Maple Syrup & Vegemite Glazed Lamb Ham

I'm Asian. I love freebies and I'm a sucker for good food.

The cunning pants at Meat & Livestock Australia and Hausmann have played me right into their hands with a sacrificial offering of Hay Valley lamb ham, gourmet mustard and sourdough tucked neatly into a red linen-lined basket. If Little Red Riding Hood had a hoarding habit and accepted her goodies in styrofoam boxes, we could very well be twins.

There was a lovely note slipped in beneath the bread, just in case I'd been struck by a sudden case of amnesia and forgotten the email I'd received two days prior confirming my availability to accept a perishable delivery from so and so.

"Thanks for all of your hard work - taking pictures of random things, chowing down on free food and taking more pictures, posting said pictures with delirious comments attached on a blog that nobody in their right mind would ever read.  Lots of love from the seedy man in admin who signs notes under exotic female aliases to build customer rapport."


I'll pretend to be frank for a moment. I was intrigued yet dubious about the concept of lamb ham from the beginning for the following reasons: 

1. I've never ever heard of 'lamb ham', thus it must be a terrible concoction of farce and nitrites. Perhaps past tasters in market research groups contracted botulism and were unable to speak of its delicious flavour and paralytic effects.

2. This so-called 'lamb ham' contains 20% less fat than the traditional porker. Since fat is flavour and a lubricating agent, the proportionally lower fat content of lamb would no doubt result in a despicable product with the dry and unpalatable texture and flavour profile of shredded cardboard. 

3. Google Images reveals numerous pictures of lamb that appear about as appetising as a dinner party consisting of two girls and one cup.. minus the girls.

I don't normally say this because it never ever happens except maybe just this once ..but well.. I was wrong. Cured in maple syrup and smoked, it was as good as (if not better than) a traditional pork ham - unbelievably tender, succulent, oh so moist. 

To enhance the subtle ingrained smoky sweetness, I sloshed together a fairly traditional ham glaze with maple syrup, Dijon mustard and cider vinegar. Hmm.. There wasn't anywhere near as much fat around the outside so I bypassed the scoring and clove studding and added a light dusting of allspice. Oh what the heck. Lamb is the epitome of the modern Australian diet. In went a blob of Vegemite. 

A whole lot of basting, cursing, basting, peering, and basting later, the lamb ham was removed and allowed to rest for two hours. Admittedly I was upstairs watching an enthralling episode of Better Homes & Gardens but it needed to rest anyway. All that basting would have tired the little lamb out. 

I dug out my biggest knife and sliced into the cooled meat with trepidation, but I needn't have worried. All of my niggling doubts and expectations flew out the window as the quivering pink flesh touched my lips. No words can describe the elation of discovering a ham that surpasses all other hams, or the Kodak moment when one tastes the first sliver of barely warm lamb that's been cured, smoked and basted for an hour with maple syrup and rich Vegemite. This is definitely a recipe that I'll be keeping in the books for next year, and possibly one to overthrow past traditions.



Maple Syrup & Vegemite Glazed Lamb Ham

1 x 2 kg Hay Valley lamb ham
200 g light brown sugar
60 g maple syrup (real maple syrup, none of that flavoured fake stuff)
60 g apple cider vinegar
50 g Dijon mustard
25 g Vegemite
1.5 tsp allspice, ground

Trim the skin off the lamb, leaving as much fat on as possible. Remove any visible sinew.
Cover the bone with foil to keep it nice and clean.
Leave for an hour or until it comes to room temperature.
Preheat the oven to 180˚C.
Chuck all of the remaining ingredients into a bowl and whisk until sugar is dissolved and Vegemite is thoroughly combined.
Place a rack over a tray and half-fill it with boiling water.  
Place the lamb ham on top (make sure the water doesn't touch the lamb), covering loosely with foil. 
Roast for 40 minutes.
Remove the foil, top up the water and baste with maple syrup and Vegemite mixture.
Return to the oven and continue roasting for 40 - 50 minutes, basting lightly every 10 minutes or until a beautiful golden brown.
Stick a thermometer into the centre to make sure that the meat has reached 60˚C.
Remove tray from oven and rest for 2 hours before slicing.
Enjoy! :D

Preserving Winter Fruit

Hey you, yes you in the kitchen, holding that bowl of orange peels left from the bounty of winter citrus that were nurtured so lovingly by your favourite producer down at the weekend farmers' market. I can see what you're up to. You were planning to upend the entire contents into the waste bin that'll undoubtedly go into landfill and contribute to our already warming atmosphere weren't you? 

Shake your head. Lie to me. That's right. 

There's something else that we can do with these that'll add another awesome secret ingredient to your pantry and have your neighbours peeking over the fence with jealousy as you entertain your friends and family with beautifully perfumed renditions of Italian classics.

Preserved lemon is an ingredient that I know you're familiar with. Tangy. Robust. A burst of floral citrus and acidity all in one. It's proved to be quite versatile, contributing to some of the great culinary masterpieces and traditional peasant dishes of our time, providing a subtle backdrop or Kill Bill-style smack in the face.

Luckily for us, orange peels have just the same potential if not more. Google preserved oranges and what you'll find is 2.47 million images of sugar-laden, diabetes-inducing goodness. This is not what I'm suggesting.


Preserved orange peel

orange peel (with or without pith, whatever)
cheap rock salt (preferably local, organic and sustainably harvested)
aromatic spices and stuff
fresh orange juice/lemon juice/apple cider vinegar to cover

Pay close attention. This recipe is deceptively simple.

Stuff a sterilised jar with orange peel and handfuls of rock salt.

Throw some cinnamon quills or peppercorns or bay leaves or whatever in.

Cover with juice and/or vinegar.

Screw on the lid.

Chuck it in a dark place for a couple of months.

Jars must be stored in a cool, dark place as excessive heat and UV light can cause degradation of citric acid which is BAD. Reconstituted orange juice and any other non-fresh juice that is heat treated during processing should not be used as heat destroys acidity.

Fresh lemon juice has a pH that lies somewhere around 2-3, fresh orange juice typically has a pH of 3.5 and apple cider vinegar has a pH that falls between 4.25 and 5. For safe preservation, the pH should ideally be maintained below 4.6. 

If using apple cider vinegar this can be achieved by mixing it with a substantial amount of lemon juice to increase the acidity. If you don't have citrus juice, you can try adding powdered citric acid (no more than 8% of liquid weight). Palm vinegar is an inappropriate dress to wear to this occasion. White vinegar will have you thrown out.

Preserved orange peel will take your dinner parties where they never dared. If a riot breaks out when you hit the bottom of the jar, don't blame us.

Wintry Pumpkin Pie

When one has close to a dozen pumpkins stacked in a corner of the kitchen, meal times become a game of finding ways to disguise pumpkin in anything and everything. As delicious as they may be, there are only so many times that I can eat variations of Parmesan-crusted pumpkin wedges (Gruyere and torn basil is an excellent combination by the way), baked oatmeal with pumpkin and maple-soaked raisins or chickpea-hiding-pumpkin-patties before I feel inclined to start pulling my hair out.

I've never had a proper pumpkin pie before (the orange-coloured cream masquerading as said pie at Cotton Duck doesn't count), so I thought I'd give that a go. I wanted a really beefed up version full of warming spices and wintry nuances so I scoured through my books for a few ideas which I mashed together into a single recipe.

Spices from a traditional American diner dessert - sweet potato pie were added and the amount of sugar scaled back to let the natural sweetness of the pumpkin sing. Instead of making a classic pie with flaky pastry, I cooked the pumpkin pie filling in jars and dished them up with homemade yoghurt, dried lemon peel and some shortbread biscuits infused with lemon and rosemary.


Dried lemon peel

1 lemon
100 g water
50 g castor sugar

Peel lemon with a vegetable peeler.
Remove white pith from the peel with a small, sharp knife.
Cut peel into thin strips about 2 mm wide.
Place water and sugar into a small pot and bring to the boil.
Add lemon peel and bring back to the boil.
Allow to simmer for 2 minutes.
Remove pot from heat and cool to room temperature.
Strain out the peel and drain well.
Spread peel onto a flat tray lined with baking paper or a silpat mat.
Dehydrate at 55ºC for 3-4 hours or until crisp.
Cool to room temperature.
Store in an airtight container.


Pumpkin pie

1 kg pumpkin, unpeeled
30 g olive oil
134 g castor sugar
3 g salt
2 g ground ginger
2 g ground cinnamon
1/2 g ground nutmeg
1/2 g ground allspice
4 g vanilla paste
7 g all-purpose flour
260 g evaporated milk
20 g water
10 g lemon juice
2 eggs

Slice pumpkin into 2cm thick wedges.
Brush with olive oil and roast at 200ºC for 40 mins or until pumpkin is cooked through and caramelised.
Remove from oven and set aside to cool to room temperature.
When cool to the touch, scrape away pumpkin flesh from skins and set aside in a bowl.
Discard skins.
Place 320 g of pumpkin flesh in a food processor with sugar, salt, spices, vanilla paste and flour.
Blend until smooth.
Whisk together evaporated milk, water, lemon juice and eggs in a bowl.
Add liquids to pumpkin mixture and blend to combine thoroughly.
Transfer to a jug and half fill 5 small 300 ml jars.
Place jars into a roasting tray and fill with boiling water.
Bake at 160ºC for 35 mins or until pumpkin is just set in the middle when shaken.
Transfer jars to a rack to cool slightly.
Serve with homemade yoghurt and a sprinkling of dried lemon zest.

A bastardised pumpkin recipe

My first was an accident, a mishap, the result of unintentional volunteer seed spreading through unprotected contact. A certain somebody had thoughtfully deposited half of a mouldy supermarket pumpkin into the compost heap which, much to my annoyance, somehow lodged itself onto the prongs of my garden fork every time I turned the heap. After much cursing, It eventually disintegrated and I spread the compost around the base of my chilli plants as mulch. At this very moment, I had become the unwitting propagator of pumpkins.

The Chinese lady next door told me that pumpkins are ready to harvest once the white splotches turn a yellow, creamy colour. My dad the self-proclaimed 'expert' confirmed this but failed to mention that pumpkins require a few weeks to cure before eating. So excited about picking pumpkins was I, that I cracked one open immediately and made a big batch of soup that tasted like total ASS.

I thought I'd done something terribly wrong. Maybe pumpkins and chillies are not fitting companion plants and are instead, bitter instigators. Maybe pumpkins DETEST being watered with seaweed emulsion. I was full of self-doubt and loathing and distasteful pumpkin. I wept silently while the pile of pumpkins slowly grew.

A friend of mine offered me a copy of Plenty by Yotam Ottolenghi after inadvertently ordering one too many online. When I chanced upon the recipe for 'Crusted pumpkin wedges with soured cream', the pumpkins too received a second chance, lest I be left with a mouldy collection as a permanent reminder of inadvertent mistakes. 


Parmesan-crusted pumpkin wedges with yoghurt
a recipe adapted and completely bastardised from Plenty by Yotam Ottolenghi

750 g pumpkin (skin on)
40 g Parmesan, finely grated
30 g white breadcrumbs
25 g unsalted butter, melted
26 g black Tuscan kale leaves, roughly chopped
7 g garlic, finely grated
3 g thyme leaves
1 1/2 g black pepper, coarsely ground
2 g salt
1 g ground cumin
1 g ground nutmeg
50 g olive oil

Cut the pumpkin into wedges 2cm thick.
Toss with olive oil to coat and arrange onto a tray lined with baking paper.
Bake for 20 minutes at 180ºC.
Toss all of the remaining ingredients together and press firmly onto the sliced pumpkin.
Return to oven for an additional 30 minutes until the pumpkin is cooked through and crust is golden.
Serve with a zesty natural or European style yoghurt.

Hello Hawkesbury

G'day from the outback!

I'm just kidding.. I did see a kangaroo at the train station last week but the Hawkesbury campus isn't that far.. Five weeks into the first semester and things are going swimmingly well. Despite 'Biology A' being perhaps more than just a little overwhelming (there are so many goddamn words and concepts to remember), I'm enjoying my course. I've met some very interesting and passionate people, teachers and students alike.

'Primary Production' practicals make Fridays the days that I look forward to the most. I've traded in my chef knife for a grafting knife and (fingers crossed) when Spring comes around, I'll be posting photos of finger lime buds shooting out of lemon rootstock! Aside from grafting, we've been learning about planting mediums, various methods of propagation, the importance of soil structure, etc. which we then get to apply out in the field.

Our plot (our = Roi + I) no. 11 contains bok choy, choy sum, pak choi, kohl rabi, basil, onion, chives; and also beetroot, silverbeet and celeriac (although I'm wondering if/when these will sprout). I couldn't help myself and interplanted the entire bed with snake beans, which we built a trellis for last week. When faced with a big box of open seed packets, I can't resist filling any extra space in our plot with as many bizarre plants as I can find. Roi is lovely for putting up with me! :b

Unfortunately I can't quite seem to work up the same excitement over canteen food. A caesar salad contains 38 grams of fat. Salad can make you fat. In comparison, McDonalds really is a healthy choice. Who would have thought. No wonder we're facing a bloody obesity epidemic.

Last night I discovered a packet of chickpeas that I'd launched into the darkest corner of the pantry oh.. probably 6 months ago. Anyway I thought it was about time that I cooked them so I tipped some into a bowl and left them soaking overnight. During a very boring lecture, I found a random recipe online for chickpea patties containing peanut butter and whole bunch of other terrifyingly fattening things which I omitted since I now have this grand idea of eating healthy. Or at least healthier.

No more fat salads for me thank you.


Chickpea & Pumpkin Patties

425 g cooked chickpeas, drained well
22 g parsley leaves
75 g breadcrumbs
1 egg
250 g pumpkin, diced
2 garlic cloves
120 g onion, finely diced
10 g olive oil
6 g sweet paprika
5 g ground cumin
115 g greek yoghurt
4 g lemon juice
1/2 cup plain flour for dusting

Bring pumpkin and garlic to the boil in a pan with water.
Simmer until cooked through.
Strain and cool.
Heat olive oil in a pan.
Add diced onion and a pinch of salt.
Sweat over medium heat (the onion, not you) until cooked through.
Add paprika and cumin.
Toast spices for a minute until fragrant.
Remove from heat and cool.
Throw the chickpeas, parsley, breadcrumbs, egg and garlic into a food processor and pulse until it binds together (a few whole chickpeas here and there doesn't matter).
Gently stir through pumpkin and onion.
Form into as many patties as you like, keeping them about 2.5 cm thick. (The thinner you make your patties, the more you increase the likelihood of them falling to bits before they reach the pan. You could even shape them into balls and then flatten them in the pan afterwards, although the sides won't be nearly as neat.)
Dredge both sides in flour.
Pan fry over medium heat (give them a gentle press with a spatula to maximise surface contact) with a little oil for 3 mins each side.

Stir together the yoghurt and lemon juice.

Season and serve.

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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Fennel Salt Schiacciata

I'm so depressed. Masterchef is over (again) and I've added another year to my life. It's not that I feel old because I don't - I've only turned 24. It's just that sometimes it feels like it all goes by so quickly. Woosh! There goes another year, and another, and another.. I don't feel like I've really done much besides work. I've yet to have the epiphanous moment, you know, the one when you finally realise what your lifelong dream has been all along.

I think I might like to be a food producer somewhere down the track. I love the idea of turning to the ways of the Old World. I read a tiny snippet in the paper last week about a new university course being offered in Britain - a year-long diploma on artisan foods. If only I had an extra 20,000 pounds sitting in the bank. I'd love to spend every single day up to my elbows in curd and learning how to make cheese or bread or smallgoods. Now that would be a dream come true.

A few weeks ago in masterclass, Michael Klausen of Brasserie Bread taught two lucky contestants how to make schiacciata. Its Italian name translates to 'crushed' and it is believed to have originated in Tuscany where during the grape harvest, crushed grapes are pressed into the dough along with olive oil, honey and salt. Like focaccia, schiacciata is a flatbread that is leavened with yeast and dimpled before baking over hot stones.

I know a few chefs who aren't too keen on Masterchef. It does make situations a bit awkward when a random weirdo guy comes into the kitchen to stare at us in the middle of dinner service with nothing to say except "Oh I cook too!". Okaaaay then.. I tend to think of it as more of a DIY show like Gardening Australia or Better homes and Gardens. I can pick up some new recipes and techniques from watching the show but I'm not a better cook until I actually give it a go.

After watching the episode online and with the kneading technique still fresh in my mind, I took Michael Klausen's suggestion to use fennel and set about making my fennel salt schiacciata. I used all-purpose flour which doesn't absorb as much liquid as high-protein baker's flour so my dough wasn't as wet as it was on the telly. It took 6 rounds of kneading and resting before the gluten in the dough was worked enough to form a thin membrane when stretched. Despite not having the right flour at hand, my schiacciata emerged from the oven deeply caramelised on the top, crunchy, salty, sweet and oh so aromatic. Mmm..

Fennel Salt Schiacciata

adapted from a recipe by Michael Klausen

420 g plain flour

10 g instant yeast

10 g sea salt

10 g extra virgin olive oil, plus extra for brushing

285 g water

10 g rapadura cane sugar

4 g sea salt flakes

4 g fennel seeds

Place flour in a large mixing bowl.

Place yeast on one side and salt on the other (salt will kill the yeast if they come into direct contact).

Add the oil and water and stir together until it forms a dough.

Transfer to a bench and knead for 5 minutes.

Cover with the bowl and rest for 2 minutes.

Repeat kneading and resting another 5 times.

Lightly grease a clean bowl and place the dough inside.

Cover with clingfilm or a damp cloth and prove for 1 hour.

Transfer to the bench and gently press to form a rectangle.

Visually divide the rectangular dough into thirds and fold both ends into the middle.

Press out a little to form a rectangle and fold into thirds again (this step promotes even yeast distribution within the dough).

Flip the dough so that the seam is on the bottom and return to the bowl.

Cover and prove for 30 minutes.

Divide dough into two equal pieces.

Place each dough piece onto a sheet of baking paper as large as your oven tray.

Using only your fingertips press both dough pieces into rectangles with rounded ends approximately 13cm x 25xm.

Push your fingertips into the dough, firmly and evenly to dimple the entire surface.

Brush liberally with olive oil, sprinkle 5 g of rapadura cane sugar, 2 g of sea salt flakes and 2 g of fennel seeds over each.

Cover with deep baking trays or clingfilm and prove for 30 minutes.

Place a heavy steel baking sheet into the lower section of the oven and preheat to 210ºC.

Slide one dough piece onto the hot oven tray and bake for 15 minutes.

Remove bread to a cooling rack.

Repeat with the second dough.

Elderflower Milk Tea To Sooth a Sore Throat

collecting basil seeds / silverbeet from my garden ­

Now that summer is over and the tomato harvest has finally died down, I'm back in the garden and as busy as ever. There are plants to be cleared, seeds to be saved, harvesting to be done and sowing in preparation for next spring.

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White icicle radishes are growing to about carrot-sized proportions and eggplants are still going strong. Coloured silverbeet have been nibbled on by caterpillars but there's more than enough to share a little here and there. A massive 2.2kg gourd was harvested and the ground cleared to make way for black Tuscan kale and golden beetroot. The crimson rhubarb have finally settled in and are getting bigger every day. Purple podded climbing peas.. Wow.. I only sowed the seeds a month ago and they're already as tall as me and covered in glorious, deep purple pods!

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I just started reading a new book called 'A Year With James Wong: Grow Your Own Drugs' and I'm learning so much about the inherent properties of plants, especially herbs and edible flowers. Have you ever used lemongrass as an insect repellent or made your own cough syrup from hollyhock flowers? Who knew that so many common ingredients could be used as remedies for such a myriad of ailments! The book even covers tips on growing your own herbs, flower preservation, foraging, and 'how-to' of concoctions, decoctions, tinctures, infusions, etc. Definitely something I'd recommend for every home gardener with an interest in sustainable living on a household level.

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potted cardamom

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With a terrible scratchy throat, a hacking cough and home remedies in mind, I started mixing up an infusion of elderflowers last night to create my own decoction to fix a sore throat. Elderflowers were traditionally used to treat the common cold and flu and are known for their anti-inflammatory and antiviral properties. Peppercorns and ginger are warming spices with ginger working to improve circulation. When crushed, cardamom pods are intensely aromatic with the essential oil known to be antibacterial. Similarly, the essential oil from cloves are used as an anodyne for pain relief and like ginger, it also acts to warm the body.

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Elderflower Infusion

25 g elderflowers
2 g lemon zest
3 g orange zest
50 g lemon juice
500 g water
250 g castor sugar
2 g salt

Make sure there are no leaves or stalks attached to the elderflowers.

Place elderflowers and zest in a bowl.

Bring lemon juice, water, sugar and salt to a boil and simmer until dissolved.

Pour over flowers and steep overnight.

Pour into sterilised jars and refrigerate.

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Elderflower Milk Tea

300 g milk
5 g fresh ginger root
1 g cardamom pods (approx. 4)
1 g cloves (approx. 5)
1 g black peppercorns
20 g elderflower infusion

Slice ginger, crush cardamom pods and place in a pot with milk, cloves and pepper.
Bring to a simmer and reduce heat to lowest setting.

Allow spices to infuse for 10-15 minutes.

Add elderflower infusion, strain and drink hot.

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Not Cutting The Mustard

I recently attempted a dessert with results I'm not proud of. I'd spent a good week at least, just thinking about this one dish and like my last relationship, it was a huge failure on my part. Individually, the components worked out fine, however once combined well.. Let me assure you that it wasn't something I'm looking to repeat any time soon; so much so, that my normally trigger happy shutter finger immediately pounded the delete button in a panicked frenzy as soon as any evidence of its existence appeared. I suppose it's back to the drawing board, although I'm not quite sure how to fix this tiny little calamity.

I'm not really the type to pack up and move on. I like to dwell, dwell on things until that one thing is all I can think about and I suddenly feel as if I'm going nuts. I know where I went wrong but I don't know how to make things better and it's so frustrating. The answer this time, seems to be just out of my reach.

Peering into the glass that's half full fortunately reveals a recipe for mustard shortbread which I've concocted using the ratio of flour to rice flour in a recipe from one of Darina Allen's more recent publications: "Ballymaloe Cookery Course". It's rich with butter, wonderfully textural and nice with a cup of tea. My Mum says it reminds her of a popular Chinese biscuit which is slightly sweet yet savoury and even my Dad likes it which is saying something. Yay!


Mustard Shortbread

30 g yellow mustard seeds
120 g flour
30 g rice flour
40 castor sugar
4 g salt
90 g unsalted butter, chopped

Pound mustard seeds using a mortar and pestle until mostly fine.
Combine in a bowl with remaining ingredients.
Rub butter in with fingertips and press into a ball.
Roll out to 3-4 mm thickness and cut into desired shapes.
Place straight onto a tray. Alternatively, press into the bottom of a square pan in an even layer.
Dock with a fork at this stage if you wish.
Bake at 140ºC for 20 minutes on the bottom rack.
Remove from oven and cut into desired shapes while still hot if you haven't already done so.
Cool on tray.

Chocolate Pepper Cookies For Comfort

There's a lonely little sunflower poking its bright bronze head out from amongst the tangle of budding tomatoes. It's new here and the pumpkin vines are already trying to drag it down. It's a tough cookie though. I can sense that it will put up a good fight and ride out the hard times ahead with as much strength and courage as it can muster. It may be the only one of its kind but that is not to say that it faces each day alone and friendless.

A dense but relatively neatly trimmed rosemary bush sits to its left and on its right stands a sprightly young black elder sapling. Together all three take turns in providing shade for their companions throughout the scorchingly hot days, the generous display of flowers attesting to their thorough enjoyment of summer rays. Try as we might to avoid it however, things we love in life often leave us. Perhaps it's a lover who is going away (for what seems like a lifetime) until spring or maybe it's a case of two friends who are simply growing apart.

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Sunflowers are an interesting species. They're used to produce margarine, latex, biodiesel and something akin to peanut butter called sunbutter. The real advantage they have over other plants though, is their natural ability to cleanse the soil (called phytoremediation), ridding it of toxic substances including arsenic, lead and uranium.

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I remember travelling to the sprawling city of Cuenca during my last trip to Spain. Famous for las casas colgadas, the houses hang perilously from the cliffs of Huecar's Gorge that divides the old city from the new. It's funny how I find beauty in strange places sometimes. It wasn't the architectural balancing act or the stark juxtaposition of what appeared to be two vastly different eras rolled into one. What struck me the most was sitting alone on the train returning to Madrid and being surrounded by a never ending field of sunflowers. It was incredibly surreal. They rolled over the hills and stood bravely against the rocky outcrops that bordered the railway tracks. Sitting quietly, staring out of the window and letting the sight wash over me was an experience in itself and it felt so comforting, like I was finally home.

This cookie recipe comes from a place far south, across the Strait of Gibraltar. Adapted from South Africa (Where Flavor Was Born: Recipes and Culinary Travels Along the Indian Ocean Spice Route, Andreas Viestad), these chocolate cookies come out rich and dense like a brownie, with bursts of melted chocolate studded throughout and a potent black pepper kick. For SHF #61 - Sweet Comforts this is a recipe for chocolate pepper cookies - soothing, spicy and awesome with a glass of milk.

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Chocolate Pepper Cookies

(adapted from Where Flavor Was Born, Andreas Viestad)

450 g bittersweet chocolate (70% cocoa), coarsely chopped

170 g unsalted butter, chopped

100 g raw cane sugar

2 eggs (110 g)

250 g flour

4 g baking soda

3 g salt

12 g black peppercorns, coarsely ground

Melt half chocolate over a bain marie, set aside to cool to blood temperature.

Cream butter and sugar in an electric mixer with paddle attachment.

Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition until thick.

Sift flour, baking soda and salt into a bowl.

Add to butter and mix thoroughly.

Slowly beat in melted chocolate.

Stir though remaining chocolate and pepper.

Cover and refrigerate dough for 1 hour.

Place heaped tablespoons of dough onto a lined baking sheet (for a smoother cookie roll the dough into balls and flatten them slightly with your palm).

Bake for 12 minutes at 180ºC "until crisp and crunchy on the outside but still somewhat chewy inside".

Allow the cookies to cool on the tray for a minute or two before transferring to a wire rack.

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