Irish Blood, English Heart

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Overheard In Our Kitchen:

Me: You know that new mouthwash of ours…?
Tim: Yeah…
Me: And how it says “Up to 12 hours protection against bacteria…?”
Tim: Yeah…
Me: Do you suppose that means I could eat raw chicken and not get salmonella poisoning?
Tim: Let’s find out!
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It has been a while since my last post, mostly due to Tim’s and my final English exam yesterday – calloo callay, we are officially on holiday for two weeks! I can read whatever I want! (If you’re wondering; Leap of Faith by Shona Dunlop MacTavish, Wicked:The Life and Times of The Wicked Witch, by Gregory Maguire, and a shameless pile of Baby Sitter Club books.) I will miss that English paper though, the texts were amazing and the lecturer was an awe-inspiring, delightfully terrifying woman of the Old School.

We decided to do lunch after the exam at the Black Harp on Featherston Street. It is a reasonably priced place – otherwise we wouldn’t have been there – with a huge range of menu items to choose from, and very cosy within. And they serve Guinness which meant that Tim was a very happy lad indeed.

He ordered the Dublin Coddle, which I think sounds like it could be a euphemism for all manner of interesting things. It turned out to be an enormous soupy stew of potatoes and sausages, with brown and white breads.


Above: The sausages were fabulous; smoky and hammy and tender with not the slightest hint of gristle. And you’ve got to love a place that serves bread with potatoes.

I got the potato and cheddar boxty cakes from the “Light” menu, it wasn’t a terribly big meal (which makes sense) but the description didn’t give much indication of size so I recommend you ask when you order how big something’s going to be. No matter, they were delicious and we also had a side order of fries to fill any gaps.


Above: The potato cakes were simultaneously comfortingly stodgy and yet ethereally light. Don’t ask me how. They came sitting in a pool of treacly balsamic vinegar and bright green rocket dressing, dotted with marvelously sweet and juicy roasted cherry tomatoes. The fries were hot, crisp and chunky, and the perfect accompaniment to more potato.

After this we were quiiite full but threw caution to the wind and bought a pudding to share. Now if there’s one thing I hate it’s going to a nice place for a meal and the dessert menu has the same tired old Lemon Tart and Chocolate Fudge Cake and Creme Brulee. Nor do I wish for wasabi sorbet with a bacon chiffonade. Just please, a little thought. Luckily, the small but well considered dessert menu was neither of these things. The Irish Coffee affogato beckoned us, and probably would have been a sensible option, but we plumped (as it were) for the Barm Brack with Butterscotch Braised Pear. Barm Brack roughly equals Bread and Butter Pudding. Emphasis on butter. This is not a bad thing…


Above: This was just magical. Thick, soft bread, swimming in a warm, spiced puddle of buttery custardy caramelly unctuousness. Oh, that I were that bread. We agreed that this would be tough to finish on one’s own. I think I might have been lying though.

Needless to say, we staggered, rather than walked out. It came to $58 for two mains, fries, a dessert and a Guinness, which we decided was very reasonable considering we never go out and the bill was being divided between the two of us. I’d highly recommend this place, particularly on a cold day. The staff are friendly, the food comes quick and hot, and they are generous with their tap water. The only thing that really lets it down is the tacky pokie machine section near the loos, “totally huss” as Pascal West would say, but they are easy enough to ignore.

The Black Harp Restaurant and Bar
131 Featherston Street
(04) 499 8000
http://www.blackharp.com/

We spent the rest of our Saturday wallowing in our crapulence* and being flagrantly non-academic. Tim watched the violence-heavy, plot-light Shoot Em Up (a movie that glories gloriously in gratuitousness, I think it’s the male Sex and the City) while I read cookbooks and pootled on the computer. After such a lunch I didn’t want to make a big dinner, but we were both feeling surprisingly peckish come late evening.

*look it up, use it often.

Who knew this was such an ultimate supper? The cloth-aged cheddar from the Kelburn Deli, some dried pears, a handful of pistachios. I think it was even better than the cheese-quince-scone triple punch combo. The grainy, almost fudgy sweetness of the pears was incredible with the very sharp cheese and the mild, nutty pistachios. I probably could have finished off the entire slab of cheese like this. We picked at this while standing at the kitchen bench. Then Tim made me a perfect soft-boiled egg over which I sprinkled maldon sea salt and pink peppercorns, (he had scrambled eggs on toast) and we ate this while watching Waiting for Guffman. I love Catherine O’Hara.

While I’m being obnoxiously beseeching, I’ll be frank: I put myself up for a Blogger’s Choice Award. Don’t look at me like that – you’re telling me 200 or so pages of food blogs up for votes were all nommed by other people? However, I do feel like my blog has something different to offer the world (a lack of linear direction for one) and it would be fun to see how far up the ladder I can get. Any interest would be beyond appreciated, all snarkiness aside. Truly, I would be unbelievably stoked if I get any votes other than the token “vote for yourself” one. You can go here to vote for me if you’re already registered, or go to http://www.bloggerschoiceawards.com/ to register first and then vote for me by searching HungryandFrozen (one word). Yes, you have to register and it’s a pain, but it only takes 30 seconds and you never need to use it again and besides, we are people of the 21st century, having 45 different passwords doesn’t faze us…

Now, before I forget, I was tagged by Erica of Oh My! Apple Pie! and Jilly from 2 Drumsticks and a Bottle of Wine blogs. The premise is that you list 6 random facts about yourself and then tag six other people to do the same. I’m not big on tags, (and I’m terrible at nominating others to do it, either everyone is already tagged or else they don’t like participating) and I’d like to think that my posts are a general grab-bag of willy-nillyness as it is, but how can I say no to such nice people?

Random Fact 1: I have read the entire Bible, (King James Edition if you please.) I did it when I was 16.
RF2: I’ve been to Poland and loved it, not least because I felt a natural affinity with their dumplingy cuisine, and it is roughly top of my list of places to see again when Tim and I manage to get back overseas.
RF3: When we shifted flats in 2006 it was the first time I’d ever moved house. My parents still live in the house I was born in.
RF4: I am really hopeless at driving. Not just your run-of-the-mill hopeless. Have you ever seen a grown man cry?
RF5: I truly dislike the music of the Dire Straits and Jack Johnson. Does that make me the devil incarnate? Some people get really worked up about that…just for the record, John Peel didn’t like the Dire Straits either.
RF6: I am chronically, incurably untidy. So is Tim. Two wrongs do not a right maketh.

Now, I’m supposed to tag people but won’t for the reasons stated above; instead I choose YOU, O reader, to leave a fact about yourself when you comment. Keep it clean, here’s not the place to out yourself for murdering your ex-husband. Also, it’s a good test to see who’s actually reading this far. Toodle-pip!

Like A Rolling Scone

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Sure, New Zealand has the Fiordlands, and the Franz Josef Glacier, and well, the whole South Island, but really as far as cities go, I truly think Wellington is the best we have to offer. If any bands or singers are reading this, (I’m looking at you, Joan Wasser and Jack White) don’t bother playing in Auckland. Sure it has a million inhabitants, but Wellington has genuine charm and a dense concentration of everything essential for a travelling roadshow – eateries, drunkeries, and self-conscious hipsters. As a pink-cheeked country gal, I still find living in the city rather thrilling. Though, I know I’ve become acclimatised because I have developed a special look of cold, steely hatred reserved solely for those miscreants who dare to walk on the wrong side of the footpath at 5pm. Yes, there is a wrong side.

But as well as charm in bucket-fountain-loads, Wellington also has wind. I felt like the sorry love child of Dorothy Gale and Nanook of the North yesterday as the wind literally manhandled me to work , my 12 coats flapping about and – I kid you not (though I was kidding about the 12 coats) – my iPod headphones flew out of my ears. Yes, it’s windy here.

Where am I going with this? Frankly, nowhere. I just felt like complaining about the weather.

Our flat is close-ish to some local shops, one of which is a small but charming deli, where I bought a crumbly wedge of cloth-aged cheddar on Saturday. The deli boasts an enticing range of cheeses, meats, cakes, and other sundry items – gluten free pasta, quinoa, nifty olive oils, you know the sort of thing I mean. The girl behind the counter not only accepted my business cards graciously, she also suggested quince as a good pairing and gave me a small piece of the cheese to sample before I purchased it. If you ever find yourself meandering aimlessly on Upland Road, thinking “where on earth can I spend my money” may I suggest you stop in here? It’s the only deli on the street, so you can’t miss it.

As it happened I had some of Nigella’s quince glaze still knocking about in the fridge, which would provide a sweet contrast to the sharp, tangy cheese. To provide a third contrasting flavour, I whipped up some oaty scones, based on Alison Holst’s basic recipe, from her Dollars and Sense cookbook that my brother got me for Christmas. I added some extra bits – oats, bran, poppyseeds – and was hoping they wouldn’t end up all lumpen and horrible but they turned out very fluffy and light.

Alison Holst’s Scones…ish.

I got seven good sized scones out of this. I never roll the dough out, just scoop up a scone-sized lump with a spoon. Makes for the least amount of handling and has constantly given me light scones…Could be that I’m too lazy to break out the rolling pin though.

2 cups self-raising flour
2 t sugar (optional)
25-50g butter (guess which I went for?)
1/2 cup milk
1/4 cup water

Heat oven to 200 C. Rub the butter, flour, and sugar (if using, and I used a squirt of golden syrup added with the milk instead) together in a bowl until there are no large lumps of butter. Here I added a handful of bran, a handful of quick-cook oats, and a tablespoon of poppyseeds. Pour in the liquid all at once, and carefully stir till everything is sticky. Careful not to overmix. Put good sized spoonfuls (which I pat into a uniform shape) onto a baking-paper lined tray and bake for about 20 minutes.

Above: The three components worked together fabulously. This particular cheese really is very intense, but there was almost something addictive about the salty astringent cheddar and sweet, sweet quince glaze together. The nutty solidness of the scones provided a calming background to this. Or something. It made for a delightful and elegant supper. I began thinking of other ways I could eat this cheddar- perhaps with maple syrup, a handful of walnuts, and a crisp apple…oatcakes, a smear of honey, and slices of pear…Tim really liked it too, which surprised but pleased me, as his tastes can be a little more conservative than mine. I’ll never forget our terse, lengthy debate over the differences betweeen olive and canola oil….


Above: The scones were also terriff with slowly-melting butter pooling in their oaty crevices. Expense be damned, happiness is a warm scone.

By the way, we – Tim, Katie, Emma, Scott (our fabulous doctor friend) and I watched the first episode of Outrageous Fortune Season 4 on TV3 last night. Friends, it was sublime. Tip o’ the old cap to TV3 for managing to hold on to this gem. Cheryl is as awe-inspiring as ever, and Wolf is back in a big way, which means that Katie and I are constantly having mad palpitations of the heart. Kudos on the producers’ choice of child to play Loretta’s baby – she really is a cutie. The episode started off solidly and then built to sheer gloriousness. The only thing that stings is the lack of Judd, for goodness’ sake come back to Cheryl and don’t get back with Glen or whatever your ex-wife’s name is. That is one plot trajectory that we all roundly agreed would result in boycotting (okay not really, but definitely in fists being shook.) For those of you overseas, I offer a patronising, pitying smile, because you are missing out on TV GOLD. Did you know you can buy it on DVD through Fishpond? Ugh, I’m sorry. (But really, it’s a fact.)

However, you don’t have to live in New Zealand to see this interview with Van/Jethro actor and possibly the best looking famous man in New Zealand, Anthony Starr. (I can’t pretend I’ve never found an All Black attractive – there was the short-lived Doug Howlett frenzy of 2003 – but really, look outside the square, people.) I’ve said it once before but it bears repeating; during scenes with Van and Jethro together, he has chemistry with himself.

Above: As you may have noticed I’m having a bit of a fling with poppy seeds at the moment, I just want to put them in everything for some reason. Luckily Tim and I are way past that “maintain a sense of mystery stage” so I don’t have to worry about the dreaded poppy-seeds-in-the-teeth situation arising, with people delicately pretending to ignore it and then you find out three days later what’s happened (inevitably meeting every possible person you don’t want to see in the process.) It’s the culinary equivalent of hoisting your skirt into your pantyhose (and I’ve so been there too…)

Erm, anyway I had this idea of incorporating poppy seeds and my Boyajian orange oil into a shortbread recipe. Then I thought that adding a spoonful of raspberry jam would be cool. But I also wasn’t sure if it would be a socking great disaster, so in a surprisingly scientific move (from someone pathetically bad at science) I divided the dough into three, leaving a “control” group of plain shortbread so that if my dabbling in experimentation went wrong, I’d at least have a small pile of edible biscuits.

They were all delicious! I couldn’t be bothered coming up with a base recipe of my own, since most shortbread recipes are much of a muchness anyway – hey, I have Scottish heritage, don’t go getting up in arms – so I used Nigella’s basic recipe – 200g butter and flour, half that of icing sugar and cornflour – and did nothing to the control group save a dusting of vanilla sugar. For the orange and poppyseed biscuits I added half a teaspoon orange oil (it’s potent stuff!) and rolled the cylinder of dough in poppyseeds. For the raspberry orange poppyseed biscuits I added orange oil, a tablespoon of poppyseeds, and two tablespoons of Tim’s diabetic-friendly raspberry jam (which is so much better than most commercial jams, because it’s way fruitier.)

Fun and educational!

Above: Shortbread, three ways. There’s probably an off-colour joke in there somewhere, but I’m too lazy, or perhaps not lazy enough, to think it up.

I’m not sure if it’s good news or not but Tim managed to scrape together enough money through various loans to cover the costs of his dental work (appointment this afternoon!) but they will need to be paid off which is kind of worrying especially when we’re trying to save. Seriously, these dentists better be giving him some diamond-plated grillz or something for what they’re charging. Anyway, Tim and I got all righteous and “damn the man!” and wrote letters to both the Minister of Health (David Cunliffe) and the Minister of Tertiary Education (Pete Hodgson). We asked the hard questions – actually they’re not that hard, seriously, how do these people get paid so well to make so many illogical decisions – and I hope we get a reply. A thought-out, not automated reply. But think nice, anethatised thoughts for Tim this afternoon as his teeth get prodded. Whatever we have for dinner tonight, I’m guessing it’s going to have to come in puree form…
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Overheard in our kitchen:

Tim: These carrot sticks are really nice.
Me: Cool.
Tim: What’d you do to them?
Me: Put them in the bowl that the pork fat had been in.
Tim: Ohh…

“Sell Out, With Me Oh Yeah!”

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I never thought I’d have reason to quote the one-hit ska-punk band Reel Big Fish on my blog but life takes you to some funny places. You may have noticed a new feature of my sidebar, if not, may I subtly direct your attention to it? I’ve been aware for a long time that it’s possible to advertise stuff on one’s blog, but I resisted, because of some would-be righteous “it ain’t me” attitude I suppose, (although the idea of being submerged Daltrey-style in a bathtub of baked beans is engaging)…however I figured if I can gain some revenue off this site then I have no reason not to try at least.

I admit, Fishpond is a little expensive but let me state my case; for kiwis, most things are cheaper on Trademe, but this site has access to all sorts of difficult-to-find texts (including Idina Menzel’s gorgeous but not-released-here album I Stand – if you like slightly overproduced MOR, buy it and she might finally come tour New Zealand!*) which you could never find in Whitcoulls let alone on Trademe, and if you are from America or Britain or elsewhere, as I know several of my readers are, why not give Amazon a miss for once and play the Fun Exchange Rate Game? Buy a book for NZ$50 and it will only cost you about three pounds or ten US dollars! Minutes of pleasure to be gained, I tells ye. And to cap it off any moolah I gain is going towards Tim’s and my savings fund. Like I said, there’s no harm in trying…and watch out for subliminal messages throughout the post…

BUY STUFF OFF FISHPOND BY CLICKING THE ICON ON THE RIGHT

Okay, that was veering on the side of super-liminal. I don’t want to coerce people in any way, this is a place of food, and Nigella-worship, and self-indulgent pop culture references, not some kind of mercenary avaricious…um, I’m losing steam here. What I’m saying is, no pressure, nothing ventured nothing gained, and time for ham.


Above: So I made Nigella’s Ham in Coca Cola the other night, and it was behaving worse than the most petulant hamster on ANTM, that is, it was very difficult to get a decent shot. I had to resort to using the flash button to get any kind of photo at all. Much to Tim’s horror, I professed my love of the the cola/pork simmering liquid, and only dug myself further into a hole of shame when I tried to explain how I wasn’t eating the pork fat, just the pork attached to the fat…Oh dear. Before I put you off forever, this is a truly delicious recipe, the Coca Cola imbuing the ham with a beguiling, addictive spicy sweetness. In England, you would buy gammon, in New Zealand, pickled pork, and it is merely simmered in a potful of sinisterly bubbling fizz (with a bobbing onion for added flavour) before being briefly flashed in the oven with a treacly, mustardy glaze. Trashy as it sounds, this is one of the very nicest things you could possibly have the good fortune to eat…


Above: A slightly more sedate, less carnal-tastic photo. We managed to make this last THREE meals, even though we could have happily snarfed the entire 1.5kilos by the fistful on day one. I made a surprisingly lovely parsnip orzotto the next day, into which I stirred some diced leftover ham, and then we finished the ham, sliced as above, with a salad the day after that.


Above: This is one of those meals that comes about after scanning your cupboards and fridge and trying to make things fit together coherently…I roasted diced pumpkin, a whole red chilli, a bulb (yes, a whole bulb, what can I say, I like it) of garlic and once everything was done I left the pumpkin to cool a little while I vented any frustrations I might have had on the garlic and chilli in my pestle and mortar, adding cinnamon, sea salt, and olive oil. I don’t know what made me go for cinnamon, I was thinking nutmegnutmegnutmeg as you often do when dealing with pumpkin but made the last minute switch and it was really good – the warmth of the cinnamon reflected the muted heat of the roasted chilli rather pleasingly. So, where was I…I poured the dressing over the pumpkin and added a drained can of borlotti beans, mixing it gently, and finally sprinkled over gorgeously nutty poppy seeds. The only real bad thing about this was…I got the wrong beans. Cannelini beans are great for diabetics, lots of slow-release carbs and little sugar. Borlotti beans have about as much carbs as a steak. So Tim had to have some toast after this. This salad could, if you ate enough of it, make a decent lunch in its entirety as well as being an out-of-the-ordinary side dish which is how we had it. And as you can imagine, it’s even better the next day when the dressing has really steeped into everything.


Above: And of course, there have been noodles. I have eaten so much noodle-based stuff lately, mostly soba or udon floating snakily in broth, but there was also this marvelous stirfry, inspired by a post on the stunning stunning stunning Use Real Butter blog. Sometimes I don’t even photograph the noodle-food (foodle?) we eat in case you become weary of overexposure towards it…actually, and I digress violently and suddenly, I have noticed on my travels that I am one of the only bloggers who talks about more than one meal per post. I don’t see many other bloggers attempting to fashion their titles out of song lyrics or obscure puns either. I don’t know how you do it, to be honest. I salute you for your ability to be concise, regular with your posting, and lucid with your titles. Hopefully my method isn’t too confusing.


Above: Back to the noodles. For all that the stir fry conjures up images of a swift, healthy, crisp dinner, I find that it’s very easy to get wrong, greasy, over and undercooked at the same time, and boring. Somehow though, in my hamfisted way, I cobbled together a really nearly perfect one and true to form, didn’t write down what I did. There were lots of capsicums, and I simmered the carrots and parsnips in with the noodles. The oyster sauce that I added was the thing that made it special I think, along with the miso in the ginger-carrot emulsion (adapted from the recipe on Use Real Butter) that I stirred through. Not just plain salty, but complex and savoury and richly flavoursome. The ginger-carrot thing was supposed to be a salad dressing but something about the combination of ingredients made me think they’d work in a stir fry, and oh, how they did.

It just occured to me recently that I should give credit to Marc, he of the elegant No Recipes blog, for the idea of using green tea as a broth for noodles, he mentioned it on his blog and I tried (and loved) it and wrote about it a post or two ago, and should have known I couldn’t have come up with something as nifty as that on my own…Perfect for after sweating it out after a Bikram Yoga class (and inevitably one gets stuck next to the hairy, flatulent guy who wants to get in touch with more than just his chakras) or indeed any time you want your comfort food to be light but nourishing. I have this quite often, but as I mentioned just before, have spared you many bog-standard shots of it in my white soup bowls…




New Zealand is such a funny little country. I had been working at my current job for about a year when I found out that the receptionist, Kerry, is related to me. In hindsight it makes so much sense, despite our differences there is a kinship between us – fostered, I believe, by a love of the ridiculous and the beautiful – that makes me think “well how could I not have known that he and I were family.” Ah, New Zealand. Probably the only place where your mother taught the guy you just met at the bar, or your gyneacologist lived down the road from you and paid you to mow their lawns as a child, or your dentist is Peter Jackson’s aunty. Possibly even the Garden of Eden had more degrees of separation.

Where am I going with this? Nowhere, to be honest. But anyway, across the road from where we work is a small, but perfectly formed, Belgian chocolate shop. I had resisted it for some time, for the obvious reasons – money – but Kerry one day surprised me with THREE chocolates from this shop – Melting Perfection – and I was utterly smitten with them. In the picture above is the White Chocolate Champagne Truffle, the Maple Cream, and the Poire William, which I bought on a whim today after nearly going insane – you think I’m exaggerating – from hours of dealing with invoices. These chocolates are some of the very, very best I’ve ever tasted. The Champagne Truffle was just ridiculous – the touch of alcohol providing that elusive note of flavour that somehow made the white chocolate taste butterier, creamier, but also lighter and not in any way cloying or over-sweet. The chocolates are beautiful, handmade, and taste like they were made by someone who knows what they were doing. If you are ever in Wellington you should absolutely go to their Featherston Street shop (#109, on the way to the railway station) and if you are not in Wellington, then friend, it’s worth the pilgrimage. For loving photography and a list of the imaginative chocolates they sell (and yes, there’s even something there for the sea-salt and caramel kids out there) visit their website: Melting Perfection. Mention my name when you visit their store and recieve a bewildered look!

 

*To clarify – from what I’ve managed to hear online I actually really like Idina Menzel’s new album (of course I do!) but it definitely falls into the realms of that category I dread – Adult Contemporary. It is a lot more polished and less kooky than her earlier pop efforts, probably because she wants to you know, shift some actual units, but is also a heck of a lot better and more real than any other misery-inducing music being put out these days in that bracket. Obviously her personality helps, as well as her unmistakeable voice, but the songs absolutely grew on me, and truly, I don’t listen to any music that I don’t genuinely love (life’s far too short.) I hope she collaborates with Jamie Cullum for the next one, they both have that confessional style of writing, and he knows his way round a likeable tune. Anyway, this album isn’t released for sale in New Zealand, (I’ve recieved many a funny look by asking for it at the counter at CD shops) and so if enough people buy it off a New Zealand site mayhaps her record company will want to send her out here for some kind of promotional tour (probably after I’ve scraped together just enough money from shilling her album to head overseas…)

“I Am A Synonym Bun”

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Intrigued? Mais oui, I pretend to hear you say.

I’m afraid I can’t tell you about this peanut butter chocolate slice that I made (recipe care of Nigella, natch) because…it is appearing in a magazine this month and you should all go out and buy that instead! I am published! Okay, it’s not quite Cuisine, or Gourmet Traveller, but Tearaway is one of the better teen magazine in New Zealand and is particularly brilliant because they genuinely welcome contribution from young writers. I grew up reading Tearaway back when it was a newsprint broadsheet (now it is A4 and distinctly shinier) and even though I’m really not sure if cooking is what the kids are into these days, I’ve managed to get in there with my humble food column. Whether it becomes a regular gig remains to be seen, but still, it’s a foot in the door. As Burns would say, “Patience, Monty, climb the ladder…”

*Update 9/6/08 – Just got sent a copy of the magazine in the mail today with a cheque for $30! I didn’t even realise they were going to pay me so as you can guess this was a more than pleasant surprise. I feel like Anne Shirley, or Jo March, or *implodes suddenly from geekiness* I can put the money into our savings account and as for the magazine…”That’s going straight to the poolroom.”
Here’s something I can actually elaborate on:


Above: Long-time readers should know I am friend of the beetroot, particularly when roasted. I’d never heard of making chips out of them, until I found this post on Adaptations, wherein fine slices of beetroot are baked in a low oven till they sort of dehydrate and crisp up and become SO much more delicious than this description would suggest. Of course it does sound like the sort of too-worthy, unnecessary, overcompensatingly healthy recipe that would have you running for the sour cream and chive Pringles. But these are truly delicious in their own right – and beautiful too, like dried rose petals – with a delicate smoky crunch to them that is very moreish. I only made a small amount, because I wasn’t sure if it would work out or not, but I’d definitely commit to making this with lots of beetroot again. They’d make quite a grown-up nibble with drinks…

To augment this I chopped up some carrot sticks and made a quick dip out of Greek yoghurt, the salvageable remains of a disappointing avocado (and a disappointing avocado really stings), sea salt, lemon juice and sumac. Simple enough, but the creamy tang of the yoghurt and the earthy, lemony sumac provided intriguing flavours as they were scooped up by the vegetables.


Above: To offset that very healthy starter, I did a culinary 180 degree turn and served buttery pasta for dinner…it was something I came up with on the spot but I was impressed with how elegant it all turned out to be. I didn’t really measure anything but you hardly need a recipe for something like this. I put fettucine into a pan of boiling, salted water, and while it was cooking I melted a good amount of butter in another pot, letting a garlic clove brown in it which I binned afterwards (that’s to say: I ate it) allowing the butter to really get dark and nutty. Into this I tumbled some chopped walnuts, then turned off the heat while they gently toasted in the residual warmth. Finally I drained the now-cooked pasta, biffed it in with the butter, and added a handful of shredded beetroot leaves (you could easily use spinach) which wilted instantly. Pa-dah. Very, very delicious.

Above: Speaking of very delicious, I give you Shnecken (gesundheit!) or more literally, cinnamon buns. Now Nigella is generally fairly enthusiastic about food, one of the things I adore in her writing. But when she says uncompromisingly, of these buttery, walnutty, caramelly yeasted buns: “God I love them” – then you know, before even commencing, that you are onto something quite promising.

She speaketh the truth. Schnecken = love. These buns are ridiculously wonderful, as delicious as Nigella says and then some, and come from that fabulous book How To Be A Domestic Goddess. I honestly can’t be bothered typing out the recipe (well, methods involving yeast are just so lengthy) but I found a copy here, unfortunately it’s in American, but if anyone outside the US wants to make it (do!!) you need one sachet of dried yeast, some form of brown sugar for the magical, magical syrup and half a cup of butter (how do you measure butter in a half-cup??) is about 125g. Maybe it would have been quicker to type out…

Above: You know that scene in Spiceworld? Where they are all superheroes with a special power? And then Posh Spice appears and she doesn’t even have a power, she just stands there looking gorgeous? (I think she points and winks too, as was the style of the time) That’s what these buns are like. They just sit there, looking fabulous, and you think it’s almost enough just to look at them, until you take a bite…oh my gosh they are nice. The brioche-like dough, the brown sugar with the cinnamon and walnuts…the butter. These are something special. The title of this post came courtesy of Paul, by the way, and worryingly, I can’t remember the context of our conversation but it made me laugh, and I feel that it’s a succinct description of myself, so what better reason to elect it to head of the post?
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Above: Mmmm, food pr0n.


Speaking of porn, I saw Sex and The City on Thursday, and I’m not talking about the titular sex here (as it were), I’m talking clothes – this film was a veritable orgy of fashion. I’m no Stacey McGill, but by my calculations they changed outfits roughly every 3.5 seconds. I was feeling a little cynical about it beforehand (although 2-for-1 cosmopolitans at the bar helped put me in the mood) but it really is a good movie, if you like the TV show. In spite of myself I was excited about what these women had done with their lives and yes – about what Carrie would be wearing. They looked noticeably older – which is nice, considering how they were actually supposed to have aged in the film – and gorgeous, seriously if I have Kim Cattrall’s body when I’m her age I’m going to become a nudist. Mr Big’s constant, childish “ooh I can’t commit” attitude got wearisome, and it did feel as though some plotlines were skated over, but on the whole, very enjoyable, indulgent montages and all. I realise that I referenced the Spice Girls AND The Baby Sitters Club in this post, (what next, po-mo Power Rangers quotes?) A new low, or indeed, high, depending on your view of pop culture.
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Tim and I are, as you might know, trying to save to get back over to England (where we met, three years ago, on our respective Gap years.) We’ve been saving since 2006, and have a fairly tidy sum considering we really had NO money till last year, but we need so much more and so, have started making some serious decisions in the last month or two. For me, it means having rolled oats for breakfast instead of buttered toast (truly, I have it every day: rolled oats, softened briefly in water, with or without the addition of bran, linseeds, wheatgerm- how am I not size 0?); having miso soup for lunch at work; not buying fun ingredients willy-nilly; less meat and more lentils, being strong around cookbook sales and not getting Anthony Rapp’s autobiography and The Rent Book imported at great expense… For Tim it is not buying fizzy drinks and Instant Kiwi tickets; having porridge instead of eggs on toast for breakfast; putting up with the lentil onslaught; and for both of us it means not going out drinking much and not buying DVDs recklessly. Both our bank accounts have become genuinely plumper with all of these corners cut, and our savings account is impressive for two poor students, but really, the only way we’ll get over to England next year is if we win the lottery (and then hopefully we can pay for Tim’s root canal too…but don’t get me started on that.) Any tips on how to save or make money without resorting to eating Pot Noodles 24/7?

“Reasons/To Justify Each Move…”

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I have a bad habit of telling Tim about things I was going to, but didn’t. Like, “oh Tim, I was going to buy you No Country For Old Men on DVD for you but I didn’t because it was too expensive,” or, “I was going to photocopy that Raconteurs interview I found in a magazine at work but then I ran out of time,” or, “I was going to hang out the washing but…I didn’t.” I sort of justify it by saying, hopefully, “it’s the thought that counts?”
A bit like how I justify my complaining by saying to him “if I didn’t complain, you wouldn’t know how I feel!” (and then inevitably find out that he has had a mercilessly sore tooth for three days and not said a word.)
Today I found myself in the changing room at Portmans with some cardigan despite trying to save money – I don’t even like Portmans, I was in town to buy the book American Psycho for uni! But if I didn’t tell you, you wouldn’t know…
I’ve made these gluten-free brownies before, and had a hankering to make them again, brought on partly out of necessity – the bananas in the freezer were taking up too much room and needed to be dealt with. Oh, and although blackened, overripe bananas are often said to be the best for baking, no-one ever mentions how disgusting they are to handle. There’s something unbelievably nasty about their softly slippery texture, and the creepy oozy liquid left behind from the skins. (Still feel like brownies?) Sorry, but someone had to say it. No matter, once incorporated into the mix, they are nothing but delicious.
I won’t repeat the recipe because you can just click the link above, but I added a spoonful of golden syrup this time, and cooked it for slightly less – 25 minutes at 180, then 10 minutes at 150. Don’t know why, it just instinctively felt right.
And ohhh how delicious they tasted, emitting cries of “but they don’t even taste gluten-free!” from those who tried them. I realise it’s easy for me, a red-blooded gluten-muncher, to say, but for all that I’m thankful for advances in technology I love gluten-free baking where you don’t have to go purchasing forty different bags of various flours and pastes to make the whole thing stick together. These brownies are tenderly bound with the magical alchemy of peanut butter, bananas, cocoa, and eggs, and somehow come together to taste squidgy and densely chocolatey, and not at all like some kind of sawdusty substitute.
That’s not all I baked. At work yesterday, I was flipping through a magazine and no sooner had I snidely commented “You know, I’m never really inspired by the food section of the New Zealand Woman’s Weekly, there’s something so dull and prosaic about their recipes…” than I found myself contritely scribbling down TWO recipes onto post-it notes because I wanted to try them myself. To the NZWW: I apologise. The following recipe is brilliant…
I was very taken with the idea of this chewy slice, containing some of my favourite things – caramelly dates, walnuts, dark chocolate (I threw in some pumpkin seeds)…and there’s no butter in it which sort of keeps costs down (of course, once you’ve bought walnuts and chocolate it’s hardly cheap, but c’est la vie). The recipe itself called for a 400g pack of dates which I thought would swamp the delicate mixture, so I used about 300g. Oh and it asked for vanilla essence, for shame! Use vanilla extract or vanilla sugar, but don’t ruin your gorgeous ingredients with essence, please….

Chewy Date, Walnut and Chocolate Slice
2 eggs
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup self-raising flour
Dates, chopped, between 300 – 400g as you see fit
Chopped walnuts (they ask for a cup, I just threw in a handful willy-nilly)

Dark chocolate, chopped, I used about 100g

 

Turn your oven to 160 C. Beat eggs and sugar together like mad for about five minutes, till pale, thick and moussy. Use a whisk, it’s good arm excercise and means you can eat more slice later. Oh and try not to do what I did, which was dribble batter onto the bench, then accidentally hit the whisk’s handle so it flings batter all over the stove top and onto my face and clothes…gently, gently, fold in the flour, then the extra bits, and spread into a baking-paper lined medium sized brownie tin. I use a big piece of paper which overlaps at the edges so I can lift it out in one go afterwards for slicing. Bake for 35 minutes, and I recommend leaving it for a bit before you slice it. Nonetheless, this is easy and quick enough to whip up should company unexpectedly arrive demanding tea and cakes (without actually saying so, of course.)
Above: Paul and I were the only ones home when I made this so donned our tester hats, (I made him vow that if it turned out to be a disastrous mess we’d bin it and pretend I’d never baked anything in the first place). Luckily, it was fabulous, the moussy eggs and sugar baked into a light casing for the delicious fillings, and as I bit in I never knew if my teeth were going to hit buttery walnuts, chewy dates, or soft, melting chocolate…It cracks a bit on top as you cut it, but this isn’t really a problem unless you’re making it for the sort of person for whom aesthetic issues like this are a problem, but as I try not to associate with people like that I think things will work out nicely. I can definitely see myself making this again and again in the future.
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I mentioned quite a while ago that Rent is closing on Broadway – juuuust too soon for me to consider actually going there to see it (well, we have to get to England first, let alone New York) but the original cast are going to appear at the 2008 Tony Awards sometime this month, so hopefully some bright spark puts it on Youtube asap. Speaking of Youtube and Rent, there was recently a benefit concert of Chess with Idina Menzel and Adam Pascal (I know!) Although I was lucky enough to see many musicals as a youth I never caught Chess, but after watching a couple of clips on Youtube, wow! “Nobody’s Side” is one heck of a song, the sort you want to start again as soon as it finished. And I did. It made so much sense when I found out that the two B components of ABBA were behind the writing of the music…

12 Hour Party People

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Now for the dinner-type stuff, admittedly not as alluring as Budino di Cioccolata, but then healthy can have its charms…

This rather beautiful noodle broth that I made for dinner the other night is starting to feel like a very distant memory. I’m struggling to think of anything I ate in the last 24 hours that had any discernable vitamin content. But oh what a good time we had. Tim and I decided that we owed it to ourselves to bunglingly attempt drunkenness last night, what with the stress of the semester finishing and all. Unfortunately we didn’t get any photographic evidence (I spend 97% of my time in jeans or trackpants so when I do manage to get gussied up I like ocular proof) but we spanned the length and breadth of Cuba St and Courtney Place, dipping in and out of bars, (and stumbling into a house party) before settling in the Welsh Dragon. Mercifully it wasn’t raining and we didn’t run into any weirdos (although there was that wild-eyed lad at 2.30am in Burger King who cried “don’t be sucked in! It’s what the big corporations want!” before dashing off leaving a trail of saliva…) We’d had fish and chips for dinner and I finished the night with a bag of twisties (the best part, in my curmudgeonly opinion, of going out drinking, apart from coming home and going to bed) and then this morning we, along with Paul, Katie and Anna, shared two pizzas and some hot chips for brunch. It certainly seemed like a good idea at the time…


To be fair, Tim and I never go out so it’s not like this is some kind of vicious cycle we are entering. But yeah, I seem to veer wildly between eating healthily and culinary hedonism, I can’t seem to stick to a proper ‘plan’ if you know what I mean. Anyhow, for this broth I used a mixture of soba and udon noodles, which, did you know, are just ridiculously good for people with diabetes. In a 90g serving of noodles, there is something like 64g of carbohydrates, and ZERO grams of sugar. Sorry to be a bore, but as Tim is diabetic, and I cook for him, I have thrown myself rather zealously into the pursuit of foods with a good simple-to-complex-carb ratio.

This was kind of based on the “Noodle Soup for Needy People” from Nigella Express, except that I used almost none of the same ingredients as her. Nevertheless, the recipe itself kicked me into action to make it in the first place, and I certainly have been feeling needy this week, so credit where credit is due. I did something I’ve never tried before, and added (perhaps unorthodoxly) a Zen teabag (Green Tea with Peppermint) to the water in which the vegetables were simmering. I’ve heard of green tea being used as broth for noodles before and was intrigued, and thought the minty aspect could only but perk up the flavours. I also added a spoonful of miso paste, a star anise, soy sauce, and finished with the tiniest shake of sesame oil. So delicious, and so much more complex and exciting in flavour than you might first think. It is also genuinely quite soothing to eat if your nerves are feeling jangled. I will definitely be making this again, and soon…it is like lipbalm for your chapped soul.

I seem to be having something of a Nigella Express renaissance at the moment. It’s always fun rediscovering things…especially now that I have the time to do it.

This Lamb, Olive, and Caramelised Onion Tagine, also from NE, is just so delicious. I could have eaten the whole thing on my own. To be fair, I say that about a lot of things so I understand if you think I’m exaggerating. Trust me, I never exaggerate. I didn’t have the necessary jar of caramelised onions to hand – can you even get them in New Zealand? – so I just browned a couple of sliced onions and added a spoonful of brown sugar, hardly arduous stuff. You barely even need a recipe for this, just adjust proportions according to how many you have to feed. Place diced lamb, (the sort you need to slow cook), black pitted olives, capers, garlic, caramelised onions (or use my method) cumin, ginger, and good stock into a pot and either simmer (like I did) or bake gently for 1 1/2 -2 hours. I added frozen peas, because that’s how I roll, and served it on a nubbly bed of organic burghal wheat.

This post starts and ends with noodles it would seem. In Palmerston North (when I was there for Rent two weeks ago…or was it last week? Time is so blurry these days!) I found this shop by the bus stop which sold heaps of interesting food, including those vacuum packs of egg noodles for 79c! So I bought a couple and used one in a vaguely Chinese stir-fry thing the other day. Mince, a fat red chilli, vegetables, noodles, some soy sauce, sherry, sesame oil – very simple stuff, but very delicious. To be honest I didn’t actually use those chopsticks to eat dinner by the way, just put them in the photo to make it look a bit more interesting…

For dinner tonight I made the Baked Tomato Polenta again, but it didn’t look that great so I didn’t even try to photograph it. Good grief it tastes nice though. Tonight is quite the contrast to last night- watched the director commentary of Rent (again), which totally re-affirmed my love for that film, as well as making me wish they’d just left Goodbye Love uncut, (anyway!) made dinner, read a bit, perused youtube, sat in on some league game happening on TV in the lounge (slightly more interesting than rugby, but then so is paint drying) and here I am. I much prefer to go out on Friday night anyway – there is nothing nicer than waking up in the morning and thinking it’s only Saturday…

"I’m As Free As A Bird Now…"

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“and this bird you cannot change…ohhhhhh….*twelve minute guitar solo*….” ahem. Don’t mind me, I’m just practically floating due to the enormous weight lifted from my shoulders – to wit – my last photography class was today. Hence why I’ve been humming Freebird (a song that will forever remind me of my parents dancing at their 25th wedding anniversary party four years ago…and yes, there’s much more to Lynyrd Skynyrd than Sweet Home Alabama for those of you who only have the Forest Gump soundtrack…)

Because I’m feeling so darn sweet I’ve decided to stick to pudding photos tonight…dinner can wait for another day. Last night I was in a sort of crazy limbo zone – I’d submitted my final assignment for photography but I still had today’s class to get through. However after all the many hours of my life that had gone into it (let me tell you, it’s not fun walking home through the red light district in torrential rain at 9.30pm and knowing you have to go back again tomorrow to wrangle photoshop) I decided that a small pudding would be appropriate. So; crumble for two.


Above: I didn’t follow Nigella’s recipe at all (I’m talking about the Jumbleberry Crumble from Nigella Express) apart from cooking times, but I definitely credit her with the inspiration. I mean, I didn’t have anything resembling “jumbleberries” and I always just make up my own crumble toppings…but I wouldn’t have thought to make it had I not been flicking through this book.

My version ended up having a base of canned peaches and a sliced apple. Low-rent, sure, but I love canned peaches, and I have a bit of a nostalgic view of them (well, as nostalgic as someone who only turned 22 last month can possibly be) since quite a few of the puddings I had as a child involved canned peaches…Peach crumble, for one thing, but also peach sponge-topped pudding, peaches and ice cream, peaches, cornflakes and evaporated milk…I tend to make a lot of crumble topping – even for two smallish ramekins – out of foresight, because there’s no use pretending I won’t eat half of it before it gets sprinkled on the fruit. Have you ever tried raw crumble topping? There’s something incredible about that combo of butter, brown sugar, flour…I also craftily added a large spoonful of custard powder which gave a certain creaminess to the crumble mixture, and made the fruit somehow saucier. Anyway before your arteries start throbbing in sympathy I added rolled oats to this as well which means that the butter barely even counts. These were so delicious – I don’t make crumble that much, but every time I do it feels like the perfect, unimprovable pudding and I wonder why the heck I ever make anything else.


Above: Buddino Di Cioccolata, half done. I knew I was going to want something rather ridiculous for pudding tonight to celebrate. What could be more ridiculous than this silky, silky chocolate pudding? (also from Nigella Express)

I used some of my Donovan’s 80% dark chocolate purchased from the Wellington Food Show. I only tried the milk (which is 50%) at the show, so I couldn’t resist having a nibble of this…I was very impressed, it was smooth and dark and slightly bitter but rounded (not sure if I’m describing this properly here) and perfect to counter the richness of this pudding. No recipe this time because I just can’t be bothered but I found a copy of it here (sorry it’s in American measurements though!)


Above: I took this photo on top of our washing machine. The cup was part of a Living Kitchen set that my flatmates got me for my 21st last year and as you can see, doesn’t just have to be used for measuring…This chocolate pudding was just so silky, I realise that’s the third time I’ve used the word but I just can’t think of a more pertinent synonym right now. Seriously, the texture is amazing, and provided you have fairly decent cocoa and chocolate, so is the flavour. Tim, Paul and I ate this while watching Scrubs tonight (that show has managed not to jump the shark yet, am I right? Mind you, there was that musical episode…) and all agreed that yes, Nigella is high priestess of the universe. What better way to celebrate never having to stress about photog again than with chocolate?
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Speaking of amazing women…I’m sorry to keep bothering you with Idina Menzel videos (*voice offstage* “you’re not sorry at all!”) but truly, I am continually astounded by Youtube. (and her, obvs.) Just when I think there can’t be much left to find, a video will pop up that I’ve never seen before. Tim, bless him, keeps pretending to be interested when I relay this information to him. Tonight I discovered what is allegedly Idina’s first performance of Over The Moon from when Rent moved to Broadway. Even if it’s not, it’s the only video of this song that I’ve seen from that era – 1996! – and it’s an amazing piece of history…
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Thank you deeply for the ongoing well-wishing during my photography class, I hope I didn’t come across as too petulant (even though most of the time I probably was being petulant) because I did get a lot out of the class and also appreciate all your kind words! Here’s hoping next term isn’t quite so stressful. If I sound a little manic in this post, well, you already know why. I still have two exams to get through but it’s amazing how much lighter my brain feels already. Oh, and funnily enough all this business with my photography assignment hasn’t put me off Tetris. In the Guinness Book of Records Gamers Edition (yes, such things exist), I found that the record score was 9,999,999. I think I’ve got it in me to challenge that…

Block Rockin’ Beets

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It is a fine time to be a Renthead (insofar as I am able to consider myself one) in the greater lower North Island region as of late. I don’t have time to give a full blow-by-blow review of the production of Rent that I saw in Palmerston North on Friday (“oh no! whatever shall we do!” I hear you cry), well, not yet. Briefly though, it was very good, really quite slickly done with nice attention to detail (I’m 99% sure that the girl who played Mimi had been listening carefully to Daphne Rubin Vega in “Goodbye Love,” it matched note for note.) Also I’m happy to report that the photo of the cast that I saw really must have been a bad one – the guy who played Collins was much nicer looking, and Collins-ier in person. The only thing that really annoyed me was that Mark was far too camp and the waiter at the Life Cafe wasn’t nearly camp enough. Mark is awkward, not camp, and that’s that. All told though, an excellent performance.

Frankly, it’s not a bad time to have me cook dinner for you either. I was at the Design campus from 10.30am till 6.15pm yesterday hunched feverishly behind a computer, moving things slowly from left to right on Photoshop. And I’ll be back there before and after class today. I was somewhat tempted just to have the chippie cook dinner for me last night after all that but Tim, bless him, had endured the rain to get me free range eggs, spinach, and beetroot from the vege market, plus I thought a proper dinner might be good for the brain (not to mention the thighs). Unfortunately it just won’t stop raining which means that it’s impossible for me to get my final shots for the assignment due…tomorrow after work. It’s raining right now in fact. If you don’t hear from me for a while, it’s probably because I’ve hightailed it to Tijuana.

I am such a fan of roasting beetroot, and they’re very cheap at the moment. Paired with soft, crumbling, blindingly white feta cheese it enters the realms of “ridiculously delicious.” Seriously, you know how a while ago (perhaps coinciding with the lamentable “cranberry and camembert” trend) it was wildly fashionable to pair spinach and feta together? Well beetroot is feta’s newer, better accessory, as though it had discarded its floor length boho skirt (NB – I loved boho skirts) and picked up…you know I don’t have any clue what is even fashionable these days. A shemagh? Passe already? My point being, beetroot and feta are meant to be together, and you’ll see it everywhere soon, trust me. I’m not even sure if I invented this salad that I made for dinner last night- I mean, I didn’t have a recipe for it but I’m sure I’m not the first to eat it- but here’s what I did, if you’re interested. Shrewdly, Tim bought a LOT of beetroot, so I’m sure they will appear regularly over the next couple of posts (as will carmine splotches over anything I’m wearing while making dinner…)

 

Hey, why not look at it again. I’m tired, and it’s not a great photo, (though I like how you can see the slice mark in the pistachio) so I guess you could consider this filler material.
Roasted Beetroot, Feta and Pistachio Salad with Sumac and Roasted Red Chilli Dressing.
(How cafe does that sound?!)
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2 good-sized beetroot
1 large red chilli, halved and seeded (I used my lovely Orcona chillis)
Feta Cheese (only you know how much you want)
2 or so tablespoons pistachios (I used some from my precious stash that Mum sent me)
Heat oven to 200 C. I never bother to peel or wrap the beetroot, but if this is how you like it then be my guest. I just chop them into chunks, tip them into a roasting dish, (add the chilli here) and leave them in the oven for about 3/4 of an hour. Heating the chilli, funnily enough, seems to take out all the fire but leave behind that magical, smoky flavour. Since I can’t handle much in the way of actual chilli, this suits me perfectly. Once the beetroot is tender, mix together 2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil, 1 teaspoon ground sumac, 2 tablespoons of water, and the red chilli, finely chopped. Tip the beetroot into a bowl and pour over the dressing, leave to cool. Finally, tumble over your chopped feta and pistachio nuts. I also biffed in the last of the organic sprouts from the Wellington Food Show. This serves two, although I could, without a doubt, eat the whole thing alone. It is a good recipe if you have bought some Sumac and are thinking “now what?!” There’s also something about the red, green and white of the salad that makes me think it would be nice at Christmas…perhaps with some chopped mint sprinkled over.
Because doing uni work all day makes me feel listless and needy, I decided to indulge in some form of pudding – Jill Dupleix’ Banana Berry Ice Cream with brown-sugared yoghurt and Vanilla Apples with Sweetheart Croutes from Nigella Express.

Above: The flavours actually went marvelously well together. The cold zing of the icecream lifted the buttery apples (literally – you chop them then stew them in butter) and the sweetheart croutes were, if kitchly named, a pleasantly crunchy contrast to everything else. But if you are going to make the ice cream – and I highly recommend you do – you should know it sets rock hard. I guess this is because there’s no fat and barely any sugar to keep things mellow. So, take it out of the freezer a good 25 minutes before you want to serve it or you’ll just have a bright pink slab that you can pick up with your hands and take a bite out of (how do I know this…?)

Above: I don’t tend to go in for that whole “million photos of the same dish from different angles” approach on this blog but I couldn’t help myself with this. It really is quite pretty.
My brain is so tired from all this uni stuff, and I really don’t want to go back to the design campus (located handily in the throbbing heart of Wellington’s red light district!) but I’m going to have to. It has been cold, windy and rainy here and I just want to lie in bed all day, watch DVDs, and bake (simultaneously, natch.) Soon, soon though. At any rate I’m sure I’ve learned some kind of important life lesson from this photog paper. More than I learned from that compulsory school trip in sixth form to the Outdoor Pursuits Centre, which I still bear the mental scars from. Why does everyone insist you have to go abseiling or climb an insurmountable hill in order to grow emotionally as a person?
One thing that has shaken me awake though was the discovery of some more videos of The Wild Party on Youtube, including – oh frabjous day – a clip of Idina Menzel singing The Life Of The Party. Seriously, I nearly fainted when I watched the video. She is incredible! For those of you who can’t be bothered looking on Wikipedia, The Wild Party is – was – an off-Broadway show from 2000 based on the Joseph Moncure March poem, and is set in the 1920s. It bears the dubious distinction of being what got me into Rent (Idina Menzel and Taye Diggs originated roles in both musicals.) And for those of you who like it old-school, I also found an amazing clip of her singing Cornet Man from Funny Girl. Go on, indulge me. I’m feeling fragile. And it was my birthday recently…ish…or something.

“To Days Of Inspiration…”

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In one week Tim and I will, bar a couple of exams a-looming, have finished our penultimate semester at university. Scary stuff. Almost as scary as watching how much oil felafels absorb. Good grief. There I was thinking they were practically health food.

Above: I mean, what with the chickpeas and all. I even threw in a handful of organic sprouts (freebie from the Wellington Food Show!) I loosely followed a recipe from gorgeous blog The Puku, but had a bit of trouble making the chickpeas (whizzed into crumbs by the food processor) to form a manageable “paste” – refrigerating your felafel before frying helps though.
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Above: Kindly ignore the carcinogenic bits. I’m truly terrible at shallow and deep frying, and it seemed that the small cakes blackened as soon as they hit the pan, sponging up an awful lot of oil without really cooking. They tasted fabulous despite all this, and don’t take that long to warm through. Delightfully crunchy and nutty, warmly fragrant with cumin seeds…it’s worth having the kitchen (inevitably) reek of oil and the house filled with smoke. And there’s something about felafel that always reminds me of The Adventures of Hercules (used to be on Friday nights, before Xena), it used to be family viewing in my house and I’m sure there was some kind of humourous interlude regarding felafel. I realise I’m rambling here…
Speaking of those sprouts, I’ve had ZERO response from the people I handed out my business card to at the food show on Sunday. Still, nothing ventured…
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Above: This soup was intensely annoying to photograph. I’d point the lens towards the bowl, the lens would steam up…repeatedly. So; sorry that it’s not a great photo. The unfortunate thing about photographing one’s dinner prior to consumption is that I’m usually very hungry and impatient.
Despite all my complainings about what a horrible time of year it is academically, it is a marvelous time to be in Wellington. One reason. The Wellington Library Book Sale. Ohhhhhh it’s awesome. The library itself is amazing enough (They have the Wicked soundtrack and Cat Power and the John Peel compilations, and that’s just their CD section) but their sale is, as Marjorie Dawes might say, “summin else!” I haven’t had time this year for an extensive perusal but have managed to get my sticky paws on a couple of back issues of Cuisine, Gourmet Traveller, and Taste, and a most brilliant discovery – Claudia Roden’s Food of Italy book. It’s not a new book by any means (my copy was reprinted in 1999) and it’s as fat as a chick-lit novel with no pictures. But I read the whole thing in two nights, and long to make everything from it. Nigella (of course) is the reason that Claudia Roden caught my eye in the first place, and I heartily suggest you look her up. Anyway, minestrone is one of the recipes in the book, and is what inspired last night’s dinner.
Which ended up not resembling minestrone at all. But hey. It started off that way, with onion, carrots, celery and potato sweating it out in a pot. I added parsnips, which gave it an incredibly delicious sweetness, and a porcini stock cube from a parcel Mum sent me a while ago. A spoonful of tomato paste, and a handful or two of barley…and that was it. Very simple, but very, very good. I love being inspired in the kitchen.
Above: To go with, because I was so fired up with Italian-nicity by Roden’s book, I decided to tinker with her baked polenta recipe to create something…not exactly original, (though I’ve certainly never seen it done before) but magically delicious at least. And face it, which is more important here?
I’m not quite sure if this recipe technically worked as such so I’m a little reluctant to hand out the recipe. It’s kind of like eating a liquidised margherita pizza. And if you’re wondering, the answer is yes. That is indeed my breakfast smoothie of choice.
Above: Tim and I ate ALL of this, even though it probably could serve four. And, uh, we could have ate more, had there been some to hand.
Baked Tomato Polenta
150g polenta
600mls water
400g can chopped tomatoes
Cheese and butter at your own discretion…

I’m not sure that it matters whether or not you use the coarse, gritty polenta or the finer, flourier stuff. I used a mix of both because I had a tail-end bag of each. Oh and if you can’t find it at the shop, try looking for “cornmeal” (same diff…)
Put the polenta and water in a good sized pot, and stir vigorously to break down any lumps. Bring to the boil slowly, stirring in one direction only. This is very important. I couldn’t even begin to imagine why. Now it’s worth pointing out here that when I made this last night, it didn’t really boil but thickened hugely, with the occasional slow-moving bubble breaking the surface. I can only presume I was doing the right thing as the end result tasted fab. As it gets very thick keep stirring, keep this up for a couple of minutes over a low heat. Add butter if you like (and I do!) and a handful of grated cheese too. Remove from heat, stir in the can of tomatoes, which will turn it a glorious orange colour. Spread this mixture into a small roasting dish – the sort you might bake brownies or slice in – sprinkle over grated cheese and cover with foil. Now, bake it for about 45 minutes, removing the foil and grilling it at the end if you like. Now, this won’t quite be sliceable – unless yours turns out as Roden intended – but there is nothing wrong with a sludgy scoop of it in a bowl. It is ridiculously good; it belongs in the upper echelons of “ultimate comfort food.”
Tim got up at 5am today to go to a pub with Paul to watch Man U (about whom Paul is fanatical) play Chealsea. For everyone’s sakes, I’m so glad they won. I prefer a more leisurely start to my Thursday, (first sleep-in of the week!) so I rose at 8am, and, thinking I had the flat to myself, began singing VERY LOUDLY and expressively along to Rent. It was with a red face that I greeted Emma as she came out of her room some time later. My singing voice could charitably be described as “thin, but lustily enthusiastic”… I decided to do a repeat performance of Nigella’s muesli muffins that I first made earlier this year (click *here* for the link to the recipe, which I can’t be bothered posting twice) and loved. With their oaty interior and potential for fiddling with (and fiddle I did) they seemed like the ideal thing to make this morning for when Tim returned home, bleary eyed.
Above: As with last time, I didn’t have any actual muesli to hand, so improvised with rolled oats, linseeds, currants, and chopped, dried apricots. Instead of buttermilk I used half milk and half Greek yoghurt (that I had incubated a few days previously). I reduced the sugar and squirted in a rippling spoonful of golden syrup, just for kicks.
Above: I love this recipe. Tim and I had one each and I put the rest in a Tupperware container, to try and shove into our crowded freezer. I’ve taken to making a batch of muffins and freezing them, either for Tim when he gets low blood sugar, or just for a snack to stop myself buying forty-five chocolate bars from the 4-Square down the road in a moment of desperation. Surprisingly useful on both counts.
This time tomorrow I will be in Palmerston North, for Rent, before zooming back to Wellington again on Saturday morning. I’m pretty excited although it has come around so fast that I haven’t had much time to think about it (which is probably a good thing, as it squashes such deep-seated issues as Their Collins is white! and Will people moo? and such and such) I have my final photography assignment due on Tuesday, and it’s going to mean a lot of time spent, mole-like and dry-eyedly blinking behind the computers at uni. I can’t even be sarcastic about how “fun” that’s going to be.
It’s probably worth mentioning that we have something resembling a flat cat (emphatically not a pet, as they are forbidden on the lease, and anyhow I’m 99% positive that a cat this sleek must belong to someone.) It is a gorgeous little tabby – the sort that hasn’t quite grown out of “large kitten” stature and never will – and he comes and visits us regularly. We have dubbed him Oscar (as in Wilde – well, we are a flat of BA students) and he is really flipping adorable. I’m sure many of you won’t need me to prompt you, (and I apologise if this errs too far on the side of geeky for some of you) but if you feel like a dose of kitteh hilarity then you really should visit I Can Has Cheezburger? Lolcats galore!

"So Ya Thought Ya Might Like To Go To The Show"

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So; Tim and I went to the Wellington Food Show on Sunday afternoon. By the end companies are practically throwing food at you at drastically slashed prices or even – oh bliss – free. Initial thoughts: Oy with the pesto already! How many over-oily purveyors of this paste does New Zealand need? (and I say that as someone who could drink the stuff.) It was good to see a solid gluten-free presence, and kudos to the wine and beer people being generous pourers! Being the diligent blogger that I am, I brought along my camera and homespun, slightly low-rent business cards (it’s business time!) And I received a lot of quizzical looks.
I thought there might be other local food bloggers there (am I the only one?) Most people either didn’t know what I was talking about, thought I was doing a school project, or that I was some kind of produce research Lindsay Naegle-type person. I am but a meek harbinger of opinion and slowly-improving photographs, all in the name of love for food and cooking. If any of the people who I handed my business cards to are reading this; I simultaneously apologise if, and guarantee that, your product isn’t photographed perfectly. Live a little.
Above: Barkers Apple and Pomegranite Juice. Free samples taste so much better when you ignore the voice in your head that says “$20 entrance fee!? Did they think we wouldn’t notice the price hike?”

Above: Tim and I found this European Import stand which – wunderbar! – handed out samples of the Haribo bears that we had become so enamoured of in England.

Above: We sampled the Orchard Delight jam liberally; it is made the old-fangled way with no dodgy added ingredients and tastes wonderfully, genuinely fruity.

Above: See? Other people agreed. Just look at all that jam schmeered everywhere. The good people of Orchard Delights gave me their business card; they don’t have a website but send enquiries to rimufoods@gmail.com or, you know, you could buy some in the supermarket.
Above: While we are in the realm of preserves, the man at the St Andrews Limes stand (I presume the rackish omission of apostrophe is on purpose?) was very patient as I knocked over his sample bowls while trying to take a photo. I do like to make my own curd but if you are one of those “gee, who has the time these days?” kind of people you could definitely do worse than to purchase a jar from these guys. The lime curd, which I tried, was pleasantly zingy but with that marvelously buttery-creamy aftertaste that only real curd affords. You can find them online at http://www.limes.co.nz/.
Above: The man at Rutherford and Meyer tried to convince me that there were quality high-res photos of their products online that I could use. And well he might. This photo is awful. I was in a hurry and didn’t have my tripod and the lighting wasn’t good so I couldn’t capture the jewel-like shimmer of the various fruit pastes; nor obtain clarity of colour. Oops. They were delicious, anyway, and could be used in many different ways – although plonking one on your cheeseboard would be perfect… See much nicer pictures and recipes at the Rutherford and Meyer site.
Above: The people at Wallace Harmony foods were very enthusiastic – I hope they weren’t under the illusion that I wield actual clout or something – and gave me lots of pamplets as well as marvelously delicious samples of sausages, bacon and ribs. I’ve said many a time that Tim and I don’t eat a lot of pork. When we do, we try our best to find “happy pig” products, which are few and far between. And this is usually what we go for – genuine free range pork. I can’t recommend them enough – put down that greying, pre-cooked sausage and listen – people like these are the way of the future. I may sound a little high and mighty but if I can be a mere student and support free range meat I’m sure you can. Trust me, bacon tastes extra-crispy with a side serving of righteousness. They don’t have a website but email harmony@wallace.co.nz to find out if they are stocked near to you.
Above: The fantastic people at Orcona Chillis ‘n Peppers gave me 6 plump, glossy red chillis for $2 when I only asked for three, and practically fell over themselves to rearrange the baskets of beautiful chillis so I could better photograph them. Unfortunately this was my best shot. They have an extensive range of products including an intriguingly knobbly variety of chilli and plenty of sauces/relishes of varying heat intensity. Visit their site at http://www.chilli.co.nz/ if you fancy yourself the “pope of chilli town.” (As Chief Wiggum once said…)
Above: I bought a tub of organic brown rice miso paste from these people, and got a free bottle of shitake sesame salad dressing…and I’m beggared if I can remember what they are called. I must have neglected to nab a business card off them. The label on the bottle says natural organic foods, but have you tried googling that lately? Carnage. I sincerely apologise as the guy was really nice, and soy products have a special place in my heart. Speaking of soy, mad props to the folks at So Good who were verrrrry generous with their giveways of soymilk packs. I think they were just surprised that I was so enthused about the stuff…
Above: Okay, so “sprouts” aren’t exactly the most come-hither of foods, but these were crunchy and delicious and organic and you should know, going by my stance on lentils, how into sprouts I would be. I was given a free pack by the lady at The Wright Sprouts stand, and I couldn’t seem to get a good photo of their logo so by all means visit their website if this sort of thing floats your boat. They know what they are talking about.

Above: And now for something completely different – Hamilton-based Donovan Brothers Chocolate. I purchased three dark chocolate blocks (80%) for $10 which was rather thrilling as it means I have a solid supply to bake with. One thing I will say though is that their blocks are an awkward 210 grams each. Now, when most recipes call for round figures – 100g, 250g, 200g – what made them decide to make it this size? Anyway, I’ll forgive the dubious looks I got from the guys at the stall for taking my photos, because the chocolate is very, very good.
Above: Doesn’t this look incredible, like a jewel-studded pile of gold? (Just me?) The Original Smoke and Spice Co. were hugely friendly and good grief their gourmet salt was fabulous. Smoky, complex, flavoursome, I could imagine it being very useful in the kitchen. Check out their website at http://www.smokeandspice.co.nz/.
Above: I’m afraid I can’t remember the name of this stall at all, but it was displaying a whole swag of compelling kitchen gadgetry. The guy who seemed to be in charge was in fact the only person who actually understood what I meant by food blogging, in fact he has his own blog (about sailing)…which makes me feel worse that I didn’t commit the company name to memory.
Above: Lots of shiny, shiny gadgetry. I had to hold myself back. Last year I was overtired (Tim and I had been up since 5am doing essays) and bought lots of ridiculous things, including a (surprisingly useful) mini tartelette tray and a large bottle of Creme de Peche.
Above: Finally, we paused to “ooh” and “ah” over the display cakes. Beautiful…
Above: Our haul. Amongst the exciting bargains – three bags of bagels for $5, 2 packs of real stock (I got fish and beef) for $5 (normally $10 each!) a LOT of free soymilk…and Tim got a whole ton of beer. Everyone wins! As long as the price doesn’t go up again, I can’t wait till next year’s show. Thanks to all the tireless workers (emphatically not the ones who packed up at 5.15 though!) and to everyone for being so obliging as I took photos of everything.
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As I said in the last post, it was going to be a very busy weekend. I caught up with the Lees, (extended family of mine from home) and we had a fabulous meal at the Black Harp pub on Featherston St. I would normally give some kind of review but I need to rest my weary head; if you are ever in Wellington you should absolutely go there for lunch. It’s much better than its not terribly promising exterior looks. Kieran (ex-flatmate) was also down for the weekend and I’m pretty sure we got very drunk at some stage. I also studied, read 2/3rds of Samson Agonistes, and…haven’t managed to get started on my next photography assignment. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but it’s a dim one…