Author Archives: clare

About clare

I believe in creating simple dishes from high quality raw ingredients; everyday food from scratch. I am a caterer, whole food eater, hopeless recipe collector, book worm, trainee marathon runner, ocean lover and mamma to Thea.

Making matzo ball soup

matzo ball soup

Easter came and went in a bit of a blur this year. There were late nights and early mornings, and not too much sleep in-between due to a small someone getting two new teeth. The whole house was a constant hive of activity. There was me in the kitchen preparing food for clients, as well as the family. Ma was the most amazing helper, taking on the responsibility of chief washer-uper. Mark and Pa worked in the back yard, excitingly undertaking preparations for a swimming pool, completion date Summer 2015. There were also cousins running excitedly around, searching for eggs, Thea hot on their tails, not quite yet knowing what all the commotion was about. Thank goodness! So this recipe for matzo ball soup is rather timely, not only for its nourishing and restorative properties after a hectic few days, indeed it is dubbed ‘Jewish penicillin by many, but also because it is a traditional dish consumed during passover (the last day of which, as I write, is today).

matzo ball soup

A number of years ago I can recall lying on my bed, atop clean, pale grey sheets, the curtains to my right dancing in the breeze, reading Ruth Reichl‘s ‘Garlic and Sapphires’. The scene is still so vivid. The light was bright and the air slightly cool. It was my day off and all alone in the house I was doing one of my favourite things. Reading a book. A simple but escapist activity. As I turned the pages, I absorbed Reichl’s rendition of matzo ball soup and the dish has been firmly imprinted on my mind ever since. It’s something that I have always wanted to make, intrigued to know what it would taste like, but haven’t for fear that it would be too complicated. Fast forward to a week ago when Alice in frames posted a picture on Instagram for Matzo ball soup. I was once again reminded of the day just described, reading about the peculiar Jewish chicken soup. Now though, I was determined to make it, spurred on by the fact there was a big tub of home made chicken stock lurking in the depths of the chest freezer for just this kind of moment.

matzo ball soup

After figuring out what Matzo crackers are and the substitute, being in Australia, that I could use in their place to make Matzo balls, all additional ingredients are pantry staples; eggs, salt, black pepper and sparkling water. The only other tricky ingredient that is traditionally used to make them is schmaltz or chicken fat. It’s entirely possible to skim the top of chicken stock to gain some, or collect it from the bottom of a tray that a chicken has been roasted in. Being impatient though and determined to make the soup the next day after seeing Alice’s post, I decided to go with her mum’s version and use duck fat. Duck fat is always in the fridge and is great to have on hand. It withstands being used at high heat and imparts something special into the things that it’s cooked with. Roast potatoes are more glamorous, both in name and flavour, seared, plump scallops are made a little bit more wonderful and egg fried rice, extra tasty.

matzo ball soup

At this point I feel it’s worthwhile mentioning the chicken stock hibernating in the freezer, which makes up the rejuvenating element of the dish. Whenever roast chicken is eaten for dinner, the carcass is never thrown away. Instead it goes into a pot along with cold water and some lemon juice, which helps to extract all the lovely minerals from the bones, and simmers on the stove for most of the next day. And that’s chicken stock, at its most basic at least. Sometimes peppercorns, bay leaves, celery, carrots and onions are added. Even chicken’s feet for their gelatinous qualities. Sometimes not. Making this practice part of a kitchen routine will result in beautiful, nutritious, home cooking. Use the resulting stock to make risotto, cook quinoa, braise vegetables, create delicious gravies, master velouté sauces and add to smoothies, yes REALLY-it’s fantastic for gut and joint health and along with a banana, no-one would ever know. Thea and I pinkie promise x

matzo ball soup matzo ball soup

matzo ball soup

 

Matzo ball soup

Adapted from a recipe by Smitten Kitchen

For the Matzo Balls

  • 1/2 cup Salada crumbs
  • 2 eggs, beaten
  • 2 tbsp duck fat
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 1/4 tsp black pepper
  • 2 tbsp sparkling water (renowned to make the balls extra light)

For the soup

  • 2 litres chicken stock, preferably home made, but a a good quality store bought one would be fine
  • 1 carrot, peeled and finely sliced
  • a few chopped herbs like parsley or dill, or a handful of frozen peas, or all of the above

To make Salada crumbs, simply whizz the crackers in a food processor until they resemble sand, then mix them with all the other matzo ball ingredients. Cover the mixture and place in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes. From this point on, the matzo balls will be referred to as simply balls, owing to the fact that in this recipe they contain no Matzo crackers.

When you are ready to make the soup, bring 1.5 litres of well-salted water to a rolling boil in a medium sized pot. Reduce the heat so that the water is just simmering. With wet hands, form ping pong size balls from the Salada mixture and one by drop them into the simmering water. Cover the pot and leave the balls to cook for 30 to 40 minutes.

!0 minutes before the balls are ready, bring the chicken stock, with the discs of sliced carrot, to simmering point. When both the stock is hot and the balls are ready, if they are floating this is a good indication that they are, ladle a few spoonfuls of the stock into a bowl and add two, three or four balls depending on your appetite. Sprinkle with a few herbs and enjoy x

Traditional Easter biscuits

Easter biscuits

I’m smiling to myself right now as I remember the table in my grandma and grandpa’s lounge where as a child, on Easter Sunday, my chocolate eggs were placed. A ridiculous amount of them. Some with my name on, some with smaller chocolates inside. All eaten far too quickly. I can also recall hot cross buns though, toasted under my grandma’s gas grill, slightly charred at the edges and dripping with melted butter. And big, golden, round, scalloped edged, crumbly biscuits, with a fine cap of caster sugar that used to get stuck on my top lip, eaten straight from the white paper bag. Easter biscuits, bought from the bakery once a year.

Easter biscuits Easter biscuits

Easter might just top Christmas as a treat laden holiday, full of specially dedicated morsels. The weekend seems full of family feasts and over indulgence. Maybe it’s because of the preplanning involved in what’s going to fill the table, shops being closed for a portion of the time, or perhaps it’s due to there being four consecutive holiday days in a row, enough time to start to unwind, relax over long meals and enjoy respite from the everyday.

Traditional Easter biscuit

Easter biscuits

Easter biscuits

Punctuating holidays of the year with recipes, might be why certain foods are remembered so fondly, because they are only enjoyed for a brief moment on the calendar. Memories are made more vivid as anticipation builds around special dishes and the days that they are paired with. My life in Sydney is now highlighted by a Good Friday dawn trip to the fish markets to procure an assortment of seafood. Bright orange, rainbow scaled and filigree fringed creatures from the sea are prepared without haste for a long, lazy family lunch. A far cry from the roast beef and Yorkshire puddings that was served throughout my childhood. But the biscuits. Well somehow, they still taste the same.

Traditional Easter biscuit recipe Traditional Easter biscuit recipe

Traditional Easter biscuits

  • 200g butter at room temperature
  • 150g caster sugar
  • 2 egg yolks
  • 400g plain flour
  • 1 level tsp vanilla powder
  • 1 level tsp ground cinnamon
  • 2-4 tbsp milk
  • 100g currants
  • A little caster sugar for sprinkling

Beat the butter and sugar together until pale and fluffy. With the mixer still running, add the yolks. When they are incorporated, stop the mixer and add the flour, spices and milk. Turn the mixer back on to a low speed and mix until the flour is just incorporated. If it looks too dry, add a little more milk. The mixture shouldn’t look crumbly. It shouldn’t look too sticky either. Tip in the currants, let the paddle turn a few more times and then remove the dough to a well floured surface.

Using a sprinkling of flour here and there so that the dough is easy to handle, roll it out to a thickness of about 2-4cm. Use a cookie cutter to cut out circles of dough and place the discs on a paper lined baking tray. Before baking, sprinkle the biscuits with caster sugar.

Bake at160C for 12-15 minutes until the biscuits are golden, remove from the oven and sprinkle with a little more caster sugar. Enjoy.

Overcooked quinoa 2 ways.

overcooked quinoa

I’m not quite sure what I was thinking, but I added double the recommended amount of water to cook some quinoa the other day. Having spied some preserved lemons at the back of the fridge, I was intending to make a Morroccan inspired salad to go with some lamb cutlets. Then besides dinner, I got stuck in to other household chores, rushing to get them done before Thea woke up and totally forgot about the simmering pot on the stove. After a sharp intake of breath when I remembered the intended base for the salad, which now resembled a mass of tiny, sludgy, beige pearls, I composed myself and set about thinking what the hell was I going to do with a mound of overcooked quinoa.

overcooked quinoa

I’m not one to waste food, which drives Mark crazy. He despairs with all the little parcels of leftovers in the fridge, but I always find a use for them. Stale sourdough bread is consistently made into crumbs for schnitzels, the ends of cheese are grated to go into a smelting pot in the freezer for pizza, cheese sauce and the occasional toasted sandwich and leftover gravy is added to béchamel sauce for robust green leafed  vegetable gratins that I love to serve with roast pork.  Faced with the watery, stodgy, flavourless mound of pseudo grains, I thought about what they resembled and in turn might be converted into. The mushy quinoa seemed like it would work well in place of mashed potato to make salmon cakes. And the fishcakes could be spiked with preserved lemon, capers, dil and parsley, punchy ingredients that would transform the bland pile into something edible once again. Some crisp green leaves would form a complete evening meal and once again dinner was back on track.

overcooked quinoa

But wait. That’s not all. After making six large salmon fishcakes, I still had oodles of overcooked quinoa left. I started to wonder if I’d added four times the amount of water I was supposed to! That or I’d had a brain freeze and cooked enough for a large catering order. Either way, another recipe was needed to make use of what still remained. With the tiny person still asleep, I embarked upon another dish. This time a recipe from the Petite kitchen cookbook for Cheddar and quinoa muffins with sun dried tomatoes and basil. Single serve snacks that could be put in the freezer for when a tummy rumble struck. They’re very simple and quick to make and baked in little paper cases, an entirely portable snack.

overcooked quinoa

After all the huffing and puffing and scolding of myself for not having set a timer for the quinoa, I was now able to survey my kitchen bench burdened with dinner, possible lunches and enough snacks for the foreseeable future. Hindsight usually reveals mistakes to be entirely perfect in their outcome.

overcooked quinoa

 Salmon fishcakes – a recipe using overcooked quinoa.

4 cups (over)cooked quinoa
2 fillets of cooked salmon, flaked
A handful of chopped parsley
A handful of chopped dill
1-2 tbs chopped capers
1 preserved lemon, rind finely chopped
Sea salt and black pepper
2 eggs

Mix all ingredients together in a large bowl and then shape into tennis ball size fish cakes.

I will confess that I tried to pan fry one of the salmon cakes, imagining that it would go crisp and chewy. This was not the case as the patties were too wet from, ahem, the overcooked quinoa. Baking resulted in a much better result.

Bake for 30-40 minutes at 180C.

Enjoy with a crisp green leaf salad.

Cheddar and quinoa muffins with sun dried tomatoes and basil.

From My Petite Kitchen Cookbook by Eleanor Ozich

540g cooked quinoa
4 eggs
100g Cheddar cheese, grated
2 large handfuls basil, chopped
40g sun dried tomatoes, chopped
Sea salt and black pepper

Mix all ingredients in a large bowl and then divide among the holes of paper lined muffin tin.

Makes approximately 6 large and 12 mini muffins.

Bake at 180C for about 25 minutes.

The best roast lamb ever.

the best roast lamb ever

I have been wanting to share this recipe with you for a while. Well, it’s more of a technique really. A way to cook the best roast lamb ever. It requires no effort. None. Apart from actually going to your butcher and buying a leg of lamb or three, getting a roasting tray and some foil ready and turning on the oven. That’s it. And the results are worthy of any dinner table. Tender, moist, flavoursome lamb that falls away from the bone with the touch of a feather. The thing that makes this lamb so great, apart from the ease with which it’s cooked, is the time that it gives you once it is done. It will happily sit on the kitchen bench wrapped in foil and a beach towel for hours. YES really, while you, well, get ready for the party!

the best roast lamb ever

The thing about once having been a cafe owner is that you get to repeat tasks over and over again, and you become quite skilled at certain recipes. By making mistakes and learning from them, you get even better too and realise what works and what certainly does not. So having cooked lamb like this to fill wraps along with tabbouleh and minted yoghurt many, many times, the process has become second nature, but the results are no less memorable.

the best roast lamb ever

I think the whole process of cooking lamb for lengthy periods of time first started after reading Paula Wolfert’s recipe for Seven Hour Garlic Crowned Lamb in her wonderful book The Slow Mediterranean Kitchen. Again I read Alice Waters‘ thorough explanation of slow cooking shoulder joints in her book The Art of Simple Food and somehow combined the two accounts to create a method where I could put lamb in the oven just before I went to bed and then take it out first thing in the morning ready to take to the cafe with me to satisfy lunch time customers. The technique is well tested.

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Preparing lamb in this way has also become a favourite dish with some of my regular chef by the sea catering clients. Perhaps because even though the meat in itself is a spectacular but understated main, it’s the perfect partner to such a wide array of sides. Complemented by smoky baba ganoush or piquant chimichurri, at home with roast potatoes or herby quinoa, side by side with shredded kale, barbecued corn or roast pumpkin, on a plate for lunch and in a roll for dinner. It’s a perfect entertaining staple. And I hope that it serves you well.

the best roast lamb ever the best roast lamb ever the best roast lamb ever a cheese cake a cheese cake

The best roast lamb ever

For this recipe, which is more anecdotal than a precise list of steps, you will need three things.

  1. A whole leg or shoulder of lamb, bone in.
  2. A deep baking tray
  3. Aluminium foil

Preheat your oven to it’s hottest setting, so somewhere around 250 C. My oven is like a furnace, which for some things is actually fantastic, like caramelising the outside of a joint of meat before leaving it to braise in a few inches of water for the day or overnight.

While the oven is preheating, place the meat in the baking tray and when the oven’s little light goes out to indicate the right temperature has been reached, pop your joint of meat in for 20 minutes.

When 20 minutes has elapsed, remove the meat from the oven and turn the temperature down to about 100 C. The first time you do this you may need to use an oven thermometer to calibrate the point where your oven cooks at the is temperature, because for me this heat is not actually any temperature indicated on my oven’s dial, but rather marked with a Sharpie from having worked it out many times before.

Before putting your meat back into the oven, fill the baking tray with about two inches of water and cover it tightly with foil. Now put it back into the oven and you can leave the lamb to cook anywhere from six to 12 hours.

Before serving the lamb, and I believe this detail to be just as important as the initial 20 minute heat blast, remove it from the oven and its baking tray, place it on a deep platter, wrap it in foil and cover it with a towel. I have even placed the lamb in a suitable plastic container and popped it in an esky to rest and keep warm. It will sit quite happily for a few hours and still be piping hot, but succulently moist when you come to serve it.

And to serve, simply use two forks or a pair of tongs and help yourself.

Enjoy x

Making vanilla ice cream

This post is both thoroughly practical and deeply personal. It’s about making vanilla ice cream from scratch and reminiscing about my childhood. For most people, memories of their younger years and ice cream are closely intertwined. For me this is especially true. I can recall cones of ice cream after a day at the beach building sandcastles, jelly and ice cream in little plastic bowls eaten on the grass at friend’s birthday parties and nibbling the crunchy chocolate off choc ices that I was allowed to stow in the freezer during school holidays. The ice cream I remember the most though towered high above me in an elongated, scalloped edge, sundae glass. I needed to kneel on my chair and use the long handled spoon to delve into the layers of strawberry and vanilla ice cream, raspberry jelly, fruit and whipped cream that was topped with chopped nuts, hundreds and thousands, sticky, sweet bright red strawberry sauce, wafers and a cherry. A Knickerbocker Glory. A favourite treat on a family outing that I always savoured with complete delight. But to understand why I’m telling you about childhood memories of ice cream, I must first start with my new year’s resolutions for 2015.

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At the start of this year, feeling like an entirely different person with nearly a month’s worth of sleeping through the night, thanks to Thea’s new and improved sleeping pattern, I decided that it was time to focus on some goals. Really make 2015 a great year and accomplish some long aspired to ambitions. So I went to the dentist. Saw an optician. Set up a new filing system. Started squad swimming. Joined surfing mums. Embarked on a training plan for the Sydney marathon. And, I went to see a kinesiologist. As well as sorting things on a physical level, I wanted to make sure that emotionally, everything was in alignment and that no negative subconscious thoughts were holding me back from being my best self. One thing that transpired during my session was that at the age of 12 something had affected the little girl that I was and she had ‘left’. I was told to do something nice for that 12 year old child to welcome her into my life again. Thinking back to those times, I can remember some painful events and whether you believe in spiritual healing or not, to me doing something for my younger self seemed like rather a lovely idea. It’s so easy to get lost in the world of adulthood and responsibility and ignore our more immature inclinations. So when I got home, I decided to make myself a Knickerbocker Glory, the treat that I remember so fondly from my childhood.

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But if I was recreating the sundae of my childhood, I was going to do it properly and that meant making the vanilla ice cream. This is an easy task. I promise. And there are two pieces of equipment that make it really easy. A stand mixer and a digital thermometer. The stand mixer allows you to get on with other tasks while it does the job of doubling the yolks and sugar in size. Like chasing after your toddler as she empties the contents of the kitchen cupboards. Hand held beaters work equally as well, but don’t let you multitask and mixing the yolks and sugar takes about 10 minutes. The digital thermometer I find vital in securing a smooth as silk vanilla ice cream. Without one I have overcooked the eggs in the custard many times, which results in a slightly grainy ice cream. Another thing I have found that is really important when making ice cream is to cool the custard completely before you churn it. Otherwise, it’s a straightforward task with stunning results.

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making vanilla ice creamFilling my little sundae glass with jelly, strawberries and homemade vanilla ice cream made me feel like a little kid. My husband laughed at me as I got hundreds and thousands all over the kitchen bench and I had to laugh at myself too. But what fun. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I melted chocolate to shamelessly drizzle over my strawberries. Oh and did I mention the layer of pineapple in between the jelly and ice cream and the whipped cream I piped on top. I revelled in every mouthful of my sundae with juevenile delight, even going back for more hundreds and thousands, just because I could. Eating the ice cream brought back memories of plastic buckets with castle like turrets, spades with strong wooden handles so that I could dig really deep holes, multicoloured foil windmills whirring in the breeze, determined dam building in the sand, donkeys with their soft as velvet ears and the joy of being a child at the beach. Whether or not my recreation of a Knickerbocker Glory pleased my 12 year old self of not I’ll never know, it sure as hell delighted the 36 year old me.

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Vanilla ice cream

Adapted from Ice creams, Sorbets and Gelati

  • 300ml milk
  • 1 vanilla bean
  • 90g panella (or any unrefined sugar, I just think panela gives the ice cream wonderful depth of flavour)
  • 5 egg yolks (you can freeze the whites for meringue)
  • 250 ml cream

First of all, fill your sink with some cold water. Just a few inches.

Now, start by pouring the milk into a pot. Split the vanilla bean lengthways in half and scrape the seeds into the milk. I also add the seed pods once I have scraped them to extract every last bit of flavour. Set the milk over a low heat and slowly bring to the boil. When the milk boils, turn the heat off.

While the milk is infusing, whisk the sugar and yolks until thick, pale in colour and doubled in size.

Now remove the vanilla seed pod from the milk. You can wash it and leave it to dry and then keep it with your sugar to give it a gorgeous aroma. Bring the milk back to the boil and then transfer to a jug so that you can pour it in a steady steam into the yolk mixture. Do this whilst whisking at the same time.

Pour the resulting custard back into the pot and place over a gentle heat. With one hand hold a digital thermometer in the custard and with the other constantly stir your ice cream base. When the temperature reaches 85C, remove the pot from the heat and plunge the base into the cold water in the sink. This will stop the custard cooking and is very useful if you do accidentally over heat your custard.

Pour the cooked custard into a jug and put in the fridge to chill. When the custard has completely cooled you can add the cream and churn. The most wonderful part of making your own ice cream is that as soon as it’s frozen, you can dip a spoon into the chilled vanilla mixture and enjoy. The best.

Gougeres-bite size balls of cheesy choux pastry

Always a sucker for a new food store, and a French one at that, I popped in to Le Petit Marche in Newport when I had a spare five minutes last week. Beautiful wooden shelves were filled with jars and canisters of imported French deliciousness. Of course the visit resulted in a purchase. I was able to talk myself out of any food, although the salted caramel spread that I was given a taste of did make me slightly weak at the knees and the ‘with the fairies’ strawberry and vanilla tea (who wouldn’t fall in love with a tea with that name) nearly had me reaching for my purse. But no. What I bought was a book. The Paris pastry club. I just can’t help myself when it comes to books, and if a cookbook can give you just one good recipe that you use again and agin, then it’s a winner in my eyes. This book’s a winner and the gougeres that I made from it on Sunday have firmly been wedged in to my repertoire.

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But what are gougeres? They are moorish and delicious and far too easy to consume with very little effort. More technically, they are bite size balls of cheesy choux pastry, light and airy with a bit of crunch and a salty cheese hit. Even though the thought of making choux pastry intimidated me slightly, Fanny Zanotti’s  description of these savoury snacks won me over and I made a commitment to try the recipe out. With a side of red, as she suggested. The perfect opportunity arose when Ma and Pa came over on Sunday afternoon. Thea loooves Ma. I think it’s because she is such a calming presence and gives Thea her complete undivided attention. Ma doesn’t try to multi task like me, she’s simply in tune with Thea, and Thea knows it and relishes in it. Plus Ma always knows how to make her cackle. The biggest, heart melting, overwhelmed with love, tear in the eye type cackles you have ever heard. So when Ma and Pa took Thea out for a walk to the park, I set about making gougeres.

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Having been concerned by the thought of choux pastry, my worries were unfounded. I mean, I know I have room for improvement in the technique department, but within half an hour of following some simple step I had several dozen bites of cheesy pastry in the oven. Plus taste wise, I was happy. Very happy. My main concern was that I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself from eating all the gougeres until Ma and Pa and Thea returned. For this attempt I made the gougeres with Parmesan through the choux mix and Cheddar grated over the top. Next time I think I’ll try with a gorgeous artisan French cheese from Le Petit Marche with a few poppy seeds sprinkled on top. And perhaps I’ll double the recipe. And choose my favourite wine glass. And a beautiful bottle of red. And my favourite movie… Now Im just dreaming. But sometimes that’s what one little recipe can do.

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Gougeres

Adapted from a recipe by Fanny Zanotti

  • 125g whole milk
  • 50g butter
  • 2 tsp paprika
  • 1 tsp chilli flakes
  • 1 tsp sea salt flakes
  • 75g plain flour
  • 2 eggs
  • 60g grated hard cheese, like Cheddar, Parmesan of Gruyere
  • 1 egg, beaten for egg wash

Preheat the oven to 250c.

Add the milk, butter and spices to a pot and set over a low heat until the butter melts, then increase the heat until the milk comes to a rolling boil.

Add the flour in one go and stir until completely combined. Keep stirring the mixture over heat until a crust forms on the bottom of the pan, which indicates that the mix is now dry enough for the next step.

Remove pot from the heat and transfer contents to a bowl. Add the eggs, beating well after each addition so that they are well incorporated. While the mix is still warm, fold in half of the grated cheese (30g) and then transfer the mix to a piping bag.

Pipe 3cm wide mounds of cheesy choux pastry onto a paper lined baking tray and then brush each mound with egg wash and sprinkle the remaining cheese.

Pop the tray in the oven and turn it OFF. Bake for 15 minutes and then turn the oven back on and bake for a further 10-15 minutes until the gougeres are golden.

Remove from the oven and enjoy.

NOTE. These get better and better as they cool down, so the more restraint you show will work in your favour. Promise.

Enjoy this recipe? You may also like chicken and cheese empanadas

Gluten free granola in 10 minutes.

gluten free granola

I have a confession to make. Some recipes scare me. A few because I have tried them and failed. Others simply intimidate me with their seemingly complex steps. These types of recipes, I avoid. Jam actually falls under the category of scary recipe, which now seems a funny thing to admit, seeing as the apricot jam I made in my previous post was a great success. Even Grandma Elma, veteran jam maker, who I gave a jar to agreed. Delicious. So with my new found confidence I embarked on a gluten free granola recipe that I had stumbled across a while back. Granola comes under the scary heading. Even though I love eating it, I avoid making it. So many times my efforts have resulted in charred, inedible birdseed, instead of lovely, chunky, toasted clusters of nuts and seeds. Not this recipe. It’s easy. It’s quick. It’s delicious.

gluten free granola

The original recipe is very straightforward, and I managed to make it even simpler by chopping the nuts in the food processor, after I’d made the pineapple paste that all the dry ingredients are mixed with. I swear. From picking up my knife to chop the pineapple, to putting the trays of gluten free granola in the oven took 10 minutes. And an hour later, as my oven is as hot as the inside of a volcano, which is great for cooking meat, but not for baking delicate morsels, the gluten free granola was done. A lovely golden toasted colour, with clusters of crunchy goodness. It was a success! So much so that Thea, who was in my arms when I checked it for the final time, spied it and demanded some then and there. She has recently become very good at demanding and is so persistent that she almost always gains what it is that she wants. This is not something that I was prepared for as a parent, little people being so insistent upon what they want. Still, it’s nice to know that I have one fan of my latest scary recipe conquest.DSC_0312

Another thing that scares me that I’ve been doing more of recently is surfing. I’ve been meeting up with a wonderful group of surfing mums. Being a complete novice, I panic when I’m in the water among experienced and competent surfers. And when I catch a wave I balk. Wide eyed I freeze on my knees as I’m propelled forwards. Thoughts like, should I try to stand. Surely I’m too late to stand. Am I really on this wave. Am I going to hit someone, go through my head. So I bail. Don’t get me wrong. This whole process just described is so much fun. To be out in salt water, fresh air, free, is the best. The feeling of exhilaration when it all comes together is such a rush, the smile on my face hurts it’s so wide. And I guess thats what this post is about. Overcoming fears. Doing the things that you are scared of. Because you never know. You might just succeed. And that feels great.

gluten free granola

Pineapple gluten free granola.

From a recipe by Nom Nom paleo

  • 1 cup cubed fresh pineapple
  • 5 pitted Medjool dates
  • juice and zest of 1 orange
  • 1 tbs vanilla powder
  • 1 tbs ground cinnamon
  • 1/2 cup melted coconut oil
  • 2 cups raw whole almonds
  • 1 cup raw whole cashews
  • 1 cup flaked almonds
  • 3 cups shredded coconut
  • 1/2 cup sunflower seeds
  • 1 tsp sea salt flakes

Place the pineapple, dates, orange juice and zest, vanilla, cinnamon and coconut oil in a food processor and whizz to a paste.

Add the whole almonds and cashews to the processor and pulse three of four times until the nuts are coarsely chopped.

In a separate large bowl, place the flaked almonds, shredded coconut, sunflower seeds and salt and then add the contents of the food processor and mix well.

Spread the pineapple coated nuts and seeds out over two baking paper lined trays and put the trays into an oven pre heated to 100 degrees C.

Bake the gluten free granola for one to two hours, but make sure that every 20 minutes during this time that you toss the granola to make sure that it cooks evenly.

When you feel that it is sufficiently coloured and dry, turn the oven off and leave the gluten free granola to cool inside. When cool, transfer to storage containers with a good seal. Consume within about two weeks.

Love granola. Then you might like to try this savoury granola recipe

Apricot jam.

DSC_0932Sometimes before the sun has risen and Thea wakes, I get out of bed early, take my laptop and a cup of tea out on to the deck and read my favourite blogs. It’s still dark and usually a few cars pass by, headlights on. The birds aren’t singing their chorus yet, as the promise of a new day looms. I cross my legs in my chair, take a sip of tea and start reading. One humid morning this week I had got out of a very comfortable bed to do just this. Aware of the breeze stirring the leaves, I read a lovely post about apricot jam. Completely smitten with the simplicity and romanticism of the recipe, later that day I went and bought some apricots to make some for myself.

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Preserving seems like such a time honoured kitchen task. It makes me think of large country kitchens of a bygone era, with herb gardens, orchards, cast iron ranges and copper pots all lined up on the wall in a row. One of the pots is a preserving pan dedicated to the task of transforming fresh fruit at its peak from one month into jam for another. Indeed, there is nothing better on a cold winter’s morning, than hot buttered toast smothered with berry or stone fruit jam, to evoke the warmth of summer. And so with this notion in my head I set about making apricot jam.

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I surprised myself with the results of my spur of the moment preserving efforts. Three glass jars filled with rusty orange, beautifully sweet but slightly sharp, apricot jam sat on my bench. I felt like an accomplished jam maker and had a kid in a sweet shop excited feeling for weekend when I could open a jar and scoop out a spoonful to spread on toast. Saturdays and Sundays are about leisurely breakfasts, coffee, the paper and sourdough bread from the local bakery. Thea loves going there as she has realised it’s the place where almond croissants come from, and leaving the shop without a brown paper bag containing one makes for a very unhappy little girl. Hopefully a breakfast with my sticky, sweet, apricot jam will pacify her.

jam making

 Apricot jam.

Modified from a post by Sweet Amandine

Makes about 3 jars.

  • 1300g pitted apricots
  • 550g sugar
  • 35 ml lemon juice
  • 6 peach stones

The day before you cook your jam, mix the pitted apricots with the sugar and lemon juice and mix well. Cover the fruit with a piece of baking paper. Smooth the paper over the top of the fruit so that it is in contact with the apricots to help prevent discolouration. Leave to macerate in the fridge overnight.

And I bet you are wondering about the peach stones. What you do with them is take a tea towel and something like a meat mallet or rolling in, cover the stone and tap it until it splits. Inside the stone you will find an almond like kernel. Repeat this step with all six stones, then chop all the kernels up. Put them inside a little tea strainer and place the tea strainer in with the apricots. This will give your jam an almondy aroma.

The next morning, and this is a great tip, put five teaspoons in the freezer. This step is really useful for when you are testing your jam’s doneness.

Now transfer the apricots (remember the tea strainer) to a suitable pot to cook them in and place on the stove. Bring the mixture to a boil and boil for about 4 minutes, string frequently. I mean this. Don’t walk away and hang out the washing. Loiter in the kitchen and stir the boiling mixture frequently. The best tool to do this with is a silicone spatula so that you can really scrape the bottom. After 4 minutes, turn the heat down and skim any foam that has appeared from the top of the fruit. Continue to cook the apricot mix over a low heat for a further 30 to 40 minutes until the jam has thickened.

Now it’s testing time. Get one of the teaspoons from the freezer, dribble a blob of the jam onto it and put the spoon back in the freezer for 3 minutes. When you take it out again, the underside should be neither hot or cold to the touch (indicator one) and when you tip the spoon, the jam should be thick and stick to the spoon, running off slowly (indicator two). If it runs off quickly and is thin, it is not yet done. Repeat the process in a few more minutes.

Pour the hot jam into sterilised jars, screw the lids on and invert the jars while they cool. This helps to form a seal. Enjoy x

NB. Sweet amandine gives a great account of how she sterilises her jars in preparation for jam making and once they are filled with jam. Here as I only made three jars,  I will simply keep them in the fridge and use them within about one month.

An easy barbecued corn salad recipe.

Easy barbecued corn

Catering this sumer involved a lot of salads. Kilos of pumpkin and sweet potato, endless bunches of herbs, bags of almonds, pecans and pistachios and lots of corn. For one family in particular, I did a great deal of work. They love seafood and lamb and light, subtly flavoured salads, without too much oil or dairy. There are occasions where I struggle to think of new dishes that meet these requirements, being someone who adores cheese among peppery leaves and lashings of home made whole grain mayonnaise to dress a chive spiked potato salad. This easy barbecued corn salad that I made for them was a firm favourite though. Sweet, fresh and visually appealing, I’m happy to be able to share the recipe with you here.

Easy barbecued corn

Being an Ottolenghi recipe, it does involve chopping three bunches of herbs, but its’ a simple task that requires no weighing or mixing and could be considered therapeutic. If you think I’m crazy to suggest such a thing, I won’t tell anyone if you place all the leaves into the bowl of a food processor and let it do all the chopping for you. Just pulse them gently until they are coarsely chopped. Using the food processor could also be a good call, if like me you have a Miss one and a bit who very much likes cuddles and expects you to do all of your kitchen tasks with one arm.

Easy barbecued corn

Easy barbecued corn

Another salad that the same clients enjoyed again and again is a kale, almond and pecorino salad that I’ve written about before. They shared with me that they enjoy any not eaten for lunch, heated and mixed with rice. A revelation. I tried it this week as I had some left over from an event, not with rice, but some bolognese sauce that was in the freezer. Totally delicious! That’s the wonderful thing about food, its anecdotal quality and how recipes can be tweaked and changed through the casual sharing of information. I would never have thought of heating the kale salad, but the same may be true for you with this easy barbecued corn salad. You may be inspired to change it in some way and make it all your own.

Easy barbecued corn Easy barbecued corn

 

Easy barbecued corn salad

Adapted from a recipe by Yottam Ottolenghi

  • 9 corn cobs, de husked
  • 4 green chillis
  • Bunch of spring onions
  • Bunches of mint and parsley, leaves picked
  • Bunch of coriander, roots chopped off

For the dressing

  • A jam jar with lid
  • 1 cup EV olive oil
  • Juice of 4 limes
  • Dash of maple syrup
  • Salt – a generous pinch

Grill the corn on the barbecue turning frequently until slightly charred and cooked through. Set aside to cool.

Pick the leaves from the mint and parsley and wash. Chop the roots for the coriander and also wash (you can use the stems in the salad). Coarsely chop all the herbs and put into to a large bowl. Chop the spring onions in to small rings and the green chilli in to fine dice. Add both to the bowl.

To make the dressing, shake all the ingredients together in a jam jar. This is a great method. Quick, clean and simple.

The corn will probably be cool enough to handle now. To cut the kernels from the cob, stand the cob upright on one end on a chopping board and simply slice the kernels off from top to bottom. Add to the herbs along with the dressing. Combine well and enjoy x

Enjoy this recipe? It would go really well with this Cajun salmon

Lavender shortbread biscuits.

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I made the rookie error of making some lavender shortbread biscuits for Thea. It’s not the biscuits that were the mistake. They were a great success. Thin, crisp, perfectly golden and delicately flavoured. The error was in the fact that she likes them a bit too much and being a first time mama, I failed to foresee the consequenses.

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You see, we were out for a run as I’m training for the Sydney marathon again this year, and passing a neighbours garden I spotted some lavender. Knowing how much Thea loves biscuits and most crunchy things for that matter, I decided to pick a few leaves and with them make her some lavender shortbread biscuits. The problem is though, that she likes them so much, she hasn’t eaten anything else for the past two days. She keeps pointing at the top shelf in the pantry, where she knows that crunchy things are kept, and in her own one and a bit language, tell us in no uncertain terms that she wants one.

shortbread recipe

Little impromptu successes, like baking a well received biscuit, the idea born spontaneously from the sighting of the simplest thing, are one of life’s joys. In fact, when I’m out running, which at the moment is three times a week, there is alway plenty to fuel the imagination and stir the senses. Perfume from jasmine flowers filling the air, purple jacaranda confetti colouring the roads, sprinklers hissing as they water plants, dogs inquisitively barking as I go by, Thea giggling when I push her over bumps and smoke wafting over fences from sausages cooking on barbecues. I also have time to think, undistracted by other tasks except to make the round trip back home at a steady pace. About the things in my fridge and what they will make for dinner and ideas for short stories that I will one day tell to Thea. I even rehearsed my wedding speech whilst out running, imagining all my friends and family that I was going to speak in front of, not wanting to stutter or shy away from their collective gaze.

shortbread recipeshortbread recipe

Another success this week, a little more pre planned, is that I started swimming. As in swimming in a squad with a programme to follow and a teacher who constantly told me to keep my head down. I went for the first time this Monday. I left Thea at the creche with copious amounts of popcorn, something that she is enjoying at the moment (in addition to lavender shortbread biscuits that is). Popcorn is so simple and fun to make. I just heat some coconut oil, because of its high smoke point, in a heavy based pot until it’s really hot, add a handful of corn and hold a lid over the top whilst agitating the pan and wait for the kernels to explode. Speaking of popcorn, doesn’t the idea of caramel bacon popcorn sound good! A recipe I have bookmarked to make. So while I knew she was happy, independently holding her little bowl of pop as I call it when talking to her, off I went to do some lengths. Secretly I was very nervous. I haven’t swum seriously up and down in a pool since university, over a decade ago. None the less, I loved it and was proud for having pushed myself to go. To little successes. And rookie errors.

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Lavender shortbread biscuits

Makes 20-30

  • 114g COLD butter, cubed
  • 56g caster sugar
  • 170g plain flour
  • 1 tbs chopped fresh lavender

Pulse the butter and sugar in a food processor until the ingredients resemble bread crumbs. Add the flour and chopped lavender and mix until combined.
Tip out onto a sheet of cling wrap and using the wrap, bring the mixture together. Leave to rest in the fridge for at least 30 minutes.

To roll the biscuits, do so between two sheets of greaseproof paper. This way you will be able to get the dough really thin. Use a cutter to cut out the biscuits and transfer them to a try lines with another piece of baking paper. If you can’t do this immediately because the dough has become too hot and sticky, just put the sheet of rolled out dough with the shapes already cut into it in the fridge. When it has cooled, you will be able to life the shapes you have cut from the paper.

You could also use rosemary or thyme.

Bake at 160 degrees for 15 to 20 minutes until the biscuits are golden.

Enjoy x