Mortadella, Ricotta and Marinated Veg Sandwich

Throughout history, as far back as the Middle Ages, perhaps even further, sandwiches have appeared at tables in some form or another. Certainly not in the form that comes to mind in 2024, but the idea of a food item inserted between some kind of bread like flour and water concoction is one of food’s most prolific constants across time.

Most of us vaguely know the origin of the name of one of humanity’s favourite meals. John Montagu, the head of the house of Montagu and its fourth earl was somewhat of a self-indulgent reprobate and gambler. Like the timelessness of sandwiches he was confronted by an equally enduring problem…to gamblers at least, how to stave hunger without leaving your place at the table and the game. He ordered his servants to bring him bread and meat from which he assembled a concoction that allowed him to eat with his hands and protect his fingers and his cards from the grease of the meat and indeed satisfy his hunger whilst to continuing his punting. We of course know him as Earl Sandwich, a seat in the British Peerage that prevails even to this very day. Perhaps our first influencer, having had such a significant dish named after him. Indeed ‘sandwiches’ began to appear amongst the aristocracy as supper like snacks to be enjoyed with drinks, an earlier more relaxed style of entertaining and reserved for men.

History suggests similar servings appeared previous to this in the middle ages when the wealthy used stale bread as plates of a sort, the remainder of which used to feed dogs and beggars, a somewhat jarring tale. African and east Asian cultures have created their own versions of flat breads to use in a similar fashion to the earl to hold and scoop up their delicious stews and curries in the manner western cultures would use cutlery. In Jewish history bread holds a significant and sacred place evoloving into all manner of sandwich like creations such as bagels and open sandwiches on pumpernickel, perhaps a reflection of the nationalities from which Jewish populations hailed.

As economies and populations evolved so to did the classes and the proliferation of the working class. Made of such affordable readily available staples bread became a staple and it’s use as a housing or conduit for other more substantial ingredients such as meat, cheese and other accoutrements grew in popularity and accessibility. Workers, farmers and the like would head off for the day’s work with the earliest form of packed lunch in the shape of sandwiches in whatever way their locality and nationality informed. Perhaps nutrition increased and the ability to work away from the home and for someone else and improve one’s own economic circumstances improved. Have Sandwiches been a pillar of humanity? Maybe a long’ish bow to draw but stay with me.

In the 20th century sandwiches in a plethora of forms have appeared in popular culture across the decades. Like delicate delicious ribbons on fluffy white clouds of soft thinly sliced bread they’ve punctuated the tiered towers of high tea on white linen clad tables of salubrious British dining rooms. The tummies of hungry American children have been satisfied by PB&J, spread on slices of sweet white sandwich loaf bread, the sticky dregs of the fruity jam (jelly) and salty oily peanut butter enthusiastically licked off after the last bite was devoured. Generations of Aussie kids have opened school lunchboxes with famished anticipation to enthusiastically find a vegemite sandwich nestled with fruit and perhaps a little treat, maybe even sandwiched with a slice of cheese for lovers of our classic cheese and vegemite sandwich. Made with real butter of course.

As much as they’re markers of time sandwiches are also little vessels of memories for many of us. For me there was Saturday Morning’s chicken sandwiches or my Nana’s grilled cheese sandwiches bubbling hot, cheese stretching in great long strands when pulled apart for dipping into tomato soup. I also was introduced to lemon pepper seasoning at my bestie’s house as a teen, sprinkled on ham and mayo in crusty white rolls. I know it doesn’t sound like it should work but it really does. My Mum used to speak of bread and dripping sandwiches or my Dad and his favoured bubble and squeak in grilled bread to use up leftovers. Sandwiches also often serve as a threshold to new flavour discoveries like my discovery in childhood at a highway roadhouse in the early hours of the morning biting into a bacon and egg roll dressed with old school tomato sauce (ketchup). Ozzy egg yolk mingled with tomato sauce dripping down my fingers hungrily licked up, I discovered how utterly delicious a combo that was. I know not an earth-shattering discovery but one I remember after turning my nose up when I noticed that red puddle of sauce peeking out of the edge of my sandwich. Something I’d not previously tasted proved to be a revelation on my young palette.

You could almost write a history of the world, economics and sociology using the humble sandwich as a centrepoint. Certainly I know I could probably use sandwiches as the chapters of parts of my own life, indeed this most recent period can be characterised by a few bready concoctions. The one I’m sharing with you today is one such delicious tower. With a wodge of ricotta in the fridge, mortadella from a delicious country butcher, handmade pesto from a small producer in the King Valley, a few half empty jars of marinated vegetables and artisan bread my curiosity led me to perfectly matched flavours that now appears regularly at my own lunch table.

The recipe is for one, so easily scaled up as required. It also makes a wonderful picnic sandwich, you know the ones, where one whole baguette or ciabatta is sliced lengthwise and filled and sliced into chunks to serve. Measure your loaf or baguette by hand widths per person along its length then scale your fillings accordingly.

Ingredients:

2 Slices of your favourite bread, or bread roll. I’ve used sourdough sandwich loaf here

6-8 sundried tomatoes in oil, chopped into small pieces.

2 slices of your favourite style of mortadella. I’ve used chilli mortadella

2 slices of roasted and marinated eggplant, store bought is fine as used here. Usually available in delis or the jarred variety from the supermarket

50 gm of ricotta crumbled

1 Tb pesto, I’ve used this delicious one.

Small handful of Baby spinach leaves trimmed of stems

Method:

Build you sandwich in layers, so with each bite you’ll enjoy a burst of flavour from each ingredient. Scatter the spinach leaves in a single layer. Halve the eggplant slices and layer evenly on top of the spinach. Evenly sprinkle the chopped sundried tomatoes. Place the mortadella slices on next, allowing them to fall in folds. On the other slice spread the pesto then crumble over the ricotta. Place that slice on top of the other. Enjoy!!!

The flavours are so rich and interesting it can even be enjoyed with a glass of wine, sunshine and great company. Definitely picnic worthy.

Fresh Tomato and Zucchini Salad

Today began with the loud rumbling noise of machines out front of our house. The kind of noise that vibrates through the floor and walls with a not so gentle rumble reaching into your chest and bones. The kind of noise you hear in the suburbs. We’re home.

Home from the long languid days spent by the sea where our biggest decision was whether to go for another walk on the beach, salty sea water lapping at our ankles, or to read another chapter of a book. Pondering our next stop on the journey or to stay another day where we were. Home from ‘the road,’ from the escapist days at large and home to reality.

I’ve learnt a few things about myself and life on the road, even at 52. But one of these lessons it appears is an aversion to reality. I’d planned on writing here more often. I was loose in my plan but was certain I could create at least four newsletters, maybe even more. I was also certain I could read more professional development books and work on plans for the year ahead. I was ambitious, as I often am. Perhaps not the good kind of ambition though. I leaned more into the procrastination, avoided reality and lived a seaside utopian kind of life. Perhaps this isn’t so much a lesson as a reminder. I’m pretty sure I was already painfully aware of my simmering laissez faire undercurrent masked by genuine ambition but equally aware of my conviction I ‘could do it.’

I wrote that over a week ago. Perhaps more fortuitous and insightful than, even then, I acknowledged. Again trying to return to our regular catch ups, here I am. December, however is piling on me. Returning from our ‘come what may’ life to suburban pre-Christmas is startling in its ferocity, I’ve felt like a deer in the head lights. It’s taken some time to acknowledge the inevitable and get in the swing of things, bringing out all the Christmas cookbooks, stocking up on all the spices, dried fruits and the like and pondering a menu that inevitably never changes. That said I still don’t have the Christmas tree adorning my living room, that’s for the weekend. Our boys come home for the festive season next week, I’m super excited to see them. My husband could easily fall into the trap of not bothering with decorations with the lack of little people in our lives. I, on the other hand couldn’t do it, it simply wouldn’t feel Christmassy. So we’ll bring everything out, hang the tinsel garlands, festoon the tree with years of decorations both handmade and gifted, light the tree and crown it all with the inevitable star. Come what may we’re hopping aboard that metaphorical Christmas train.

Aside from the ‘big day’ of Christmas tables heaving with a festive cornucopia of all our traditional favourites, this period is usually a time spent dining outdoors for us. Trying to capture that leisurely holiday spirit found in long sunny days with warm breezes sweeping across our deck always characterises January. Usually a holiday time for us we return some way during the month and I remain caught up in that camping holiday spirit, cooking outdoors with something simple to accompany our meal that didn’t require much preparation, much like a holiday. This year, that summer spirit has returned home with us. Dinners served later than usual, though not always outside with summer’s later than usual arrival. Simple fare with fresh new season flavours dictating the menu. We travelled like this, sourcing what was available locally that looked the most flavourful and interesting, following our noses and palates if you will. Tomatoes plump, shiny and fragrant from a young woman who’s passion in sharing the flavoursome summer globes oozed from her every pore as generously as the fruit’s juice. Zucchinis, from another farmer who lives and breathes his market garden, who threw a few of his prized avocados in my bag as a gesture of thanks for visiting his stall and the lemons fresh and zingy like sunshine in my hand their perfume fluttering up as I cut them and squeeze their juice liberally across a salad. All that summery goodness after a visit to a farmer’s market on the shores of the sea where the clarence river meets the Pacific Ocean.

This is summer, this is what Christmas heralds for me. I’m not a religious person, but I love the spirit of the season, regardless of how you observe this time of year no matter where you are in the world, irrespective of who you break bread with and no matter how fraught the lead up can be, it’s a wonderful time of year. For me it’s a time that draws us all together, to pause and reflect on the year and one to smile at memories, perhaps even with a tear or two at those not at the table. And here in the southern hemisphere a time of slower languorous days ended in warm breezes with a plate of freshness dictated by the season.

Like the recipes I shared with you from the road this one is also one created with instinct. You could add your own flair or follow along as I suggest below. It’s full of all the cheery colours of Christmas and is super quick and easy to assemble, perhaps one for you menu or even one to stash away for the coming warm nights and barbecues.

Indredients:

2 eggs

½ cup white sugar

1 tsp vanilla paste/extract

¼ cup extra virgin olive oil

50 gms melted butter cooled

1 Tb honey

1 cup and 1 Tb of plain flour (I’m traveling without scales)

2 tsp baking powder

1 tsp cinnamon (I used Gewurzhaus Apple Pie Spice mix. Use what you have.)

1/3 cup of milk ( I used almond milk, you do you)

2 very ripe bananas mashed

Method:

Preheat oven to 180c, grease and line a loaf pan. Either sift or dry whisk dry ingredients, set aside.

In a large bowl whisk together the eggs, sugar, vanilla and oil until emulsified and frothy. The sugar will be partly dissolved. Add butter and honey and again whisk to combine well.

Gently fold in half the combined dry ingredients followed by the milk then finally the remaining dry ingredients. Finally fold in the mased banana, this step with distribute any remaining clumps of dry flour. Pour into prepared loaf pan and bake. Now here’s the instinct part. I imagined a 45 minute bake and checked at 30 minutes to check progress. My little gas oven had blown out and needed to be reignited. So I’d suggest you check your cake at 40 minutes. If it has a wobble in the middle don’t bother poking it with a skewer rather return to the oven for ten minutes. Check again after that using a skewer, if it comes out clean as we always say, it’s done. If not try 5-10 minutes bursts to finish it depended on how much more it needs.

Serve warm or cooled with lashings of butter and a view.

Feel free to comment below if you have questions.

Savoury Pizza Muffins

A few kilometres from my home the urban sprawl recedes, the land and fields opens up and rolling country hills emerge. As you crest the hill from which this view unfolds, you feel your shoulders fall, your lungs exhale and the rat race fall away. A belt of bushland and hobby farms scaped with eucalypts borders the divide between greater Melbourne and rural and agricultural valleys. As you emerge from that winding bush road at the top of the hills t that ring your first glimpse of the valley a the grid like pattern of vineyards and orchards unfolds, like a mosaic of jade and emerald toned tiles enriched by red volcanic soil. It’s the route we take most often when we head out exploring both for camping trips and weekend getaways. The one that draws me out rain hail or shine.

The divide between metropolitan Melbourne and regional Australia is just over five kilometres from our front door. Whilst it’s a well-worn and loved path for us drawing us out like a magnet it’s one that was, for a while, beyond our reach in recent years. That ‘while,’ the one Victorians endured during those most recent unmentionable years, the ones where we were asked to protect ourselves by remaining within a perimeter of a 5km radius of our homes. It was a period that the world over changed things for us all, some good, some not so good, some temporary some enduring. It’s a subject we could talk and write about infinitely. For us though one of the biggest ones that’s lasted for us has been my husband’s work from home routine. In my own work this is a mostly normal thing but for him it’s been a big change. His work life has taken him around the world, to oil rigs, mines and major infrastructure sites, so shrinking his professional life to a 10 square metre home office with a view of hour letter box has been a radical shift. During the period in which this was mandated and necessary it was acceptable and one we could all swallow. In the post lockdown world in which hybrid work arrangements are the new norm, living and working within the same four walls interminable can be a little harder to justify to yourself and therefore tolerate. The benefits do indeed outweigh the negatives like commuting and the like but sometimes those benefits still need balance.

The restlessness created, by a life lived in one location, sometimes needs attention at the end of the work week. If you’ve been reading my thoughts for a while, you may remember we’re now empty nesters which makes the weekends quiet. Perhaps the hubbub of living with young adults made our hours outside work fuller, they were certainly busier, nonetheless they’re quieter and makes the hours spent at home feel endless. Harking back to our pre-kids life where weekends were always busy in other ways, we’ve been trying to venture out a bit more. The lack of commuting fatigue we used to feel makes the prospect of a Sunday drive far more inviting than it used to be. Living as close as we do to beautiful countryside is a privilege that affords a huge range of beautiful places to explore. We’ve been taking advantage of that and exploring more, tourists in our backyard if you will. We’ve taken a few misty drives in nearby rainforest lined hills some where we’ve ultimately found some sunshine and some shrouded in gorgeous fog. As much as I love the hills in winter and all that gorgeous mist you really can’t beat a day trip in spring. One where you can head out somewhere new and undiscovered and find a spot to park the car and take a walk, find a new spot for lunch or set up somewhere scenic for a picnic.

All that talk last week of salads and sunshine made me think about a picnic or two in the coming months. I quite like the idea of whipping something up quickly on a Sunday morning after waking to sunshine and a good weather report. Nothing to tricky, just something that ticks all the boxes and can be packed in a basket quickly with a few extra bits like fruit and a thermos of coffee (for me, I’ve still not converted him) and a cosy blanket to spread out and relax on. Something like Savoury Pizza Muffins, a fluffy, oozy combo wrapping all the traditional flavours of a classic ham pizza. They’re pretty handy too for little fingers, hungry during school holidays and easy for said little fingers to make too…winning!

Ingredients:

100 gm butter melted

300 gr self-raising flour

1 tsp salt flakes

1 ½ tsp dried oregano leaves

100 gm fresh ham roughly chopped

200 gm grated hard cheese. I use a combo of sharp cheddar and parmigiano, but you can use anything you like that’s flavourful. It’s a good way to use up ends in the fridge.

4 spring onions/scallions chopped

2 eggs beaten

¼ c/60ml extra virgin olive oil

200 ml milk

¼ c pizza sauce. I just use a bought one usually and freeze the remaining if I don’t expect to use it quickly. Any remaining homemade sauce you have in the fridge to be used up is also fine.

Preheat oven 180c. Line a muffin tray with 12 liners and spray them with cooking spray. I don’t use spray very often but the cheese makes these a little sticky even with the liners.

Melt better in the microwave and set aside to cool while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

In a large bowl combine the flour, salt, oregano, cheese, ham and spring onion. In a smaller bowl or jug combine the cooled butter, milk and eggs. Make a well in the centre of the dry ingredients and pour the wet mixture into the centre. Gently, with purposeful strokes, fold the two together until almost combine. Drop spoonfuls of pizza sauce on the mixture dotted around the top then complete the folding process with only a few more folds. The pizza sauce should be like marble threads through the mixture not completely mixed through. This will give you pops of tomatoey richness in random bites as you eat. You don’t want to over mix like with regular muffin methods or they’ll be chewy and tough.

Spoon into prepared muffin cases and bake 20 minutes, until golden brown and a skewer comes out clean. Allow to cool to at least warm. As tempting as it is, eating them fresh out of the oven when the cheese is oozy and the sauce steaming is a sure fire ride to burned mouth hell.

Store in the fridge if there’s any left over and warm briefly in the microwave if you want them that way or leave to return to room temp for ten minutes before eating. They’ll also freeze well.

Antipasto and Quinoa Salad

My eyes have felt irritated this week. An almost gritty feeling, not itchy, not burning, nor like there was something in my eye, just like I’ve been constantly caught in a dust storm. I suspected a mascara needing replacement but it’s not that old.

Shivering through the days still, my mind was still entrenched in winter. Soups, casseroles, hearty fortifying fare fill our tummies while ensconced in woolly jumpers and the like trying to stay warm. With still a few weeks to go of winter and biting morning frosts I’m definitely still in winter mode. Maybe my eyes are just cold…is that even a thing?

Our bedroom window perched at tree top level looks skyward. We don’t sleep with window dressings closed, rather we like to be woken by growing light in the morning. Cloud cover, fog and grey, still greets us most mornings as we move through August and the last weeks of winter. As daytime rises so too does the sun. Cloud cover melted away by warming sun, broken up and burnt off reveals warming bright glowing sunshine, the kind that puts a spring in your step and a smile on your face. The sunshine has had a particularly golden glow recently, one that catches your attention and creates its own sense of warmth, ‘warm light’ my photographer brain would say. Skinks and geckos are burrowing out of the mulch in the front garden rising to the warmth, a morning sunbake to great an enticement to ignore. Kookaburras basking, perched on low eucalypt branches, thawing from overnight frosts take advantage of the small reptiles succumbing to temptation, swooping down feasting on their prey. The daphne and hellebore are nearing the end of their bloom while the hydrangeas and fig show the first sign of bud. And that golden glow. Lasting all day not just in the day’s bookends of golden hours but enduring during the day. The sun’s arc is shifting, poking higher through the canopy. That light, it’s richness, the product of the wattle bloom. Soft, small, fluffy pom poms in huge tight clusters weigh heavily from the soft wooded ends of the various species of acacia surrounding us. My car and windows are covered in fine yellow dust, at the right time of day in the right breezes clouds of pollen blow through like tiny yellow fairies catching the light almost sparkling. My eyes, I realise, are trying to tell me something I’ve not quite noticed yet, the seasons are turning. Spring is on the way.

As if the only sign of a visceral shift in seasons noticed by my eyes wasn’t enough I should have noticed things changing by my own shift in the kitchen. While the odd slow cook dots the menu here and there the hearty fare that would normally appear nightly is waning and my cravings lean more towards liter dinners. The move to the next season also signals the the move towards the emergence from our self-imposed hibernations when we seek out the company of pals, begin entertaining more, pondering dinners outdoors and picnics. While the temperatures don’t quite lean themselves towards balmy evenings and dinners outdoors yet I do start yearning for the meals we’ll enjoy in the months to come on such evenings. Like the weather, the produce available doesn’t quite lend itself to a variety of fresh salads but with a little inventiveness and a few things form the store cupboard I can create something akin to a summer salad that’s still satisfying enough to fuel my internal thermostat and help me stay warm once that gorgeous shoulder season sunshine sets each night in anticipation of the coming warmer months.

Antipasto and Quinoa Salad served in a savoury yoghurt puddle feels like a culinary bridge between the seasons to me. Quinoa for protein and satiety, and a variety of veg, a mix between preserved summer veg and some fresh all cooked to marry together with the traditional flavours of the Mediterranean. Served in a puddle of Greek yoghurt laced with the basil, lemon and garlic vinaigrette dressing from the salad. It’s enough to be a meal on its own or a delicious and fancy salad to accompany all the delicious BBQ’s meats we’re looking forward to enjoying in the coming months.

Ingredients:

100gm/ ½ c of quinoa

2 capsicums/bell peppers of different colours if available, cored and cut into quarters/cheeks or 1 260 gm jar of grilled capsicum in oil drained

3 french shallots, peeled and quartered lengthways

1 zucchini, ends trimmed, sliced in 1cm discs

½ c sundried tomatoes in oil drained and chopped if necessary. If you have the cherry tomato variety they’ll probably be a nice size left as they are.

1 cup of finely shredded and chopped tuscan kale or similar such as spinach, silverbeet or regular kale

Dressing:

2 Tb extra virgin olive oil

1 garlic clove crushed

1 Tb finely chopped fresh basil

1 Tb fresh lemon juice

½ - 1 tsp salt flakes to taste

1 cup Greek yoghurt

Method:

Preheat oven to 210c. Cook quinoa according to packet instructions, drain and cool.

Whisk together dressing ingredients mixing vigorously to emulsify and thicken, set aside. In another small bowl whisk yoghurt with 2 tsps of the dressing and set aside.

On a lined tray place fresh capsicum cheeks skin side up and in the oven for 30 minutes until skin is blackened. Remove from oven and place the capsicum in a sealed plastic bag to cool. On the same tray place the cut shallots inner cut side up, drizzle with olive oil and place in the oven at 190c. After ten minutes when the cut edges have almost blackened turn the onions over and return to the oven for a further ten minutes. Remove and cool.

If you have a grill pan heat over a med-high heat or the same with a medium sized heavy based frypan until just smoking, it needs to be very hot. Brush the pan with olive oil and cook zucchini immediately 3 minutes each side until nice grill marks form or each side is caramelised, cool on paper towel to drain. Once cool, slice the discs in half to make them more bite sized. While they’re cooling remove capsicum from bag and peel away the singed skin, it should come away easily. Slice into 1 cm wide strips.

In a large bowl combine quinoa and all vegetables gently folding to keep the veg whole.

On a serving platter plop the yoghurt in the centre and using the back of a large spoon gently make circles gradually increasing in size until it’s all spread out to the edges of the plate in a ring forming a mote of sorts. Much in the way of adding sauce to a pizza. Gently pile the salad in the middle of the yoghurt puddle in a pile mounding to a peak in the middle. When ready to serve drizzle the dressing all around, it will drizzle down through the pile and mix more as your guests serve themselves.

Notes:

To make things easier for yourself you can use premade antipasto in the flavours you prefer just be sure and buy the veg preserved in oil not vinegar as obviously there’ll be a significant flavour difference. You might enjoy eggplant in place of the zucc for example.

A 260gm jar of chargilled capsicum can be used in place of the two fresh caps.

If quinoa isn’t your jam replace with one you do prefer such as farro, rice or barley. Any small similar grain will work. If you wish to use pasta instead of quinoa use a small shaped one like macaroni and use 200 gm.

Curry Chicken NoodleSoup

Reluctantly, I throw off the covers yawning. My feet hit the ground the cold under foot curling my toes registering with my brain and alerting me to what awaits. Blearily I pull on clothes and shoes, grab ear pods and head out. As I open the door a cold wind blasts my face, making me pull my head down in to my jacket collar like a turtle retreating into my shell hiding from the cold. Nonetheless I step forward and keep going. Even the morning chorus of birds is subdued still reluctantly unfurling from their slumber with a burgeoning winter song calling the dawn. Light is peaking through the trees emerging from the horizon as I hit my stride, one foot in front of the other my brain and body awakening….

Suddenly I’m startled.. The alarm on my watch is buzzing, trilling it’s pleasant tune, most probably composed after hours of research into notes that both awaken and don’t startle, the fine balance between alerting the wearer to the hour without setting their heart racing like the abrupt clanging of the old fashioned alarm clock. Yes awaken. The cold bracing morning walk of my dreams was exactly that, a dream. I’ve dreamed, both literally and metaphorically of being a morning person most of my adult life. That rumbling you feel right now as you read this is the earth jittering as those who know me personally read this and are currently throwing their heads back in hysterical laughter reminiscing, of moments with morning me, speechless until a morning caffeine hit and time to ease into the day. I’m just not a morning person, dream though I may of early starts beginning with a brisk stride under my belt followed by zen me sipping my morning brew fondly gazing at the scene through my window as birds flutter about joining me in my morning reverie before I launch into the day proper. Days finishing with an almost smug satisfaction as I reflect on the long list of ticks held in my head representing the day’s achievements. Alas I am not she and at nearly 52 I fear I may never be.

On the weekend, as I scrolled through emails, I happily noticed one of my favourites had arrived titled ‘I Need a Carrot.” Intrigued, I opened it expectantly hoping for a carrot recipe, I’m quite partial to a carrot…but I digress. She, similarly, spoke of mornings and went on to speak of her carrots. Little promises she makes to herself during the week to entice herself to complete otherwise challenging tasks. Promises of reward if you will, to keep putting one front in front of the other. Her and I spoke once in DM’s of mornings. She prompted me to focus on the feeling afterwards rather than the steps between where I lay and that feeling. It’s great advice though searching through my addled and foggy morning brain for that nugget Lindsay had offered me to throw back the covers is often a fruitless hunt, clearly. Like her earlier advice I also love the idea of a carrot, an attempt to fool myself into a prize at the end of completions to tempt me forwards to the finish line. But unlike Lindsay I’m yet to find the discipline to take the steps to win myself offered prizes and therefore the achievement of those goals, like rising early and meeting the day with a brisk walk (read: dreaded exercise) and a whimsical gaze out the window sipping coffee like some dreamy tv commercial.

One thing I do imagine and daydream about when I finally take my walk after brekky and coffee is what I’ll eat for the rest of the day. Maybe that’s my carrot, a delicious dinner that awaits me at the end of the day and the time to bring that together. Weirdly to some, that end of day kitchen time is like a meditation to me. Time where I stop and retreat to my happy place to respond to the day by creating something tasty. On days like the cold winter ones we’re experiencing at the moment I get through the days on the wings of the promise I make to myself to create a bowl of something warming to end my day with. Something laced with warming spice served with plumes of steam rising from it’s surface to lick the cold tip of my nose with it’s aromas and warmth.

I’ve spoken before of my deep abide love of soup both here and here. Like then, it endures as does my love of spice. Soup should be an experience of it’s own, hands warmed by the bowl, spoon plunging into its broth, swirling on the hunt for individual favourite ‘pearls’ of ingredients floating through its wake, and in this case, slurpy noodles coated in all its flavours. As I type this, having made Curry Chicken and Noodle Soup to photograph for you, I’m a little distracted. It’s cold, the scene outside my window is bleak, black clouds shrouding the day in a dusk like filter, but there’s soup in a pot on the stove for dinner. I’ll keep typing, no soup for me until the work is done.

Serves 4

Ingredients:

700 gm chicken maryland or similar pieces with skin and bone still attached.

2 large garlic cloves finely chopped

1 litre chicken stock

20 gm finely grated ginger

1 lemongrass stalk bruised, white part only

1 red chilli sliced, seeds in or out. The spice choice is yours.

1 makrut lime leaf crinkled with a squeeze in your hand

1 brown onion peeled and sliced

3 cardamon pods bruised with the back of a knife to crack the pod

1 tsp ground turmeric

3 tsp curry powder, the run of the mill kind

1 large carrot peeled and sliced in thickish slices, say nearly 1cm thick

¾ cup of sliced green beans

2 cups of water

200-300 pkt fresh egg noodles

Fresh herbs to serve such as basil, parsley, mint and dare I say….coriander (just not in my bowl)

Coconut cream to serve.

Method:

Preheat oven to 220c, stay with me here I know this sounds odd. In a medium baking dish drizzle olive then place chicken pieces in the dish, drizzle more olive oil over the top and sprinkle flakes over the chicken. Place in the hot oven and bake 25 minutes or until the skin and edges are just starting to brown and blister but the meat is not completely cooked through.

While the chicken is starting in the oven. Prepare the onion and spices. In a large heavy pot, over medium heat, warm a good glug of olive. Reduce the heat to low and add the onion cooking gently for five minutes. Add the garlic, ginger, chilli and lemongrass and cook briefly until fragrant. Add the curry powder and cardamon pods and again cook for a minute to draw out the fragrance. Remove the chicken from the oven and add to the pot including any oil and drippings and the lime leaf. Stir to combine and coat the chicken in the spiced juices, pour over the stock and bring to the boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer 30-40 minutes or until the chicken comes away from the easily but not falling off.

Remove the chicken from the pot. Tip the vegies into the broth and increase heat slightly, cook ten minutes while preparing meat. With two forks gently pull the meat from the bones. Discard the skin but return the bones to the pot to eke out every last morsel of flavour while you finish the soup. Shred the meat before returning to the soup and if needed chop to bite size pieces of necessary. Return meat to pot and cook a further 5 minutes.

When you’re nearly ready to serve, cook noodles following instructions on the packet. Distribute noodles evenly amongst four bowls. Gently ladle soup over the noodles. Like you would add cream to pumpkin or tomato soup, swirl a spoonful of coconut milk over the soup and top with fresh fragrant herbs.

Spinach and Cheese Rolls

My mum used to say that you’re a mum forever. She was talking about the mothering instinct. Though always reassured we were fine and knew what we were doing with all the usual bravado of the young, she worried. I think, still, too much or maybe in our relationship I’m still the young. Still the one who thinks she should have relaxed, she did worry more than most and at times that felt a little stifling. I could feel myself wriggling and shifting against it's chastening clinch, rebelling even just a little. I was not a particularly rebellious kid but did stand by decisions and wants probably challenging her anxiety unfairly.

More and more now I’m starting to understand. I do worry about them obviously, driven by my overwhelming desire for all their hopes and dreams to come true. That’s the thing I want for them. The usual want for them to find happiness, success (however that looks for them) and love is behind all the fulfillment of all those ambitions they hold, perhaps that fulfillment is life’s pinnacle.

Our youngest was home to celebrate his 21st birthday this last week. Our eldest is in remote Western Australia adventuring with his friends. Both far from home, both far from what traditionally would be ‘safe.’ Both reaching for the stars and reaching for their dreams.

One of things I asked boy two before his return was what he’d like me to cook for him, wanting to have the larder stocked. Amongst all the usual things like a roast we had Spaghetti and planned for his birthday celebrations. We love a charcuterie platter, lovely cheeses, mini cheeseburgers and surprisingly he requested spinach rolls.

I say surprisingly because it’s not something I remember him enjoying and surprised that they were something he’d request. His absence and his return have presented many surprises. When I reflect some don’t surprise me or indeed shouldn’t have. His wisdom falls way beyond his years, something in part I knew but which shone more brightly after six months apart. His maturity and capability, characteristics we felt evolving in our many phone calls in the months apart more evident in our midst. Witt, charm and warmth bubbling forth though always there but now held in a self-assured yet humble man.

I made the spinach rolls for him amongst the list of other culinary requests. Amongst other morsels, I served them during a Sunday afternoon gathering to celebrate his milestone birthday. Moving around the terrace to the sound of laughter, kookaburras and the crackle of an open fire warming us in crisply cool winter sunshine offering platters and drinks I could hear his laughter and chatter with our friends, that of a happy confident man. Happily nibbling on a spinach roll raising one to me in praise and smiling across the gathering, a nod of recognition, of thanks, of mutual admiration perhaps.

It hit me then, we notice their changes in the small things and we notice them acutely after an absence. We farewelled young men chafing at the constraints of their youth and our parenting and welcome home independent happy self-sufficient adults. Though missed his explorations of the world and establishment of his adult life far afield allowed him to flourish on his terms in his own space without the shadow of our worry. It also allowed us to evolve into parents of adult offspring who enjoy their company as adult companions and trust their adult decisions without needing to worry.

As we walked the long, crowded hallways of the airport towards another goodbye, the hum and bustle of passengers coming and going, announcements interrupting my thoughts I felt the lump in my throat grow, my eyes fill with tears and my chest swell. We’ll miss him terribly as he returns to this chapter but pride bloomed as all my emotions mingled and swirled.

I think as my mum said you’re always a mum and no doubt in some ways always worry about them but perhaps that worry is tied more to hope for them and all their aspirations and perhaps just little of grief missing their glorious presence.

Now I can wait for the next time we see Boy One and all the excitement to see his evolution….I wonder what he’ll request for dinner….

Ingredients:

1 bunch of English spinach yielding around 220 – 250 gm of leaf once trimmed of stalks.

3 spring onions (scallions) sliced and chopped

2 Tb extra virgin olive oil

500 gm firm ricotta. Not the creamy stuff in the tub, it’s lovely spread on toast but no good for this.

200 gm feta. I prefer a mild smooth one like Danish for this recipe.

20 gm finely grated romano or parmesan cheese

1 egg beaten

½ tsp each dried oregano and dill

½ tsp salt flakes

Finely grated rind of a lemon

2-3 sheets of puff pastry. I’m not going to be too pedantic about how many as a) it depends how big yours are and b) how thickly you pipe or spread your mixture. I use this one but ran out after making nine lunch size rolls and used the rest of the mixture in filo pastry I had in the fridge.

1 egg extra for an egg wash

Method:

Preheat oven to 180c and line 1-2 baking sheets/trays.

Heat olive oil in a medium sized pan over medium heat. Saute spring onion 1 minute until fragrant. Add spinach and stir frequently for a few minutes until just wilted. Pour off and discard any excess liquid then tip spinach mixture into a strainer. Spread spinach around the strainer into a layer then place a compatible sized bowl on the mixture weighted with a can or some other item from your pantry. This will help push out any extra moisture while it cools.

While the spinach mixture cools, take a large bowl and combine cheeses, egg, herbs, salt and lemon rind and mix thoroughly with a fork. I like to do this with a fork almost mashing it together, this combines things better without turning into a cream like a mechanical mix would. Once spinach is cooled squeeze out any remaining liquid then stir through cheese with a wooden spoon mix completely.

Prepare your pastry cutting your sheets to strips the size of roll you’d like to make, either ones for a meal of small party size ones.

I use a disposable piping bag available from the baking aisle in the supermarket for this next step. Pipe or spread a sausage of mixture down the middle of the pastry strips you’ve cut. Spread the egg wash down the edge and roll towards this edge to seal the roll up with the roll resting on top of the seal. Slice each roll to the size you desire. Line up, on a baking sheet, with a little room between each so the pastry will cook properly all the way round as it puffs and expands. Brush the outside with egg wash and pop in the oven for 40 minutes.

They’re delicious hot or cold but if you’re planning on enjoying them hot give them a few minutes to cool a little.

Parsnip and Cashew Soup

As I sit in front of my computer writing, gazing out my window intermittently, autumn rain and cold winds blow through drawing winter nearer. Rain doesn’t always find us here, indeed where I live it often splits around us, moving to the north and south of our little valley, something about the topography of the area perhaps. Not so the Mornington Peninsula, a beautiful stretch of land bordering the eastern side of Port Phillip Bay on which greater Melbourne is settled. Home to market gardens and vineyards her soil is rich and productive, rainfall plentiful and the coastal fringe framing the region home to generations of holiday makers. It’s also the home to creative and cook Amy Minichiello.

I first met Amy in 2018 during an online course hosted by Sophie Hansen. Whilst the course focussed on sharing food stories on social media, it’s participants gathering from many fields. Amy and I lived relatively close (an hour and a half) and just clicked. Encouraged, during the course, to build relationships and collaborations Amy generously allowed me to photograph her at work in her beautiful cottage kitchen at the end of the peninsula. Her sweet boy toddling at our feet she cooked us a lunch of potato soup, bread and chocolate cake. A grateful reward at the end of our shoot on a day where wild Southern Ocean weather lashed her windows howling through the gnarly old tea trees who’s twisted branches are like a narrative of the coastal squalls they’ve witnessed. Abundant vignettes of fruit and vegetables adorned her bench, a collection of old wares and china sat proudly on the shelves and treasured books fondly perched up high, watch over all while she floated around her cosy kitchen oozing warmth and bringing life to the ideas that whirl in her creative mind.

We went on to work together a couple more times all the while building a body of work towards Amy’s dream of creating something grand with her ‘Recipes in the Mail’ project. Every time I visited Amy on the peninsula cooler weather, sometimes rain and always a canopy of clouds, prevailed. Never dampening spirits, it somehow always added to the cosy atmosphere that envelops you as you wander through the vegetable and herb garden towards a warm welcome at her front door. Greeted by rose perfumed air and sweet giggles from her little ‘assistants’ and sometimes a crackling fire, a visit to the tranquil oasis in which she weaves her magic is always a balm for the soul and always one for the appetite too.

Amy called on her social media community to send her their food memories from their families along with the recipes inspiring the reminiscences. She was flooded with beautiful letters all pouring their hearts out and of course much-loved delicious recipes. As she slowly ploughed through them, inhaling the love in the stories and recreating the recipes, an idea bloomed in her heart and gathered momentum. Surely if she loved reading and cooking from these recollections, others would too. Her community enjoyed her posts, entranced by her whimsical prose and images, pushing her forward. I was privileged to be invited to capture Amy in her happy place and the passion she holds for this wonderful time capsule of food memories she’s created.

So as the scene outside my window reminds me of those days creating, and I procrastiscroll, I stop and smile. It’s happening, her dream is coming to life with the publication of her book Recipes in the Mail finally announced in her morning post.

No one leaves her seaside cottage, hungry and no one leaves without feeling like they’ve been wrapped in a blanket of warmth and friendship. Her food is wholesome, comforting and earthy. Never fussy yet always layered with flavours. So as I reflect on all that this book will be, I’m inspired to create the same comfort and earthy nourishment for my own lunch, to both warm the soul and body. Silky smooth Parsnip and Cashew soup topped with a foil of sour cream and chives should do the trick. Perhaps if you need some wholesome comfort or warming today a hot bowl of soup in your hands and belly will do the trick for you too.

Ingredients:

500 gm parsnip peeled and trimmed, roughly chopped into large chunks

2 garlic cloves, one kept whole one peeled and crushed

2 Tb extra virgin olive oil

25 gm butter

1 leek, white part only sliced

½ tsp freshly grated nutmeg

1 tsp fresh thyme leaves

150 gm whole natural cashew nuts

1 litre chicken or vegetable stock

2 cups of water

Sour cream and chives to serve

Method:

 Preheat oven to 180c and line a medium roasting dish with baking paper.

Toss parsnip chunks and whole garlic clove in 1 tb of the olive oil, spread in a single layer in the roasting dish, sprinkle with a generous pinch of salt flakes and bake in the oven for 45 minutes until edges are caramelising, turning half way through.

 While the parsnip cooks melt butter and warm remaining tb of olive oil in a large heavy pot like a cast iron over a medium heat. Reduce to low and add the leek cooking gently for 5 minutes. Stir frequently to prevent the leek browning. Sprinkle in the nutmeg and thyme and add the crushed garlic clove briefly cooking off until fragrant. Increase heat to medium and tumble cashews into the pot stirring constantly, cooking them for a few minutes, again preventing anything from browning. Squeeze roasted garlic from its skin and add to the pot with roasted parsnip and stir to combine. Increase heat to med-high. Pour in stock and water again stirring and bring to the boil. Reduce to heat to low and simmer for 30 minutes or until everything is soft.

 Allow to cool to hand hot, not steaming. If you have a stick blender you can blend straight into the pot until smooth. I use a high-speed blender. Ladle the soup into your blender or food processor and blend until silky smooth. Return to wiped out pot warming up again and adjust seasoning to taste. I use white pepper but you do you, black will also be delicious. With the salting of the parsnip and stock I find the soup salty enough for me but you may like to add some salt flakes. I suggest you do this in small pinches at a time stirring between each addition.

Top with a spoonful of sour cream and a sprinkle of fresh chives and enjoy. With the addition of cashews this is a hearty meal and will serve 4-6 hungry tummies well.

Classic Chicken Sandwich

Growing up, Saturdays always dawned busy. Weekends didn’t begin with lazy lie ins and a leisurely breakfast served at a table warmed by morning sunshine. Rather I’d wake to the sound of a vacuum cleaner and mum urging me to hurry up and get ready for dance class. Three hours on Saturday mornings when I’d flex, twirl, point and stretch my way through rigorous ballet and tap classes that I loved all while Mum would dash about performing all the normal life tasks of a family and household. Cleaning completed she’d whizz through the local supermarket stocking up for the week no doubt exhausted by lunch time at the frenetic end of week demands of adulting and mothering after a week of work.

Whilst she didn’t enjoy cooking, no doubt feeling like it was just another thing to do at the end of busy and often draining workdays she did enjoy a delicious meal. A vexing contradiction but one that did motivate a couple of signature dishes of a throw together pastry free quiche and a one pot hearty beef and pasta casserole of sorts. Whilst not drawn to the kitchen, time was anchored, for her, in traditions around food. Fish on Good Friday, Ham on Christmas day, Hot Cross Buns, Plum Pudding all the menu points that anchor us to time on the calendar, a particular holiday, its traditions and memories. 

Perhaps it’s this anchoring sense of food at the table at particular points on the calendar that motivated her unwitting establishment of traditions outside those more notable days across the year. Little edible signposts we could rely on during the week, a meal to look forward to. Saturdays were highlighted but one such tradition. I’m not sure if this little reward of a favourite lunch after all the hubbub of life tasks was something for mum to look forward to and offer her an edible pat on the back for the morning’s hard work or for us all to look forward to. Our family’s love of a traditional pastie runs deep and for a long time this was what we all looked forward to on Saturdays. Not the home-made variety like my Nana made and which motivated my version but ones from our favourite local bakery. Warm steaming vegies and meat encased in handmade flaky pastry that rained down on the plate with each bite just like a home-made one and almost as good, and that little pleasure at the end of all the rushing. Another Saturday lunch that featured regularly was one that remains a firm favourite of mine and one I offer you my riff on today.

Arriving at the deli counter at the supermarket for the weeks sliced ham and bacon the comforting smell of roast chicken emerging from the rotisserie was one that drew oos and ahhs from shoppers and one my Mum loved. Stopping at the bakery on the way to the car with her laden trolley she’d pick up fresh bread, loading everything up, rushing to return to pick me up and get home for lunch with all the bulging brown paper bags in the back (remember those?). Skipping down the path towards my mum waving form the driver’s seat, I remember being greeted by the aromas of fresh bread and roast chicken mingling together wrapping me in anticipation for the empty tummy I carried, that tummy rumbling the whole way home. Rushing to carry bags inside we’d pop everything away before the chicken cooled too much. Rewarded for our haste we’d then sit down to thick, fluffy slices of fragrant, still warm, white bread sandwiched around miraculously still steaming succulent chicken pulled from a just roasted bird. Such a simple sambo is not one I make very often these days but on the very odd occasion when I do I’m still overwhelmed with the memories and nostalgia of those very simple lunches shared by mum and I after our very different but busy Saturday mornings. 

But I do still love a chicken sandwich and as is my want I’ve embellished the simple version of my childhood to something a little more sophisticated though still somehow quite simple and still evocative of oos and ahhs.

Ingredients:

200 gm cooked cubed chicken cooled **

100 grams chopped bacon fried off to just crispy, cooled

2 Tb garlic aioli

2 Tb plain mayonnaise like Kewpie

1 Tb sour cream

1 Tb finely chopped fresh chives *

1 Tb roughly chopped pistachios

Freshly ground black pepper to taste.

Bread or bread rolls and embellishments such as cheese and salad accoutrements of your choice. I’ve used crusty Italian style ciabatta rolls, cos/romaine lettuce, swiss cheese and fresh tomato.

Method:

Combine all ingredients mixing well. You can adjust the aioli, mayo and sour cream to your preference tasting as you go but I do suggest you maintain the proportions to preserve the flavour. I prefer this amount to help hold everything together well and because, well frankly, it’s DELICIOUS!! The mixture can be made ahead and stored in an airtight container until ready to make your sandwiches. You may like to make ahead like this to take to a picnic or away on a weekend jaunt.

This amount makes 3-4 rolls/sandwiches generously filled. If the chicken is chopped more finely you can make a more delicate sandwich for a refined affair or luncheon shared table perhaps, with some finely sliced iceberg lettuce or cucumber slices.

Notes:

** I’ve used a store bought roast chicken known in Australia as BBQ or Chargilled BBQ chicken and overseas as Rotisserie Chicken.

*If fresh chives are unavailable you can use ½ Tb of dried chives or even one spring onion/scallion finely chopped.

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.

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.

Thai Spiced Pumpkin Soup

Many of my memories are wrapped in food. I can recall what I’ve eaten at many of the important moments, milestones and destinations in my life, the dish punctuating the recollections with flavour, colour and setting. I write about this a lot, indeed these memories and the feelings they evoke spark emotions that can comfort, warm and usually bring a smile. The transportive nature of taste and smell can move you like no other sensory spark.

The bracingly cold winter we’re experiencing has again brought many of these memories to the surface with a seemingly insatiable yearning for soup. Some of my earliest and fondest memories featuring food and coloured with a bowl of steaming nutritious soup. I’ve written about this here and here. Soup can act like a canvas for culinary creativity stretching you to use up the bits and bobs in the veg crisper and pantry and concoct something that emerges from the bowl that warms and nurtures mind, body and soul.

One of the first soups I made myself was a pumpkin soup. Sitting in the classroom of my home economics class aged 14, relatively new to the pumpkin eating party I was excited to try what felt inordinately exotic. Can you imagine a simple bowl of a much loved classic, listed on café menus the world over for its economic simplicity as exotic? Gosh our tastes grow don’t they. It was a favourite for many years and one I made frequently. But as time marched on and my tastes changed I found myself rejecting it as too plain.

Too plain until this idea came to me. It’s one inspired by many modern versions I’ve seen around recently. Attempts by others to zhoosh up the 1980’s favourite with a modern twist. Ones with various flourishes of other ingredients dancing in tandem to create a new combination or various spice additions transporting the dish through various cuisines, all of which lifting a very simple dish to another level. As is often the case in my kitchen I’ve tried to keep it simple, relying on the best quality ingredients available to shine and bring the show to the bowl keeping the list and jobs to a minimum.

Ingredients:

750 gm Pumpkin peeled and cut into large chunks

2 Tb olive oil

½ tsp salt flakes

1 tb grated ginger

2 French shallots peeled and sliced

1 lemongrass stalk, white part only bruised to open the husk but remaining in tact

3 lime leaves scrunched up

2 tb red curry paste

1 litre chicken stock

1 cup coconut milk

Preheat oven to 180c.

Method:

Combine pumpkin cubes, 1 tb of the oil and salt flakes and toss to coat. Spread in one layer on a baking tray and roast in the oven for 30 45 minutes or until almost cooked through. They’ll finish cooking and softening in the soup and we don’t want the edges to caramelise.

While the pumpkin is cooking, in a heavy based pot, warm the remaining tb of oil. Gently fry off the ginger and shallots over a low heat for five minutes or until soft and translucent but not caramelised. Add in the lemongrass and lime leaves, stirring and warming until they release their aroma. Increase heat to med-high, stir in the curry paste and again cook off for a few minutes more until aromatic and well combined with the shallots, ginger and herbs. Pour in stock and tip in roasted pumpkin cubes. Bring this mixture to the boil and reduce to a gentle simmer. Allow it to gently bubble away for thirty minutes to allow the flavours to meld and the pumpkin to finish cooking. The pumpkin will break up considerable during this period, which is fine as we’ll blending it in the next step. Turn off heat and allow to cool slightly until the nest step.

If you’re using a stand blender like me (I use a vitamix) you’ll need to allow it to cool to the point where it’s not freely steaming, about 10-15 minutes. If using a stick blender in the pot in which you’ve cooked carry on straight away.

Blend the soup with the coconut milk and return to heat for 5-10 minutes.

Serve over noodles of your choice, with rice or on it’s own with some warm flaky roti bread. Top with an extra dollop of coconut cream and a sprinkle of thai style embellishments such as chopped peanuts, herbs, chilli slices and deep fried shallots.

You’ll notice I’ve used mint. I’m one of ‘those coriander’ people. I simply can’t eat it, smell it or frankly be in the same room as it. This is a dish however that would be lovely with the addition of lots of fresh fragrant herbs. I suspect coriander lovers would love it’s addition to a bowl of this soup. You might also like thai basil, sweet basil, Vietnamese mint and regular mint. The more the merrier, added while steaming to elevate the lovely aroma realeased in the heat.

Notes:

The soup also hosts sliced stir fried greens nicely.

You can make the soup heartier with the addition of some proteins. Boiled eggs like I’ve used in the photo works well. You may also like to use shredded chicken either from leftovers from a previous meal or poached while you’re making the soup. For vegetarians cubes of deep fried tofu is a delicious addition.

Crustless Potato Quiche

Sun streams through the window warming my face. Gumtree shaped shadows dance across the pages of my book distracting me while I read, inspiring idle daydreams, a choir of warbling magpies my serenade and soundtrack. I’m snuggled under a fluffly red mohair blanket contemplating a nap or a walk or perhaps concentrating on the words in my book. The words win out, they usually do. It’s a lazy Sunday, the day after the federal election and change is emerging. Everyone’s tired, maybe it’s another chapter of pandemic recovery closing and the next era dawning, maybe it’s fatigue from the constant news cycle we’ve just endured.

As the afternoon slowly meanders by marked by the fall of the sun through the trees and towards the west horizon the reality of life ambles towards me. Early evening draws closer and I contemplate the collection of leftovers from last night’s gathering of friends awaiting us in the fridge.

We gathered around a long table, enjoying each other’s company, all the more aware of the joy of breaking bread together, multiple conversations dancing across the table in rapid fire banter. Plates of colourful vegetable offerings brought by our guests pass back and forth, scoops of slow roasted boneless chicken on a bed of unctuous cherry tomatoes and tender spiced lamb shank nestle alongside. Wine is shared, sloshed into glasses, it’s readiness dissected while others enjoy a variety of frothy lagers. The remains packed away we retire to the fireplace outside in the dewy night air, more laughter, more food, bowls of bubbling apple and rhubarb crumble and custard warming our hands. Satisfied sighs and bellies surround my contented happy soul, having spent a contented afternoon cooking for dear friends and family one of the greatest acts of love and appreciation I can offer.

Whilst dinner was gratefully devoured there’s always a surplus when you’re notorious for serving a heaving table. Returning to the present I reluctantly put my book down and haul myself from the couch, open the fridge, ponder the contents of the tubs stacked inside….hmm not quite enough for tonight’s dinner. Another corner of my mind is settling around memories of elections past and my parents. What they’d think of this most recent period and the weekend’s result. The fridge alarm pings….day dreaming again…back to reality. Thoughts of my mum, a tenacious hard working social worker, come to the front of my mind and inspiration strikes. Her signature dish of her later years, a recipe brought home from work scribbled on a torn envelope by one of her clients and later passed around through her own family and friends. A simple easy to construct comfort food recipe perfect for the end of week bits and pieces in the fridge and to pad out a small buffet of last night’s surplus. A contented smile breaks across my face and I get to work. Never underestimate the value of daydreaming, the power of food memories and the simple dishes that fill our recollections.

Crustless potato quiche, as Mum would call it, is super versatile being one of those meals suitable for all three mealtimes. It will work as a picnic dish, with a salad for a light lunch or dinner or even a prepared brekky or lunch box item. You can use leftover potato or cook potato especially for your quiche. Any of the ham/bacon family will work as will other smallgood like salami and chorizo. You can also experiment with the vegetables you add again leaning on leftovers from the fridge or using bits and bobs from the crisper. I’ve tweaked Mum’s recipe making it a little lighter but bulking it up for a hungry family.

Ingredients:

1 onion diced

2 garlic cloves crushed or finely chopped

1 tsp extra virgin olive oil

1 Tb unsalted butter

4 large eggs lightly whisked

1 cup whole milk

1 cup grated cheddar cheese (any flavoursome hard cheese will work, even a mix if needed)

1 tsp salt flakes

½ cup self-raising flour

2 potatoes diced cooked to just tender. (This equals roughly 2 cups of diced leftover potatoes if you’re using leftover potato)

1 cup of vegetables of your choice (see note)

100 gm prosciutto, ham, bacon or other similar meat.

Method:

Preheat oven to 220c. Grease a 20 cm square ceramic dish or round pie plate.

Melt butter with olive in a small pan over med-low heat. Gently cook the onion and garlic until translucent. If using bacon and you prefer it cooked you can also add it here and cook it off. Allow to cool while you gather and prepare the rest of the ingredients.

Whisk together eggs and milk. Stir through cheese and sprinkle over flour folding through until just combined. Add, onion and garlic mixture including the melted butter and oil, potato and any vegetable and meat your using. Gently stir through additions and pour into the prepared dish. Bake 30 minutes or until golden brown on top, set in the middle and gently pulling away from the sides. Allow to cool slightly before serving.

Notes:

If using spinach for your veg addition use chopped fresh baby spinach leaves. No need to cook first indeed doing so will add moistrure.

Other lovely veg additions that work well include corn, peas, capsicum, zucchini and even cubed roasted pumpkin.

Cubed cooked sweet potato is a delicious alternative to regular white potato.

A mixture of grated cheese adds flavour and is a handy use of all the small leftover bits of cheese in the dairy drawer.

Greens and Bean Soup

My earliest memory of food is of me tucking into a bowl of soup. Chubby toddler right hand firmly gripping a spoon only just able to fit in my little mouth, left hand resting on the side of the bowl to warm those chilled little fingers. Little drops of oil floating wondrously on the surface of the broth like a monochrome kaleidoscope, barley bobbing around chased by my hungry spoon. It set me on a path of a passionate love for soup. Like a hug from the inside out soup has had my heart from the earliest days. It’s a chameleon dish. Every cuisine on earth has varieties of soup in it’s repertoire. It’s a vehicle for using up left overs, all the bits at the bottom of the fridge and food that nourishes and warms those we love. It’s a dish we can deliver to a friend who needs some love or one we can make to nurture the ailing.

When I emerged from the post surgery fug and regained the use of my right hand (yes I am right handed to boot) I was desperate to crack in to one of my new cook books. I’d remembered a soup full greens in Sophie’s book that I’d wanted to cook and started scouring the fridge and pantry for the ingredients. Sadly I was lacking a huge number of the ingredients but was still craving a bowl of greens floating in broth. Something a little lighter than some of the more hearty styles I often create but nourishing and satisfying none the less. This creation hit the spot and continued to do so in the days that followed. It’s super easy and would be a great one for after work or to batch cook for a busy week.

I’m still craving Sophie’s Spring Minestrone, must add the ingredients to this week shopping list.

Ingredients:

1 leek white part only finely chopped

½ tsp of freshly grated nutmeg ( it really does taste and smell better) or ¼ tsp of pre-ground.

2 garlic cloves finely chopped or crushed

50 grams prosciutto or pancetta finely chopped ( you could sub with bacon if that’s all you have)

4 sprigs of thyme leaves removed

1 swede peeled and diced

1 C broad beans podded

1 C frozen peas ( I prefer baby peas)

1 C green beans sliced into short pieces

1 can cannellini beans drained

1 ½ litres of chicken stock

Salt and white pepper

Method:

In a large heavy based pot warm a good glug of extra virgin olive oil over a low heat. Cook the leek and garlic slowly in the oil, avoiding browning the leek and garlic, until soft around five minutes. Increase heat to medium and add swede, thyme and nutmeg stirring frequently for a few minutes to warm the pieces of swede and release the aroma of the thyme and nutmeg. Finally add the remaining veg and stir to warm them add the stock and canned beans and bring to the boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook for 30-40 minutes or until the swede is soft. Season with salt and pepper to a taste. White pepper has a delicious warming tingle and suits this dish particularly well.