Pizza Pie

Cold days outside, a brown velvet patterned couch, pillows, a blanket and snacks at the ready. I’d flick on the old television housed in a woodgrain laminate box finish, an image would appear out of the analogue snow that appeared momentarily while it warmed up and received the reception, I’d settle in snuggled up anticipation built. The weekend afternoon movie of the week starting with the introduction of movies of the era, a prelude with a usually notable theme. Black and white usually, characters would emerge as the story began. Sometimes an old war drama, a western (not my favourite but always elicited the interest of my Dad) a musical or a comedy and generally stars seemingly drawn from the same pool, the golden era of Hollywood. A, perhaps, unusual pastime for a child.

I loved these old movies and my afternoons snuggled up escaping into far off stories and locales. Wind and rain could batter the windows but, in my imagination, I was elegantly sweeping down grand winding staircases with show tunes my soundtrack or delightedly participating in some slap stick prank eliciting canned laughter. I was enamoured with Shirley Temple my own dancing toes tapping away on the couch in time with her deft moves. I was swept away with the romance of Gene Kelly spinning his dance partner around looking adoringly at her. I would giggle with mirth at Lucille Ball’s hilarious antics and laugh until my sides hurt at Jerry Lewis and his straight guy Dean Martin. Not only funny with their impeccable timing they’d launch into song on occasion too making them the perfect blend for my proclivities. Most notably in the 1953 movie The Caddy the song, perhaps more famous than the movie, was the famous song That’s Amore. It had a catchy tune, one that’s stood the test of time, that rings like an ear worm at various appropriate moments to this day. Even as a child though the one take away I gathered from that fun and romantic tune was the line that referred to pizza pie.

Whilst a fairly traditional family culinarily, meat and three veg anyone (?), we did indulge in the odd ‘exotic’ pizza. My dad’s cousin married an Italian fella who was a pizza chef and owned various restaurants around our area. With ‘mates rates’ we’d often dine in their eateries, lavished with love by them through delicious pizzas in abundance. The atmosphere would be festive, the food hearty and the hospitality warm. We developed a deep love of pizza through these happy evenings becoming astute pizza critics. I remembered asking our Italian relative a few times what pizza pie was, even trying to order one but was always met with a polite Italian shrug. Even he was a little mystified as to what exactly Mr Martin was singing about.

It's a culinary question that has stuck with me. No matter where I’ve travelled, particularly America, its one that’s stuck in the archives of my mind without an answer. Elusive and unanswered. I’ve also been challenged by the answer to a good and traditional pizza base having tried a plethora of recipes, until recently. As I flicked through the beautiful pages of yet another Italian cookbook (is there ever enough?) I was struck by the ease of the proffered pizza recipe. In my ongoing pursuit of said classic I steadied myself for yet another attempt at restaurant worthy homemade pizza. With little effort, basic ingredients and hope I’d found my go to recipe for pizza and the one I’d commit to memory for life.

But still, what the heck is pizza pie? Google elicits answers in the millions but nothing definitive. Armed though with technique skills and inspired by a now memorised pizza dough recipe I was determined to create a pizza pie as I imagined it. With a few tweaks to that wonderful dough recipe, layers of flavourful small goods, melty cheese, sauce, a few veg and some patience I built what I thought might be the dish in Mr Martin’s mind as he serenaded a sweetheart with notions of pizza pie and love. As I pulled that tray from the oven the rich aromas of pizza enveloping me a smile crept across my face. Allowing it to cool for a while before slicing into it whilst agony, an important step to allow some of that steam to rise out through the small chimney in the top layer. I felt like that young girl again the song quietly thrumming in my head “when the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie that’s amoré…” Both childlike anticipation and memories swirling I finally cut into the round pulling a wedge from the tray, stretchy cheese strings breaking away. One bite and my eyes gently closed a smile creeping across my face and a lifetime of wondering no more.

I’ll never know if my pizza pie is the one of Mr Martin’s imaginings but it’s definitely the one of mine and definitely one for the recipe memory.

Ingredients:

400 gm plain flour (bread flour is great if you have it but don’t rush out and buy it if you don’t)

¾ tsp/5gm dried yeast

¾ tsp salt/5gm (I use fine table salt here not flakes)

¾ tsp/3 gm sugar

300 ml lukewarm water

1-2 Tb commercial pizza sauce. Aim for a spreadable one, I’ve used passata and will at a pinch but it’s quite wet and can create a soggy base.

½ tsp dried oregano

½ an onion finely sliced

75 gm sliced ham

60 gm finely sliced salami. Choose your own adventure here, we like it hot but you do you.

75 gm chopped bacon

1 cup/100 gm grated cheese. I like a flavourful mixture with bits from the fridge or cheddar but if you prefer milder mozzarella that’s fine too.

½ a small capsicum/pepper finely diced

80gm/1 cup sliced mushrooms

1 cup baby spinach leaves

1 egg beaten with a splash of milk for glazing

Polenta for the pizza tray. If you don’t have any just used baking paper.

HOT TIP! When you first think “hmmm pizza pie” ( or any yeast baking) turn the oven light on. NOT the oven temp just the light. This elicits enough warmth alongside the ovens closed draught free environment to create the perfect dough proving environment. Now as you were…the instructions!

In a stand mixer combine all dough ingredients and mix on med-low speed until combined, you may need to scrape down a couple of times. Increase speed to medium and mix for 5 minutes while you tidy up. If you don’t have a mixer do this first in a bowl with your hands until a shaggy dough then tip out onto a bench and knead lightly until smoothish. In a large bowl using your hand spread a splash of olive oil to grease, tip dough into the bowl and loosely cover with lightly oiled cling wrap (you can gently oil the top of the dough if oiling cling wrap feels fiddly). Place bowl in the lit oven and leave to prove gently in the there for at least two hours or more than doubled in size. If your oven doesn’t have a light or the light is on the blink as they often are leave in a warm draught free spot.

When ready remove dough from its proving spot and tip onto a lightly floured bench.

Preheat oven to 220c fan forced.

Divide into two even portions and lightly knead by had to form two balls. Pop onto a tray in a warm spot to rest while you get organised. They just need 15 mins to do so. Take these few minutes to prepare your toppings.

Prepare tray with a light spread of olive oil and a sprinkling of polenta grains. You could use baking paper if you prefer but the oil and polenta creates a lovely finish on the base. Take one ball and stretch by hand gently across the width of the pizza tray or to a 30 cm circle. Spread over your pizza sauce one spoon at a time leaving a 2 cm border. You may not need all of the sauce, see how you go, then sprinkle oregano leaves. Start your meat layer next with ham then salami then sprinkle over bacon. Spread over the grated cheese evenly. Then layer vegetables starting with spinach then mushrooms and finishing with capsicum, set aside. On a floured bench stretch or roll your second dough ball to equal size. Gently pick it up and lay over the layered pizza. It should fall to the edge of the sauce where the sauce free border is. Gently fold and crimp with your finger as pictured to seal. Snip a hole in the centre to release moisture as it cooks. Brush the pie all over with egg glaze and place in the oven for 25 minutes until golden brown and crisp on the base. You can gently lift with a spatula at the edge to check the base. Return for five minutes to crisp up if needed.

Remove from oven and leave to cool for 2 minutes before cutting into it. Serve with mood music of romantic tunes of moons and amoré and perhaps a lovely glass of Italian red wine.

NOTE: you’ll notice in the photos I have the cheese on top. I’ve since changed my method to allow the moisture and steam from the veg to escape easily without the cheese layer stifling it as described above.

Chickpea and Vegetable Pudding

I’m out of sorts today, or if I’m really honest this week. Not the cheeriest way to begin a newsletter but here we are. Allow me a moments self-indulgence and let me explain.

We, like half of the country, enjoyed a long weekend away. Camping with friends in a valley carved out by one of the loveliest rivers I’ve seen, we shared meals, we laughed, played games and relaxed. A perfect weekend really. After an early pack up on Monday we began the long drive home. Winding through beautiful green hills views down onto the sparkling waters of the gently burbling McAlister River all seemed well initially until….Until my old friend motion sickness came ‘a knocking.’ I should have known that it was an early sign of something else having not suffered from the horror of travel induced nausea for some time. I knew what the road was like so perhaps should have prepared suitably with a little medicinal help but over confidence overrode any good decision making. It was a long hour back to the highway and straight roads but a walk and light lunch from a lovely country café resulted in a settling stomach and stood me in good stead to make it home.

Tuesday dawned with a slight holiday hangover. A little hay fever snuffly from a weekend in the bush but onwards I pushed. After faffing about and heading out however I found myself post a hairdressing appointment somewhat grumpy. A miscommunication between the hairdresser and I resulted in a ‘do’ I’d not normally request my reaction surprising me. For a not particularly vane person I unexpectedly was very unsettled. Afterwards, driving to the shops on the phone to a friend, I became aware of a disturbance in my vision. A beacon to what was coming I turned around and headed home knowing I had minutes to get there before I’d be stuck on the side of the road awaiting a return to normal vision…a migraine was approaching. I should have known something was amiss on that unsettling drive home from camping.

Trouble was I had lots of adulting to do, I really hate adulting and will procrastinate until backed into a corner. Government online accounts and apps to sort out with assistance from call centres. Many hours on the phone, one operator frustratingly unhelpful after a long time on the phone, one blessedly kind and knowledgeable. Head still pounding, passwords, lists, logins, annoying haircuts…it was a day.

I awoke Wednesday determined to get on with the week proper and shake Tuesday off. Setting off for an early morning walk in the crisp autumn air I thought I was back, but alas a migraine hangover prevailed. Much like a garden variety hangover post fun night out only without the fun I could almost hear my metaphorical brakes screeching to a halt. I hauled myself to the shops and completed the week’s shopping, intended for Tuesday’s list and returned home feeling a bit rubbish. Try though I did to write and create with grand plans to wax lyrical of a lovely easter in the mountains and share something delicious with you, all I could think of was a need for comfort. A need to shed the responsibilities of adulting, to shake off that hangover and to just be. I pushed my laptop aside, went to the fridge gathered a handful of ingredients, my chopping board and knife. Crisp air outside after two days of cleansing rain and a topsy turvy few days and the only answer was soup. A simple one, gentle for an unsettled stomach, warm and comforting.

Onwards and upwards.

Ingredients:

1 Tb extra virgin olive oil

1 carrot diced

1 french shallot diced

1 garlic clove crushed

¼ c chopped parsley

¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg (ground is fine if that’s all you have)

400 gm can chickpeas drained

1 c tinned crushed tomatoes

2 c chicken stock

1 litre water

2 handfuls of finely shredded Tuscan kale

Method:

Place a heavy based medium to large pot over medium heat and warm olive oil. When ready tip in the carrot and shallot and turn heat down to low. Cook until the shallot is translucent and carrot softening, roughly five minutes. Add garlic and nutmeg and cook for a minute longer. Tip in chickpeas, tomatoes, stock and water, stir thoroughly and increase heat to medium to bring to a gentle boil. Once bubbling reduce back to low, add kale and simmer 45-60 minutes until slightly thickened and reduced while you potter about and finish all the adulting things so you can relax with a bowl of soup at the end. Season to taste with salt and pepper, enjoy!

Serve with a crunchy toasty, a drizzle of crunchy chilli oil or perhaps some grated parmesan cheese or a sprinkle of feta.

Moroccan Spiced Chicken and Prunes

Forty years is long time. A lot can change in that period of time both in our own lives and the world around us. Four decades spans nearly half a decade, many markers in history and on average nearly half a lifetime. It’s a chunk of time that can pass in what feels like a blink of an eye on reflection and in which we’ll experience a huge number of life’s miletsones, good, bad or otherwise. It’s also the part of life in which many people’s career span. My husband has worked in his career for forty years and this week that’s all come to an end and he’s taking a well-deserved rest.

Over four decades, on average, two generations turn over. In that time one generation will ‘rise up’ moving thorough childhood, adolescence, education and selection and training of a working life. They will perhaps meet a life partner and start a family and forge a home for themselves. They’ll use their education and training to work towards goals big and small, perhaps build towards legacies or collaborate towards ones in communities and economies of meaning to them. In the second half of those forty years some will choose to reproduce and enjoy parenthood and nurture a new generation. Those first forty years often pass in a blur but hold a period in life in which grow and expand.

All the while we’re moving through all these life milestones in our own lives the world shifts and changes. The last forty years globally we’ve stood witness to many shifts and changes. We’ve flexed and groaned against the confines of development bursting out from a world that to many probably already felt extraordinary but has seen changes unimaginable previously. From black and white free to air television received through roof top antenna we now stream whatever programs and movies we desire to screens as small as our hands. We don’t need to rue missing an episode or the disappointment of choosing between more the one airing we wanted to view. Music too is available at a whim. We neither wait for the release of vinyl, CD or cassette nor buy furniture to store collections of such. We don’t make mix tapes for pals or need to listen through a whole record for favourite songs. Our entertainment whims both beckon and await our every desire at the end of our finger tips.

In the last forty years there’s been more than a fair share of unrest too. More than a dozen wars of significance have erupted, and many more incursions, disputes and battles fought. Turbulence has redrawn borders and relationships reshaping geography and diplomacy both locally and globally leaving in its wake changed relationships big and small between countries, populations and even friendships and families.

Since the early eighties we’ve gone from taking a traditional camera everywhere with us to taking photos of our-‘selfies’ on a telephone that goes everywhere with us. We can answer any question we have on that small device and update ourselves on any event happening anywhere in the world in real time immersed in a 24 hour news cycle. The internet became the predominant platform for communication for everyday domestic and business users creating a 24/7 world. We began communicating through social media and text messages relegating the handwritten word to almost redundancy and left behind encyclopaedia, letters, newspapers and thank you notes.

In 1983 we enjoyed a golden age of music. Remember tines like Thriller, Girls Just Wann Have Fun, Flashdance, All Night Long and Uptown Girl? Oh and Ghetto Blasters? Movies had a special moment in time too, Risky Business, The Big Chill, Monty Python all big releases in a time of now seems like one of innocence. I had my last year of Primary school that year and my husband his first year of employment. Beginning trade training, he then progressed to further education. He enjoyed all the adventures of his twenties, travels, friendships and everything in between until he met a girl (that would be me) and we built a family and life, from Melbourne to Darwin and back. He’s travelled the world, worked on off shore rigs, down underground mines, on dusty plains home to large scale rural operations as far as the eye can see and small remote pump stations in the middle of nowhere. His work has seen him begin at the first rung on the ladder and mentored by those senior to him until he climbed the ladder leading the next generation. But now that’s all come to an end and now it’s time for him to have a rest.

Before he begins his next professional adventure we’re heading off on an adventure of our own. We’re packing up our new caravan and heading north. Heading north we’ll start in Wagga Wagga and track north towards lightning ridge before heading east. I’m excited head to the Galah Magazine Photography Prize events and exhibition as our half way point before we meander south along the coast….he’s excited to not have to answer phone calls and emails.

I will however still work. I’ll continue writing and creating here for you. I’m not entirely sure what it will look like but I will keep popping into your inbox. I suspect it will be a mix of travelogue, simple recipes from our time on the road and maybe some reflections and stories from our travels. It won’t be a series of dishes created from cans or dehydrated camping packets nor will it be endless bush bbqs and riversides campfires constantly. When we travel and go camping we don’t make sacrifices with our food so hopefully you’ll enjoy what I come up with. I can’t promise it will always appear at the same time as that will largely depend on internet access but I’ll still as closely to that schedule as that allows. I’ll be spending this weekend cooking and vac packing meals to give us nights off from cooking but ensure delicious dinners still await at the end of days exploring, much like the delicious chicken dish below.

Ingredients:

4 Chicken thighs roughly 150gm each cut into 6 chunks each

1 ½ tsp salt flakes

½ tsp ground white pepper

2 tb olive oil

3 eschallots peeled and halved lengthwise

1 tsp cinnamon

½ tsp ground cumin

½ tsp ground coriander

1//4 tsp smoked paprika

15 gm fresh ginger chopped into fine matchsticks

½ long red chilli finely sliced

3 garlic cloves peeled and finely sliced

75 gm prunes whole pitted

Whole peel of a lemon in long strips, keep the fruit for the juice later.

Pinch of saffron threads

2 tb currants

2 cup chicken stock

1 Tb honey

Method:

Preheat oven 160c fan forced.

Sprinkle salt and pepper all over chicken pieces and toss to distribute. Over medium heat warm 1 tb of the oil in a pan that can go in the oven later, that has a lid that fits snugly. Cook chicken pieces in two batches until browned on the outside but not cooked through, set aside and keep warm.

Add second tb of oil to the pan and reduce heat to low. Add eschallots cut side down and caramelise 3 minutes. Turn over and cook on the other side for two minutes. Sprinkle in the spices and cook off briefly until fragrant. Add ginger, garlic and chilli and cook while stirring constantly, again until fragrant. Toss the fruit in and scatter over saffron threads, and pieces of lemon peel and cook while stirring again for a minute. Splash in a good glug of the stock to deglaze the pan scraping up any stick bits off the base of the pan, pour in the remaining stock stir and bring to the boil. Return the chicken and any juices to the pan and stir in the honey and a squeeze of juice from half of the lemon used for peel, mixing thoroughly. Place lid on securely and place in the oven for 50 minutes, stirring half away through cooking.

Serve with steamed rice sliced fresh chilli from the remaining half chilli and a sprinkle of fresh herbs such as parsley, mint, basil or coriander.

You may also like to grill a halved lemon cut side down to give the dish a fresh light zing.

Easy Aussie Beef Party Pies

105 years ago families and groups of friends trekked to a suburban cricket oval to cheer and support their football teams in the first Football Grand Final Game. Armies of fans gathered to support the warriors they’d followed for the winter months in a game unique to our land known for it’s brutal toughness and parochial supporters. Through the decades, lines were drawn across suburbs and regions defining an almost tribal fan base whose rivalries spilled over into conversations and relationships sparking many contentious though generally good-natured debates and battles. In more recent decades, football became a national game, it’s reach extending into all states and territories and it’s culture pervading sports fans who’d previously followed other codes.

Football rivalries have defined the histories of many Australian families, my own, no exception. My dad joined his own local footy club as a junior in 1949 as a 15 year old lad new to the area. Working as a porter at the local railway station, an older colleague and mentor, noticing his need to be involved in his community and make new friends in his new home, extended an invitation to him to come down to the nearby footy ground and watch a game. He soon joined the club beginning a sixty plus year membership. He was dedicated to his club and its members often siting the camaraderie he enjoyed there as the one constant in his life and solace that kept him young in old age and gave him purpose in his retirement and widowhood.

My mother’s family too were dedicated fans of the game, all following the ubiquitous Collingwood football club as did my paternal grandmother. Whilst all football allegiances are parochial Collingwood has an aura and presence all its own in Melbourne. It was one that enjoyed the loyalty of the workers and those who lived in the heavily populated, then, inner suburbs that ringed the city it’s following becoming generational continuing to today. In my early years I was a Collingwood supporter in the way as children we inherit other characteristics of our parents, almost like a genetic code. My memory of this is thin at best but I very clearly remember the turning point at which this changed.

As and eight year old in grade two of primary school one of my class mates was the daughter of a coach of one the more famed football teams. With stars in my eyes, their success during the season of 1989 came to my attention. Growing up in a home of two dedicated football fans, sports news was on the tv, radio and in newspapers ad nauseum so even as a child I absorbed these updates. It became increasingly clear as the year progressed that Collingwood was going to be challenged by its traditional rival and as is the way of children I was keen to back a winner. To her great credit my Mum didn’t try to sway me. Perhaps she thought it was a passing phase and the expected success of the family team would sway me back. At the end of an exciting season the finals culminated in a battle of the traditional rivals, Carlton meeting Collingwood. Battle lines were drawn between the two suburbs that bordered each other and across football loving Melbourne and inadvertently in our household. Calling on favours and friendships Mum managed to nab two tickets to the game that attracted nearly 114,000 enthusiastic fans. In scenes reminiscent of the great gladiatorial battles of the colosseum the game swung back and forth. Sat next to the Collingwood cheer squad some of those ebbs and flows of the game were tough for a little girl to swallow, indeed I remember I resting my head on mums shoulder at half time re-thinking my football rebellion. Perhaps she consoled me with some smugness thinking she was providing a child a tough lesson. As the game progressed and with controversy that remains questioned some 44 years later Carlton rose up and claimed victory and perhaps my mum learnt her own tough lesson about allowing a child to follow her heart my Carlton support cemented

In recent weeks the football season of 1979 has been on my mind as it has the minds of many football fans and the fans of the two heritage teams. In an exciting season and as the finals edged closer to the last Saturday in September a repeat of the 1979 Grand Final line-up looked ever possible, though alas it was not to be, Carlton missing out on a place in the final play off for the premiership cup at the final hurdle. What doesn’t change however is the festivity of the week. Football’s unique characteristic is its unifying nature. Not only does it provide community hubs for local teams and their followers and consequently a ‘home’ of sorts for members it brings communities together following the wider league. This weekend regardless of whether your team is playing or not groups of friends and families will gather for BBQs and to watch the big game together. Those whose team isn’t playing will switch allegiances for the day choosing a team to cheer on as will many who don’t follow a team but find themselves at festivities enjoying the event. I’m torn because let’s face it as a Carlton supporter I can’t follow Collingwood but as a Victorian I can’t cheer for an interstate team….the morals of footy run deep. I’ll decide on the day.

One thing the doesn’t change is the food. Aside from the obvious that always makes an appearance, this year I thought I’d have a go at making my own party pies, the natural accompaniment to the sausage roll or perhaps the traditional rival, just like footy teams.

I’ve tried to make them as simple as possible. I’ve used mince rather than making a chunky slow cook, reflecting the type of meat pie you’d enjoy at a footy game only miniature. In doing this I suggest using the best frozen pastry you can get your hands on. I’ve used Careme shortcrust, if you have a favourite recipe and the time to make your own by all means do so. In addition to mince and frozen pastry I also suggest using patty pan trays with their half sphere holes rather than a more traditional pie shape that you’d achieve using a muffin tray. Afterall you’ve cheering to do rather than fussing with pastry in tricky trays.

Ingredients:

1 small onion finely diced

1 bacon rasher finely chopped

1 tsp each of finely chopped thyme and rosemery

2 tsps of extra virgin olive oil

500 gm beef mince

1 Tb plain flour

1 Tb worcestshire sauce

2 Cups beef stock made with good quality stock cubes (I use oxo)

2 tsp tomato paste

1 tsp salt flakes ( you may need to add more depending on the salt content of your stock cubes, traust your tastebuds)

½ tsp freshly ground black pepper

Method:

500-600 gm frozen Shortcrust pastry. Use the best you can afford for flavour and flakiness. You may like to use a mix of shortcust for the base and puff for the top.

In a large fry pan, over medium-low heat, sauté onion, bacon and herbs until onion is translucent. Push this mixture to the edge of the pan, increase heat to med-high and add Beef mince whole to the pan and allow to brown on one side for a few minutes. Flip the meat as a whole to brown on the other side a few more minutes before breaking up and continuing to cook through. Once it’s nearly done start mixing the onion and bacon mix through. Keep an on the onion mixture while cooking the meat to ensure it doesn’t brown. You can move your pan off centre while cooking the meat to protect the onion mix.

Once the meat is almost browned, drain off most of the juices that have eeked out from the meat. Return to the heat and add the flour mixing through the meat and onion mixture and allow it to cook off for a few minutes as you would if making a white sauce. Once the flour is slightly browned and completely combined with the meat (it will look a little gluggy, this is fine) add the tomato paste and worcestshire sauce, stir through and cook for two minutes. Reduce heat to low and slowly add the beef stock stirring until completely added. Increase heat to med, bring to the boil before reducing heat back down to low and simmer for 15 minutes or until liquid has thickened and reduce by a third, it should still be fairly wet but thickened. Remove from heat and cool to room temp before popping the mixture in a sealed tub or bowl and refrigerating until completely cool, overnight is fine.

Preheat oven to 200c, grease and line two 12 hole patty pan trays.

Thaw pasty. Choose a pastry cutter or glass slightly larger than the rim of the patty holes in your tray. Cut your pastry rounds and place in the tray holes gently pressing into place. Keep your pasty off cuts to re-roll for the tops. Your pastry bases should overhang the holes by 1-2 mm to be able to seal the top to. Spoon meat filling into each pastry case no higher than the rim. Using remaining pastry and the same cutter cut a second set of rounds to top the pies. Brush the underside of the round with egg wash then place onto top of pie. I like to brush the whole underside rather than the edges to seal as it’s less fiddly. Gently press edges to seal and brush tops of pies with egg wash. Cook in the oven 15-18 mins. Serve hot.

Strawberry Yoghurt Mousse

In her most excellent newsletter this week, Kate Mildenhall reflected on reading and the role it plays in her personal and professional lives. Celebrating her passion for the ‘pastime’ from childhood through to adulthood she also recognised its now important function in her profession as a fiction author. One of the things she noted was the genesis of her characters. Quoting Maggie McKellar’s brilliant book Graft in which, when citing works used in the construction of her book, she says, “This book stands on a library…” Struck by the quote Kate goes on to reflect on her own work and reading. Whilst acknowledging the seeds of her two protagonists in her latest book, her two daughters, she also reflects on characters previously in tomes previously read and the “DNA” in the catalogue of her own internal reading library. The evolution of all the characteristics of those fictional individuals perhaps swirling around and melding into new characters, drawing different qualities from all those personalities on the page and reimagined into new ones.

On the other side of the country, bathed in sun, toes in the red dirt of The Kimberley dear friends are holidaying in Broome. We’ve holidayed with our friends frequently and as happens we have many ‘in jokes’ from our adventures. Technology being what it is postcards aren’t the method by which folks stay in touch on holidays rather we send each other quick messages, perhaps including a phone snap to share with a pal we think they may like or be amused by. Sharing a couple of photos with me in a message, my friend sent a photo for my husband and one for me. They’d visited an historical site sharing an image of aeroplane wreckage for hubby and one of CWA memorabilia for me featuring recipes from long ago. The ones captured were concoctions created by women living in remote Australia perhaps tapping into their culinary creativity with whatever was available in the store cupboard. As is my wont I zoomed in on those snippets of food history, curious to read the food writing and instructions and most importantly the recipe. ‘Amy Johnston Cake’ caught my attention, my food and recipe writer brain immediately clicking into gear. Deciphering the instructions of B. Andrews of Newstead I imagined what “a little milk…..fairly thinly……1 teacup….1 breakfast cup” all looks like. What do they weigh or measure too, and how thin is fairly thin? Translation aside it all sounds delicious and one I will work on and share. Which leads to my thought that, this is the recipe of another, one that I’ll play with and meld to a modern language and help evolve to something with measurements and instructions longer than that which fits into a letter to an editor of an organisation’s traditional newsletter, but still, the creation of B Newstead. Or is it? Is it one whispered to her in haste at the school gate amongst parents collecting kids or passed down from a favourite aunt? Or is it one carrying the DNA of hundreds of previous recipes she read or cooked or ate. Is it one she thought required a tweak here or there. A touch of flavour from her tastes and preferences. How far back in the narrative of her personal cooking ‘library’ could she indeed travel to record the history of this cake?

At her recent event in Melbourne Nigella Lawson was asked how she felt about people changing or tweaking her recipes. Sadly I don’t remember her exact words but very much do her sentiment. She reminded her audience that like them she’s a home cook and that’s how we cook and create. That, as new ingredients become widely available and understood we add them to our cooking, to the recipes we already know. Likewise as our skills grow we try new things and tweak, this way and that to both suit our skill sets and what we prefer. Reassuringly she loved the idea that her writing gave readers the platform to go forth and tap into their intellectual libraries and create new dishes.

As a child one of my favourite desserts was chocolate mousse. Whenever we went out to dinner as a family I would always order a dish of the brown fluffy pudding to end my meal. These nights were rare, always to celebrate something and enjoyed after mum and dad had saved their pennies to indulge in such revelries. As such as you can imagine we ordered special dishes, always our favourites and for me no such outing was complete without the full stop of mousse. I often couldn’t really fit it in and would pass half a glass to my dear old dad who perhaps encouraged my largesse in the hope he would benefit from my child like stomach that clearly didn’t match my ambitious appetite.

Mousse remains a favourite or more precisely any creamy pudding really. So too does the notion of mingling recipes and ideas, creating new ones. As a young woman I worked for a small family catering company whose owner tried to teach me to make chocolate mousse. I’d watch with fascination as her gentle determined folds amalgamated the oozy melted chocolate mixture with fluffy whipped egg whites and stiff whipped cream. Her deft hand

would amalgamate the mixture to enticing silken mounds of chocolate clouds spooned into little bowls to set. Unfortunately, that recipe is filed under “recipes by wonderful older mentors I should have written down,” dear old Mavis having long ago left us. There’s a plethora of variations on the theme though, a theme I’ll gladly explore one day though with our boys moved on one I’d wind up eating on my own. My husband, whilst a firm chocolate lover, is not a fan of desserts flavoured with chocolate, he does however love anything flavoured with strawberry whilst I love anything creamy and set and am quite enamoured with anything reliable and versatile. Drawing on our wants and my internal library of flavours, textures and techniques, I offer you Strawberry Yoghurt Mousse. Like a favourite lipstick she’ll take you from breakfast all the way through to dessert, you can thank me later.

Should you be considering a mousse for breaky you can set these in a jar and sprinkle some crunchy breakfast accoutrements on top like granola or coconut chips like you would a chia pot. Alternatively set them in a pretty glass and top with more fruit, perhaps a drizzle of syrup of your chosen variety and whipped cream, or ice cream or any dessert like adornment that takes your fancy.

Ingredients:

1 c thick Greek yoghurt, preferably set not the smooth creamy Greek like version.

½ c of fully cream milk. I use almond milk so by all means you do you.

130 gm strawberries trimmed, hulled and roughly chopped pureed

¼ c honey

1 tsp vanilla extract

5 gm gelatine leaves, I use platinum, it’s the most readily available in sheet form at major supermarkets.

Method:

Clean and prepare four small glasses or dessert dishes suitable to hold the mousse as pictured. Each serve will make ¾c of mixture. Place them on a small tray suitable to place in the fridge, set aside.

Put the yoghurt in a large bowl and set aside. Fill a small jug or bowl with cold tap water and place gelatine sheets in to soak and soften for a few minutes until they feel soft and squishy. In a small saucepan combine milk, honey and vanilla and warm over a low flame until all combined and smooth. The mixture shouldn’t be hot only just warm. Remove gelatine leaves from the jug of cold water and squeeze out as much moisture as you can. Take the warm pot from the heat, drop the gelatine sheets into the warm milk mixture and stir continuously until completely combined and they’ve disappeared. I like to pour all of this into the jug I used for the water, this will help it cool faster if it’s out of the warm pot.

While the milk mixture is cooling use a balloon whisk to whip the yoghurt mixture like you would cream. It won’t gain the volume and structure of whipped cream but it will be smoother than set yoghurt and a little more voluminous with a few small bubbles of air and look like swoon worthy swirls. Add the strawberry puree and again whip vigorously combining thoroughly. Once amalgamated take your jug of cooled milk mixture and slowly pour into the yoghurt mixture all the while whipping well with your whisk to completely combine.

Pour the mixture evenly into your four prepared glasses and refrigerate for at least four hours to as much as overnight.

As I mentioned earlier you can use this for a fancy dessert and dress appropriately or as dessert. I love a little drizzle of pure maple syrup and perhaps even some curls of white chocolate for dessert or some crunchy granola for breaky.

If you’re catering to a crowd or prefer a larger serve this recipe will scale up very well by just doubling everything and using the size glasses you prefer.

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.

Vegetable and Chickpea Dhal

When the cat’s away the mouse will play. We’ve all heard that one right? We’ve all been both the cat and the mouse and when we’ve been the mouse, ‘play’ could mean many things.

This week I’ve been the mouse…again. For the entirety of my marriage my husband has travelled for his job. His travels have taken him far and wide both frequently and in frequently. For large chunks of time he’s all but been a fifo member of our family though more recently, thanks Covid, a far more regular member of team Frawley. While jaunts through Asia, Europe, USA and every corner of Australia sound glamorous it’s proven mostly exhausting and not as exciting as it sounds. Long days in oil refineries and meetings, difficult long travel journeys and no time to absorb the sites and sounds of his destinations have made those workdays just that. Normal long days like any other workday with no one to come home to, no home cooked meal and missing family.

Meanwhile at home the boys and I always just got on with things like millions of other parents in my position or indeed on their own full time. It’s just what we did and was always that way. The kids knew no different nor did I. As time marched on and the boys grew, it obviously became easier and indeed became special time to hang out with them just us. We’ve enjoyed many memories and adventures of our own during Mr F’s absences, these times proving a gift of sorts for the most part amongst the frustrations and bumps in the night that woke me.

When I reflect on these time one thing that invariably always come to mind is the food. For the most part my husband eats nearly anything with a few key exceptions, pumpkin and creamy things just don’t float his boat. There’s a few others but for the most part they’re not biggies. So when Dad was away our palettes would play. Mac and cheese frequently featured. A childhood favourite of mine and my kids my husband just doesn’t love it and don’t get me started on pumpkin. Bowls of fast comfort food was always my go to in his absence in those early days, both for ease of preparation on days that were busy and indulgence to enjoy those things not at the top of his list when he’s home. The kids could almost predict what would be on the menu, knowing those little food treats enjoyed while the ‘cat’ was away acting as a salve for two little lads who often missed their dad.

These days, with the boys gone, it’s just me at home when he travels. Home alone I often say. Whilst my shenanigans don’t reflect those of the movie by the same name, I do still enjoy meals I know he wouldn’t and enjoy streaming marathons of cooking shows and chick flicks. It’s almost like being in my twenties again…..almost.

This week, while he’s travelled, winter arrived early. Icy winds have swept through bringing days of rain and bone chilling temperatures. The kind of weather that makes you yearn for food that warms you from the inside out. After Mr F left early this week, tummy rumbling and teeth chattering I knew what had to be on the menu, Chickpea and Vegetable Dhal. A sturdy stew of pulses delicious spices and of course pumpkin is the best kind of warming comfort food. Maybe I’ll make it for him soon and call it Carrot and Chickpea Dhal (insert winking emoji).

Ingredients:

1 Tb extra virgin olive oil or neutral flavoured oil, it really doesn’t matter which

1 onion finely chopped

1 large carrot peeled and diced into cubes

1 c pumpkin peeled and similarly cubed

2 large garlic cloves crushed

1 Tb grated fresh ginger

¼ tsp ground fenugreek

¼ tsp ground cardamon

1 Tb Tandoori Masala spice mix ( remember the one we made for the lamb curry?)

½ tsp ground turmeric

½ c red lentils

1 c chickpeas drained

3 cups vegetable stock

1 tsp salt flakes

2 tsp tamarind puree

Method:

In a medium sized saucepan over a medium heat briefly warm the oil. Add the onion, carrot and pumpkin, reduce heat to low and cook gently for 5 minutes stirring frequently. Add garlic, ginger and spices and cook, still on low, a further 3-5 minutes until fragrant. Keep everything mobile at this stage to prevent catching. Tumble in the lentils and stir vigorously ensuring everything is well combined and the lentils coated in all the spices. You may need to drizzle a little extra oil in at this stage if the mixture is becoming too dry.

Increase to medium and pour in stock. Stir well and bring to the boil, reduce heat to medium low and simmer 20 minutes. Taste the lentils to make sure they’re nearly done. Stir through the drained chick peas, add the salt and tamarind past and simmer a further 10 minutes. If the mixture is reducing too quickly you can add a little water extra for this last part, do so ¼ c at a time, you shouldn’t need too much extra if at all.

Serve with a dollop of Greek yoghurt, your favourite chutney such as mango and a srinkle of any little extras like dried chilli flakes, herbs or nigella seed.

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.

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.

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.

Bircher Muesli

“Order up!” Bellowed the brusque Scottish head chef on my first day of my first hospitality job. Twenty one, hands shaking, cheeks flaming under the guidance of my supervisor I reached across the pass shelf and took the large glass bowl of a creamy white gloopy concoction. It was 6.15 am and though bleary at such an early hour I still didn’t recognise what I carried out to the buffet in preparation for, soon to arrive, guests. “What is it?” I enquire. “It’s Bircher Muesli,” he barked across the kitchen, “now hurry along.” Now if you’ve ever worked in a hotel restaurant or kitchen you’ll know this exchange was not one meant with any malice on his part rather an indication of the rising adrenaline of impending service. I often reflect on this as I watch reality tv set in restaurants or cooking environments wondering if this is a tactic secretly employed by chefs the world over to build tension like a screenwriter would in a blockbuster suspense thriller or a football coach at half time wanting to rev up the team and inspire performance. At the time I was a little rattled and perhaps even somewhat shocked. My supervisor, a seasoned hospo professional from London, though well used to such shenanigans reassured and encouraged me and I in turn grew a little and became a little bit more adult as you do in your early 20’s contrary to how you perceive yourself at the time. As that morning progressed I asked what indeed Bircher Muesli was. She explained what was in it and where it had originated from and offered me a taste. Until then I’d always eaten toast or muesli with the occasional bacon and eggs, very vanilla 1980’s Australia. Suddenly a whole new world of breakfasts opened up to me as the offerings on that buffet grew that morning and indeed my curiosity piqued so too did the variety of things I enjoyed for breakfast grow from working there.

Reflecting on this I’m reminded how the maturity of our taste buds can be like markers for the passage of time and indeed our own maturity. Our willingness to try something new that we may have previously thought we disliked or in fact had never heard of transcends from the table and kitchen to our greater lives if we’re lucky and we look beyond toast and coffee both literally and metaphorically.

Historically bircher muesli was created by a swiss doctor in the early 20th century. Traditionally it was made with oats nuts and fruit soaked overnight in apple juice and boosted with fresh grated apple in the morning. Originally intended to be a nutrition packed breakfast for ailing patients in hospital it remains a dish you can load up with all the essentials to get your day started well. You can make ahead in jars ready for a quick breakfast in the morning and indeed make a few at once given they keep well in the fridge for a few days. The recipe below is my concoction I make and keep in the pantry having it ready for mixing at night ready to go rather than lots of measuring and mixing each time. To make things a little easier I use dried apple which plumps up nicely overnight and marries well with the spices. Alternatively, my mixture can also be eaten well as a traditional natural muesli unsoaked with Greek yoghurt or with your favourite milk or milk alternative poured over with some fresh fruit.

Ingredients:

3 C rolled oats

¼ C LSA (linseed, sunflower and almond ground up and mixed. I use this one for bonus points. You could replicate it by whizzing 2 TBs of chia in a grinder, blender of stick blender to chop it up and make it palatable if unsoaked)

¼ C slivered almonds or your favourite nuts chopped up

¼ C oat bran

¼ pumpkin seeds

½ C dried apple chopped into small pieces

1/3 C shredded coconut

¼ currants

1 tsp cinnamon

¼ tsp of fresh nutmeg grated

¼ tsp ground ginger

Method:

Combine all the above and store in a well sealed contained.

The night before eating add 1/3 C of your homemade natural muesli mixture from above. Place in a jar and just cover with your choice of milk and stir. Add 100gm your favourite yoghurt (I use Greek for myself but my son prefers vanilla Greek) and stir well. Seal jar and and place in fridge overnight. Top with fresh fruit and a drizzle of honey and serve. You can pop some fruit in the jar the night before if you have a busy morning ahead for grab and go convenience.