Peach and Tomato Salad

January has felt long. Not bad long as in ‘dragging on’ but good long. Languorous, restful, and leisurely, the good kind of long. The kind of month where we’ve not risen with the sun but rather slept until her warmth reaches the window and its glow dances across your eyes rousing you. When chores wait, books are read from start to finish, perhaps work is on the shelf for a bit and the year feels full of possibility.

 I’ve felt suspended this January however. Maybe stuck, maybe just in denial, the latter being a fairly regular visitor for me at this time of year. I always start the year full of ideas, hope and determination and like most of us, irrespective of how challenging or otherwise the months become, generally limp across the finish line come December. That fresh new diary or calendar however always inspires me to dream big.

 The pace of January allows the mind to wander doesn’t it, mine certainly does. You start wondering what you could achieve in the year without the pressures of time marching by. Time feels somewhat suspended, our minds are less cluttered without deadlines and routines weighing us down. I buy myself a new diary every year and excitedly open it to the first page, fresh and smooth with that gorgeous new book smell. This year will be the year I stick to routine, to task, to the steps towards the dreams inspiring my resolutions….or so I tell myself each year when I start filling the pages.

 I’m always led by good intentions, certain that’s all it takes…isn’t it? Maybe it’s a sign of a positive attitude, never say die, always having hope. Maybe I’m delusional. Let’s face it me and my best intentions don’t always end in the intended outcome. Remember that two-month road trip I was going to take you on? A little jaunt around New South Wales and southern Queensland where we were going to discover all manner of secret treasures and country gems, well it started well, got a bit lost or forgotten and then ended in a limp to the finish. I had the best of intentions and imagined a lovely collection of posts like a travel blog I could look back on you could enjoy as a vicarious holiday with me. It’s the perfect example of best laid plans falling over or perhaps my lack of follow through and the perfect example of why no matter the sense of wonder and hope a new year offers me I’m not well suited to new year’s resolutions and the consequent let down that befalls me.

 Our social media feeds and perhaps even our conversations are full of chatter about our resolutions or goals for the coming year at the moment, but have you noticed in recent times this waning? The resolution seems to have made way for ‘the word,’ the one people look to for guidance through the course of the year or perhaps to inform intentions as they come up rather than one big profound promise they make themselves. In following the posts of others on the ‘word’ of the year it seems to me these words can act as an umbrella for those promises that may have previously looked and sounded like resolutions but feel less pressured and gentler. Anyway a few years ago I tried a word, again with all the best of intentions imagining the things that word might drive me towards. Trouble was, life took over and I kind of forgot what my word was. I know, who forgets their word. Clearly I’m not well suited to grand and profound gestures such as resolutions and words.

 Fast forward to 2024 and the posts were coming think and fast. “Geez do I need a word?” I ask myself again because heck it must work for all those other folks dreaming big if they keep doing it or why would they repeat the exercise each year. Anyway, whilst pondering this a post popped up in my Instagram feed on this very topic. Eloquently presented by Em, her word felt more like a philosophy than a grandiose dream of lofty heights from whence one could fall in a dithering mess again by the end of the year’s first quarter. “A philosophy,” I thought, now that’s something I could do and live by and draw on continually.

 So, drawing on a conversation I’d had recently with my son in which I’d suggested the key to a good life and urged him to pursue it I arrived at a word. It’s not one to overwhelm me but rather to excite me. This year, for me the word is ‘Curiosity!’ I have no idea where it will take me because I have no mountainous dreams, ok maybe I do but if I keep them filed under ‘Mountainous Dreams’ and they remain on that peak with me only half way up towards the summit I won’t feel like a failure, but I do know that a year in which I’m fuelled by curiosity can only be a good one…ultimately. Let’s see how it goes and maybe you could check back on me in December. I may or may not be the one crawling one handed towards the finish line with my other hand gripping a glass of bubbles ready to cheers the end of another lap.

 On the subject of bubbles, during that wonderful lap of New South Wales, we visited with friends who took us to a gloriously indulgent restaurant, perhaps a loose segway but stay with me. In a gorgeous boutique hotel set in stunning rambling gardens we enjoyed a sumptuous meal of the freshest, loveliest ingredients creatively curated into superb dishes. One of which has stuck in my mind…and phone camera roll. Tonight, we’re enjoying a Bill Granger Miso Roast Beef recipe (gosh wasn’t that sad news over the Christmas break) and, led by that curiosity I’m nurturing this year, I’m recreating that dish,with my take on a fresh summery salad. Served at Bell’s with a wonderful plump ball of oozy burrata perched atop, I’ve changed it up a bit to suit the two of us tonight but if you want to impress a crowd you could definitely replace the bocconcini with a globe of creamy goodness.

Ingredients:

2 tomatoes cut into large chunks. If you have access to them grab the interesting varieties that are well ripened, they have so much more flavour.

2 yellow peaches, ripe so they come away from the seed easily, cut into chunks of similar size to the tomato chunks

2 Tb extra virgin olive, one with good flavour

3 tsp red wine vinegar

Pinch of salt flakes

Good grind of black pepper

100 gm baby bocconcini drained

2 heaped Tb whole roasted hazelnuts (skinless) halved

20 small basil leaves

½ tsp ground sumac

Method:

In a medium sized shallow bowl large enough to hold everything combine the oil vinegar and salt and pepper and whisk until combined. Swirl bowl so the puddle of dressing coats the base of the bowl. Place the peach and tomato chunks in a single layer over the dressing puddle. Dot the hazelnuts here and there across the top along with the bocconcini pieces. Sprinkle over the basil leaves finishing with a sprinkle of the sumac across the top. Don’t stir the salad before serving rather present in that lovely layer. The salad will have macerated in a fashion while it floats on the dressing puddle.

Serve immediately, if needing to transport you could drizzle over the dressing and sprinkle over the sumac just as you serve.

Creamy Pork Pasta

Standing in front of the noticeboard, rifling around in my handbag for a pen and my diary my eyes scanned the roster. A groan of exasperation escaped. I had a split shift, not especially unusual on weekends where I’d wander to the gym or a walk around the city, I was loving working in but this one was 3 ½ hours. Too long to spend at the gym, at least for me it was and too short to go home and return, it was an awkward break that I was dreading.

A time before phones, social media and endless scrolling. A time when rosters were posted on noticeboards, when noticeboards were still a thing and schedules were maintained in diaries, it was the early 90’s and I worked in hospitality. I loved it, the pace, the variety and the joy of ensuring guests enjoyed a good time. I was a waitress by day, and on weekends, a ‘hostess’ on the door of the Hotel nightclub, all 5’3” of me. City hotels, their restaurants and bars held an air of glamour as did a night out enjoying the experience. The venue I worked in was extremely popular and a reservation in the themed restaurant or admission to the nightclub highly sought after and weekend staff very busy.

After a busy lunch shift caring for happy revellers dining before weekend theatre matinees or taking shelter from winter weather after morning city shopping sprees (also a thing of the past) I changed out of my uniform contemplating what on earth I was going to do with myself. A quick peruse through the entertainment section of the Saturday newspaper and I decided to take myself to the movies. It really was the time of the dinosaurs having to use a newspaper to choose a movie, where we’d see our favourite actor featured and blindly decide to see the feature without prior knowledge of the film’s story. Patrick Swayze was taking the leap into a serious role starring in a film, set in poverty stricken, Calcutta. I was 21, probably more naive than I’d have admitted at the time and it was the first time I’d taken myself to the cinema alone. Whilst the film does finish on a hopeful note it was, for very young me, somewhat traumatic. With no one to de-brief with and still 1 ½ hours to kill before my shift I decided I needed a lift and that in my newly asserting air of maturity (tongue firmly in cheek with the benefit of hindsight) I’d take myself out for an early dinner. Also a first time experience I walked down the road from the hotel in which I worked to a small Italian trattoria I’d been eyeing off keenly. Feeling very sophisticated I walked the tree lined entrance lit with gently waving festoon lights asking the host in his crisp white shirt and apron for a table for one. Taking my seat, I ordered a chardonnay (did I mention it was the 90’s?...Still love a Chardy too) and started people watching. Now to set the scene, remember no phones to scroll through and look occupied with, five pm and very few fellow diners, in fact none and a restaurant full of highly professional hospitality staff poised and ready to serve. There wasn’t a lot of people to watch, I’d sat myself with my back to the front window therefore couldn’t watch the passing parade and well I really had no idea what to do with myself. Reading the menu for perhaps longer than was strictly necessary, something that doesn’t happen now having thoroughly studied the menu online before venturing out, the waiter took his time greeting me and chatting with me possibly sensing my discomfort. Confused by the elevated nature of the Italian fare on offer the waiter directed my attention to a dish he thought I’d enjoy. An odd sounding dish whilst still quite simple in the way of Italian food that adventurous me was happy to try and agree to in my discomfit and be left to sip my wine taking in preservice preparations in the restaurant. From what was probably a quiet kitchen, my meal was presented to me quite soon after ordering. The aroma rose to greet me first, making my increasingly hungry stomach rumble. Steam mingled with the freshly grated parmesan cheese sprinkled over my meal by my attentive server adding another layer to the interesting bouquet enticing me. Left alone to enjoy my dinner I plunged my fork into the pasta tubes nestled in the pale coloured sauce threaded with small pieces of pork and dainty jewel like dice of carrot. Nutmeg tickled my tastebuds as I took my first mouthful and the cream swirled around my mouth. A layer of white wine revealed itself and a faint hint of freshness from flecks of parsley unfolded. I was suddenly very occupied of mind and distracted by the superb plate of handmade pasta before me. Deciding dinner for one wasn’t so awful after all, my full attention given to my carefully crafted meal completly undistracted by conversation just an internal discussion between my tastebuds and me to keep me occupied.

I’ve never forgotten that afternoon for all its lessons both in being adventurous and that wonderful combination of flavours.

Ingredients:

300 gm minced pork (not lean)

1 Tb extra virgin olive oil

1 eschallot finely minced

1 garlic cloved finely minced

½ cup carrot finely diced (I know this is an odd instruction but our ideas of what it’s a small carrot varies and actual measures works)

1 tsp freshly grated nutmeg and extra to finish

1 tsp salt flakes

125 ml white wine

250 ml cream

1 tb finley chopped flat leaf parsley

Your favourite pasta. I like to use a rigatoni or penne. We eat around 75gm of dried pasta person for the four of us. This quantity will coat that amount of pasta nicely.

Parmesan cheese to serve.

 Method:

Warm a medium sized heavy based pan over a medium heat. Add oil, turn heat down to low and add eschalot and carrot. Cook gently five minutes. Add garlic and nutmeg and cook gently for one minute. Push everything to the edge increase heat to medium and add pork. Brown five minutes until just cooked through breaking up lumps with your spoon as it cooks. Stir everything together, adding salt and increase heat to med-high. After a few minutes cooking at the higher heat, it should be starting to sizzle. Pour wine in, letting it bubble for a minute then reduce heat simmering until decreased by half. Pour in cream and simmer for a until slightly thickened, stir through parsley. Tip cooked pasta in and stir through until pasta is well amalgamated. Grate over additional nutmeg so the heat of the of the dish releases the lovely aroma. Serve with parmesan cheese sand black pepper sprinkled to taste.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.