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.

Apricot and Cardamon Sweet Buns

Earlier this week I was coaxed out early in the morning for my walk by the sudden burst of warm spring weather. My usual listening wasn’t available at the earlier hour so I searched for a podcast to keep me distracted. I was up to date on all my usual favourites so thought I’d search for something new and landed on this one. Listening to Ruth and Julia chat all things food was obviously right up my alley but the premise of the podcast and where that went was of greater interest. Julia invites older women (she’s 61) on Wiser Than Me, to chat about life and what it’s taught them. I was taken with the conversation enjoying listening to Ruth’s recollections on her career in food writing, but one statement jumped out at me, “the only thing that really keeps you young, is constantly doing things you don’t know how to do.” Somewhere in my subconscious I knew this to be so. We’re advised to do puzzles, learn a language or even a musical instrument to stay young, but hearing an older woman (she’s 75) who I admire, state it as her greatest piece of life advice brought it to the surface.

Also this week this substack dropped. I love reading Kate’s words, always beautiful describing her world and observations in a captivating and artful way. She described her experience of being stopped in her tracks, quite literally while driving from home through country Victoria, by the captivating site of a landscape jewelled by shades of gold and emerald. This moment in time that drew her to the roadside to inhale the ‘wonder’ of its beauty was the theme for her ponderings this week. Wonder and it’s importance in life, in moments and in the everyday. It felt both fitting and in keeping with the thoughts of Ruth. Wonder and knowledge and a fulfilling life.

A month or so ago I enrolled in and began an online course to improve my baking skills called The Science of Baking. I have a reasonable knowledge base for baking but lots of gaps and no real understanding of the chemistry of the ingredients I use and how everything interacts. Working my way through this course has been both enlightening and exciting. I know, very geeky of me but we all have our thing right? Anyway what’s been most exciting is the learning, joining the dots, filling the gaps and gasping at all the ‘lightbulb’ moments. Whilst educational it’s been enlightening and invigorating.

With a lifelong innate sense of curiosity flavour ideas often come to mind. Some work, some don’t. Sometimes my curiosity is driven by an unusual recipe with an ingredient combination I may not have previously tried or one I can’t even imagine tasting. Like the ‘Secret Ingredient Spaghetti” recipe, spoiler alert, dark chocolate in Spaghetti Bolognese doesn’t work. Other times classic combinations reimagined into something new is a delight and revelation all its own.

My newly acquired skills have inspired many flavour ponderings recently. Often popping in my head in the middle of the night, hi there hot flushes and insomnia, remembering these can be a challenge, “sit down brain fog.” Sometimes though I do manage to retain the idea and see it through to fruition.

Golden tangy apricots came to mind when my face was warmed by all this premature balmy weather. Juice dripping from glowing orbs one of summer’s great joys. But alas not yet. Still weeks to go until they, with their orchard fruit family, appear in stores, but the dried variety are ever present and available. Richer in flavour I remembered enjoying them in a sweet, yeasted bun as a child, encased in fluffy sweet dough and drizzled with white chocolate, they were a favourite bakery treat. As is my wont however, and armed with my burgeoning knowledge of yeast and wheat I pondered a reimaging of sorts of my much-loved childhood favourite. Imagining a more mature flavour pairing than the one of my youth I mixed and measured, waited and shaped and waited again. Like that child with anticipation, I perched near my oven, its light on, peering through the glass watching the ‘show’ of yeast, sugar and all their comrades at play growing into plump, fluffy yeasted buns of my own.

And there it was…wonder!

The union of learning and wonder colliding to create delight and awe. The invigorating realisation that at any step in our day and journey there’s always something round every corner to learn and take our breath away.

Seeing an idea evolve to a successful completion is a wonder all its own and one urge you to try. Don’t be shy of trying to cook with yeast. It’s an ingredient that can intimidate even the most skilled and experienced cook but one that is the root of some the most delicious foods in life and that has endured throughout centuries.

Ingredients:

Buns:

120 gm Dried apricots, roughly chopped

500 gm bread flour

3 tsps dried yeast

½ tsp all spice

2 tsp ground cardamon

80 gm golden caster sugar (white is fine if that’s all you have)

100 gm of very soft butter

200ml of room temp milk (you can microwave this for 30 seconds if you’re in a rush or baking spontaneously)

2 eggs, room temp again please

50 gm candied citrus peel

Finely grated zest of one orange

1 heaped tsp salt flakes

Icing:

2/3 c icing sugar

2 Tb sour cream

2 tsp orange juice from the zested orange.

Method:

In a small bowl cover apricots in boiling water, set aside to soak while you prepare your other ingredients.

In the bowl of a stand mixer combine all other ingredients. Drain, apricots and press you’re your hand to squeeze out remaining liquid and add to the bowl with other ingredients.

Set stand mixer to med low until all dry ingredients are amalgamated, 1-2 minutes, then increase speed to med and knead for 8 minutes. It’s quite a sticky dough, don’t be tempted to add flour, just let it do its thing. I like to stop a couple times during this part and scrape the sides down to help things along.

While the dough is mixing, grease a large glass bowl with butter (see notes), set aside.

When kneading is complete, turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface. Again, don’t be tempted to add more flour, just a light sprinkling if it needs help to not stick to the bench and your hands. Give the dough a light knead by hand just to make sure the fruit is evenly distributed. Place smooth side up in the greased bowl loosely covered with cling wrap and set aside in a warm draft free spot to prove until double in size.. see notes.

If proving in the oven, remove. Preheat oven to 180c and line a baking tray with baking paper.

When doubled in size (about two hours) turn out onto a lightly floured surface again. The greasing in the bowl should help this along. Gently divide the dough into 12 equal sized pieces shaping into ball shapes. Line up on the tray and leave in a warm spot again with a tea towel over the top. This will let them puff up slightly and relax after being handled. Rest them for 30 minutes.

Brush with an egg wash and bake for 30 minutes.

Allow to cool completely and ice with combined icing ingredients. You may like to sprinkle with roasted almond flakes or toasted coconut flakes.

Or you could rip one open hot and slather in butter and enjoy with the oozy butter running between your fingers, your choice.

Notes:

If it’s cooler where you are or you lack a warm spot for your dough try this tip. Turn the light on in your oven when it first occurs to you to cook buns. The ambient warmth from the light will be just right for a consistent temperature to help your yeast along and of course an oven is guaranteed draft free.

While your dough is in the mixer fill the glass bowl with hot tap water to warm it up. The dough will be a nice temp from mixing to kick off the proving process, warming the bowl first ensures the dough isn’t ‘shocked’ by being transferred to a cold bowl.

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.

Chicken Cottage Pie

***Warning no chicken soup was made or consumed in the creation of this story or recipe***

I listened to this episode of Lindsay Cameron Wilson’s podcast, The Food Podcast on my walk recently. It’s one of my favourites so you’ll have heard me refer to it before. In the episode Lindsay takes us behind the creation of her podcast and storytelling. One of her centrepoints was the history in her family and that of others of chicken soup. While the podcast was a brilliant listen for those interested in podcasting, writing and sharing stories the chicken soup thing is the one that swirled in my mind as I walked that day, a brain worm if you will. For Lindsay’s family and Fanny Singer, her guest, chicken soup presented mixed feelings and memories of everything always smelling of broth and the constant of its aroma in her recollections. It got me to thinking about my own memories of chicken soup.

I’d never tasted chicken soup until perhaps my early teens. I’ve mentioned before my mother’s disdain for cooking, thus her small repertoire. Perhaps she brought to adult hood the recipes she remembered from her own childhood, perhaps my grandmothers didn’t’ make chicken soup for her. As a girl, at my friend’s house one weekend, offered lunch, I looked in the pot curiously at the chicken and vegetable soup offered. The pool of golden broth jewelled with finely grated colourful vegetables, noodles and tender poached chicken looked and smelled enticing eliciting a dutiful rumble from my stomach. Later that day I promptly reported back to Mum asking if she could make some, instead of our usual scotch broth or pea and ham. I’m not sure if she sought advice from my friend’s mum Joan or she winged it but it was just as lovely and joined it’s soup cousins on high winter rotation. It also began a love affair with chicken soup and indeed all soup for me.

When you fall down the rabbit hole of chicken soup it’s like a culture all it’s own. It’s a dish that in each cuisine in which it dwells tells a story of that cuisine’s characteristics and culture. The Thai’s combine theirs with noodles and spices, the Greeks their distinctive lemon threaded Avgolemono, the Italians Brodo, the Chinese the inspired union of chicken with Corn and of course the iconic mother of all chicken soups Jewish Penicillin, the answer to all that ails. One that’s perhaps not tied to a particular country of origin but rather of the culture of the jewish faith for whom all tradition revolves around food.

One commonality weaves it’s way through all chicken soup culture is the comfort it brings. That gentle golden flavour of a broth slowly simmered with the flavours of whichever vegetables, seasonings and herbs chosen to build the layers is unique in cooking in it’s universal ability to provide a sense of home, comfort and nourishment.

What, I hear you ask, does any of this have to do with Cottage Pie? Well my friends as much as I love soup I also live in a house full of men, though two are absent at the moment, and soup sometimes isn’t enough. One, in particular, calls soup flavoured hot water *insert eye roll* and the other two while soup lovers are quite partial to another traditional comfort food, cottage pie and there my friends is the intersection of chicken soup and cottage pie. All the flavours of salty chicken broth finely diced veg and chicken topped with a blanket of mash baked in the oven until the sauce ozoes and bubbles at the edges is the perfect marriage of the comfort and flavours of chicken soup with the heartiness of pie.

Ingredients:

1 kg potatoes cooked and made into mash. Just like you normally would for dinner with

loads of butter and cream.

500 gm Chicken Mince

2 Tb Extra Virgin Olive Oil

1 leek, white part only chopped

1 carrot diced

½ stick of celery finely diced

1 corn cob, kernels sliced from cob

1 garlic clove crushed

2 Tb chopped flat leaf parsley

3 sprigs fresh thyme leaves stripped from stalks

40 gm butter

3 Tb plain flour

625 ml of chicken stock. Fresh, made from stock cubes, premade, however you like it

½ c frozen peas

1 tsp salt flakes and fresh cracked black pepper

2 Tb almond flakes

15 gm butter extra melted.

Method:

Make mash and set aside.

In a large heavy based pan, cast iron if you have it, warm 1 Tb of the olive oil over a med-high heat. Cook the mince both sides then breaking up until almost cooked through. Remove from pan to a bowl and keep warm.

Reduce heat to low, adding the second tablespoon of oil. Add the Leek, carrot and celery to pan and cook gently on low for 5 mins, until leek and celery translucent. Stir regularly to prevent any browning. Pop the corn kernels in and stir through leaving to cook for another five minutes. Add garlic and herbs and cook briefly until fragrant. Stir butter through veg until melted and completely combine. Increase heat to medium and sprinkle over flour. Stir thoroughly again and cook flour off like you would for a white sauce, 3’ish minutes. Reduce heat to low again and slowly drizzle in stock stirring constantly to combine well and prevent any lumps. Allow to simmer for 15 minutes so the sauce reduces a little and thickens. Stir through the frozen peas and cook for a further 3 minutes. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Preheat oven to 180c. In a suitably sized ovenproof dish spread the chicken and veg mixture evenly. Cover the top in the spoonfuls of mashed potato, spinkle over almonds and drizzle the whole top with the extra melted butter.

Bake for 35-40 minutes until the potato peaks and almonds are crispy and sauce is bubbly and oozy on the edges.

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.

Cornish Pastie

There’s a belief that we all experience our childhoods differently. All members of the one family reflect differently on all the events, traditions and milestones in their own way and colour in the images in their minds and hearts with their own ‘paint palette.’ Maybe this is driven by the age each individual member is at each moment in a family’s history or maybe their own character steers these memories. Our own journey through the years we traverse fills in gaps lost to time and the emotions we hold around these moments adding light and shade. Many of these recollections will hold food at their centre, it’s place at the heart of such chapters the jewel in the memory itself.

Marjorie Constance was our unassuming matriarch. A quiet country heart ensconced in the city after decades of battling milking eczema on dairy farms in the days of hand milking. Their pursuit of farming coinciding with running the town post office and whatever else her and Alfred could turn their hands to in order to make a living in their humble way. Papa a Cornish born gentleman and WWI Veteran and her an equally unpretentious country girl from rural Victoria. Salt of the earth types, as the saying goes, for whom family and home were everything and enough. They built their tribe, a son and nephew raised as brothers, as country families in Australia often did back then. Then their offspring gathering as cousins and sharing all the shenanigans and recollections of extended families. In her quiet gentle manner Nana cleverly gathered us all together twice a year taking full advantage of our Papa’s June birthday at the halfway point of the year and our love for him and of course an obligatory xmas celebration, unwaveringly, the second Sunday of December. She never pushed or imposed, it was just inked into the family calendar, bringing everyone together.

As a child I relished these gatherings, literally skipping through their beautiful garden carefully manicured borders, lining my path shaded by towering pine trees and abundant fruit trees. The kitchen table would be heaving with multiple desserts a collection carefully curated ensuring everyone’s favourites were catered to. The meal, never anything modern or fancy, rather it was always the best roast you’ve ever eaten and all those delicious sweets.

My cousins, the loganberry pie lovers, most probably see that as their highlight, always sat at the street end of the dressed-up trestle tables. I remember the apple pie and slices and the bench I sat on at the kitchen end of the table. We most likely recall the feelings and enjoyment of those meals differently too. What doesn’t differ is our love of a dish that never appeared at these evenings but is unerringly one of our favourite dishes from our Nana’s kitchen, Cornish Pastie.

Sharon, my cousin, says each vegetable was layered I don’t recall that. How the pastry was made has mystified us too. I suspect lard Sharon is certain it was butter. She’s also several years older than me so her role, working at Nana’s side, differs from the tasks a much younger me was set and again those experiences leaving a different story on the narratives of our lives. And that’s the thing, our memories are our stories coloured with our ‘paint box.’ Recipes will take their own shape and colours in your own hands. What matters the most is the feeling that first mouthful evokes. If, to you, it tastes like your memories and you recreate that feeling, you’ve recreated that recipe…enough.

Swede, as it’s known here, is the predominant flavour in pastie, it’s sweet earthiness the first flavour layer you taste. Other root vegetables follow with a savoury bite of beef and tingly white pepper foils the salty umami. I haven’t unlocked the pastry mystery but have let go of the pursuit of it’s secrets and wrapped the story in my rough puff pastry and that first flaky bite is immensely satisfying. You can use store bought if pastry making isn’t your jam but as always try and get the best you can obtain and afford, it really does make a difference. I’ve explained my pastry method below if you want to give it a go. Traditionally Pasties are made like individual parcels crimped on top almost football shaped. Nana always made hers as a slab, perhaps to make it stretch further and perhaps making a little less work for herself. We still prefer it that way.

Ingredients:

1 swede peeled and finely diced

1 potato peeled and finely diced

1 carrot peeled and finely diced

1 parsnip peeled and finely diced

1 eschalot or small brown onion peeled and finely diced

½ tsp heaped salt flakes

¼ tsp ground white pepper

2 tsp finely chopped parsley

250 gm minced/ground beef

2 sheets puff pastry measuring 30cm X 40cm

1 egg beaten and mixed with a drop of milk (as Nana would have said) for an egg wash.

Method:

Preheat oven to 180c.

Combine all the vegetables in a bowl with seasonings stir to combine and leave to sit for a few minutes while you prepare everything else.

On a greased and lined baking sheet/tray lay one of your sheets of pastry. Leaving a 2cm border around the edge, pile your vegetable mix in the middle smoothing out the surface to be flat. Now here’s the part that was my job when I was little, scatter all across the top little blobs of the minced beef. This will almost cover the top in a thin layer. Paint the edge of your pastry around the filling with the egg wash. Lay the second sheet of pastry on top and roll the edges over folding and crimping all the way round. Brush the egg wash over the top. Poke small holes with either a fork or point of a sharp knife in several spots across the top to allow it to vent. Pop in the oven for 60 minutes. For ten minutes more, bump the temperature up to 200c to burnish the top and cook off any remaining moisture from inside. I like to turn the tray half way round after 30 minutes. Every oven I’ve ever owned is hot at the back and doing this allows it to cook evenly.

Rough Puff Pastry:

400 gm cold butter cubed

400 gm plain flour

1tsp fine salt

150-180 ml cold water

Method:

Combine flour and salt in a bowl and tip onto the bench in a mound. Sprinkle over the butter cubes, it will look like a lot don’t panic it will all come together. Using the sharp edge of a pastry scraper chop through the mound as if youre cutting something up, changing the angles of the scraper. If you don’t have one you can use a large knife to do this. Once it looks well chopped up and mixed through make a well in the centre and tip half the water in. Using your hands bring the mess together. You’ll need to add more water but it’s easier to add it little by little until you have a rough shaggy dough than add more flour to correct it. Resist the urge to knead it just massage it to the mound until it will hold into a big lump. Shape into a disc, cover and refrigerate for 30 minutes. Remove from fridge and on a lightly floured surface roll out to a large rectangle. Nudge the edges into shape to achieve this, it’s a soft dough with such a high butter content so will be pliable. Fold each end into the middle then fold at the middle again like a book dust cover. Fold that bundle in half on itself, cover and refrigerate 30 minutes. Repeat this process 3 more times then rest again for 30minutes to an hour. It’s a good one for a slow day each roll and fold only takes a few minutes.

When ready the dough will be very smooth and ready for rolling as required. Cut in half and roll to required size. This recipe is the perfect amount for the sheet of pastie.

Brussels Sprout Gratin

With all the hutzpah and imagined sophistication of the young woman I was I stood in the golden waning light of a light spring evening, breeze gently billowing through my pink linen dress. The air scented by the heady fragrance of the rose garden in which we gathered, the late spring evening warmth carrying the perfume through the air. With anticipation I accepted a glass of straw-coloured sparkling wine, the new vintage which we’d gather to celebrate having just been sabred to much applause and celebration. Sipping happily laughing and chatting with friends the mood light, the tummies had begun to rumble. Waiters had begun to circulate offering light appetisers carefully curated to begin the evening and signal the excited mood. Oysters were presented, my friends all happily accepting them while I politely, and I thought discreetly, declined. My youth showing, one of my friends enquired as to my tastes and refusal of a plump pearlescent mollusk. Trying to maintain my façade of maturity and sophistication I tried to wave off the comment but his tenacity prevailed. “Try one,” he insisted…”what’s the worst that can happen….you confirm you don’t like them and move on.” He’s a hard man to argue with even to this day and he had a strong point. By this time he’d called our server back and taken a shell for me thrusting it forward and instructing me on how to eat the delicacy au naturele. I mean what a baptism of fire! No bacon of the Kilpatrick variety or oozy gooey mornay, we were starting hard core. He informed these treasures were flown in especially every year for this special event, remembering this was in the day when flying food around for such an indulgence was a rarity. Anyway, loath though I was to admit it, because frankly 25 year olds hate being wrong, but he was right. And to this day I love oysters, in all their guises, and artichokes, another of his culinary lessons.

In a fit of swings and roundabouts fast forward 22 years and we again had gathered surrounded by all our adult children, fast flowing conversation and a variety of food filling the dining room. Again a young 20 something, my friend’s son, politely turned his nose up at one of the many vegetable sides on offer. And as we do in middle age I recounted my oyster story and challenged him to try something different. Begrudgingly he took a small scoop, the conversation resumed and, so he thought, he took a bite discreetly. Quietly he reached forward and served himself a second helping and continued eating under the gaze of his mother and I sharing a gentle grin. A few years on and James still like sprouts.

It’s always worth trying those foods you think you don’t like, if you don’t like it you don’t have it again and if you do you explore that new food in all it’s forms. Nothing culinarily ventured nothing deliciously gained.

If a young man can enjoy brussels sprouts almost anyone can. I mean who doesn’t like something smothered in creamy sauce topped with a little crunch from sourdough crumbs. And of course the salty pop of prosciutto or bacon and gentle bite of pine nuts rounds the dish out perfectly. I promise! Just have a go.

Ingredients:

300 brussels sprouts trimmed at the base and halved

3 Tbs extra virgin olive oil

1 garlic clove bruised

2 french sallots

50 gm finely sliced prosciutto

¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg

1 Tb pine nuts

40 gm butter

1 ½ Tb plain flour

1 ½ C warm milk

60 gm finely grated gruyere cheese

½ C course breadcrumbs made from stale bread preferably sourdough tossed in 1 Tb Extra virgin olive oil.

Method:

Preheat oven to 180c.

Grease a shallow gratin dish or pie plate with better set aside.

Blanch the prepared brussels sprouts. If you’ve not blanched veg before it’s super easy. Bring a pot of salted water to the boil. Drop the sprouts and as soon as it returns to the boil remove and plunge into a bowl of cold water and ice cubes immediately. This stops the cooking process while giving them a brief cook but you need to remove them straight away they’re not in there to cook.

Warm olive oil in a pan, big enough to hold all the sprouts in a single layer, over medium-high heat with the garlic clove. Place all the sprouts cut side down in the pan cooking for 2-3 minutes until they start to char slightly. Remove and place in the prepared dish/pie plate face side up.

In the same pan on medium-lo heat, gently cook the prosciutto until starting to caramelise. Turn the heat to low and add the shallots cooking until translucent but not browning. Remove and sprinkle this mixture over the sprouts.

Again using this pan return it to the heat and turn down to low. Add the pine nuts and nutmeg stirring constantly for 1-2 minutes to release the aromas and again sprinkle over sprouts.

In the same pan you’ve been using, melt the butter. Add the flour and whisk with a balloon whisk. Slowly pour in milk whisking constantly and continue doing so until smooth. Keep stirring until beginning to thicken, sprinkle in cheese and cook a further minute or two until completely combined and thickened. Pour over the sprout mixture. Sprinkle prepared breadcrumbs over the top and bake for 20 mins.

Notes:

James’ mum and I love this dish with fennel. You can either add fennel to this at a ½ & ½ ratio or make it all with fennel. If using all fennel, trim and quarter and either sear in a griddle pan for pretty lines and another layer of flavour or gently caramelise in the pan skipping the blanching step.

If you prefer a firmer bite to your sprouts you can skip the blanching step but do caramelise them in the pan and do so a little slower to begin the cooking process.

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.

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.