Food notes from a month in Melbourne: Part two

1.The veggie garden.


Grandad John and his magnificent veggie garden.


Sad as it may sound, I spent a lot of time in Australia admiring people's veggie patches (what with all those big backyards and wide open spaces). I get so used to being separated from the source in our little-flat no-balcony world, it was a joy to see climbing tomato vines, pumpkins lazily stretching across paths and fat little courgettes poking through their leaves. (When we stayed at my auntie Rob's and she pulled that night's veggies straight out of the ground for roasting... aaah, heaven.)

With all that nurturing and tilling, it's no wonder everyone also had some system to recycle their discarded foodscraps. The best new composting method I saw was under Astrid's kitchen sink in Castlemaine and it was the Bokashi Bucket. By sprinkling a bran mixture infused with "effective micro-organisms" over food scraps everytime they're thrown in the bucket, the Bokashi uses a fermentation process that doesn't stink up the kitchen; in fact, it emits a pleasant, pickled odour if any at all. The bucket has a tap to drain off the juice (which is an excellent fertiliser) and once it is full, the enriched waste can be buried in the garden. Perfect!



2. A mini country road trip & lasagne with the ladies.


Bel & Buster

Ah, road trips, reference points for so many of life's memories: from being squashed in the back seat with Ben and Maysie at seven, a caravan attached to the bumper; through to fanging it up the east coast much later, well past the age of innocence, heading to Byron Bay's bluesfest with the girls and a random hitch hiker. The sheer size of the country makes road trips essential. So it was great to jump in Bel's car and head to Castlemaine. In the past, we might have been hooning in her Charger, sucking on tinnies, a bag of zing-a-ling cookies in the back, giggling like a couple of idiots. This time, we were in a very sensible vehicle, sipping mineral water, little baby Buster in the back... still giggling like a couple of idiots.



Edie, Astrid & the chooks whose names I forget


The road trip might have been short but the destination was a treat: a country arvo and evening spent in Astrid's kitchen with the old PBS work crew (and their little mother suckers). Astrid was on meal duty for a neighbour who'd just had a baby and giving her first lasagne a crack -- under Lisa's expert eye -- so we doubled up for our dinner as well.

When you think of all the butter and cheese synonomous with lasagne, you may think a vegan version might be lacking some. Not on your life, and this one ain't just for hippies, I swear. Lentils will give depth to your tomato and veggie sauce. As for the bechamel, combine tahini, lemon juice, a little water and soft tofu. And for a yummy spinach layer, substitute ricotta for a good tofu then add seeds, a little sesame oil and grated lemon rind.



3. A decent brekky on Lygon.

It being a whirlwind trip, we sadly didn't have time to visit as many of Melbourne's food haunts as we would have liked. We did, however, take advantage of the city's dime-a-dozen, good, cheap, served-till-late breakfasts. (For a comprehensive rundown, visit The Breakfast Blog.) In Elwood, Jerry's Milk Bar offered decent food but cocaine attitude and patronisingly slow service, while the Turtle Cafe was tasty, albeit on the little side. It was over the other side of town, courtesy of a short stay in North Carlton, that we found a winner.

At the Elgin end of Lygon, Trotters may have received a lukewarm reception from TBB (where you can find all these cafes, incidentally) but it worked for us. Twice, the brekky was goo-oo-oo-ood, orange juice exceptional, atmos buzzing and staff quietly charming. I wasn't a huge fan of the mashed hash (and my florentine was a bit so-so), but avocado and mushrooms on toast was a sensation: half a perfectly ripe avo, a big lemon wedge and juicy, rosemary herbed mushies in their very own bowl. With this in mind, I'm begging, please, anyone who knows of any really good late Sunday brekkie stops in London, I wanna know!

Thank god Chew is actually posting some recipes these days while I detour down sentimental lane. For those of you right now thinking, 'what?! no recipe? but I wanna make a vegan lasagne NOW!' never fear, in the coming weeks I shall actually cook, photograph and devise some vague instructions for both the lasagne and last week's tempura. Just not today.

Herb your enthusiam

I have some bread leftover from a very enjoyable dinner party. Not fresh enough to tear chunks off and eat with some delicious Quenby Hall Stilton I've bought from Borough market; and not quite stale enough for duck food. What to do? This is when having a herb garden comes in pretty handy.





What you need
Half a big Ciabatta bread stick - or any old bread will do
A big handful of herbs - I used parsley, sage rosemary and thyme (..and oregano)
A third of a stick of butter, and more if necessary
Salt
Pepper
Aluminum foil

Split the bread down the middle length ways.



Spread the bread flat in a baking tray. Rip and chop up the herbs, then give them a good pounding in a pestle and mortar.



Melt the butter in a small saucepan. Add the herbs to the hot melted butter, remove from heat and allow to cool down a little. Douse the bread with the herby butter mixture, give it a salt and peppering, then cover with foil. Bake in a hot oven until the bread is heated through, then remove the foil and bake uncovered for a couple of minutes or until it all goes nice and crunchy.
You can also add a clove of crushed garlic to the butter mixture if it takes your fancy.

culinary notes from a homecoming queen: part one

I was back home in April for what turned out to be a politician's tour -- dozens of new babies to hug and kiss. (I always knew Melbourne water was good but hell's bells, there's been some heavy breeding in three years.) All that cooing and gurgling meant no time for blogging... till now. Here's the first installment in a collection of food-related notes from my trip.

1. Food ain't no cure for jetlag. So much for the earnest, airplane cooking featured in my last, pre-flight post. Despite my well-considered menu, adam and I both suffered the lag after 20+ hours airborne (though we did get to see a lot of films). Given the grim state of the lacto-vego inflight food (I can't imagine how woeful a vegan menu might be), I'd still advise anyone travelling long distances to pack a lunch box.


2. My favourite kitchen.



It was an odd experience returning to my hometown as a temporary visitor with no actual home to go to (generous hospitality aside). Which is why I am so grateful for Sandy Point. This is the most consistent family house I've known. The fact that it's there (I insisted on a fleeting visit with adam and my mum just to be sure) makes me smile even now, writing from my flat in London. It always feels like home and I reckon the fifty or so relatives I share it with would probably agree.

My grandparents built the house some 40+ years ago as a holiday retreat for themselves and their seven kids. Constructed of fibro sheeting, concrete and timber, it is electricity free with no generators. Everything runs on gas. The most modern development since my last visit is the fact you no longer need to manually pump your water supply for the day from one tank to the other.



The Sandy Point kitchen always has the same crockery, kettles and cutlery, it's where my grandad first taught me how to load a pot of tea and where countless dinners have been roasted while watching a storm roll in off the prom or Bass Strait. Plenty of stories of love, drama and drunkenness have been hatched in that kitchen... and I'm only one of dozens of kids, cousins, aunts, uncles and family friends of the original Sandy Point clan who all have our own version of how those stories go. If that kitchen could talk, oi vey. (And not only because of the heavy duty entertaining over the years; the bench was made out of my nan's discarded examination table from when she was a GP.)


3. The humble potato cake.



Why haven't chippies here cottoned on to this starchy gem? The Australian potato cake simply consists of one mother of a slice of potato dipped in batter and deep fried. While it sounds simple enough to reproduce at home, be warned: our mate Desi, who once worked in a fish'n'chip joint, reckons amateurs would be hard pressed to get just the right batter consistency and oil situation. Then there's the matter of having your tater cake wrapped in the right chip paper after being sloshed with no-brand salt and vinegar, before taking it outside to some sandy perch to devour while greedy seagulls angrily squawk all around you.


4. The best family cooking.



My main home away from home in April was in leafy Elwood with Ben, Mish and Rubes. Lots of beach walks, family time, the patter of little footsies up and down the hall and some super tasty treats courtesy of Mish's kitchen. That lady can cook! One delicacy included a garnish for a wild mushroom risotto that could just as easily fly as a side dish or entree. I'm going to try and recreate this soon so I can be specific with the details. But here are the general steps for the impatient.



Carefully stuff some courgette flowers with ricotta (2 or 3 per plate) then pinch and twist the tops to ensure the stuffing stays in. Individually fry them by dipping them in a tempura batter (the trick, apparently, is to use ice-cold water) and dropping them into hot oil until light golden (Mish used olive but a good quality vegetable oil would do.) Retrieve the courgettes with a slotted spoon, drain on paper towel then lay them on top of the risotto (they need to be done just before serving so the batter stays crisp.) Salt Yard in Soho does some equally mouth watering fried courgette flowers, stuffing them with Monte Enebro cheese and drizzling them with honey.

Home sweet home

Look! It's Flinders St station! The Arts Centre! The NGV!
This is making me all homesick for Melbourne. Could this be the most amazing thing I have ever seen?!

POLENTHAI

It is late afternoon on a warm spring day. I have just returned from scoffing down the perfect hangover breakfast (halloumi and spinach on toast with a side of grilled tomato and chips) at Cafe Z Bar, followed by a carefree afternoon of newspaper reading in Clissold Park with Kelly and Andrew.
There's a load of washing on the go, and I've opened every door and window in the flat to welcome in the glorious spring breeze.
And now it's time to get down to some serious culinary business.

My Vietnamese mint plant needs a little trim and I have been thinking about what I want to do with its bitter spicy goodness. Vietnamese rice paper rolls are an obvious choice. Problem is, I have none of the ingredients handy and either does the corner shop.
After excavating part of the pantry I discover some polenta and coconut milk, a quick fridge rummage yields some lemongrass and coriander.
Look out everyone! Asian fusion is in the house!


POLENTHAI
This makes about about 8 portions

What you need
500g polenta (NOT instant)
2L water
3 short stalks of lemongrass
5-6 dried kaffir lime leaves (fresh is infinitely better - if you have some, use 3-4)
4 tsp stock
1 tsp chilli flakes
bunch of coriander with roots intact
1 can coconut milk
sweet chilli sauce (bought from Chinese grocer)

Wash the coriander very, very thoroughly and chop off the roots. Bag the top and keep in the fridge for later. Chop the roots up as finely as you can be bothered. Set aside.



In a big heavy based pot, bring the water to the boil. Prepare the lemongrass by smashing the butt of your knife down onto the base of the stalks a few times, exposing the inner core of flavour.



Throw the lemongrass into the pot along with the kaffir leaves (rip these in half as you put them in), chilli flakes and stock. Simmer for 30 mins or longer - add salt or more stock to taste, it should be like a light fragrant soup. Fish out the lemongrass and leaves. Add coconut milk and chopped coriander root. Stir.
Turn the heat right down so the water is still. Add polenta slowly in a thin stream, mixing as you go along. Keep mixing every so often for around 30-45 minutes or until the polenta comes away from the side of the pot.



When ready, wet a slice tray and spread the mixture in evenly with a wet spatula. Cool and keep in fridge. Once set, it can be kept for a later date or used straight away.

To serve, pan fry on medium heat in a generous lug of oil, until it develop a nice golden crust, flip over and repeat.
Pile torn Vietnamese mint leaves and coriander on top, and drizzle with sweet chilli sauce.

Pots and tea

Whilst traipsing about Laama Island in Hong Kong last year, we discovered an adorable little herb garden and tea hut where we could rest our weary legs.
As we sipped on our freshly brewed herbal teas (mine was a refreshing lemon balm one) we enjoyed the antics of the resident orange cat, cheekily jumping up on tables to drink water from the flower vases when Mr tea maker wasn't looking.
While I was reminiscing about this the other day, I decided to turn my herbaceous thoughts into reality. I cycled down to the local garden centre and came home with a bike basket full of apple mint, oregano, Vietnamese mint, thyme, chives and lavender.



D.I.Y tea
For me, 'herbal' belongs to the same word family as 'hemp', 'dread lock' and 'fire-twirling' - but I assure you, tea made from herbs freshly plucked from your own garden is so refreshing and delicious, that such unpleasant thoughts will soon be washed away quick smart.

Pluck a few leaves from your herb of choice, throw into a mug and pour boiling water over them. Leave for a few minutes.

I usually make mint tea, but I also love lemon verbena, chamomile, thyme and lemon balm. For more varieties of herbal teas look here

good enough to eat

Look what I came across in my inbox this morning.
Big thanks to Laura for passing them on!

Salad daze

The Tuesday back at work after Easter weekend was a bit of a struggle for me. For most of the day my brain was still curled up in bed and copious amounts of coffee would not wake it from it's slumber.
When I got home I was faced with a dilemma. I was lazy, starving and didn't want to eat anything bad.

So this is what I did.

Preheat oven on high.
Get some small sweet potatoes (big ones are fine too, but the small ones are softer and fluffier), cut into thick slices leaving the skin on. Place in baking tray and toss in some smoked paprika (for 4 potatoes I used a small teaspoon) and olive oil.



Bake at 150-180 until you can poke a fork in them, then crank it to 200 to char the outsides a little. Remove from oven and allow to cool slightly.


In a big bowl, throw in your favourite salad leaves, baby tomatoes, chopped avocado, chopped chives, sunflower seeds and some roasted pine nuts. Add the sweet potato whilst still warm. Drizzle with oil and squeeze some lemon over the salad.


This is the smoked paprika in a pretty tin that I used.

These are a few of my favourite things...

ESTRELLA DILL CHIPS
I would rather give birth to a chair than go to IKEA again.
But there's no doubt in my mind that I'll revisit Hades, because I'll see something nifty in a their catalogue while I'm killing time at some one's house. Then I'll make the long trek out there by tube and bus, only to discover that there is only one of what I'm after left...and it looks like it has been thrown off the top the highest thing you can imagine.
If you also experience sadness and disappointment qualities whilst paying for the 200squid worth of stuff you didn't need, but bought because you didn't want to feel like you'd wasted part of your life going out there...
Chin up. Lug all that crap over to the Swedish food shop and get yourself some Dill chips/crisps or whatever the hell you want to call them.
It makes all the pain worthwhile. Well almost.





SILICONE PASTRY BRUSH
This has got to be the best silicone product on the market. Look at it! Ingenious!

Easter in the Cotswolds

I spent my Easter weekend in the Cotswolds wandering around in fields of perfect green grass, petting cute lambs, clambering over stiles and squeezing through kissing gates. Oh and I ate a lot too.


Dinner #1 was consumed at The Fox Inn in Stow-on-the-Wold. A few vegetarian options graced the menu; a pumpkin risotto; mushroom tart; poached pear, endive and Roquefort salad; and a lasagne.

I went for the mushroom tart and the lasagne. The mushroom tart arrives. It is little frisbee of deliciously light puff pastry with a haystack of rocket on top. After some poking around with my pitchfork, I uncover some mushrooms which are very tasty but lacking in quantity.


My main is a little better than the usual token vegetarian lasagne. Unfortunately the redeemable qualities of the eggplant/aubergine, capers and sundried tomatoes are drowning in an ocean of cheese and white sauce. Strangely enough, the other orders of lasagne at our table received a sensible distribution of dairy - the chef must have had some sort of fit whilst assembling my dish.
The Fox Inn had a nice atmosphere and the staff were great. I'm unable to comment on the meat dishes, but the vegetarian dishes I tried could be pretty good with a little extra thought.




Dinner #2 was an EXCELLENT four mushroom (shitake, enoki, shimeji, and the normal white cup variety) risotto prepared by Guy of Guy's Opinions fame.
For a similar recipe, take a peek at Joan's risotto






And for a good mushroom guide check this out



Near our temporary home was our one-stop organic gourmet shop - the Daylesford Organic farmshop. Noteworthy items were the olive, cornichon (mini gherkins), pickled garlic, and caperberry mix; and the herb and gruyere tart.





All the food available is of a high standard, but shopping here WILL break the bank. Food education and good, simple, organic fare should be accessible to all, not just the obscenely wealthy. Nevertheless, 2 cents aside, I'll be savouring every skerrick of my £5.95 organic blood orange marmalade.

The past few days have made me fantasise about my dream farm. Fully self sufficient with a huge vegetable and herb patch, 2 dogs, a few cats - including my cat Mr Meow and a Russian blue, 2 goats, 2 miniature goats, 2 alpacas a few chickens and a Shetland pony.
The End.