Lamb Ham Pie

I love a woman who's not afraid to tell me what she wants. One who spreads shivers of dark desire through inaudible whispers. With luscious lips, a sensual aroma, an unpredictable bite; her familiar face belies the olfactory orgasm concealed and waiting beneath. While many prefer to bypass the foreplay and pay for the more expedient of pleasures, those poor souls deny themselves the pleasure of long and slow cooking over a gentle heat, continual tasting and licking of lips, spooning, caressing the pastry with bare hands, and... well... let's just say that the two experiences are not quite the same...


Lamb Ham Pie

400 g Hay Valley Lamb Ham, diced + bone
2 brown onions, brunoise
1 carrot, brunoise
4 tomatoes, peeled & diced + stalks
1 head of garlic, peeled & smashed into smithereens
330 ml McLaren Vale Pale Ale
1 L chicken stock
20 g Vegemite
20 g maple syrup
80 g plain flour
2 bay leaves
8 g thyme sprigs
puff pastry sheets
1 egg + 1 Tbsp milk, for brushing

Gently sweat the onion in a large pot.
Throw in the diced ham, carrot, tomatoes and garlic. Stir everything around for a few minutes.
Pour in the ale and chicken stock.
Stir through the Vegemite and maple syrup.
Dust the flour over the surface and stir it through well for a smooth texture.
Add the bay leaves and thyme and simmer gently for 2 - 2.5 hours until ham is tender and the mixture has thickened considerably.
Remove bones, stalks, etc. and cool to room temperature before refrigerating.
Line a pie dish or a few muffin pans with puff pastry trimmed to size.
Fill generously with cold lamb mixture.
Whisk egg and milk together to create an egg wash.
Brush exposed puff pastry rims with egg wash and cover with puff pastry lids.
Remove excess pastry with a knife and press the edges together with the tines of a fork.
Brush the lids with egg wash.
Using a small, sharp knife, pierce the lids to allow steam to escape when baking so the pastry doesn't split.
Bake at 180°C for 35 - 40 minutes, rotating halfway for even heating, until golden brown and bubbling.
Cool for at least 10 minutes on a wire rack before removing from the pan.

Pulled Pork Pie

Whenever I fall at your feet
Would you let your tears rain down on me
Whenever I fall..
                                        Neil Finn, Crowded House

It's nights like these that I dread the most - when closely knit families gather together under one big roof to celebrate life, and friends toast one another around a tree with clinking glasses and warmed bellies. I feel lost. I feel empty. On nights like tonight I think about lost loves, white lies and aching truths. I sit by the window in the fleeting light with a mug of lukewarm tea and a lonely heart at my sleeve, and watch the world move slowly by.

Once upon a time, when I stared into those deep and endless pools of a soul's reflection flecked with green and brown, I could see myself older, still holding those same hands. There were some moments that I'll never forget: a freezing day in the underground metro, riding up the escalator with hands intertwined, soft and supple lips against my cheek; or another film night, falling asleep on the tiny couch (yet again) with reassuring arms around my waist and the warmth of breath against my neck. It's slightly depressing to open my eyes and realise that these memories are just that.. Memories.

Apparently time can heal all wounds but I'm still waiting for that day to pass. Tonight I just need to be alone. I need to immerse myself in a project that is productive but slow, something I can drag out all night to keep myself contained, a recipe that I can pour all of my love into with results that are both satisfying and reflective.

This is a completely new recipe for me. I had grand plans to do a long, slow braise with dried and podded lazy housewife beans from my garden but changed my mind at the last minute when I found a roll of puff pastry that I'd tucked deep into the freezer many months ago. Not counting the cherry pie with almond cream that I made this time last year, this was my first go at a savoury pie and I'm pretty chuffed with the results.

I collected all the bones and bits (head included) from a suckling pig that would normally find their way into the bin at work. After a quick blanch and a few hours of slow cooking, I picked the meat off the bones and used this to make the pie filling. Despite everyone in my family professing to dislike parsley, I made a parsley sauce anyway. It took me two nights of simmering and reducing, rolling and baking to make my pulled pork pie. I haven't received much feedback yet but I can confidently assume that it would be welcomed back with open arms and mouths seeing as there is nothing left aside from the polite, obligatory sliver and a scraping of sauce. Ho ho ho!

Braised Pork Bits

3.7 kg pork bones (head, bones, trotters)

3 carrots, sliced into 1" pieces
8 fresh bay leaves
5 g thyme, picked (reserve leaves for filling)
70 g parsley, picked (reserve leaves for sauce)
3 g star anise
4 cm cassia bark

Place bones in a large pot and cover with cold water.
Bring to the boil, discard water and rinse well to remove scum.
Cover with fresh water, add carrots, bay leaves, thyme stalks, parsley stalks, star anise and cassia.
Bring to the boil, reduce heat to low, cover and simmer for 2 hours and 20 minutes.
Remove pot from the heat and allow to cool.
Strain and reserve the stock
Pick meat from bones, discarding any cartilage, skin and fat.
Return bones to the stock and simmer for 4 hours.
Strain the stock and discard bones.
Reduce stock over low heat until only 240 g remains.

Roux

50 g unsalted butter
50 g all-purpose flour

Melt butter in a small saucepan.
Add flour and cook for 2 - 3 minutes over low heat.

Remove from heat and cool.

Store in the refrigerator.


Pulled Pork Filling

10 g vegetable oil
125 g brown onion, finely chopped
reserved thyme leaves (approx 3 g)
100 g white wine (I used an Australian Gewürztraminer)
240 g reserved pork cooking stock
50 g roux
30 twists of cracked black pepper
3 g sea salt flakes

Heat oil in a small saucepan and sweat off onion until translucent.
Add thyme and cook for another minute.
Add wine and reduce until almost dry.
Add pork cooking stock and bring to the boil.
Add roux and cook, stirring for 4 - 5 minutes until thickened.
Season with salt and pepper.
Mix through reserved pork meat.
Place on a tray and refrigerate until cold.


Assembling the Pie

375 g puff pastry
1 egg
2 Tbsp milk

Roll out puff pastry to about 4 mm thickness between two sheets of baking paper.
Place onto a tray and refrigerate until cold.
Use an 8" pie plate turned upside-down to mark the pie lid.
Place the remaining pastry over the plate and fill with the cold filling.
Whisk egg with milk to create an egg wash.
Brush egg wash onto the edges of the pastry.
Crimp the edges with the back of a knife.
Trim off excess pastry and cut out leaf decorations.
Stick leaves to pie lid with egg wash.
Brush the pie lid with egg wash.
Cut a few slits in the lid with a sharp knife to allow steam to escape while baking.
Bake at 200ºC for 10 minutes.
Reduce heat to 170ºC and bake for a further 30 minutes.
Remove from oven and place on a wire rack to cool.


Parsley sauce

300 g milk
5 g thyme
70 g brown onion, finely chopped
50 g roux
20 g reserved parsley leaves, chopped
1 g sea salt flakes
20 twists of cracked black pepper

Place milk, thyme and onion in a small saucepan.

Cover and simmer for 10 minutes to infuse.

Strain, discarding solids.

Add roux and cook for 4 minutes to thicken.
Add chopped parsley and cook for another minute.
Place in a blender or food processor and blend until smooth.
Season and taste.

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YeastSpotting

Seeing as I have a tendency to promote autolysis rather than good bread making, I thought I'd make a scrumptious homely bread and butter pudding with some leftover bread. I used a 700g soy and linseed loaf from Sonoma which I purchased the day before on my way to work. With the crusts removed it weighed approximately 400g, yielded ten thick slices and layered into an ordinary round cake pan it turned out rather nicely. I didn't have any cream on hand so I created the recipe using potato starch (you could also use corn starch) as a thickener.

Bread & Butter Pudding

50 g currants
40 g butterscotch schnapps
700 g soy & linseed loaf, crust removed
550 g milk
90 g unsalted butter
7 g vanilla extract
1 g cinnamon
5 g orange zest, finely grated
2 g salt
2 eggs
55 g castor sugar
10 g potato starch
10 g cane sugar

Heat butterscotch schnapps and pour over currants.
Allow to soak for at least half an hour.
Layer bread slices into a round cake pan with currants sprinkled over.
Bring milk to a simmer with butter, vanilla, cinnamon, zest and salt.
Whisk eggs, sugar and potato starch in a bowl.
Temper with a little hot milk then combine with remaining milk.
Pour over sliced bread and allow to soak for half an hour.
Sprinkle cane sugar over the top.
Bake at 180ºC for 40 minutes.

Mushroom Ketchup

I was watching Heston Blumenthal's series 'In Search of Perfection' and I have to say that his enthusiasm for the scientific exploration of taste is quite catching. An email to Donna Hay requesting information on safe methods of aging meat at home unfortunately proved fruitless so I cycled down to my local supermarket butcher and asked for some rib-eye. He offered me a few smallish new york steaks instead which I accepted with slight reluctance before whisking them off behind the counter to wrap each carefully into a parcel of butcher paper.

Ten minutes later I was in my kitchen, tearing away the packaging and trying to figure out how I would cook them. I'd kill for a cryovac machine. They eventually went into the oven at 55ºC for 1.5 hours, looking very strange indeed with their layers upon layers of plastic wrap.

I left some baby red cabbages to braise on the hob with some garlic, rosemary, mustard and cream, picked some beans then began sorting out dear Heston's recipe for traditional mushroom ketchup with what I had available.

Mushroom Ketchup

360 g apple cider vinegar
100 g castor sugar
170 g swiss brown
mushrooms, stems discarded, quartered
118 g red wine
3 g mushroom soy
40 g brown onion, finely chopped
1 star anise
2 whole cloves
100 g chicken stock
3 g potato starch

Bring 300 g of apple cider vinegar to a simmer with castor sugar to dissolve.
Pour into a bowl and immerse all mushrooms until soft (about 1 hour).
Combine remaining vinegar with red wine, onion, star anise, cloves, soy and boil to reduce by 2/3rds. Strain.
Make a slurry with a tablespoon of chicken stock and potato starch in a small bowl.
Add all chicken stock, whisking continuously, then temper with a little red wine reduction.
Pour back into pot and whisk until smooth.
Bring to the boil to thicken (keep whisking).
Reduce until it reaches the desired consistency or thin with a little more stock.
Strain the mushrooms from the pickling liquid and stir into the thickened ketchup.

Sherry Cures All

I've been slightly obsessed with the idea of vodka-cured trout since catching a glimpse of the Pink Salt menu on series 2 of 'My Restaurant Rules' back in 2005. Living in the western suburbs of Sydney makes it fairly challenging to find anything other than cooked prawns, mushy barramundi and frozen kangaroo tail at the local fish market so I never quite got around to even considering it until recently. Of course, ideas seem to slowly morph whilst stewing in my subconscious over time and this was no different. Vodka-cured trout became trout cured in La Goya Manzanilla sherry with vanilla and star anise. When I first tasted it I thought to myself "Oh God! What monstrosity have I created?!" and promptly threw it back into the fridge. Twelve hours or so later the flavours had mellowed nicely and it was surprisingly delectable.

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La Goya-Cured Ocean Trout

150 g ocean trout fillet, skin on
106 g rock salt
40 g cane sugar
1 vanilla pod, split and scraped
3 g star anise, crushed
3 g orange zest
25 g La Goya sherry

Remove any pin bones from fillet with tweezers, set fish aside.

Combine all ingredients and spread 1/3 into a bowl.

Place fish on top (skin side down) and cover with remaining salt mix.

Cure for 24 hours in refrigerator, rinse then pat dry.

Skin fillet then slice thinly.

Serve with a wedge of lemon, horseradish cream and good crusty bread.

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KitchenAids Coffee Event

It's hard working 6 day weeks. I trudge home every night utterly exhausted and I wake up some mornings having to peel my eyelids apart. I seem to find myself a little short on time these days, however as one would be able to deduce from the title above - the KitchenAid has finally arrived! Pearl metallic it is! I couldn't bear to see the beautiful new machine sitting so lonesome, so untouched. What better way to mark the arrival of my new baby than by celebrating the completely electromechanical efficiency of whisk and beater with Monthly Mingle #26! It's very simple I admit, but this single mother doesn't have much leisure time to work with.

Sponge Roll

3 eggs
60 g castor sugar
3 g vanilla extract
50 g flour

Cream eggs and sugar until pale and doubled in volume (approx 4 mins).
Mix through vanilla and flour.
Spread onto a baking tray lined with non-stick paper about 5mm thick.
Bake at 220ºC for 5 mins or until cooked through.
Cool on tray.

Buttercream

3 egg yolks
25 g milk
100 g castor sugar
40 g dark chocolate
4 g instant coffee
10 g butterscotch schnapps
300 g unsalted butter, soft

Whisk eggs, milk, sugar, chocolate and coffee in a bowl over a baine marie until completely melted and emulsified.
Transfer to mixer and beat for 6 minutes or until cool.
Add butterscotch and butter and beat until aerated.

Turn sponge upside down and spread on a thin layer of coffee buttercream.
Roll up and refrigerate until set before slicing.

Tastes Better Cold

Citrus are typically winter fruit. That's right all you 'Eating with the Seasons' readers - it's winter here! So it may have technically ended a few days ago but it darn well still feels like it! If not for a small handful of cherry blossoms colouring my street, I doubt I would have noticed the change in season. With the end of high quality citrus looming, a tin of coconut milk in the pantry and a cake recipe I jotted down on a scrap piece of paper 6 months ago from god only knows where, I thought I'd take the opportunity to be a little crafty.

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I thought about coconut cake. My mind began to wander off onto other very much unsavoury things so I did a quick search on cakes - coconut layer cake, traditional coconut cake, coconut cake from the Midwest, coconut cake layered with lemon curd, coconut cake smothered in buttercream and dessicated coconut..

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I gave up on my search for inspiration. You know, I've always had a slight fear of making cheesecake, ever since my InterContinental Hotel trainee days where I once found myself up to my armpits in cream cheese, desperately trying to scrape the bottom of a humongous Hobart mixer with a tiny little pastry card that seemed ridiculously minuscule for the task at hand. Admittedly, I don't have the patience to watch anything that takes longer than half an hour in my crappy home oven that tends to burn everything near the fan.

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Sitting in the shower, I finally decided on a deconstructed sort of cheesecake. I'd make little muffin-sized coconut cakes with erm.. ahh.. hmmm.. crushed cookie cream cheese and blood orange curd! This mysterious cake recipe includes milk or buttermilk which I planned to substitute with my tin of thick coconut milk.

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Well, as my fortune usually goes, when I went shopping at 11:40pm after work, the only citrus I was presented with were 'Murcott' mandarins (the giant sort) but no matter. Ginger Snap cookies were on sale so I grabbed a box (ginger and citrus seem to go together well so why not?) along with a bagful of fresh ginger roots.

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Candied Ginger

250 g ginger, peeled
500 g castor sugar
500 ml water

Slice ginger roots into matchstick-sized pieces.

Combine all ingredients in a small pot and bring to the boil.

Once it becomes syrupy, reduce to a simmer and continue cooking until all ginger pieces are translucent.

Be warned: the whole process may take upwards of an hour.

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Murcott Mandarin Curd

600 ml Murcott mandarin juice
4 egg yolks
2 Tbsp icing sugar
1 tsp cornflour
pinch of salt
50 g unsalted butter

Boil mandarin juice in a small pot until reduced by half.

Combine yolks, sugar, cornflour and salt in a bowl and whisk together.

Slowly pour hot mandarin juice into the egg mix, whisking continuously.

Pour into the pot and bring to the simmer, stirring continuously with a spatula.

When thickened, remove from heat and add butter.

Whisk until combined and refrigerate until cold.

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Crushed Cookie 'Cheesecake'

250 g cream cheese, soft
150 g unsalted butter, soft
100 g icing sugar
3 Tbsp ginger snap cookies, crushed
1 tsp butterscotch schnapps
pinch of salt

Combine all ingredients in a mixer and leave at room temperature until ready to use.

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Mystery Coconut Cake

100 g ginger snap cookies, finely crushed
250 g SR flour
1 tsp salt
300 g castor sugar
120 g unsalted butter, soft + extra
for brushing
2 Murcott mandarins, zest
4 egg whites
400 ml coconut milk

Preheat oven to 170ºC, spray and line a tray with non-stick baking paper.

Brush 8 heatproof aluminium/ stainless steel rings with soft butter and coat with crushed cookies.

Sift flour into a large bowl.

Cream butter, sugar and zest with an electric mixer.

Add egg whites one by one, mixing thoroughly.

Stir in coconut milk then fold in flour.

Pour into rings and bake for 25 mins or until cooked through.

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Desserted

I've been flicking through the small number of Asian cookbooks that I have and there don't seem to be many desserts whether traditional or otherwise. Being brought up with Western culture it seems incredibly strange! It's understandable though. When my mother was growing up in China, meat was considered such a delicacy that people who were sick from malnourishment would resort to eating human placentas. Peasants would cook up a stray dog found wandering the streets. Eggs could only be bought once a year if lucky and plain rice was what millions of people depended upon to keep their families alive during the famine that ravaged the country.

I have distant cousins, aunts and uncles living in Northern China, their lives still irreparably damaged by the destruction caused by the cultural revolution. Although we've never met, and despite my complete ineptitude with the language, I feel as though food could be a point by which we could all connect. Or perhaps not. The lack of desserts really irks me. I think that my appreciation of food really lies in the sweets department which is a little wanting in my current situation. I found myself making jar after jar of marmalade on my day off last week which really is quite a bizarre occurrence.

I think that from tomorrow, I'll start and I mean really start trying to teach myself all about cakes, pastries and whatnot. I'm not really too sure exactly how much I'll learn about desserts where I'm at now professionally. Anyway, for the moment, here is a recipe for steamed snapper - an adaptation from 'Kylie Kwong: recipes and stories'

Steamed Snapper

"essence: The naturally sweet. delicate, moist flesh of the snapper combines with the aromatic ingredients to create a beautifully balanced, subtle, clean and salty flavour. This dish is an excellent example of the way steaming preserves purity of flavour and texture."

750 g whole snapper
2 leaves wong bok (Chinese cabbage)
1/2 recipe fish sauce
2 knobs ginger, peeled & julienne
1/4 C. shao xing wine
pinch castor sugar
pinch ground white pepper
1 tsp toasted sesame oil
3 Tbsp tamari (gluten-free soy)
1/4 C. shallot julienne
1/4 C. peanut oil
1/2 C. coriander leaves

Hold snapper firmly by the tail and with a knife, scrape towards the head to remove any scales.

Make 5 or 6 diagonal cuts parallel to the head approx. 1 1/2 cm apart, through to the bone. Repeat on the other side.

Bring a large steamer pot of water to the boil.

Place snapper on a plate, cover the body with ginger and slosh over the shao xing.

Place inside the steamer and replace the lid.

Steam for approximately 10-12 minutes or until cooked (flesh will be exposed and white through to the bone).

Quickly blanch cabbage leaves, drain and chop into rough squares.

Arrange cabbage squares on a large flat plate or bowl.

Carefully lift up the snapper and place over the cabbage.

Sprinkle over the sugar, pepper, sesame oil and tamari.

Bring fish sauce to the boil and pour over.

Place shallot julienne over the body.

Bring peanut oil to smoking point and pour over the fish to soften shallots.

Garnish with coriander leaves and serve immediately.

A Titillating Trifle

Jeez it's hard to be original! I wonder how other bloggers who have decided to participate in the 'Culinarty round-up' event held by Lore are faring. What does it mean to be original anyway? Every recipe appears to be a derivative of a previous dish slash combination of flavours.

To create something unique I suppose the key is to make a break from traditional recipes, whether you're introducing a non-traditional method or integrating within it an unusual ingredient or two. Admittedly, I'm always fascinated by simple structural changes which can effectively manipulate a dish, taking it to a completely new level.

­Take ham and eggs for example. What comes to mind? Some of you will be reminiscing over your last big English breakfast platter for sure. But myself, after hearing stories about The Fat Duck and coming across recipes for things like candied bacon ice cream, I've been wanting to turn the humble ham and egg sandwich into a post gluttony sweetener of some kind. Perhaps a semi-savoury brown butter panna cotta with coddled quail eggs, layered between jamon crisps and a little pig-flavoured crushed toast sprinkled around the plate?

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Normally I'm fairly restricted to using only what we already have en place and all of the things that everybody else wants to bin. Unfortunately I don't really have the time nor the money to be experimenting with all the recipes I'd like to try either. Perhaps I'll still get my chance, although it most definitely won't be today. So for the moment, you'll have to put up with this trifle for dessert (pun intended) - a little jellied quince fanfare with crumbled savoiardi soaked in sherry spooned on top and finished with a flourish of burnt orange cream.

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Orange & Quince Trifles

1 recipe savoiardi biscuits
5 poached quinces
50 ml medium-dry sherry
gold gelatine sheets
castor sugar for
caramelising

Make savoiardi biscuits and poached quinces two days beforehand.

The night before, drain quinces and reserve cooking liquid.

Place serving glasses in the fridge until cold.

Add water to the cooking liquid if necessary to damper the sweetness if you find it too intense.

Set aside a cup of liquid and combine with sherry.

Bring the rest to the boil and remove from heat.

For every 500 g of this liquid add 3 bloomed gold gelatine sheets.

Allow liquid to cool to room temperature.

Slice quinces thinly and wet with jelly mix.

Remove glasses from the fridge and lay quince slices against the sides. The cold glass will cause the jelly to set and the slices will adhere within a few seconds.

Place all the glasses back into the fridge for a few minutes until set.

Pour the jelly mix into the glasses and refrigerate for 4 hours.

1000 pouring cream
2 cinnamon quills
2 oranges, zest
1 lemon, zest
1 gold gelatine leaf
125 g egg yolks
65 g castor sugar
3 g salt

For the orange cream, bring cream to a simmer with cinnamon.

Allow to infuse for 30 mins over a low heat with zests.

Bloom gelatine in cold water and add to cream. Stir to dissolve.

In a medium bowl, cream together the egg yolks, sugar and salt.

Temper eggs with cream, pour everything back into the pot.

Slowly bring to 84ºC over low heat, stirring continuously with a spatula.

Remove from heat and strain through a fine chinois.

Lay plastic wrap on top to prevent a skin from forming and refrigerate until set.

To assemble, roughly crumble the savoiardi biscuits into the sherry liquid and give it a good stir to coat. Don't let it sit in the liquid for more than a few seconds or they'll no doubt become disgustingly soggy.

Spoon a good amount of savoiardi over the quince jelly.

Place a big dollop of cold orange cream over the top.

Sprinkle a teaspoon of castor sugar over each and caramelise with a blow torch (carefully so not to crack the glass).

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Spring Break: Asparagus Gone Wild!

Late last week we received a special shipment of wild asparagus from our 'not-to-be-named' truffle supplier. He'd managed to source it from somewhere outside of Australia and turned it over to us for roughly $100/kg. For wonderfully fresh and herbaceous young shoots that are available for only one month of the year, the going rate isn't really too much to ask.

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Chonz decided that he wanted a dish centred on simplicity which would allow the quality of the produce to shine so for two days we ran with what we had in the bag - asparagus, eggs and cheese.

All up we used five components to create this dish. Wild asparagus, morcilla (locally made Spanish blood sausage), champagne beurre blanc, a poached duck egg and a little grated Manchego (imported from La Mancha, Spain) over the top. The simplicity of ingredients and the quality resonates from the very first taste until the last. You'll see.

The champagne buerre blanc is the most time consuming so we'll start with that. You'll need to melt a small knob of butter and sweat off 2 finely chopped eschallots with a pinch of salt, a bay leaf and a few cracks of white pepper (so as not to be left with dirty flecks in the final sauce). Pour in 50 ml of champagne vinegar, 250 ml of champagne and reduce at a simmer until you are left with about 25 ml of liquid. Remove from the heat, discard the bay leaf and add 200 g of chopped butter a little at a time, whisking continuously until emulsified. You can stabilise it at this point by adding a small splash of cream, totally optional. Adjust seasoning if necessary.

Have a small pot full of salted water ready to poach your egg in and another with enough seasoned chicken stock to blanch the asparagus in with a few knobs of butter thrown in. Working quickly now, slice the morcilla into thick rounds and pan fry them in a little oil over medium-high heat. With a little swirl, slip the duck egg into gently simmering water and immerse all the asparagus in the chicken stock until soft.

To assemble, pour a little champagne beurre blanc onto the plate. Pile the slices of morcilla onto one side and the drained asparagus onto the other. Carefully lift your poached egg into the centre and grate a generous amount of Manchego over the top.

When you first attack the egg, the semi-cooked yolk will ooze out and combine with the now melting Manchego to create a lusciously cheesy sauce. As if in an out-of-body experience, you will begin a quick attempt to drink up every inch of this gooey goodness with what little is left on your plate.

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Do you see now?

Liver Lust

I often wonder what direction food is heading towards in the 21st century. Globalisation of the world's cuisine has seen many changes over the last few decades and at times it can be more than a little confusing. Back in the day (although for some of us it seems difficult to imagine now) pineapple hors'doeuvres, chicken nibblets, meat trees and tuna jelly were all the rage. Thank god we're past that. I think I'd cry if every meal I was presented with was served up in gay coloured crockery and overzealously garnished with sprigs of curly parsley.

But what of now? We've been gradually overwhelmed with increasingly bastardised variations of god knows what kinds of gastronomy.. Minimalist, architectural, contemporary European, modern pan-Asian tapas, 'classic', naturalist and most recently molecular. It's all well and good to eat a deconstructed bloody mary composed of hot-frozen pudding with spherified tomato water and a celery tuile craquante, garnished with a whiff of dancing nitrous and I admit that I think having the knowledge and ability to execute that kind of technical stuff is pretty darn cool, but sometimes it just gets down right confusing.

I mean when exactly did the consumption of good food become some kind of complex ceremonial act where we find it necessary for a professional to stand beside the table and direct us in the art of mastication? How long will it be before El Bulli and Will Goldfarb gelling kits are found in every 'modern' restaurant? Where will the foodie scene move to from there? Will we see gastronomy continue to be pushed into the abstract with the likes of alcohol-soluble flavours and the convergence of sweet and savoury? Or perhaps we may even be introduced to restaurant menus designed specifically for tasters, non-tasters and supertasters.

It's absolutely confounding to try to imagine all of the different possible turns the industry may take in the near future. But you know what? It doesn't matter because regardless of how cuisine changes, we can always return to our favourite memories from the good old days of comfort food before Texturas, like sauteed chicken livers with white onion soubise and oloroso glaze.

The onion soubise will take the longest to cook so be sure to start that first. You'll need four brown onions, about 80 g of unsalted butter, a few sprigs of marjoram and 180 g of pouring cream. Have a pot warming on medium-high heat while you thinly slice up the onions. Splash a little cooking oil into the pot and throw in the butter. Give it a few moments until all the solids have melted then throw in the sliced onions and stir it around. Add only the tiniest amount of salt to bring out the moisture and help along the sweating process then turn the heat down to medium-low, bang on the lid and let it cook for another half hour or so. Give it a stir every now and then (to be sure it doesn't stick and begin to caramelise as it's a white sauce) and keep it cooking until it's completely broken down and the natural sweetness has emerged. Now scrape everything into a food processor with the cream and the marjoram leaves and blitz it until it's as smooth as possible. Taste it for seasoning and add a little more salt if you think it needs it.

The oloroso glaze is a very simple one. Bring a tablespoon of castor sugar to a light caramel and carefully add a splash of red wine vinegar (carefully as it may spit at you). Bring it to the boil then add a cup of oloroso sherry. You can leave this ticking over and reducing slowly while you prepare the livers.

With a sharp knife, remove all possible sinew from the livers and rinse off any unsightly gunk. Toss them in enough cornflour to give them a good coating and season generously with salt and pepper. Have a pan ready over medium-high heat with a splash of good olive oil. Place livers into the pan and caramelise on both sides. Continue cooking until they're done to your liking.

To serve, place a dollop of soubise onto the plate. Pile the livers on top and drizzle over with the thick oloroso glaze.

With One Stone

I've been meaning to write up this recipe for a little while now, although with a fair amount of sleep deprivation I haven't quite been able to think of anything near witty enough to warrant posting.

Well, as I'm sure most of you are aware, we are now in the month of May which happens to be National Osteoporosis Awareness Month. Susan of Food Blogga has graciously decided to hold her very own blogging event to contribute to raised awareness of this disease. As with many other common diseases, most people are aware of the name and not much else. Do yourself, your friends and family a favour by taking a few minutes to find out the risk factors and likelihood of having osteoporosis.

This month's food event coined 'Beautiful Bones', encourages participants to create recipes centred around the use of calcium-rich foods including dairy, fruit, nuts, legumes, seafood, vegies and so forth. I've combined both dairy and nuts to make a pistachio cream tart with PX ice cream.

The tart was inspired by a recipe found in Casa Moro which I found fairly disappointing to be completely honest (the description that comes to mind is compact nut slurry). My version is more similar to a frangipane however and I find that the best method involves the food processor as it doesn't aerate the mix as much as an electric mixer and simply yields a better result overall. You could of course substitute pistachios for virtually any other kind of peeled nut. I think chestnuts would be at the top of my list to try if I were to make this tart again.

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Pedro Ximenez Ice Cream

150 g Pedro Ximenez (cheapish brand, eg. Nectar)
375 g milk
250 g egg yolks
175 g castor sugar
500 g cream

Bring PX to the boil and carefully flambe to remove alcohol (excess alcohol prevents freezing).

Combine PX with milk then bring to a simmer.

Cream the yolks and sugar in a large bowl.

Temper the egg mix by slowly pouring in a little hot milk at a time and whisking continuously.

Place the bowl over a bain-marie and (whilst scraping the bottom continuously with a spatula in a figure 8) very slowly bring it to 83ºC.

Remove from heat, pour in the cream (lowers temp to prevent any further cooking without the need for an ice bath) and strain through a fine chinois.

Refrigerate until cold then churn.

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Tart Pastry

125 g unsalted butter, chopped
250 g flour
160 g castor sugar
1 orange, zest
1/4 tsp salt
1 egg
1 eggwhite

In a large bowl, combine everything except eggs and rub together with your fingertips.

Cut in the eggs and rest in the fridge for 30 minutes.

Roll and line a tart base then freeze until hard.

Blind bake at 180ºC.

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Pistachio Cream

130 g almonds
250 g pistachios
50 g castor sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1 orange, zest
50 g butter

Combine all ingredients in a food processor and blitz until it becomes a smooth paste.

Set aside.

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Tart Filling

180 g unsalted butter, chopped
90 g castor sugar
1/2 tsp ground cardamom
1 egg
2 egg yolks
40 g flour

Combine butter, sugar and cardamom in a food processor and work until it becomes smooth.

Add the eggs and pistachio paste and blitz until well combined.

Transfer to a large bowl and fold in the flour.

Fill the tart base with pistachio cream and bake at 180ºC for approximately 25 minutes or until set.

Serve immediately with a side of PX ice cream.

Cookthink Cookup

If you asked me when the last time was that I cooked something at home, really cooked something as opposed to: unwrapped, defrosted, reheated, microwaved, added water and stirred, you would receive nothing more than a shrug of the shoulders, a surly grunt and perhaps a confused stare.
Being completely honest with you, before I began working in the industry those things were all I did. I didn't know a thing about food, restaurants or cuisine and I didn't really care. It was merely an occupation that would one day allow me to travel freely and experience the many great wonders of the world. And, at the time, committing myself to a tertiary education for a degree in some randomly chosen field without passion seemed about as useless as tits on a pig.
Well, fortunately, I can say that whilst working myself into a professional state of seclusion over the last 4 years the job has grown on me immensely. So much so, that with my working hours I still find it impossible to cook for myself. When I'm at work I try to do the best I can and when I'm not, I bring all of my professional baggage home and brood over how to do it better.
My submission for 'Root Source Challenge #11: Bourbon' is a chocolate bread & butter pudding with saffron cream (an adaptation of pastry cream from Tartine that took a little tweaking to get just right) which we now serve with red wine-poached pear and a brush of chocolate sauce.

Chocolate Bread Pudding

2 stale baguettes, crust removed and sliced
870 g cream
160 g bourbon (or rum if you prefer)
300 g dark chocolate, chopped
150 g unsalted butter, chopped
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
2 oranges, zested
2 lemons, zested
6 eggwhites
220 g castor sugar

Spray and line a square cake tin with baking paper.
Place bread slices evenly into the tin in layers.
In a medium pot, bring cream and bourbon to a simmer.
Throw in the chocolate, butter, cinnamon and zests.
Stir continuously over low heat until it is completely emulsified.
Whisk together the eggwhites and sugar in a bowl.
Temper the egg mix by pouring in a little chocolate cream into the bowl at a time while whisking continuously.
Pour the entire mix over the layers of sliced baguette, wrap and leave in the fridge overnight to soak.

Saffron Cream

600 g milk
a good pinch of saffron
1/4 tsp salt
100 g castor sugar
22 g cornflour
2 eggs
55 g unsalted butter, chopped

In a pot bring the milk, saffron and salt to a simmer.
Reduce heat to the lowest setting and allow to infuse for 1/2 hr.
If using saffron threads, break them up with a submersion blender to bring out the colour.
In a bowl whisk together the sugar, cornflour and eggs.
Temper with the milk by adding a little at a time to the eggs while whisking continuously.
Pour everything into a clean pot and whisking continuously, bring it to a simmer for a minute (this is when cornflour will begin to thicken).
Remove from heat and throw in the butter.
Keep whisking until it has emulsified.
Transfer to a bowl and cool over ice, stirring with a spatula every now and then to achieve a very smooth finish.

Preheat the oven to 180ºC.
Unwrap the cake tin and slide it into the middle rack.
Bake for approximately 40 minutes. It will puff up a little and when ready, the top layer of crust should be crisp.
The saffron cream can be served alongside both hot or cold.

Cava Granita

750 ml Cava Mediterraneo
660 ml water
260 g castor sugar

Bring 1/3 water and sugar to the boil to make a clear sugar syrup.
Combine with the remaining 2/3 water to cool down the syrup.
Add syrup to the Cava and give a quick whisk to combine.
Freeze until set.

Christmas Pudding

360 g suet, grated
360 g raisins
360 g currants
180 g plain flour
180 g japanese breadcrumbs
180 g mixed peel
180 g brown sugar
1 lemon, zested and juiced
1 g nutmeg, ground
1 g cinnamon, ground
1 g table salt
4 eggs
100 ml brandy
600 ml milk

Combine all ingredients and divide into 3 buttered ceramic bowls.
Wrap entire bowl with cling film 10 times then steam for 8 hours in convection oven or 9 hours in baine marie (remember to top up water regularly).
Remove from oven and test with skewer. Puddings should be cooked all the way through.
Cut away cling film and turn out onto rack whilst hot.

Duck Liver Parfait

800 g duck liver
8 eggs
200 g eschallots
2 g thyme, finely chopped
1 bay leaf
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
90 ml brandy
180 ml port
180 ml Madeira
800 g butter, diced

Bring liver and eggs to room temperature.
Sauté eschallots in butter with thyme, garlic and bay leaf.
Deglaze with liquors and reduce.
Whisk in butter to thicken.
Puree liver, eggs, liquor and season.
Pass through a chinois lined with muslin and pour into ceramic terrine moulds.
Cook in a baine marie for 1 hour at 110ºC.

Tips: Use cold butter to prevent the glaze from splitting and start the baine marie with boiling water to minimise cooking time. When cooked the internal temperature should bebetween 57ºC - 65ºC.