Herbed Beef and Macaroni
Nostalgia has been front of mind lately, like a chain, all it’s elements individual links forming its reach. I’m not sure what’s motivated it but I know it started with a conversation with Mel and our joint quest for an old high school home economics text book, both of us coincidentally in pursuit of a seemingly simple but comforting recipe for apple dumplings. It was a strange happenstance that we should both be motivated by the same recipe and that it should come to light quite deep into the conversation. It’s the comfort that such nostalgic recipes bring that motivates such a hunt and a big reflection and metaphor for who I am really.
At the nursery this week looking for new season herbs I came home with three bright pink fuchsia plants to fill a spot in my garden needing a lift. They were my Nana’s favourite plant and featured frequently in corners of her garden cascading from hanging baskets like ballerinas dancing in the breeze every spring. They fascinated me as a child their little buds popping with a gentle squeeze revealing the stamen and pistil ready to erupt. As a little ballerina myself I always ‘saw’ fairies and ballerinas fluttering their wings or pointing their toes from the jewel-coloured blooms. I can’t wait for the little buds to burst in my little fuchsia patch and hope somewhere somehow they make my Nana smile.
Pottering in another part of my garden bright green buds almost reminiscent of fresh figs with ruby red centres had just started opening on one of the many orchid plants from my father’s collection. A hobby he took up in retirement, the accumulation, nurturing and sharing of his collection became a passion. I always smile fondly when they flush making sure to gather the long lasting stems and bring them inside to enjoy their elegant adornment almost like having my dad around again, popping in to visit.
They’re simple pursuits that consume me and occupy my mind and time. Nothing too fancy and definitely not particularly sexy. Indeed some may find them mundane and hokey, perhaps even frown on them. I’ve often looked on my passions myself that way even answering questions in polite conversation about them in hushed tones, brushing over them, trying to seem more intellectual and interesting. It was whilst listening to this episode of my favourite podcast this week that this came to mind and indeed I almost felt like Lindsay and her guest were giving me permission to remain elbow deep in the flour and soil and creativity. Noting their love of their individual interests motivated by nothing else but their love of them rather than any societal presumptions of them that can sometimes superficially be attached to such simple pastimes gave me pause. These pursuits bring comfort be they born from nostalgia like mine or otherwise. No matter how simple nor highbrow they may seem to others I realised that they really are like a soft crocheted blanket from nana ( did I mention my love of a blankie? ) tucked around your lap on a cold evening, they allow you to breathe out feel ‘warm’ in all the ways and offer you escape and indeed an intellectual flex in a way that’s meaningful to you…and that really is the thing that matters most.
Much like my simple pursuits beef mince is a simple ingredient often forming the basis for simple meals. There’s usually always a tray of it in my freezer, so much so I could almost write a book of mince recipes. It’s an ingredient often associated with nostalgic meals like this one and more often than not comfort food. Maybe it’s that air of nostalgia that’s prevailed recently that reminded me of this dish from my childhood. Herbed Beef and Macaroni was one of my mum’s specialties from her Women’s Weekly Recipe Card Collection box. Remember those? They were a prized collection taking pride of place in thousands of Australian kitchens in the 70’s and 80’s. As was the case in that cooking era it featured a few convenient hacks using tinned soup and packets. Working from memory and a preference for working from scratch, I was keen to reconstruct this family fave. I was thrilled to plunge my fork into a warming bowl of this hearty dish and even more so to taste a dinner that tasted just like it did at mum’s hands.
Ingrendients:
1 Tb olive oil, you know the drill, extra virgin
1 brown onion finely diced
1 carrot peeled and very finely diced or grated
1 garlic clove crushed
150 gm bacon chopped in chunks
500gm beef mince (not the low fat stuff, it’s dry and flavourless)
400g jar of tomato passata/puree + a jar of water
1 Tbs dried mixed herbs – the old school variety
1 tsp dried oregano
1 beef stock cube
1 ½ cups of small shaped dried pasta like macaroni or elbows
1 c frozen peas ( I use baby peas, they’re much sweeter)
Method:
In a large frypan, that has a well-fitting lid, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the bacon and fry off until the edges start to caramelise, about five minutes.
Reduce heat to low and add onion and carrot and cook gently until softened but not browned, another five minutes.
Increase heat to medium high and add the garlic cook briefly until the garlic aroma wafts up. Push all this to the edge of the pan and add the pat of mince allowing it to brown whole for a few minutes each side like you would a whole piece of meat. After you’ve browned both sides break it up and continue browning the meat. You don’t need to cook it through completely but rather brown it mostly.
Sprinkle over the herbs and stir briefly allowing them to warm and release their fragrance. Pour in the passata and using that jar add a jar full of water. Crumble the stock cube over the mixture and stir to combine.
Tumble the pasta shapes into the mixture and stir to combine well. Turn heat back down to low, pop the lid on and cook for ten minutes stirring half way through to ensure it doesn’t catch on the bottom.
Remove the lid, stir again and taste check the pasta for doneness and check for seasoning. Add salt and black pepper to taste now. Try not to do this earlier as both the bacon and stock cube add a lot of flavour and needs time to cook down a little before you taste and season. Allow to simmer for a few more minutes with the lid off to let some of the liquid reduce. Finally add the peas and simmer a further five minutes or until the pasta is tender but not too soft.
I like to serve it with a sprinkle of gremolata to freshen up the flavour. Chop a small handful of flat leaf parsley, grated rind of a lemon and a garlic clove together until fine and sprinkle to taste.