summer days spent by the sea or in the bush. The bored kids and all that results from that were always a small price to pay for all that Aussie summers gift us. Camping trips, time in nature, sleep ins and family time were always the weeks that rejuvenated and refreshed me ready for the year that awaited.

January was the time for plotting and planning and all those resolutions and best intentions for the months to come. Amongst all the normal plans and promises to self I always used to want to up my lunchbox game for my kids. I’d collect all the ‘special lunchbox edition’ magazines that would populate the shelves at the dawn of each year, flicking through their pages folding the corners of ones I planned to try while relaxing in a deck chair under summer skies supervising skylarking kids on holidays. February was always the annual golden age of lunchbox fodder with all the savoury muffins, frittatas, pasta salads and wraps. March saw the return of sandwiches some days and on the year would go until term four arrived and as with every other Mum I’d limp over the finish line with whatever I could muster.

My kids are adults now and make their own lunches, but I still love a tasty lunch, more interesting than the basics. I like taking a few moments from all the other elements of busy days to assemble something delicious and healthy to break up the day. As with most busy people, though, I also don’t have a lot of time in my day to pull anything too extravagant together so if I can make something that lasts a few days, all the better.

And so I give you Cauliflower, Carrot and Chickpea fritters. Suitable for all manner of lunches, picnics, stand up ones while you empty the dishwasher, desk lunches while you plough through the work day or maybe even lunchboxes if you keep ‘mum’ about all those veggies.

Enjoy!!

Ingredients:

1 can chickpeas drained, half fork mashed half kept whole.

2 cups of small cauliflower florets, either from leftovers or blanched.

1 large carrot peeled and grated

1 spring onion/scallion finely chopped

1 tsp thyme leaves chopped or ½ tsp dried

1 garlic clove crushed

½ C milk

½ plain flour

1 tsp baking powder

1 egg lightly whisked

1 tsp salt flakes

Freshly ground black pepper to taste.

Oil to fry. I prefer extra virgin olive oil

Method:

Combine vegetables, chickpeas, thyme and garlic in a large bowl.

In a second bowl combine milk and egg and whisk together. Add flour, salt and pepper and combine until almost smooth.

Tip over veg and chickpeas, fold together until thoroughly combined.

Heat a large fry pan over medium heat with enough oil to cover the base. Drop heaped ¼ c full dollops of mixture into the warmed pan cooking 2-3 minutes each side flipping after the edges are cooked as pictured. They’re done when firm in the middle and golden brown on both sides. I cook 3 at a time to give you an idea of how big to make them.

Serve warm or cold with your favourite condiment.

Rocky Road

It was always the sweet smell sugar and chocolate that alerted me first. Small hand ensconced in my mother’s, eyes darting around for the entrance. The sweet heady aroma of chocolate and assorted sweets would waft from the shop door always drawing hungry shoppers in. My mum had a penchant for liquorice all sorts and straps. A bit of a monthly indulgence on our Saturday shopping trips she’d stock up ensuring there was always a jar of soft squishy liquorice black straps in the cupboard and a smaller one of cubes of all sorts. Not a liquorice girl myself I was always more taken with the mountains of chocolate. Jars and jars of it, all available by individual piece and more, wrapped in brightly coloured crinkly packaging invitingly displayed just within a child’s reach. I would always delight in the small offerings of the sales assistants keeping me occupied while mum stocked up…or quite possibly enticing me to pester mum for something yummy for me as well. They wore long full skirts that would swish with each step around the store they took and billow sleeved blouses, adorned with equally long bib and skirt aprons and full bonnets that reminded me of shower caps all as a nod to the heritage of the brand. They were the type of local brand who’s wares were coveted, indeed my mother in law always cherished a gift of a box of assorted chocolates.

Alongside her love of liquorice mum also loved rocky road bars. Come xmas she’d stock up on these some cut into bars in individual clear bags their squishy shiny marshmallow and jewels of Turkish delight shining out from the rich chocolate coating and others cut into cubes piled abundantly in bags with small fragments of nuts piled at the bottom like prized debris. She loved having a basket of goodies at hand that she could gift people. Generous to a fault she hated the thought of not showing her fondness for those around her at Christmas time. From the postman, to work colleagues, school teachers and friends everyone was thought of and many the recipients of treats from our favourite chocolate shop.

To be honest I’m a bit the same. I love small offerings of love at Christmas and do indeed include as many of those in my life as I can. Spiced cookies, shortbread, mince pies and fruit cake all feature prominently but his year I wanted to include something a little different. I was reminded of Mum’s rocky road love and as always my fondness for putting my spin on a recipe. I recall my small fingers as a child picking the individual jewels from the chunks and licking my fingers of the melted chocolate as my mind darted around with ideas for my version of Rocky Road. I’m particularly enamoured with these marshmallows, large cubes like small sugary pillows and fragrance that bursts from the packet. Tumbled with floral Turkish delight jellies, golden caramel popcorn and crunchy cashew nuts I like to encase them in dark chocolate to balance out the sweetness with a few pops of tart craisins for little bursts of sour. I’ve also kept the big, lovely pieces of marshmallow and Turkish delight jellies whole because it’s one less thing to do and then when I’m eating it and then enjoy chunks with each delicious ingredient. You could chop marshmallow and Turkish delight into smaller chunks if you prefer to have candy cocktail with each bite, it’s entirely up to you. You may also prefer milk chocolate or even white, it will all be delicious and loved by all those in your life to whom you make a small offering of chocolate love this Christmas.

Ingredients:

250gm turkish delight (rose flavoured, the pink one)

140 gm marshmallows

1 C dry roasted whole cashews

2 C caramel popcorn (remember Lolly Gobble Bliss Bombs?)

½ C craisins

725 gm of dark chocolate (I use this one.) roughly cut into small pieces

2 Tb grape seed oil or other neutral flavoured oil.

Method:

Line a 30cm x 19cm straight sided slice tin with baking paper leaving a few centimetres overhang on each side so you can easily lift the slice out for cutting when set.

In a large bowl combine all ingredients except chocolate and oil. You can cut up the marshmallow and Turkish delight if you wish. I like to leave it whole, saves time and the gives you pieces with big chunks of favourite ingredients.

Bring some water to a simmer in a small to medium sized saucepan suitable for a glass bowl to sit on top ensuring there isn’t too much water that it will lick the bottom of the bowl when placed on top.

Put chocolate pieces in a second large bowl big enough to fit over the saucepan you have simmering on the stove. Place the bowl on the saucepan keeping the water at a gentle simmer. Melt the chocolate until just smooth remove immediately. Stir through oil until well combined. This should help the chocolate cool a little so we can add it to the other bowl with melting the marshmallow and Turkish delight. Once cooled to room temperature, pour over first bowl and stir through until well combined and all the ingredients are coated. Tip into prepared tin, smooth out until mostly well distributed and pop in the fridge uncovered to set for at least one hour or until firm.

Cut into chunks of your own size preference and gobble up!

Warm Chorizo and Potato Salad

So it’s the first of December, perhaps the official start of the silly season, or is it? More and more each year the season dawns ever earlier. Major sale days now have become major sale weeks with us all hunting bargains and ticking off shopping lists smugly celebrating the completion of parts of or whole shopping lists. Company Christmas parties now dot squares in the November page of calendars and diaries. Christmas trees and decorations adorn our homes in November festooning every corner with festive cheer. And of course our social plans fill with all the annual Christmas catch ups with family and friends.

It's a funny thing really, we’re all so busy feeling like our personal bandwidth has reached capacity yet we feel compelled to load up even more. Don’t get me wrong, the social side of the festive season is actually one of my favourite parts of farewelling the year. Life, in the thick of the year is busy, we’re distracted by all the weekly commitments and demands on our time so making the effort to commit to time with special people feels all the more precious. December seems to bring with it a slow sense of curtains slowly drawing to a close. It’s an atmosphere well suited to a time of year marked by gatherings with loved ones. Likewise, a time of year here, where the weather mellows and warms and we’re drawn outside, dining under gently waving trees, warmed by sunshine and serenaded by birdsong and chirruping crickets. In amongst all these events though life still tumbles along taking us with it. Indeed alongside this period of reunions can be a sense of frenetic lists to tick off. Work tasks to close out for the year, maybe holidays to pack and plan for and all the other commitments we feel compelled to fulfill. Would I change it? Not on your life! I love the atmosphere of all these fun lunches and dinner dates. We’re all a little reflective, reminiscing on all the milestones and events and hopefully excitedly looking towards what the year to come brings. Corks pop, barbecues sizzle, laughter fills the air and shoulders, set firm with tension start slowly descending.

In the midst of that festive paradox the last thing I need is to struggle with what to cook or bring to a dinner when asked to contribute while still trying to fill hungry tummies. Where I can keep it simple I will, relying on a few loved flavours and filling, hearty ingredients. Spuds, or potatoes more politely, are where it’s at aren’t they. No matter how they’re prepared, nearly everyone loves them, they’re cheap and filling and will be the thing that will get passed between diners the most. What better way to keep the conversation flowing and cater for everyone.

Ingredients:

1 kg potatoes unpeeled in large cubes/chunks**.

¼ c extra virgin olive oil

½ tsp smoked sweet/mild paprika

2 tsp dried oregano

Salt flakes

3-4 whole unpeeled garlic cloves, lightly bruised with a lite bash.

2 cured chorizo sausages chopped into large chunks

¼ c garlic aioli or sour cream (choose your own adventure) or more depending on you’re preference

2 spring onions sliced to serve

Method:

Preheat oven to 180c.

Line a large roasting tray or dish big enough to hold potatoes in a single layer. In a large bowl whisk together oil, paprika and oregano. Add the prepared potatoes and stir to coat well. Tumble the mixture in the lined baking tray and sprinkle with the salt flakes. Pop into the oven and bake 30 minutes. Remove and stir and sprinkle over the chopped chorizo and return to the oven for 10 minutes or until potatoes are golden brown and sausage caramelising on the edges.

Now here’s the choose your own adventure part. Dollop over the top either the garlic aioli or sour cream and sprinkle the sliced spring onions. We prefer the aioli, it’s just that little bit richer and we love the extra garlic flavour it imparts, however if you’d prefer a lighter flavour try sour cream. As it melts down over the warm potatoes it will melt into the flavoured oil now infused with the chorizo flavours and form a delicious sauce to scoop up and drizzle over whatever protein you’ve served alongside.

**Floury potatoes are usually preferred for baking but don’t get hung up on that, if you only have white or waxy potatoes just go with it, they’ll be fine.

GF Almond Spice Granola

The alarm gently trills from my watch. It feels loud this morning ‘til I realise its right next to my head. I fumble for the button to quieten it, snooze a few more minutes. It trills again, I know today I can’t hit that button again. Magpies warble at my window sill, I hear my husband moving around getting ready for his day, run through the day in my head, I fumble for the button and turn off the alarm. Blinking a few times forcing sand from eyes I reach for my glasses check my phone (I know) and surrender to the inevitable. The day begins, showered ready to go. After squeezing in an early morning appointment I’m off for jaunt down the coast to work on a wonderful project, it’s going to be a big day. With my photographer’s hat on, my mind is ticking through all the wonderful possibilities for today’s shoot, the creative joy of working with a like-minded soul on a shared passion coursing through my veins. I wander downstairs very grateful for yesterday Sally who prepared brekky for today Sally. What a clever gem she was, because no matter how invigorated I feel I’m still not a morning person. I try, I want to be, I make plans to reach that goa, but I never quite make it. I’m also a brekky lover, indeed it’s the only way to get me fired up, that and a strong almond milk flat white coffee….very strong. The delicious spicy crunch of nuts and seeds held together with honey burnished in the oven to crisp the mixture up to little clusters atop creamy thick Greek yoghurt and the tang of fresh berries is one of my favourite ways to start the day, and when I know I have big schedule ahead of me a delicious meal I can make ahead and ignite my mind and body.

Whilst I’m lucky enough to not be a coeliac sometimes a brekky heavy in grains can still feel a little heavy in the morning for me. With that in mind I’ve leaned on gluten free ingredients for a satisfying and nourishing mix to top my yoghurt with a little crunchy sprinkle. A nice little handful of clusters also makes a great snack or even a lite sprinkle over ice cream to almost give a feel of a crumble type dessert. If not with fresh fruit this compote is perfect alongside the granola both at breakfast with yoghurt and of course at the other end of the day over ice cream.

Ingredients:

1 ½ c raw buckwheat

2/3 c whole raw almonds skin on

2/3 c slivered raw almonds

½ c raw macadamias either halved or roughly chopped

¼ c pumpkin seeds

¼ c sunflower seeds

2 Tb sesame seeds

1 c coconut flakes

2 ½ tsp ground cinnamon

¼ tsp ground allspice

½ tsp ground ginger

½ tsp ground cardamon

1/3 c olive oil

1/3 c honey

1 tsp vanilla

2 tsp brown sugar

Method:

Preheat oven to 160c (140c for fan forced).

Line a tray large enough to hold the ingredients in a single layer. Use two if you need to.

Combine all dry ingredients in a large bowl, set aside. Combine Olive oil, honey and vanilla in a bowl whisking until combined. You can zap in the microwave for ten seconds if you need to loosen it.

Pour over drive ingredients and mix well to combine. Spread evenly on tray in a thin layer. Bake 15 minutes taking out to stir and turn well half way through cooking.

Remove and cool on bench. I like to slide the paper off the hot tray onto the bench. It’s coolness shock the granola and stops the cooking process.

Whiskey and Orange Cake

My Dad, always loved a little nip of whiskey after dinner. Not a big glug or many glasses of such just a little splash, neat, to relax him and warm him up he’d say. He had his own bottle on the bar at his local footy club and a bottle at his local freemason’s lodge. It was part of his persona and one of the things his friends and I remember fondly about him. He also loved cake, until the day he passed away he fondly enjoyed a ‘sliver’ of cake. The nostalgic flavours of his favourites remained one of the things his dementia addled brain never was unable to ravage as I reflected on here.

Waddling around these last couple of days with a stiff sore back needing heat packs and a little something to offer some comfort I was reminded of my dad’s small daily rituals of a dash of warming scotch whiskey and cake, usually enjoyed separately. Well I’ve rolled them together. Warming rich malty whiskey and fresh squeezed orange juice warmed with honey and poured over dark squishy sultanas and currants. Combined with brown sugar and butter and the usual cake suspects I’ve created a light fluffy cake that feels like a warm hug.

Both warming the whiskey and cooking it again in the oven cooks out any alcohol content so if for any reason you need to avoid that this is will still work for you. The whiskey creates a richness to the flavour rounding out the almost caramel like notes of the dried fruit and honey rather than that usual harsh burn of a strait drink of the spirit. This cake is also dairy free for anyone needing to avoid that too.

Ingredients:

80 gm sultanas

80 gm currants

Juice and zest of an orange

100 whiskey

1tb honey

½ tsp bicarb soda

2 eggs

120 gm brown sugar

1 tsp vaniaa

75 gm butter melted and cooled

180gm self raising flour

¼ tsp salt flakes

½ tsp freshly grated nutmeg

Method:

Preheat oven to 180c. Line and grease a 19 cm springform pac.

Combine dried fruit, orange zest, nutmeg and bicarb soda in a medium bowl set aside. In a small saucepan combine whiskey, juice and honey and warm over medium heat until small bubbles begin on the edges of the surface. Immediately pour over fruit mixture and set aside to cool to room temperature.

Using a stand mixer with whisk attachment mix eggs, sugar and vanilla on medium high until lighter in colour and frothy. Drizzle the melted butter in while still whisking and mix briefly until its combined but before it splits, mere seconds.

Gently tip flour and salt in and using a hand balloon whisk fold into egg mixture until almost combine. Pour in fruit mixture and all the liquid and continue folding together briefly.

Pour into prepared tin and bake 40 minutes.

Cool in tin five minutes then remove from spring form. Served dusted with icing sugar and if you’re really feeling fancy a drizzle of caramel like this one.

Many hours sitting in waiting rooms this week means many hours scrolling, I don’t want to think what my iphone screen time report will look like this week. A few beauties stopped me in my tracks and are on the to cook list. This spicy easy dinner will be a hit with my lot. Not sure if this veg number will be but I’ll love it and will come back to it for Christmas entertaining. Likewise this dip which is my husband’s idea of food hell, and my idea of food heaven, venus and mars right there. Reading is the other great way to keep busy in those busy waiting rooms. I finished this much anticipated stellar sequel this week and LOVED it. I also whizzed through this light aussie read this week. I’ve enjoyed all of the authors book previously and this was no exception.

Herbed Beef and Macaroni

Nostalgia has been front of mind lately, like a chain, all it’s elements individual links forming its reach. I’m not sure what’s motivated it but I know it started with a conversation with Mel and our joint quest for an old high school home economics text book, both of us coincidentally in pursuit of a seemingly simple but comforting recipe for apple dumplings. It was a strange happenstance that we should both be motivated by the same recipe and that it should come to light quite deep into the conversation. It’s the comfort that such nostalgic recipes bring that motivates such a hunt and a big reflection and metaphor for who I am really.

At the nursery this week looking for new season herbs I came home with three bright pink fuchsia plants to fill a spot in my garden needing a lift. They were my Nana’s favourite plant and featured frequently in corners of her garden cascading from hanging baskets like ballerinas dancing in the breeze every spring. They fascinated me as a child their little buds popping with a gentle squeeze revealing the stamen and pistil ready to erupt. As a little ballerina myself I always ‘saw’ fairies and ballerinas fluttering their wings or pointing their toes from the jewel-coloured blooms. I can’t wait for the little buds to burst in my little fuchsia patch and hope somewhere somehow they make my Nana smile.

Pottering in another part of my garden bright green buds almost reminiscent of fresh figs with ruby red centres had just started opening on one of the many orchid plants from my father’s collection. A hobby he took up in retirement, the accumulation, nurturing and sharing of his collection became a passion. I always smile fondly when they flush making sure to gather the long lasting stems and bring them inside to enjoy their elegant adornment almost like having my dad around again, popping in to visit.

They’re simple pursuits that consume me and occupy my mind and time. Nothing too fancy and definitely not particularly sexy. Indeed some may find them mundane and hokey, perhaps even frown on them. I’ve often looked on my passions myself that way even answering questions in polite conversation about them in hushed tones, brushing over them, trying to seem more intellectual and interesting. It was whilst listening to this episode of my favourite podcast this week that this came to mind and indeed I almost felt like Lindsay and her guest were giving me permission to remain elbow deep in the flour and soil and creativity. Noting their love of their individual interests motivated by nothing else but their love of them rather than any societal presumptions of them that can sometimes superficially be attached to such simple pastimes gave me pause. These pursuits bring comfort be they born from nostalgia like mine or otherwise. No matter how simple nor highbrow they may seem to others I realised that they really are like a soft crocheted blanket from nana ( did I mention my love of a blankie? ) tucked around your lap on a cold evening, they allow you to breathe out feel ‘warm’ in all the ways and offer you escape and indeed an intellectual flex in a way that’s meaningful to you…and that really is the thing that matters most.

Much like my simple pursuits beef mince is a simple ingredient often forming the basis for simple meals. There’s usually always a tray of it in my freezer, so much so I could almost write a book of mince recipes. It’s an ingredient often associated with nostalgic meals like this one and more often than not comfort food. Maybe it’s that air of nostalgia that’s prevailed recently that reminded me of this dish from my childhood. Herbed Beef and Macaroni was one of my mum’s specialties from her Women’s Weekly Recipe Card Collection box. Remember those? They were a prized collection taking pride of place in thousands of Australian kitchens in the 70’s and 80’s. As was the case in that cooking era it featured a few convenient hacks using tinned soup and packets. Working from memory and a preference for working from scratch, I was keen to reconstruct this family fave. I was thrilled to plunge my fork into a warming bowl of this hearty dish and even more so to taste a dinner that tasted just like it did at mum’s hands.

Ingrendients:

1 Tb olive oil, you know the drill, extra virgin

1 brown onion finely diced

1 carrot peeled and very finely diced or grated

1 garlic clove crushed

150 gm bacon chopped in chunks

500gm beef mince (not the low fat stuff, it’s dry and flavourless)

400g jar of tomato passata/puree + a jar of water

1 Tbs dried mixed herbs – the old school variety

1 tsp dried oregano

1 beef stock cube

1 ½ cups of small shaped dried pasta like macaroni or elbows

1 c frozen peas ( I use baby peas, they’re much sweeter)

Method:

In a large frypan, that has a well-fitting lid, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the bacon and fry off until the edges start to caramelise, about five minutes.

Reduce heat to low and add onion and carrot and cook gently until softened but not browned, another five minutes.

Increase heat to medium high and add the garlic cook briefly until the garlic aroma wafts up. Push all this to the edge of the pan and add the pat of mince allowing it to brown whole for a few minutes each side like you would a whole piece of meat. After you’ve browned both sides break it up and continue browning the meat. You don’t need to cook it through completely but rather brown it mostly.

Sprinkle over the herbs and stir briefly allowing them to warm and release their fragrance. Pour in the passata and using that jar add a jar full of water. Crumble the stock cube over the mixture and stir to combine.

Tumble the pasta shapes into the mixture and stir to combine well. Turn heat back down to low, pop the lid on and cook for ten minutes stirring half way through to ensure it doesn’t catch on the bottom.

Remove the lid, stir again and taste check the pasta for doneness and check for seasoning. Add salt and black pepper to taste now. Try not to do this earlier as both the bacon and stock cube add a lot of flavour and needs time to cook down a little before you taste and season. Allow to simmer for a few more minutes with the lid off to let some of the liquid reduce. Finally add the peas and simmer a further five minutes or until the pasta is tender but not too soft.

I like to serve it with a sprinkle of gremolata to freshen up the flavour. Chop a small handful of flat leaf parsley, grated rind of a lemon and a garlic clove together until fine and sprinkle to taste.

Spiced Apple Loaf

Though this blog and blog may lead you to believe otherwise I’m actually not a big sweet tooth. I do however love home made sweets.

There’s something about cakes and pastries made by hand that hold a magical quality all their own. Many are recipes passed around families like a favourite auntie’s sponge cake or others like this one that become family favourites. Some hold historical value like the scones I’ve shared with you before or the delicious persian love cake we enjoyed on our holiday last week….quite apt really on an anniversary trip but I digress. Persian Love Cake was first created by a woman madly in love with a prince. In an effort to bewitch him with her culinary wiles she concocted a cake flavoured with spices and rosewater. Perhaps she imagined the spices, used as currency in ancient cultures, would offer a suggestion of wealth, perceived as an attractive attribute. Or perhaps in the true spirit of a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, she hoped to entrance him with her culinary skills.

As I sat with my husband sharing cake and coffee in a dreamy country café last week (more about that below) I was taken with heady yet subtle mix of spices and it occurred to me this is what I love most in baked goods. Indeed when I mentally scroll through other cakes and the like I’ve shared with you this became even more evident to me. Likewise as we communed over cake and reacquainted ourselves with each other I was reminded of our mutual love of apple in baked goods. He loves a sweet old school aussie bakery apple cake which weirdly is not cake at all but rather a round overgrown hand pie type dish of apple encased in a shortbread like pastry and topped with a thick layer of simple vanilla icing. I, as we all know, love a warm apple dish like a crumble but at apple we meet. It got me to thinking about a dish that could be sweetened in a more subtle way, laced with spices for interest and threaded with apple. Maybe I should call it Frawley Love Cake…..or maybe not….too cheesy? Probably lol.

Spiced Apple Loaf is all the things for me. My favourite spices, sweetened with caramel like brown sugar and honey all come together all wrapped around chunks of tart granny smith apple have come together in this moist loaf. Served warm with lashings of butter I can’t promise it won’t be gobbled up before it’s cooled completely but if it does it will last a few days. Served cool it makes a lovely breakfast in the same way as banana bread does perhaps topped with ricotta and a little drizzle of honey or even some persian feta and a sprinkle of pistachios.

Ingredients:

3 eggs

1/3 c brown sugar firmly packed

1 tsp vanilla

180ml neutral flavoured oil. I’ve used grape seed here.

¼ c honey

1/3 c Greek yoghurt. You can sub in sour cream or buttermilk.

220 gm plain flour

80 gm wholemeal spelt flour

2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp ground cardamon

½ tsp ground ginger

1 ½ tsp cinnamon

Pinch of salt flakes

3 apples 2 chopped one grated. I’ve used granny smiths but any baking apple is fine.

Method:

Preheat oven 180c non fan forced (160 if using fan forced)

Grease and line 20cm x 10cm loaf tin ( check the link below in finds and forays for a hot tip on lining).

In a large bowl combine flours, spices and baking powder. Dry whisk with a balloon whisk to combine and aerate and set aside.

In a stand mixer fitted with whisk attachment, combine eggs, sugar and vanilla. Mix on medium until combine then increase to med-high for 5 minutes or until lighter in colour, thick and frothy. Th sugar will be almost dissolved if you rub some mixture between your fingers. Reduce speed to medium and add oil pouring in a thin stream until completely added. Increase speed again and mix for one minute until combined. Add honey and yoghurt and mix again until well combined.

Tip apples into dry ingredients and gently stir to even distribute though the dry ingredients.

Pour wet mixture over dry ingredients and gently fold through until just combined. Like when making muffins, don’t overwork it as it will toughen the texture. Spoon into the prepared tin and bake 50 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean. Check the cake after 30 minutes to make sure the top isn’t browning too quickly. Pop a loose sheet of foil over the top if you need to protect the crust.

Blueberry and Spiced Frangipane Galette

In the way I spoke about creative block a few weeks ago, this week the creativity was free flowing but the frustration ever strong. I knew what I wanted to create and I knew the basics and mechanics of those elements and was sure it should have worked. Sadly though the frangipane wasn’t set. The flavour was exactly where I wanted it but the texture was all wrong. Falling away from perfect at the outer it was sludgy in the centre and frustratingly oozy. I love Frangipane and have made it many times so you can imagine how annoyed I was. It took me back to my twenties when I was trying all sorts of new cooking techniques and recipes in my own home and my own first small and humble kitchen. With a much narrower skill base but boundless interest and motivation the breadth of things I would try and create was almost as great as the depth of failures. I would have, what amounted, to tantrums almost. Sitting at the table with my then boyfriend (now husband) sullenly eating a meal I could see in my mind’s eye but not taste at the end of my fork, almost annoyed at his fervour for the meal he had been presented with and his lack of acknowledgement of my ‘catastrophe.’ This frustration was most probably the catalyst for my cookbook collection and my passion for cooking. An interest and persistence born out of frustration pushing me ever forward.

The irony is not lost on me that blueberries feature at the core of the frustration of a few weeks ago rising up as the resolution to my rut then and this week as the source of my frustration. Their sapphire like spherical form are one of nature’s cleverest creations. Rich deep hues, sweet almost lolly like flavour reminiscent of blue heaven milkshakes and crowned with a flower like window where the bud has bloomed into berry. Likewise their delicateness is frustrating farmers at the moment as their buds soak up the relentless rain. Though they remind me of giant cabochon gems they’re not quite as tough. A reminder that whilst eating seasonally can be fraught with the fragility of being at the mercy of nature.

They require a gentle touch in cooking. My first attempt at this tart was laden with fruit it’s flesh collapsing to a jamlike puddle in the centre. Whilst this sounded like a good idea it’s ooze moistened the frangipane hampering it’s setting. Much googling and a few tweaks and we have a moist set frangipane, or almond cream as it’s also known. I’ve also used rye flour in the pastry to add a delicate nuttiness to the flavour of a short crisp casing. While the blueberries are indeed flavoursome at the moment, they can always be enhanced. The marriage of blueberries and rye had a Nordic air about it which led me to lace the frangipane with cardamon and lemon zest, creating an almost citrusy fragrant freshness.

You can enjoy still warm with a lovely vanilla ice cream, drizzled with a thin stream of lemon ice swished all around like ribbons or plain with cream, my favourite.

Ingredients:

Pastry:

120 gm plain flour

80 gm rye flour

20 gm caster sugar

100 gm cold unsalted butter, cubed

60 gm sour cream

1 tsp vanilla paste or extract

1 egg yolk

Pinch of salt

Frangipane:

80 gm butter softened

125 gm caster sugar

Finely grated rind of 1 lemon

½ tsp of ground cardamon

1 egg beaten

1 tsp vanilla

125 gm of ground almond/almond flour

30 gm plain flour

Pinch of salt flakes

200 gm fresh blueberries

1 egg extra beaten with a splash of milk for pastry glazing

1 tsp demerara sugar

Method:

Pastry

In a food processor or blender combine flours and butter and pulse on high until combined looking like breadcrumbs, some lumps are find. Beat together sour cream, egg yolk, vanilla and salt and add to food processor/blender. Pulse again until just combined. Tip it all out onto floured bench and bring together with your hands. Need briefly until just smooth and form into a thick disc. Wrap in cling wrap and refrigerate for at least one hour.

When ready roll out to a round sheet roughly 30 cms round, this should be roughly 3-4 mm thick. Gently lift using the rolling pin and lower onto a tray lined with baking paper, set aside.

Frangipane/Almond Cream

In a stand mixer beat the butter on med-high on it’s own until lighter in colour and starting to turn fluffy. Add the sugar, vanilla, lemon rind and cardamon and cream together until light and fluffy again. Add egg and beat until it resembles custard. Remove the bowl from the mixer and gently fold in the flour and almond.

Spread the Almond cream mixture over pastry in a circle roughly 2-3 cms from the edge of the pastry disc. Evenly sprinkle blueberries over the cream and fold edges up as pictured.

Brush pastry edges with egg wash and sprinkle with demerara sugar.

Bake 45-50 minutes checking half way through cooking time.

Grilled Asparagus with Chunky Tomato Vinaigrette

There’s been a lot of talk about cars around here lately. CV joints, brakes, suspension both leaf and spring, radiators fans etc etc etc ad infinitum. All terms I never anticipated knowing or indeed understanding but such is the life of a boy mum who’s boys love adventuring buy maintain and own their cars on their own ticket. I bet not a subject you ever expected to read about on a food blog either, but here we are.

You see, cars are super important to young people and in my experience young men. Cars are their independence especially when they still live at home, they’re often their conduit to study and employment choices without the shackles of public transport access and in my sons cases a symbol of economic achievement. They both saved for, bought and maintain their own cars all by the age of 18. They worked hard for that achievement and continue to work hard to sustain it. As they do to support their dreams and the one both boys are about to embark on.

As the boys grew, up we always holidayed in the wild. Packing our four wheel drive and camper trailer to the rafters so to speak, we’d set off to the trees or the ocean seeking adventure and freedom in the wide open. Sometimes ‘dragging’ your kids off on such holidays year in year out is enough to turn them off such adventures for life. In the case of our kids, however, this has been far from the case, indeed it’s driven them to go further and wilder. Soon, both boys will be heading off on their own adventures, in different directions from each other both with open ended return dates. One will head west, following the wild southern ocean to the west coast heading north to the red ocre of the Kimberley and the tropical north of his childhood. The other lad will head off through the open planed NSW outback to the green ocean side tropics of northern Queensland, both wonderful holiday spots if their wanderings prevail and we fly north to visit and fill our arms and family cup with their companionship. I’m all parts excited for them and with all my mother’s emotions inwardly sad at the void their absence will leave. Maggie McKellar has touched on this in her beautiful weekly newsletter The Sit Spot on occasion and will also write about motherhood in her new book to be released next year which can’t come soon enough. Their expeditions will take them on routes I’ve not travailed myself and open their eyes and wings in ways remaining at home never could. The prospect of this growth is beyond exciting for me to witness as their mother but the wrench to stand at the top of the drive way and wave them off as they drive away with a smile and dry eyes will be my own adventure.

Whilst melancholy at the thought of their departure, a part of me is also a little excited at what may come for me and us. Even though they’re adults running a home for a family of four still takes time and the ‘mother lobe’ of the brain to be constantly activated, or maybe that’s just me. The family diary in your head still ticks away, and the detritus of family life still surrounds you. Whilst I don’t begrudge that part of myself I’ve bestowed on them, indeed I’m grateful to have been able to do that, but I do look forward to another chapter opening in my life.

In helping our kids prepare for their trips one of the things they’ve sought advice on is meals they’ve enjoyed both at home and on the road, as I mentioned here. On reflection one of the great benefits of this blog is them being able to refer it while they travel ( when they have mobile/cell service) for the tastes of home but also it gives me an opportunity to explore other ideas for meals, particularly ones my husband and I can enjoy for lighter even meals for two and easy quick meals. Whilst the boys enjoy a wide variety of foods they are strapping, busy growing lads whose appetites and needs are perhaps greater than ours. More and more I’m thinking about dishes we might enjoy together of a lighter style. I created this recently for a quick lunch mopping up all that was left on the plate. It’s a delicious combination of flavours that will be flexible to be a side dish and as is with an egg as a quick dinner, maybe at the end of a weekend day adventuring ourselves.

Ingredients:

1-2 bunches of fresh asparagus spears, around 6-8 spears each.

1 cup quartered cherry tomatoes

1 ½ tsp salted capers, washed and chopped

1 tsp of Dijon mustard

2 tsp of sherry or red wine vinegar

2 tbs Extra virgin olive oil

Salt and pepper to taste

2 eggs

2 tsp pine nuts

Mixed salad leaves

Method:

In a medium half fill with water, a generous sprinkle of salt and a good glug of white vinegar and pop over a high heat to bring to the boil.

Trim asparagus by breaking the end off at the base. To do this hold the base in one hand and the spear half way up in the other hand and bend. Do this gently and it will naturally break at the point where the sweet tender flesh meets the woody end. Place in a suitably sized bowl or plate, drizzle a small amount of olive oil and gently and briefly massage all over to coat the spears, set aside. In a medium bowl whisk together the capers, mustard, vinegar and oil, taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper to taste. It’s important to taste first as the capers, though washed, will add salt to the dish. Gently fold through the tomatoes and set aside. Set a griddle pan on a medium-high heat until smoking. Tip Asparagus into pan perpendicular to the griddle lines and cook a few minutes each side until just starting to soften. Remove from heat and keep war.

In the boiling pot, swirl water until a whirlpool forms and crack eggs into the centre of the whirlpool and simmer for 3-4 minutes or until it’s as firm as you prefer. You can gently lift the egg in a slotted spoon to the surface and gently touch it to check how done it is.

To assemble, place a handful of the salad leaves on a plate, lay the asparagus on top and spoon over the tomato mixture. With a light touch rest the poached egg on top, sprinkle pine nuts around the plate and serve.

I enjoy this dish with an extra flourish of persian feta or pan fried haloumi. Hubby like it next to some extra protein.

Served without egg this is an excellent side with all meats or on as part of shared table of a few sides. Plated as a larger dish in such a manner this will serve four as a side or six as part of a several offerings.

If you don’t have a griddle pan you can cook the asparagus on a barbecue/grill or even steam them.

Blueberry and Apple Compote

Plunging my fork into, what should have been, an unctuous herbaceous dish of some history for us I was pretty excited. A recipe given to me by a friend a million years ago that always evoked memories of another time in our lives the anticipation was high. As I bit down, swirled in my mouth, my expression fell. What had I done wrong? This isn’t how I remember it at all. I reluctantly ate, cant waste food to save myself. The boys loved it, me not so much. That was to be your recipe this week. And right then the wall went up. The creative block. I’d already photographed the recipe, loved the pics and felt very organised, just not whatever I’d done to the recipe. I have loads of dishes I could share but couldn’t think straight or decide on one to choose, re-test, cook, shoot and share. With only a few days to go what the heck was I to do. By this point it was late, I was tired, disappointed and deflated and really couldn’t arrive at a new direction.

The creative fork in the road is a funny thing. Generally known as creative block many say it’s a thing of its own. As is our want in 2022 I googled the phenomenon…. Procrastigoogling? Absolutely! Anyway, I digress. Elizabeth Gilbert, writer and creative commentator suggests the affliction is not in and of something on its own rather it’s the egg in the chicken and egg saga. Either representative of something bigger happening around your creative pursuits or indeed boredom of the reality that creativity when it’s both a profession and a pursuit is still work and not always something that lights you up with each word, click of a camera or brush stroke of a painting, or indeed step in a recipe. So, did I feel bored? Nope food never bores me, except at 5.30pm when I, yet again, need to come up with dinner. Was it something bigger around creativity…hmmm quite possibly. Imposter syndrome and wondering if your work is enjoyed and good enough is very very real. So, when a recipe idea crashes and a deadline (albeit self-imposed) looms what do I do? Well apparently, my creativity crashes too. So I went to bed with a headache and a blank page in my head and no expectation of sleep.

Mysteriously, sleep I did. Very well in fact. I still woke up with the remains of that headache but I was rested so that was a good start. Going through the motions of the morning routine, blinds raised, radio on, cat fed, coffee machine on I started running through ideas. Sitting with my breakfast I sat with my notebook scribbling down ideas and flicking through other recipes already recorded. Taking my first spoonful of yoghurt I stopped, “wait that’s it!” I doesn’t always need to be complicated, elaborate or solve a big problem. Sometimes it can and should be simple. When it seems complicated the answer is more often than not simple and more often than not right in front of you. Both the recipe and the words.

I have no idea where my love of cooked fruit comes from but I’m a sucker for a compote or more simply stewed fruit. I have no elaborate tale to wend my way through, there’s no specific spark lit in my memory, I just love the sweet jammy syrup with jewels of still whole fruit that results from a gentle simmer and addition of a few embellishments of a compote.

My Greek yoghurt at breakfast was blanketed by puddle of Blueberry and Apple compote, the spark for my simple share today. It was the result of a purchase at a recent farmers market. A deliciously generous tub of sweet sapphire coloured globes that from a distance, as I approached the stall, looked like fresh fruit but as I took them from the farmers hand were in fact frozen. I’d been meaning to bake something with them but finally arrived at compote and in turn have arrived here with you.

Ingredients:

500 gm Blueberries

1 Pink Lady Apple peeled and cubed

2 Tb Maple Syrup

1 Tb caster sugar

1 tsp vanilla paste or extract

Pinch salt

2 Tb water

1 tsp lemon juice

Method:

Reserve one cup of blueberries. Combine remaining ingredients in a small saucepan and over a medium heat bring to just below a boil. Continue to simmer over med-low heat until apples are just ender and the liquid that has developed has thickened. Add the remaining blueberries and continue simmering until they’ve just softened about 3-5 minutes.

Pour into an airtight container and refrigerate until completely cold. The sauce will thicken on cooling.

Cooking times will vary depending on whether or not you have used fresh or frozen berries.

Serve on Yoghurt like I enjoy it or even more deliciously over vanilla ice cream. The compote is also a lovely addition to a simple vanilla cake, porridge or rice pudding.

Sausage Rolls

The word Parochial, according to both the oxford and Cambridge dictionaries, has two meanings. One referring to religion and the other referring to a narrow scope of interest, single mindedness if you will. In the scope of the last week, both globally and locally here in my home town the true meaning of parochialism feels ever present.

Like billions worldwide I sat up glued to the television enraptured by the pagentry and tradition of the royal funeral. The ceremony and customs observed by The Church of England in marking the passing of it’s traditional head and the British head of state was both majestic and humbling. Breathtaking voices of the combined choir soared into the very peaks of centuries old Westminster Abbey signalling the procession’s arrival into the historic entrance to the nave and it’s slow progress forth. Goosebumps rose on my skin, a lump in my throat swelled and I was transfixed. Centuries of traditional rites honouring the values, structure and history of the church marked each convention in observance of the passing of a sovereign and the accession of a successor. Not only was the occasion a momentous one in the life of the church but also one in the history of the United Kingdom. The sight of hundreds of thousands of British subjects and visitors lining the Mall adorned with union jacks fluttering in the breeze framing the massed military march escorting the Queen was a stirring one of nationalism and loyalty to crown and state, truly one of the most parochial and unifying events in modern history. It was awe inspiring to watch and humbling to feel a part of even as a home viewer. Regardless of your feelings on royalty, both historically and into the future, you can’t help but feel awed by the reverential parochial respect the British people held for their monarch and consequently the nation and sheer grandeur of the ceremony.

Now, I’m not a religious person but I do love tradition, loyalty and dedication. In a far lighter vain, in Melbourne this week we observe what is colloquially called a religion, Australian Rules Football and it’s Grand Final and similarly evoking a reverential type parochialism. Whilst only celebrated on a fraction of the scale of the pomp of the royal ceremonies and a far less sombre and significant occasion it’s one of great parochialism unifying the two tribes of supporters whose two teams will go into battle for the ultimate prize of their sport. Suburban football clubs will hold smaller events to join into the festivities, supporters will stop at nothing to get their hands on tickets to the game at the MCG, our colosseum of sorts holding 100,000 spectators and groups of families and friends will gather around televisions roaring with each triumph. It’s a brutal game, men going to war putting their bodies on the line with every turn of play, no padding or helmets just primal brute force in the pursuit of possession of the ball and ultimately a goal. And in the midst of combat a population come together with nothing else in focus but that one day and prize each driven by a parochial and unwavering loyalty to their team.

I love tradition, I love the rites and symbolism of occasions grand and small significant and festive. Rituals and customs are anchoring and unifying. Maybe that’s why in many ways parochialism in all it’s forms can be a positive. From the formalities and rituals of a religious parochialism and the unity and comfort that it’s familiarity offers it’s followers to the one eyed loyalty individuals feel in parochialisms around communities, sport and unifying events no matter how trivial in the grand scheme of the world they may seem.

We too love the football grand final period and enjoy our little traditions around the festival. Usually gathering with friends to cheer and lament the warring teams and raise a toast to the ultimate winner. It won’t surprise you that we’re particularly parochial about the food we celebrate the footy with. Every year, regardless of whatever I’m serving Sausage Rolls are compulsory. My family’s parochial love of the humble seemingly simple hot pastry is without peer. Like many such dishes everyone has their own bent on the party food classic. Mine started, rooted in a Donna Hay recipe from one of her earliest books and over the years has evolved to reflect our own tastes and preferences. Generally I use store bought pastry but occasionally I’ll feel like something a little extra special and make my own. If you’d like to try making them with homemade pastry this one is perfect for these. They’re always best served with tomato sauce (ketchup) but we also love them with this delicious chutney.

Ingredients:

500gm beef mince

500gm sausage mince

1 onion very finely diced

1 carrot peeled and grated

2 cups fresh breadcrumbs made old bread or 1 ½ c of dried bought crumbs

1 egg beaten

¼ c worcestshire sauce

2 tb tomato sauce/ketchup

4-5 sheets of butter puff pastry or one quantity of rough puff pastry

I egg extra for glazing

Method:

Preheat oven to 180 c, line two large baking trays with baking paper, set aside.

Combine all ingredients except pastry and extra egg in a large bowl. Using your hands mix all ingredients very well. You can also do this in a stand mixer using the paddle attachment.

Lay out pastry sheets and allow to thaw until still cold and firm but pliable. Cut each sheet in half length ways. Using a disposable piping bag end snipped to create a 2 cm wide opening pipe the meat mixture down the middle of each pastry stip creating a sausage shape and size similar to a bbq sausage the full length of the pastry. Brush pastry edge then roll up encasing meat in pastry. Cut the full length roll into four smaller rolls. Repeat with remaining ingredients until all the meat is used. Place on baking trays, brush with extra egg beaten with a splash of milk to glaze and sprinkle with sesame seeds. Bake for 30 minutes until golden brown.

Notes:

You can alter the mix of meat to as much as all sausage meat but not less than at least half sausage meat. This gives it a softer texture and loads of flavour.

Makes 40 snack sized rolls or 60 smaller canape sized rolls. If you’re unable to find sausage mince you can use BBQ style sausages in their casing and squeeze out the filling.

Panna Cotta Slice

I consider myself lucky to have enjoyed many friendships that have traversed many decades. A few from childhood to today and others born in adulthood marching through the more mature years. They’ve all brought something to my life and been by my side in life’s ups and downs. You know the type, they forgive your foibles, accept your quirks and celebrate your qualities. They’ll hold your hair back after a big night…if you know what I mean, they’ll laugh with you until your sides hurt and you can lean on each other when bumps in the road present themselves.

These types of relationships always add to your life in both the intangible and tangible.

I wrote a few weeks back about of oysters and brussel sprouts and friends. Indeed like many of us the place of food in these relationships acts like markers on our road, little signposts of memories.

A million years ago in my early twenties I started working in hospitality. My first shift in one of the big hotels in the city started before the sun had dawned and the bustle of the city streets had erupted. Quietly moving around the restaurant before guests arrived, my supervisor adjusted some cutlery here, straightened a chair there, all the while quietly listing off all the steps in preparing for and welcoming diners for breakfast. She was a highly trained silver service hospitality professional from London, married to a French trained fine dining chef also from the UK. Her efficient slick manner was both intimidating and inspiring leading an equally polished atmosphere. Luckily for me she and her husband went on to become very dear friends bringing all the qualities of a treasured friendship and more to my then young life.

Her husband, a chef of Anglo-Indian heritage and exceptional professional experience is the friend every food lover adores. Both wonderful hosts an invitation to their events is always hotly anticipated and accepted. No one leaves hungry neither for that day and the following days to come with leftovers in hand. He introduced me to and created a love of Indian food while also introducing me to many other culinary delights.

Not only are they wonderful hosts they’re also the very best of guests. They’re the ones who when they ask “what can we bring?” you should always be smart enough to say “oh perhaps dessert.” And unfailingly they’ll arrive armed with something they know you love. A little snippet of information they’ve remembered about you and that they lovingly recreate. That’s something true friends do isn’t it? They remember all the little things about you and do the little things for you, small acts of love.

Last time our friends came for dinner, and it was a while ago thanks Covid, I threw that ‘oh just bring dessert,’ line out and, as he always does, my friend delivered, arriving with one of my absolute favourites, Panna Cotta.

It’s one of those desserts not actually that tricky to make but that I tend to overlook to make at home. If I’m out and it’s on the menu I will always order it. I got to thinking recently what else I could do with the iconic Italian dessert and came up with Panna Cotta Slice. Served like a bar it looks pretty on the plate and adds an extra little treat to the delicate creamy classic.

Maybe you could serve it to your loved ones and show them a little creamy sugary love.

Ingredients:

Base:

80 gm plain flour

50 gm almond flour

50 gm caster sugar

¼ tsp salt flakes

100 gm cold butter cubed

1 tsp vanilla extract or paste

2 Tb warmed jam (Any flavour that suits, though avoid anything too lumpy or seedy. I’ve used peach and vanilla here and fork mashed before warming.)

Topping:

2 ½ c whole cream

1 ½ c whole mik

15 gm gelatine leaves (I’ve used titanium strength. Gelatine can be tricky, this may help explain it better)

120 gm caster sugar

1 ½ tsp vanilla extract or paste

Pinch of salt

 Method:

Preheat an oven to 180c. Line a shallow 20cm square tin with baking paper extending up the sides. You’ll need the extra to help lift it from the tin when it’s ready.

In a blender or food processor, combine all dry ingredients and pulse a couple times to combine ingredients. Drop in butter and vanilla and pulse several times until in damp clumps like wet sand. There should still be small lumps of butter and it will be a little sticky. Press into the prepared tin, you may need to lightly flour your hands to do this. Bake 15 minutes or until lightly golden and firm’ish to touch.

Completely cool in tin. You can make this the day before you need it if necessary and store in a sealed tub or well wrapped in cling wrap, though you need to keep it in the tin.

 When the base is completely cool start the topping.

Combine all ingredients in a saucepan and warm over a medium-low eat. Stir constantly until sugar is dissolved and it’s very warm. Don’t let it boil.

 Remove from heat and pour into a cold bowl such as a glass or ceramic one and allow to stand for a few moments. Meanwhile soak the gelatine leaves in a small bowl of cold tap water (definitely not hot or warm water) until very soft, about five minutes.

While the leaves are soaking stir the cream mixture constantly to bring it to hand warm temperature. You should be able to dip a finger in and it not feel hot, just very warm.

Remove the leaves from the cold water and squeeze out any excess liquid. Separating them as you go, drop them one by one into the cream mixture and start stirring to dissolve them completely. This will only take a few moments but stir thoroughly to ensure you’ve completed combined them. Pour the mixture through a sieve into another bowl to strain out any lumps. Allow to stand for a few minutes more while you prepare the base.

Warm the jam and using a fork mash out any remaining lumps. Spread it over the biscuit base, This will create a thin seal for the base and prevent the cream mixture making it soggy.

Now is you’re able do this next part as close to the fridge as you can. Using a soup ladle gently pour the cream mixture into the tin over the biscuit base. Enusre you don’t let it go over the level of the top of the paper, this is why it’s important to make sure the paper is above the level of the tin. Gently place it in the fridge and leave to set for at least 4-6 to six hours. When ready to serve gently lift our of the tin using the paper to lever it out. Using a warm knife to glide through the the topping tim the edges if you wish then cut the slab in half then those halves in 2cm bars. I’ve left it plain for you to serve as you wish but its particularly lovely with a fresh fruit coulis, fresh passionfruit or fresh fruit of your choice.

I like to cut into bars to serve, approximately 10x2 cms is a nice size and looks lovely served.

Serve with a fruit coulis or fresh fruit on the side.

Muesli Bars

The cheers of my friends 7 year old screaming “ he’s walking” erupted from the lounge while we adults chatted in the kitchen. We rushed to the see what all the commotion was about to find my friends young son teaching my 11 month old to walk. It was our second wedding anniversary and not only had she brought us flowers to celebrate but her gorgeous boy had helped our son reach one of those much anticipated milestones. He’d rolled early, ten weeks, he’d babbled and chatted on schedule, gobbled up all that was offered and now was on the move. We all cheered and sat on the floor with him reaching our arms out to him encouraging him forward happily rejoicing with every step.

Parenthood is like that isn’t it? Anticipating all those milestones and all the rejoicing when they arrive. Some arriving on time, each one ticked off the list, others arriving on their own schedule sometimes causing anxiety and efforts rallied to help your young ones forward. Each rung of the ladder is exciting and each one marks the passage of time. No matter what others tell us in the midst of these exciting and busy years we do watch and wait with a mix of emotions.

As each one arrives so too does our own days and routines. Running around after mobile toddlers, taking them to preschool, starting the school days and all that brings including all the educational goalposts and extra curriculars. These milestones all act as building blocks to their lives and in turn our own.

As the early years of our children’s lives unfolded all the parenting moments and milestones of my emerged. Some challenging me others working to my strengths. As my eldest edged towards starting school I imaged myself creating all the gourmet lunches you could possibly think of. My young fella had a good palette and loved a wide range of foods. I couldn’t understand what other mothers bemoaned. To me I thought it was going to be a creative boon for this food lover. I soon learnt yet another lesson from parenthood. Coming up with variety and emptying picked through lunchboxes at the end of busy days soon became old. Each year would begin with purchases of the latest ‘lunchbox’ cook books and magazine special editions determined to do better and find new ideas. In turn each year would end with vegemite sandwiches and apples as we dragged ourselves to the finish line.

Then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, the school years were coming to an end and the lunch box ‘grind’ was too. I rolled through that first summer without a return to school and two adult men inhabiting the space formerly consumed by little boys with all the fervour of and excitement of a woman released from self-imposed shackles. Until I started to crazily miss it. Was it a metaphor for the loss of the little boys no longer running around? Probably. I’m immensely proud of the strong, self-sufficient and hard working men they’ve become but finding your place in the lives of your adult off spring can be a milestone of it’s own and a tricky path to navigate. But here’s the thing even adults still need parenting, it just looks and feels different and has a different scale.

At night as the boys prepare for the workday to follow and lunches are compiled, by htem now, I still often hear “mum what can I make for lunch?” you’ve read before about this one which has become one of Boy 1’s go to’s. But he also loves a hand held version, as it were, to munch on in the car on the way to work, as the sun rises over the suburbs and he sips his takeaway coffee in traffic. No longer taking shaky steps in the lounge room to outstretched arms but leaping through life away from the arms that now cheer him and his brother on in awe.

Ingredients:

120gm unsalted butter chopped

2tb honey

¼ c brown sugar

1tb olive oil

1 c rolled oats

1/3 c sunflower seeds

1/3 c pumpkin seeds

1/3 c chopped raw almonds or sliveded almonds

80 gm dark chocolate chopped

½ c dried fruite of your choice (I’ve used currants and chopped medjool dates)

1/3 c shredded coconut

¼ tsp salt flakes

Method:

Preheat oven to 160c (140c fan forced) and grease and line a 19.5cm x30cm slice tin.

Over a med-low heat, gently melt butter honey and sugar together until sugar is just dissolved without letting the mixture bubble. It will need your undivided attention as you may need to hold the pan off the flame a few times and swirl a little to keep it off the bubble. Set aside and allow to cool to room temperature. If you don’t mind an extra dish to clean pouring the mixture into a wide bowl like a pasta bowl will speed this up.

While you’re waiting for that to cool, combine all remaining ingredients ensuring any sticky ingredients like dried fruit are broken up and covered in the dry ingredients.

Once wet ingredients are suitably cooled pour over the dry and stir to mix thoroughly until there’s no sign of dry ingredients. Some of the chocolate may soften and even melt a little. This will depend on how cool your butter was and how warm/soft your chocolate was. So long as the chocolate is still mostly whole it’s fine. In fact it will even help flavour the bars. Press into prepared tin pushing down to flatten. Pop in the oven and bake for 30-40 minutes.

Allow to cool almost completely in the tin. Gently lift out of the tin onto a rack and slide paper out from underneath.

When completely cool cut into the shape and size you desire. The outer pieces will be crispy and the inner ones chewy. The perfect mix for families of various tastes

Cornish Pastie

There’s a belief that we all experience our childhoods differently. All members of the one family reflect differently on all the events, traditions and milestones in their own way and colour in the images in their minds and hearts with their own ‘paint palette.’ Maybe this is driven by the age each individual member is at each moment in a family’s history or maybe their own character steers these memories. Our own journey through the years we traverse fills in gaps lost to time and the emotions we hold around these moments adding light and shade. Many of these recollections will hold food at their centre, it’s place at the heart of such chapters the jewel in the memory itself.

Marjorie Constance was our unassuming matriarch. A quiet country heart ensconced in the city after decades of battling milking eczema on dairy farms in the days of hand milking. Their pursuit of farming coinciding with running the town post office and whatever else her and Alfred could turn their hands to in order to make a living in their humble way. Papa a Cornish born gentleman and WWI Veteran and her an equally unpretentious country girl from rural Victoria. Salt of the earth types, as the saying goes, for whom family and home were everything and enough. They built their tribe, a son and nephew raised as brothers, as country families in Australia often did back then. Then their offspring gathering as cousins and sharing all the shenanigans and recollections of extended families. In her quiet gentle manner Nana cleverly gathered us all together twice a year taking full advantage of our Papa’s June birthday at the halfway point of the year and our love for him and of course an obligatory xmas celebration, unwaveringly, the second Sunday of December. She never pushed or imposed, it was just inked into the family calendar, bringing everyone together.

As a child I relished these gatherings, literally skipping through their beautiful garden carefully manicured borders, lining my path shaded by towering pine trees and abundant fruit trees. The kitchen table would be heaving with multiple desserts a collection carefully curated ensuring everyone’s favourites were catered to. The meal, never anything modern or fancy, rather it was always the best roast you’ve ever eaten and all those delicious sweets.

My cousins, the loganberry pie lovers, most probably see that as their highlight, always sat at the street end of the dressed-up trestle tables. I remember the apple pie and slices and the bench I sat on at the kitchen end of the table. We most likely recall the feelings and enjoyment of those meals differently too. What doesn’t differ is our love of a dish that never appeared at these evenings but is unerringly one of our favourite dishes from our Nana’s kitchen, Cornish Pastie.

Sharon, my cousin, says each vegetable was layered I don’t recall that. How the pastry was made has mystified us too. I suspect lard Sharon is certain it was butter. She’s also several years older than me so her role, working at Nana’s side, differs from the tasks a much younger me was set and again those experiences leaving a different story on the narratives of our lives. And that’s the thing, our memories are our stories coloured with our ‘paint box.’ Recipes will take their own shape and colours in your own hands. What matters the most is the feeling that first mouthful evokes. If, to you, it tastes like your memories and you recreate that feeling, you’ve recreated that recipe…enough.

Swede, as it’s known here, is the predominant flavour in pastie, it’s sweet earthiness the first flavour layer you taste. Other root vegetables follow with a savoury bite of beef and tingly white pepper foils the salty umami. I haven’t unlocked the pastry mystery but have let go of the pursuit of it’s secrets and wrapped the story in my rough puff pastry and that first flaky bite is immensely satisfying. You can use store bought if pastry making isn’t your jam but as always try and get the best you can obtain and afford, it really does make a difference. I’ve explained my pastry method below if you want to give it a go. Traditionally Pasties are made like individual parcels crimped on top almost football shaped. Nana always made hers as a slab, perhaps to make it stretch further and perhaps making a little less work for herself. We still prefer it that way.

Ingredients:

1 swede peeled and finely diced

1 potato peeled and finely diced

1 carrot peeled and finely diced

1 parsnip peeled and finely diced

1 eschalot or small brown onion peeled and finely diced

½ tsp heaped salt flakes

¼ tsp ground white pepper

2 tsp finely chopped parsley

250 gm minced/ground beef

2 sheets puff pastry measuring 30cm X 40cm

1 egg beaten and mixed with a drop of milk (as Nana would have said) for an egg wash.

Method:

Preheat oven to 180c.

Combine all the vegetables in a bowl with seasonings stir to combine and leave to sit for a few minutes while you prepare everything else.

On a greased and lined baking sheet/tray lay one of your sheets of pastry. Leaving a 2cm border around the edge, pile your vegetable mix in the middle smoothing out the surface to be flat. Now here’s the part that was my job when I was little, scatter all across the top little blobs of the minced beef. This will almost cover the top in a thin layer. Paint the edge of your pastry around the filling with the egg wash. Lay the second sheet of pastry on top and roll the edges over folding and crimping all the way round. Brush the egg wash over the top. Poke small holes with either a fork or point of a sharp knife in several spots across the top to allow it to vent. Pop in the oven for 60 minutes. For ten minutes more, bump the temperature up to 200c to burnish the top and cook off any remaining moisture from inside. I like to turn the tray half way round after 30 minutes. Every oven I’ve ever owned is hot at the back and doing this allows it to cook evenly.

Rough Puff Pastry:

400 gm cold butter cubed

400 gm plain flour

1tsp fine salt

150-180 ml cold water

Method:

Combine flour and salt in a bowl and tip onto the bench in a mound. Sprinkle over the butter cubes, it will look like a lot don’t panic it will all come together. Using the sharp edge of a pastry scraper chop through the mound as if youre cutting something up, changing the angles of the scraper. If you don’t have one you can use a large knife to do this. Once it looks well chopped up and mixed through make a well in the centre and tip half the water in. Using your hands bring the mess together. You’ll need to add more water but it’s easier to add it little by little until you have a rough shaggy dough than add more flour to correct it. Resist the urge to knead it just massage it to the mound until it will hold into a big lump. Shape into a disc, cover and refrigerate for 30 minutes. Remove from fridge and on a lightly floured surface roll out to a large rectangle. Nudge the edges into shape to achieve this, it’s a soft dough with such a high butter content so will be pliable. Fold each end into the middle then fold at the middle again like a book dust cover. Fold that bundle in half on itself, cover and refrigerate 30 minutes. Repeat this process 3 more times then rest again for 30minutes to an hour. It’s a good one for a slow day each roll and fold only takes a few minutes.

When ready the dough will be very smooth and ready for rolling as required. Cut in half and roll to required size. This recipe is the perfect amount for the sheet of pastie.

Brussels Sprout Gratin

With all the hutzpah and imagined sophistication of the young woman I was I stood in the golden waning light of a light spring evening, breeze gently billowing through my pink linen dress. The air scented by the heady fragrance of the rose garden in which we gathered, the late spring evening warmth carrying the perfume through the air. With anticipation I accepted a glass of straw-coloured sparkling wine, the new vintage which we’d gather to celebrate having just been sabred to much applause and celebration. Sipping happily laughing and chatting with friends the mood light, the tummies had begun to rumble. Waiters had begun to circulate offering light appetisers carefully curated to begin the evening and signal the excited mood. Oysters were presented, my friends all happily accepting them while I politely, and I thought discreetly, declined. My youth showing, one of my friends enquired as to my tastes and refusal of a plump pearlescent mollusk. Trying to maintain my façade of maturity and sophistication I tried to wave off the comment but his tenacity prevailed. “Try one,” he insisted…”what’s the worst that can happen….you confirm you don’t like them and move on.” He’s a hard man to argue with even to this day and he had a strong point. By this time he’d called our server back and taken a shell for me thrusting it forward and instructing me on how to eat the delicacy au naturele. I mean what a baptism of fire! No bacon of the Kilpatrick variety or oozy gooey mornay, we were starting hard core. He informed these treasures were flown in especially every year for this special event, remembering this was in the day when flying food around for such an indulgence was a rarity. Anyway, loath though I was to admit it, because frankly 25 year olds hate being wrong, but he was right. And to this day I love oysters, in all their guises, and artichokes, another of his culinary lessons.

In a fit of swings and roundabouts fast forward 22 years and we again had gathered surrounded by all our adult children, fast flowing conversation and a variety of food filling the dining room. Again a young 20 something, my friend’s son, politely turned his nose up at one of the many vegetable sides on offer. And as we do in middle age I recounted my oyster story and challenged him to try something different. Begrudgingly he took a small scoop, the conversation resumed and, so he thought, he took a bite discreetly. Quietly he reached forward and served himself a second helping and continued eating under the gaze of his mother and I sharing a gentle grin. A few years on and James still like sprouts.

It’s always worth trying those foods you think you don’t like, if you don’t like it you don’t have it again and if you do you explore that new food in all it’s forms. Nothing culinarily ventured nothing deliciously gained.

If a young man can enjoy brussels sprouts almost anyone can. I mean who doesn’t like something smothered in creamy sauce topped with a little crunch from sourdough crumbs. And of course the salty pop of prosciutto or bacon and gentle bite of pine nuts rounds the dish out perfectly. I promise! Just have a go.

Ingredients:

300 brussels sprouts trimmed at the base and halved

3 Tbs extra virgin olive oil

1 garlic clove bruised

2 french sallots

50 gm finely sliced prosciutto

¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg

1 Tb pine nuts

40 gm butter

1 ½ Tb plain flour

1 ½ C warm milk

60 gm finely grated gruyere cheese

½ C course breadcrumbs made from stale bread preferably sourdough tossed in 1 Tb Extra virgin olive oil.

Method:

Preheat oven to 180c.

Grease a shallow gratin dish or pie plate with better set aside.

Blanch the prepared brussels sprouts. If you’ve not blanched veg before it’s super easy. Bring a pot of salted water to the boil. Drop the sprouts and as soon as it returns to the boil remove and plunge into a bowl of cold water and ice cubes immediately. This stops the cooking process while giving them a brief cook but you need to remove them straight away they’re not in there to cook.

Warm olive oil in a pan, big enough to hold all the sprouts in a single layer, over medium-high heat with the garlic clove. Place all the sprouts cut side down in the pan cooking for 2-3 minutes until they start to char slightly. Remove and place in the prepared dish/pie plate face side up.

In the same pan on medium-lo heat, gently cook the prosciutto until starting to caramelise. Turn the heat to low and add the shallots cooking until translucent but not browning. Remove and sprinkle this mixture over the sprouts.

Again using this pan return it to the heat and turn down to low. Add the pine nuts and nutmeg stirring constantly for 1-2 minutes to release the aromas and again sprinkle over sprouts.

In the same pan you’ve been using, melt the butter. Add the flour and whisk with a balloon whisk. Slowly pour in milk whisking constantly and continue doing so until smooth. Keep stirring until beginning to thicken, sprinkle in cheese and cook a further minute or two until completely combined and thickened. Pour over the sprout mixture. Sprinkle prepared breadcrumbs over the top and bake for 20 mins.

Notes:

James’ mum and I love this dish with fennel. You can either add fennel to this at a ½ & ½ ratio or make it all with fennel. If using all fennel, trim and quarter and either sear in a griddle pan for pretty lines and another layer of flavour or gently caramelise in the pan skipping the blanching step.

If you prefer a firmer bite to your sprouts you can skip the blanching step but do caramelise them in the pan and do so a little slower to begin the cooking process.

White Chocolate and Raspberry Mud Cake

I was woken a few nights ago by magpies carolling. Calling to each other in the dark still of night, still cold and frosty I wondered for their safety. Were foxes out prowling? Was there some kind of territorial stand-off with larger beaked more resilient kookaburras? These weren’t questions that would allow me to rest so as one does is 2022, I reached for my phone and started googling. It’s mating season, no danger just the natural rhythms of nature and one of the first calls of a shift in the seasons. I drifted off to sleep to their carousing, their lullaby rocking me to my slumber.

Today as I write this, my back is warmed by the north sun. Unencumbered by clouds, not tempered by rain it’s beams thaw the winter chill from my bones though my lap is cosy under a crocheted woollen blanket still. Shadows dance in my kitchen drawing my gaze through the window, the wattle is blooming. No longer a tree adorned with small chartreuse coloured buds the little golden pompoms have exploded all over the tree like tiny little golden fluffy pearls. Sunshine and wattle a beacon reminding me spring is wriggling its way out of a cold hibernation and bursting forth.

The pruned rose bush and hydrangea is also budding, the earth is warming and the suns daily sweep across the sky is climbing, bathing our terrace in warmth inviting us outward.

I’m reminded of the joy of outside dining, taking a break in the garden with a coffee and baked treat, hosting a long leisurely Sunday lunch, or balmy nights passing platters and clinking glasses. It’s coming round again, the time to host, celebrate and entertain. Until then cake and coffee will do.

As a child one of my favourite chocolate bars was one called a Milky Bar. A bar of creamy white chocolate it was always one that could make me smile and indeed still does. Today white chocolate is frequently paired with raspberries in muffins, their tart pop a perfect foil for the richness of the chunks of white chocolate. These are lovely of course but I like to level it up. White chocolate mud cake and raspberries are a whole other story. Whilst this cake bakes beautifully in a 20 cm round tin it is rich and indulgent and can be hard to polish off cut into traditional wedges. I like to make it in a brownie/slice tin as a slab adorned with raspberry flavoured cream cheese frosting cut into little squares…..or not so little as the occasion requires. A cake/slice Hybrid if you will. It’s a super moist cake allowing you to make ahead and will eat well for up to a week locked away in an air tight container, though if iced I suggest the fridge…if it lasts that long.

Ingredients:

150gm White chocolate chopped

250 gm butter chopped into small cubes

1 ½ c caster sugar

½ tsp salt flakes

½ c milk

½ c sour cream

1 ½ c plain flour

½ self raising flour

2 eggs beaten

1 heaped tb white hot chocolate powder

200 gm raspberries

Method:

Preheat oven 160c non fan forced. Grease and line a 30cm x 20cm brownie/slice tin.

Combine butter, chopped white chocolate and sugar in a saucepan over low heat and slowly heat until all ingredients melted and sugar is dissolved. You made to taste test a couple times to check the sugar….call it quality control. Stir through vanilla, milk and sour cream until combined remove from the heat and allow to cool. I always decant into a cool jug or bowl to speed this part up. Allowing it to cool in a hot saucepan will only slow this process down.

While that’s cooling, in the bowl of a stand mixer, combine dry ingredients and hand whisk to thoroughly mix. Whisk together eggs in a small bowl. Add to bowl with cooled chocolate and butter mixer. Using paddle attachment on your mixer, mix on low speed for one minute or until thoroughly combine. You only want the ingredients to just combine we done want to overmix it.

Pour into the prepared cake tin and dot with the fresh raspberries. Bake in the oven 1 ¼ hours. It will be golden brown and have a crisp sugary crust. Check the cake after 45 minutes to make sure it’s not browning too much on top. Pop a loose sheet of foil over the top the rest of the bake if it does look like its cooking too quickly.

Allow to cool completely in the tin before removing.

Icing:

My kids love this cake uniced and dusted with icing sugar. You might like to try this too, especially served with thick cream.

If you prefer something a little more luxurious, you might like to ice it with a raspberry cream cheese frosting.

250 gm cream cheese softened

100 gm soft butter

Raspberry powder

Combine all ingredients in a stand mixer using whisk attachment and whip until light and fluffy.

Raspberry powder can be hard to get. I make it using crisp freeze dried raspberries whizzed in a vitamix and then sieved to remove seeds. If this is a bridge too far for you, you can use raspberry essence found in the cake making section of supermarkets or a couple spoonfuls of raspberry jam though the flavour will be more subtle and the icing a little thinner.

Notes:

You can of course make this in a 20cm round or square regular cake tin. It will need to be one of regular height and will take 1 hour 40 minutes to cook though I suggest checking it at 1 ¼ hours to see how it’s going. If it’s browing quickly pop a loose sheet of foil over the top.

You can also fold the raspberries through the cake. Do this very gently to try and keep as many as you can whole.

If raspberries aren’t in season try dropping teaspoon sized dollops of raspberry jam randomly across the top of the cake mix before popping in the oven. Using a skewer, gently swirl them through the batter distributing the jam through the ‘mud.’

Spaghetti Bolognese

What’s your favourite dinner? The one that makes you smile when you reminisce and remember your younger self eating it. The one you make for your own kids now and that you want them to love. The one that weaves it’s way through your own memories. The comfort food dinner. If I’m honest, for me, it’s spaghetti bolognese. I have many memories attached to the iconic dish, many of them around it’s evolution in my cooking world to the dish I make today. Now my kids have many memories around ‘Spag Bol,’ as it’s affectionately known here, and it’s the one meal unfailingly met with smiles at every serving and the one they now want to learn to make themselves. Indeed I imagine as their version evolves so too will the flavour and their own memories around the dish.

My first encounter with a bowl of noodles encased in meaty tomatoey sauce was in a family restaurant we visited to celebrate family milestones and special occasions. My family didn’t know any Italian folks nor were my parents particularly adventurous in the kitchen so any pasta dish beyond Kraft Macaroni Cheese from a box or tinned spaghetti seemed very exotic. After much nagging my poor mum who wasn’t particularly adept in the kitchen gave it a go. With no recipes or friends to guide her she cooked up some dried pasta pouring the wiggly worm like strands into the bowl and topping it with tomato paste. I don’t need to explain how that went except to say from there it was Campbell’s tinned Bolognese sauce all the way….for many years.

In my early 20’s, chatting with an older friend who was quite an accomplished cook, she was horrified by my bolognese journey and set herself the task of helping me master the art of the wholesome favourite. More cans and short cuts ensued but we were at least on the way to homemade version of some sort. This one involved Campbell’s again only this time a can of their condensed tomato soup and a dash of curry powder….. I know. But in my defence I was young and still pretty inexperienced in the kitchen. I thought I was almost Italian and indeed was finally able to teach my mum how to make ‘proper’ spaghetti. As stir through sauces appeared at the supermarket Mum would bounce between them and the tomato soup and curry method, both obviously usurping the tub of tomato paste on hot pasta method.

Now I’m the mum and my kids want to know how to make our family version of the classic dish. My eldest son, who’s nearly 23, is heading off with his friends on an adventure early next year. They’re planning a half lap of Australia heading west, touring in their 4WD’s camping and living off grid. I’m all parts excited for them and terrified. It’ll be the longest he’s been away from us and we’ll miss him enormously. Last Christmas one of the gifts I bought both boys was a recipe journal with plans to write in any favourite dishes they want to be able to make for themselves in their own homes in years to come. Boy 1’s first request was Spag Bol, but here’s the thing….After decades of making something by sight, smell and feel I had to really think about how I create something that’s second nature. It’s forced me to slow down and really note how it all comes together and record it for posterity as much as pass on to him.

So with your indulgence, I hope you don’t mind pasta two weeks in a row, I thought I’d share with you our version of the aussie Italian hybrid that’s equal parts a nod to Australia’s multicultural heritage as it is to the evolution of my cooking skills and our little family’s food story.

***A little note on my method for cooking my sauce. You’ll note that after bringing everything together on the stove I cover the pot and pop it into the oven for a few hours. I stumbled on this idea when two commitments collided but I needed dinner ready for a visit from my diabetic dad. I suspected that on a low temperature I could let the pot bubble away in the oven without a lot of supervision as opposed to cooking it on a stove as I had until then which of course requires your attention and stirring. Not only did the sauce look after itself that afternoon but the richness it developed in the oven versus the stove was a revelation. And, as I did that long ago Sunday with a get together with the neighbours, you can relax and enjoy a little glass of wine while dinner bubbles away. You can still cook yours on the stove if you prefer as my son will need to do on a camping stove in the wilds of outback Western Australia next year.

Ingredients

2 tb Extra virgin olive oil

100 gm prosciutto, pancetta, bacon or ham (you can even use left over roast pork chopped up)

1 large onion finely diced

1 carrot finely chopped or grated if you prefer. The kids can help you with that step perhaps.

½ celery stick finely chopped

1Kg beef mince. Don’t choose the lean one, all the flavour is in the meat fat.

3 garlic cloves crushed or grated

1 tb dried oregano leaves

2 tbs tomato paste

2 400 gm cans of crushed or chopped tomatoes PLUS two cans of water/beef stock

2 beef stock cubes if not using beef stock for above

1 700g bottle of passata

A generous grating of fresh nutmeg

1 tsp of salt flakes

Black pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 180c.

Over a medium flame on the stove warm the olive oil in a heavy based pot that has a well fitting lid for later.

Sauté Prosciutto, bacon or whatever pork product your using and cook until starting to crisp at the edges. Add onion, carrot and celery to the pot and turn heat to low cooking gently for up to 10 minutes until soft and translucent. Return heat to medium and pop the garlic and nutmeg into the pot warming a minute or two until fragrant. Push all that to the edges of the pot and drop the mince in the pot increasing heat to med-high. Leave the mince whole for a few minutes letting it sear and brown before turning the meat whole and repeating that sear again. Once both sides are brown you can start breaking up it up to continue browning the mince. When almost don’t stir the vegies and prosciutto/bacon into the mince. Add the tomato paste to the mixture, stir through thoroughly and let the paste cook off for a moment or two. Turn heat to high and pour in the wine letting it bubble up and cook off for a few minutes reducing in colume slightly.

Stir in tomatoes and passata, water/stock (pop the stock cube in now if using in place of stock), oregano and salt and pepper. Bring to the boil, cover with a lid and place in the oven. After the first hour remove and stir. Pop it back in the oven for another hour and your done. Check for seasoning and adjusting as required.

***Notes***

If you think the sauce is getting too thick too quickly you can add water to return some moisture to the dish.

If you need an extra to hang out with the neighbours/read a book/play with the kids/ do the shopping etc turn the oven down to 160c. It should buy you another 45to sixty minutes but keep a little eye on the moisture.

As I mentioned previously I don’t have a lot of gadgets including a slow cooker. If you want to be uber organised you could probably do this in the slow cooker. You might like to use this handy tool to convert my instructions.

A weird but tasty addition is some leftover roast pumpkin mashed into the sauce just before going into the oven. Trust me…Delicious but shhh don’t tell the hubs I fed him pumpkin.

Oven Roasted Tomato and Salami Pasta

The grains rain down from the bag as I pour them from the crinkled bag. Straw coloured and fine they remind me of dry fine sand from an exotic beach somewhere. I briefly run my fingers through their soft feather light texture almost like the beginning of a meditation, the gentle sweep through the grains setting the scene for my hands, my mind switching off from the swirl of life around me. My fingers leave a crater in middle of the mound ready to receive warm water to transform the grains to a soft pillowy dough. Swirling through the mixture as it amalgamates into a rough ball my fingers warm up, start to stretch and squeeze, coaxing the two forms into one. I notice flour and water have joined and a rough ball has formed, I notice I’ve switched off from the world and almost in a trance have given my whole mind to the process.

Flexing my hands the rough ball lands on the bench from the bowl, stretch, fold, turn, repeat…over and over until the craters, dimples and blemishes smooth out. My hands and eyes talking to each other, feeling the dough as I knead, registering it’s increasing pliability, the surface losing it’s imperfections to a silken smooth outer like the proverbial baby’s bottom. I can feel it’s alchemy emerging, it’s lightness pillowing with each turn. It’s time. Tucking my pasta dough under a cover for a rest it’s time to let it relax, I notice the satisfied feeling in my muscles and the calmness in my mind. The satisfaction of creating something from two simple ingredients and the moments of tuning out to the world and into the union of the elements almost invigorating.

I’m often asked If I have fancy kitchen gadgets like an air fryer or thermomix. Indeed as an avid cook you’d think I would. I confess, as a lover of technology and cooking I am often tempted but I love the process more. Maybe it’s my version of exercise, I do know it’s my way of switching off. And while doing so I get to nourish, nurture and create, three things that are important to me. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes the kneading of a dough may be more ‘vigorous’ than others or indeed the stirring of a bubbling stew less enthusiastic but it’s always satisfying.

So do I have a fancy pasta making machine? No. I actually love tuning into the ingredients in my hands, building an intangible intuition and allowing it to let me know when it’s ready. Trusting and enjoying the process regardless how arduous or enjoyable the day allows it to be.

I’ve recently revisited my love of making pasta guided by this book. If you’d like to try and make your own basic pasta this is an excellent place to start. There really is nothing like the taste and texture of homemade pasta. Maybe it’s the satisfaction, almost smug-like if I’m honest, of knowing something so nourishing was created with my own hands but the flavour and freshness of it compares to nothing else.

While I massage the dough with my hands my mind invariable always wanders to the final flourish of any pasta dish and how it will be adorned and dressed. Sometimes the pasta will be evolve while a rich ragu bubbles away in the oven (Yes the oven. I’ll come back to that one another day but trust me cooking your pasta sauce in the oven slowly is a game changer). But other times the desire to make the pasta precedes the planning so to speak. Often time while that dough naps under cling wrap, I’m found in the pantry and fridge fossicking for inspiration.

This is one such creation. It’s easy and full flavoured belying the ease with which it comes together. It’s a great end of the week dish using all those tomatoes sitting in the bowl on the bench, in fact will be all the better for some extra ripeness. And yes the bench! Don’t store your toms in the fridge, they last longer at room temp.

Ingredients:

750 gm of mixed fresh tomatoes. The more varieties the better and the riper the better.

3 Tb Extra virgin olive oil

1 tsp salt flakes

3-4 garlic cloves unpeeled

1 onion peeled and cut into 8 wedges

1 400 gm can crushed tomatoes

½ tomato can of water

100 gm flavourful salami

Method:

Preheat oven to 200c and place a baking tray in the oven to also preheat.

Fill a large pot with salted water and place on the stove over a large flame to bring the water to the boil.

Gather and weigh your tomatoes. Remove any green stalks if you have truss toms and cut any larger ones into wedges similar size to cherry tomatoes if you’re using a mixture (as pictured). Gently toss onion wedges, tomatoes and garlic in the oil and softly tumble into the warmed baking tray, drizzling any leftover oil from the bowl over the top. Spinkle the salt flakes over and place in the oven for 15 minutes. We want the tomatoes to begin to blister and the edges of the onion pieces to char and caramelise.

Remove from the oven and add the canned tomato and half of that can of water. Gently fold the ingredients together. The onion will start to separate which is fine as that’s how we want to serve it. Return to the oven for a further 15 minutes. It will begin to bubble and thicken slightly.

At this time pop the pasta of your choice in the water to cook.

Remove from the oven for a second time. Check for seasoning and add salt and pepper as required though not too much as the salami will add flavour in the next step. Lay the salami slices across the top in a single later and again return to the oven, this time for 10 minutes. The salami with crisp and brown at the edges.

The pasta should be cooked at this time. Drain the pasta and add to the sauce. Fold through and serve.

If you’d like to give pasta making a try this is a good place to start. Mine is ‘rustic’ shall we say but it all tastes the same right.

Blood Orange & Blackberry Self Saucing Pudding

He’s a sunseeker. Like a cat stalking a sunbathed window, he’s usually found where the sun shines her warming beams down. As a young man he was rarely indoors, always seeking adventure always in the sun. From summers by the seaside with loved grandparents in childhood to adventures in the bush with mates as a teen, always following the arc of the sun. In adulthood he continued to point north face turned toward the sun’s sweep across the sky his pursuits informed by those best enjoyed under golden warm skies.

I first met him as summer waned, still sunny, ocean breezes licking our young faces. He was the handsome divemaster on the boat on which I too pursued sunbathed pastimes. He’s my north, with whom I’ve pursued a life in the sun for nearly 25 years and built a sun soaked life with our two boys.

He still prefers a sunbathed life, always looking forward to sunny days, warmer seasons and life outdoors. Winters aren’t always to his liking indeed they rarely are. This winter has been particularly long, this last week marked by mornings blanketed in frosts sparkling under winter sun and crisp chilled air. At the end of the cold days a little bowl of sunshine can go some way to thaw chilled hands longing for warmth.

Seeing shiny blood oranges with a vibrant ruby blush, plump with tangy juicy at the green grocer was a draw too good to walk past. Harking back to my own childhood favourite winter pudding of magical self-saucing pudding my Blood Orange and Blackberry version is like a soft pillowy island of gently spiced almond sponge floating on a puddle of sunshiney blood orange syrup dotted with berry jewels.

Maybe it will bring some sunshine to your winter nights and warm you from the inside out.

Ingredients:

Pudding

60 gm butter melted

200 gm self raising flour

1 tsp ground ginger

½ tsp ground cardamon

40 gm ground almond/almond flour

100 gm caster sugar

1 tb of finely grated orange rind, preferably blood orange

¼ tsp salt flakes

1 egg lightly whisked

180 ml of whole milk

125 fresh blackberries

Syrup

80 gm brown sugar

125 ml freshly squeezed strained blood orange juice

200 mil boiling water

Method:

Preheat oven 180c (170c fan forced)

Generously grease a baking dish, preferably ceramic or glass. The one pictured is 30cm x 16cm at the base. Spread out fresh berries and set aside.

In a large bowl combine dry ingredients and orange rind. Mix with a whisk to to thoroughly combine and aerate. Whisk together egg, milk and melted cooled butter. Make a well in the centre of the dry ingredients and pour in wet ingredients. Fold together gently using a balloon whisk or spatula with a lite hand. Gently spread batter over berries in an even layer.

Stir together boiling water, strained juice and sugar, stirring quickly to break down sugar. Gently pour over the pudding batter pouring over a spoon to spread the fall of the liquid and moving around the surface of the pudding to prevent puddling and denting of the surface.

Pop in the oven for 35 minutes or until firm to touch in the centre. It will feel like cake floating on a pool of sauce.

Serve warm with scoops ice cream melting through the cracks or dollops of whipped Chantilly cream.

Notes:

Feel free to substitute blackberries with raspberries if you prefer.

You can switch the whole thing up and make a lemon and blueberry pudding. Just sub in lemons from oranges and blueberries for blackberries.

For a little extra zing a splash of a couple of teaspoons of your favourite orange liqueur or gin over the berries before the batter is a lovely little grown up addition