I ATE IT ALL... play with your food

honesty... pregnancy... food

2011-08-23T14:40:00.001+10:00

I'm about to be incredibly honest.
And it won't just be in this post.
It's been a while since I've had a chance to write at this blog. Not because I haven't been writing (quite the contrary), but simply because I have been swept up in a tide of life-changing happenings.

First- my mother was diagnosed with a treated for stage 2 ovarian cancer. 20 weeks of hospitals, chemotherapy, dietary and lifestyle changes and now we wait.
Treatment - for the most part - went well and has been as successful as we could hope for. Now we wait to see what the future holds for a woman who aside from this silent affliction was so healthy you could see it in her eyes.

Second- (and very excitingly) I have fallen pregnant with my first baby. This of course has taken up my time and mental space for many reasons, but the the most prominent and unexpected change to my life has been the prolonged and severe morning sickness that it has brought with it. 18 weeks on I am still running to the bathroom at least 4 times a day to lose my lunch and my kitchen forays have been curbed by a hyper-sensitive nose and gag- reflex. Quite a restriction considering my life interests.

Both of these major events have impacted heavily on the way I interact with food, in positive and negative ways. Certainly the certainty I used to feel surrounding my food choices has been somewhat diminished in the last 5 months. Quite a surprise for my food focused lifestyle.

There's a lot to be said for dietary changes supporting chemo treatment- and more (even if not all of it is good) to be said for the sliding diet of a severely ill mother-to-be. From one extreme of healthy eating to a desperate grope for anything that will stay down, the last 5 months have been nothing if not a wild roller-ride coaster of different food choices.
What have I learned? Never take any food choices for granted- you never know when your list of favourite dishes will be turned on it's head, or be tossed out the window.

Here's a foodie confession for you- salty hot chips (whilst not a nutritional tick) may well be god's gift to the morning-sick expectant mother. I never thought I'd be so happy to see them. And I have a new-found respect for the deep fried potato.
Whilst I'm not 100% back on track with my rational food choices, I am ready to start exploring food again and it's exciting to be back.
In the next few posts I'll share with you some fabulous recipes my mum and I explored to support her chemotherapy and some guilty secrets that got me through the worst of my pregnancy nausea. Sure they might be varying messages when it comes to nutrition, but they are all valid and interesting food experiences.
Now if you'll excuse me, it's time for my afternoon hit of chocolate milk (*cravings*).

Reclaiming creative food space

2011-03-22T15:41:00.000+11:00

It's time to reclaim this blog.
To pull it back from the brink of only-the-previously-published and use it as a creative outlet for my cooking and wild food adventures- rather than as a portfolio of published work.
For the other stuff drop by janedegraaff.com and click on the portfolio link.

From here on in these pages are dedicated only to the adventures that I don't write about professionally- or those aspects of the adventure that don't get an airing in conventional press [like the post about how deer hunting made me feel]. There has been much overlooked in the melee of deadlines and I would like to begin to rectify this- after all, sometimes the unofficial version is so much better.

The things I have failed to comment on thus far are:

The advantages of finally getting involved with a piping bag: witness a beautiful tower of rose-water and meadow honey cupcakes- that was somewhat lost amid the rukus of a trivia night.

How I feel about substituting almond meal when a Korma recipe calls for pistachio. And what magnificent results is can yield.

The effects of cramming a bunch of multicultural shopping into four days with friends.

And what happens when you match coffee and cheese- with a wildly high temperature and a bout of the flu.

But suffice to say that people get derailed from time to time- even by the good stuff.
No more.
I say back on the tracks people- and let the redirection begin.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder: Food Guru

2011-03-18T13:08:00.004+11:00

Absence makes the heart grow fonder: From local markets to online offerings, when remote locations create great Australian food products.

"Food Guru talks to a couple of Australia’s gourmet food producers about how distance shaped their gourmet Aussie products."

By: Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.foodguru.com.au

Melbourne Food and Wine Festival - Our Picks: Broadsheet

2011-03-18T13:01:00.002+11:00

*Note: sure it's over now... but here's what we were recommending...

Melbourne Food and Wine Festival - Our Picks

"The Melbourne Food and Wine Festival may be in full swing, but here are some of the events that are still to come in the second half of the city's most indulgent week."

By: Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

Gluten Free: Food Guru

2011-03-06T09:57:00.002+11:00

Gluten Free?- When even a slice of toast is not a simple choice.

Food Guru looks at the importance of understanding and offering Gluten Free

"For those of us who don’t require a Gluten Free diet the concept of Gluten Free (GF) dinning and why it’s necessary can be fairly confusing- and not without good reason."

By: Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.foodguru.com.au

The Gardening Chef: Broadsheet

2011-03-02T16:16:00.002+11:00

The Gardening Chef:
Kitchen gardens and the reality of growing your own ingredients.

We speak to three local chefs whose gardens feed their diners.

By: Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

Cooking in the comfort zone: Food Guru

2011-02-22T08:43:00.010+11:00

Food Guru talks to Ben Dalton, founder of The Cooking School, about finding your comfort zone in the kitchen and what prompted him to go looking for it.

"By his own admission Ben Dalton has been yelled at by everyone from Matt Moran to Tetsuya (not that he really shouts)."

By: Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.foodguru.com.au

High Tea & High Jinks: Broadsheet

2011-02-14T13:10:00.000+11:00

High Tea & High Jinks:

"As a variety of High Tea options surface all over town, we ask Michelle Milton, of High Tea Society, why scones and gloves make a great afternoon out."

By: Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

Meet and Eat: Cooking Together- Broadsheet

2011-02-14T13:06:00.001+11:00

Meet and Eat: Cooking Together

"Cooking together is the new black for Melbourne foodies. They might not be bona fide cooking clubs, but these groups are whipping up one hell of a tasty storm."

By: Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

Not Just Decoration: Flowers as Food - Broadsheet

2011-02-14T13:01:00.002+11:00

Not Just Decoration: Flowers as Food

"On the plate they make for more than just visual excitement. From the look to the taste, flowers are not just a pretty face."

By: Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

Let's Jam- Preserving the Season: Broadsheet

2011-02-14T12:54:00.003+11:00

Let's Jam: Preserving the Season

"As homemade jams become a staple of any cafe worth its toast, we ask for a few tips from some of Melbourne’s best jammers."

By: Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

Finding the Perfect Cup: Broadsheet

2010-09-23T12:58:00.001+10:00

Finding the Perfect Cup: Broadsheet

"Nathan Wakeford of Somage Fine Foods walks Broadsheet through the art of tea cupping."

By: Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

A Melbourne Picnic in Spring: Broadsheet

2010-09-23T12:42:00.002+10:00

A Melbourne Picnic in Spring: Broadsheet

"Now that it’s spring, it’s the perfect time to head outdoors with good food and company. We ask some of Melbourne’s foodies what makes the best spring picnic."

By: Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

Charcoal Lane Styles: Broadsheet

2010-08-25T12:23:00.002+10:00

Charcoal Lane Styles: Broadsheet

"We catch up with Damien Styles to find out why it only took one hour to decide he’d pack in his existing job to become head chef at Charcoal Lane."

-By: Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

It's High Time for Tea: Broadsheet

2010-08-25T12:16:00.004+10:00

It's High Time for Tea: Broadsheet

"With all the commotion for coffee drinkers, there’s a quieter revolution happening on the tea front and it won’t be long before origins and education are top of the list for the tea drinking fraternity in Melbourne too."

- By Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

Note: Images courtesy of Somage Fine Foods

Worldly Wedding Cakes: SBS Food

2010-08-25T12:09:00.004+10:00

Worldly Wedding Cakes: SBS Food

"My wedding cake dreams have just been shaken. Apparently the monumental, white-tiered wedding cake that I've been salivating over in the showroom isn’t real. That doesn’t mean it can’t be real, but I’ve been informed that I do have the option of one that isn't real should I require it."

- By: Jane de Graaff
Read the full article here

Note: Article featured in the Food pages of www.sbs.com.au

Reconnecting Kids With Their Food: Broadsheet

2010-08-25T12:00:00.015+10:00

Reconnecting Kids with Food:

Broadsheet

"Melbourne's maven of food Stephanie Alexander (OAM) was named Victorian of the Year earlier this month, so we thought it was high time we caught up with her to find out just what it is that she's been contributing to society."

-By: Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

Chocolate Dreaming: Broadsheet

2010-06-23T15:20:00.000+10:00

Chocolate Dreaming: Broadsheet

“Winter has set in and it’s time to hunker down with some of the best comfort food on offer: chocolate. But when it comes to identifying the finest, maybe all you can do it taste it.”

By- Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

No Two Brews Are Alike: SBS

2010-06-23T15:12:00.002+10:00

No Two Brews Are Alike: SBS Food

"With the 2010 World Barista Championships fast approaching, it's a good a time to look at the new brewing methods sweeping the Australian coffee scene and ask: is that a bong on the counter or are you just brewing my coffee?"

By- Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here- featured at www.sbs.com.au/food

The Roast Collection: Broadsheet

2010-06-11T12:54:00.001+10:00

The Roast Collection: Broadsheet

"Restaurants all over the state are serving warm winter roasts this month as part of Melbourne Food and Wine's Roast Collection."

- by Jane de Graaff

Check out the full article here - featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

Chatting with Chef Ben Shewry: Broadsheet

2010-06-01T12:09:00.002+10:00

Chatting with Chef Ben Shewry:

"When Attica was ranked #73 on the San Pellegrino World's 100 Best Restaurants list, we thought it might be time to find out how an award of this magnitude really affects a restaurant. Does it bring new pressures or just affirm that all the hard work is being noticed?"

By: Jane de Graaff for Broadsheet

For the full article- click HERE.

Note: Article featured for the Melbourne based www.broadsheet.com.au - check it out.

Catering to their every need: SBS Food

2010-05-17T14:12:00.002+10:00

Catering to their every need:
SBS Food

As the Sydney Film Festival fast approaches, we ask: from Superman to Wolverine, how do you feed the cast and crew on a movie set?

"She lurches against the buffet table, blood running down her face, a knife protruding from the middle of her forehead and her features deathly pale. Then she smiles, heaps her plate with food and wanders off to eat lunch. Welcome to the world of movie-set catering, where everything is not quite what it seems. But one thing’s for sure, though - when the cameras stop rolling, it’s the catering team doing all the stunts."

By: Jane de Graaff

Read the full article here

Note: Article featured in the Food pages of www.sbs.com.au

How Can Food Be Slow: Broadsheet

2010-05-14T12:25:00.001+10:00

How Can Food Be Slow?

"You've seen the little snail logo, you've heard that the food is 'slow'- but what is Slow Food really all about and will you actually have to wait that long for your dinner?"

-Jane de Graaff

Read the full article here

Note: Article currently featured at the up-to-the-minute website www.broadsheet.com.au

the great deer hunt.

2010-05-13T16:30:00.002+10:00

I am writing this post as a sort of therapy. Generally I write here for fun. Today, however, I am writing because a recent experience -that I undertook as research- has done the inevitable and wriggled it's way under my skin.

The odd part is not so much that it effected me, but how and why- getting at me in ways that I never expected.

In the process of writing

an article for the brilliant SBS Food pages (found here), I took myself on a hunting trip in order to really look my food in the eye.

The idea was to find out what actually happens should you wish to procure your own meat from the wild. A simple look at what to do if you find yourself faced with shooting some game meat.

I was prepared to be grossed out.

I was prepared to be traumatised.

I was prepared to be shocked and possibly to come home a renewed vegetarian (it's something I have dabbled with on extended occasions).

What I did not expect was empathy- for the hunters and the lifestyle.

What I was not prepared for was to find how organic the experience was.

Much less was I expecting to want to examine the whole process in great detail.

'Surprised' doesn't even begin to cover it- the experience, or my responses.

It must be said that I am not a huge meat eater at the best of times. Patience and I have a largely vegetarian diet. I'm not one who hankers after a huge steak or a meat pie- but I do enjoy a good BBQ as much as the next man when I think the meat has fared well in life.

But even this is not without exception.

It's a hard thing to always eat ethical meat in this pre-packaged world.

I find the mass production and death of animals for food abhorrent and inherently selfish when they live in misery and pain only to feed our insatiable burger lust.

Even more so when I think about what those mass productions are doing to our planet.

But I am not all for the completely vegetarian existence either.

Having noted that I have no stomach for the abattoir, I anticipated finding hunting a horrible experience as well. But I went with an open mind and had my expectations and assumptions turned upside down.

To begin with, the generous people who invited me into their hunting circle took it on good faith that I wouldn't turn out to be a 'sleeper'- an animal rights activist blithely feigning interest to gain access and a story (we writers can be so sneaky you see). So I am grateful to the lovely Greg Benton and the NEDSA (North Eastern Deer Stalkers Association) for allowing me to tag along with my ungainly city feet and making all kinds of annoying noise and clicking pictures on the hunt.

The experience went a little something like this:

Saturday- leave at 4.30am for the peacef

ul and picturesque drive to Wangaratta... inexplicably excited- by turns nauseous and curious. Avoid Maccas on the way, in spite of my desire for a shitty T/A coffee. The sun rises and magpies jeer at me as I speed past in my little white Getz.

Arrive at Greg's place at 8am to find him standing by his 4WD in full camouflage gear and with a shirt for me. Apparently my pinkish/red t-shirt is not hunting attire. How often do you see large patches of fuchsia wafting through the trees? I'd be a dead giveaway.

We abandon my little city car and load up the 4WD heading out to his mate's property where the deer have been spotted grazing.

On the way out we talk:

Greg has been interested in hunting for a long time, but has only recently been able to incorporate it into his lifestyle. He's president of NEDSA and is happy to share his hunting expertise with anyone who has a genuine interest. The NEDSA stalk deer in rural Victoria and organise group hunts for like minded people.

They don't use dogs, or any technology beyond a regulation riffle and a GPS to find their way in and out of the hunting areas.

I'm sure he thinks it's hilarious that an unprepared city girl has come to see what she can learn. I've only ever seen a gun used once. Target tin-can shooting on a friends property ten years ago. I might have even had a go, but I can't quite remember. Perhaps I've blocked the loud noise and trauma from my mind. No, I won't be shooting today, I don't have a gun licence.

And unless there is suddenly a run on marshal law in Melbourne, I think it unlikely that I will ever try to get one.

I have a sneaking suspicion that Greg might be expecting me to cry.

I'm expecting me to cry.

In fact, thanks to my soft city upbringing, I'm expecting to lament the loss of Bambi and go on a desperate search to rescue the now bereft Thumper... really.

When we originally spoke on the phone and Greg ascertained that I knew nothing about hunting, he asked me if I was going to be 'ok'.

I said 'yes'.

He said 'no'.

For the rest of the drive we pretend that I am tough. We talk about the fact that I used to practice target archery. Yep, I'm feeling tougher by the second.

Greg tells me that he learned his hunting skills (dispatch and butchery) on rabbits and that all game (regardless of size) is pretty much the same when it comes to field dressing. You break it down into manageable bits to get as much of it out as possible.

He tells me about his recent family trip to the NT, hunting with the traditional land owners and all the amazing things that he and his wife and kids learned.

I wish that I knew more.

I feel that I know less than even I had thought.

I hope that I am prepared.

By the time we get to the property I've run out of things to say and I am sitting quietly contemplating what we are about to do.

And I look ridiculous in an over sized cammo shirt- it just doesn't go with the embroidery on the pockets of my jeans.

We observe all the correct etiquette- letting the owner know that we're heading out now, so if he's planning on going shooting, please, don't shoot us.

We begin a circuit of the fields and surrounding scrub and bush on foot and I slowly get my game eyes on. It's a beautiful day. Cows moan and bellow at one another. Birds screech and scream. Greg raises his binoculars every now and then to 'glass' the surrounding area. I tip-toe behind and try not to make too much clumsy city noise. I freeze whenever he comes to a stop and hold my breath every time he peers into the middle distance.

We're looking for deer -yes, but considering their excellent camouflage ability, Greg tells me to keep an eye out for horizontal lines instead. Apparently there are not many of these that naturally occur in the bush- so if you see one, it's likely to be the line of a deer's back.

I spot one. It moves. But it turns out to be a wallaby.

Am I disappointed- or relieved...?

Two hours later (I think, it could have been less), we've rounded the whole property and are back where we started.

Nothing.

That's right, we have found diddly squat. And I'm trembling.

Again, disappointment or relief? I still can't work the emotion out, so I decide it's probably thirst... and maybe tension from trying to be so quiet for so long.

I'm not very good at quiet. Maybe that's why there were no deer.

Was I subconsciously trying to sabotage the hunt? We'll just never know.

On our way back Greg is disappointed. He really was hoping to show me how field dressing worked. I explain that I've learned as much from not shooting a deer as I would have from getting one. After all, not getting a deer is just as much part of the experience. Hunting for your meat is not a guaranteed dinner. Some days you win, today it was deer 1, hunters nil.

Internally I decide that I'm disappointed too, and that says something about me. I hope that I am disappointed because I spent so much energy working myself up for nothing. But a little part of me knows that I'm disappointed because we didn't get a kill. Is this a first taste of blood lust?

I'm disgusted with myself.

We have a cup of tea with the owner and share some venison cabana. It tastes really good.

I drive back to Melbourne. All the way home I wonder if I'll be able to cope with doing this again the following week- to go on an organised NEDSA hunt. Apparently with a group on the prowl we are more guaranteed to get a result.

I'm exhausted.

I fret all week.

I refuse to clean my hiking boots. Quietly I'm hoping that if I pretend I wont be using them again that somehow, I won't have to.

My wish comes true.

Sunday the following week- I set out at 4.30am in the Getz, I get 20minutes down the road and realise that I've forgotten them: my hiking boots.

My one appropriate piece of kit are sitting in the dark by the front door. Right where I discarded them last week. At least they will be spared this experience.

In the meantime, I'll look even more ridiculous. In a line-up guess who the newbie is...? It couldn't be the fuchsia shirt in the pretty pale-blue ballet sneakers could

it?

Darn! What was the give away?

I arrive at the Edi Cutting campsite at 7.20am- the campers wave at the Getz from their spot by the river. The team has camped overnight in order to get the full experience. City girl (reminder, that's me) has just dropped in for the action.

It's idyllic. The camp-fire still smolders and the kids peer blearily from sleeping bags while adults organise tea and coffee.

Most of the club hunters are already out. They left at 6.30am to make the most of the pre-dawn cool. Greg hands me the cammo top and raises his eyebrows at my sneakers. We climb into the 4WD and head into the bush. Greg was planning to leave the 4WD at a particular ridge and start our trek working our way along the high points.

Apparently the deer are everywhere here.

So are the club hunters. And in the back of my mind I'm mildly worried that in my cammo shirt I might make an accidental target. Mental note, stand up straight- present no horizontal lines and you'll be fine. Occasionally we hear a shot. But before we get to our spot, there's a buzz on the radio. One of the group has got a young buck, does Greg want to bring the 'journo' down to have a look at the field dressing? Yes, he does.

After all, that's why I'm here... the shooting was a secondary aspect to the actual process of getting at the meat.

We drive in and intercept the successful hunter where he's radioed us from his truck and then abandon our vehicles for the gruelling climb into the bush and up a steep rocky hillside to where the prize lies, bleeding out and attended by an army of blowflies.

Jeremy Johnson, local butcher and keen venison hunter, is the lucky shot. He's marked his trophy with GPS co-ordinates and so we head for a target that blends in so well that without the GPS we might never have found it again.

My short legs struggle to keep up, but we finally get there. It was a relatively clean shot. Through the upper forequarter. The buck ran for about 20meters and then dropped. Very little suffering.

Plenty of blood though.

I'm taken aback by how little this effects me. Again, exhaustion from the climb? Perhaps it's got more to do with the fact that lying amongst the leaf litter, the blood just blends on in.

I drop my pack and fish out my camera. But a zoom lens is probably not the best idea for the grim work ahead. It's quite graphic enough.

Field dressing is surprisingly simple. It looks even simpler again when it's the local butcher whose cleaning the carcass up. Jeremy is thorough, deft and works as clean as you can considering we're in the middle of the bush.

I'll keep the details here as limited as possible whilst still explaining what happens.

But if you're squeamish, I suggest you skip the next few paragraphs...

After bleeding the carcass out through a hefty throat slit, the animal is split along the belly and gutted. I'm fascinated by the way the internal organs instantly 'spill' out. I'd heard this kind of description b

efore, but didn't realise how accurate it might be. It's almost like everything inside can't wait to get away- I'm surprised by how tightly it's all packed in there.

Whilst there is a lot of blood, it's less than I expected, and as it drains away down the hillside and mingles with the dust to a less horrific grey colour, I'm relieved to find that gutting is not quite the bloodbath I was preparing myself for.

In fact, it looks positively organic with the surrounding trees, rocks and sunshine. The only really unnerving thing is the way the carcass steams into the morning air. You c

an't say it's not fresh.

The other slightly disturbing surprise is the way the carcass initially grunts when Greg and Jeremy roll it over- they assure me this is just trapped gas and air escaping. I feel silly for asking the question.

Once gutted and drained, breaking the carcass down is relatively simple if you know what joints, lines of cartilage and muscle to work along. If you don't, it's a case of feeling your way through it. And in Greg's words this 'can be a bit of a hack job' depending on whose in charge.

Today though, we have local butcher Jeremy making it look so easy with his years of practice and skill.

The hoofs and tail are removed. The 'back passage' is taken out so that it's doesn't get nicked and taint the meat. Then the back legs and haunches are removed with the skin still on. Apparently the skin stops the meat drying out while it is hung and aged.

The legs are quickly packed into canvas bags to keep them away from dust and flies- and Greg tells me that most of the NEDSA have these canvas bags because one of the club members knocked them up specially.

Plastic is always avoided because the causes the still warm meat to sweat- not a nice thing.

After Bambi loses his hind legs, the midsection of the carcass is skinned and other prime cuts like back-strap are removed and packed carefully away.

I'm still fascinated by the seeming lack of blood. I guess draining the kill saves a lot of mess.

Having said that, Greg and Jeremy are still smeared with it and in their cammo gear could look a little less than savoury if you stumbled upon them whilst out for a morning bush walk...

Skinning was another aspect of the hunt that I wasn't really looking forward to. Turns out I have a much more bloody imagination than the reality. Again it's surprisingly clean and simple.

From here on in, it all just looks a bit like a trip to the butchers, there's a fillet here, a tenderloin there. You get the idea.

Unfortunately we can't do a great deal with the forequarters on this occasion, as that's where the shot connected and as a result the meat is bruised and unusable.

Anything we leave behind will be cleaned up by wildlife pretty quickly.

After the carcass has been successfully divided up, it's hike back to the 4WD's and head back to the campsite for breakfast. The whole breakdown took about half an hour with a 20min walk each way. And the resulting booty of haunch and fillets isn't half bad for a mornings work.

On the way back to camp, Greg and I split off to try our luck on a high ridge.

But 40minutes later and there's no sign.

By now I'm getting pretty adept at spotting wallows (dust baths), rutting marks and rub patches on the trees that the males use to mark their territory. Greg is discouraged though as most of it looks pretty old and he doesn't think we've picked the right spot.

We give up and head back to the truck.

And this is when it happens. My first war wound.

We're about 10 meters from the track that'll take us back to the truck when a ledge I am standing on just comes out from under me. There's a sharp shot of pain right up the back of my leg and suddenly I'm on my arse in the middle of a patch of very prickly wild thistles. Fun.

I can feel the blood drain from my face. I'm frightened to move my leg. Greg rushes over and tries to help me up, but my injured leg just gives way underneath me.

'Ouch', is the only squeak that will come out.

Luckily Greg is not only an accomplished hunter, but an emergency room nurse by trade. So I'm in good hands as we work out that I've 'done my knee'. He assures me that I haven't broken anything, maybe just traumatised a ligament. Apparently I'll be fine.

I don't feel fine.

I'm confused about the whole experience- from shooting to eating (why didn't I get more upset?)- and now I'm the city girl sitting on her arse in a patch of thistles. Damn sneakers. Damn hiking boots by the front door. Let's call it Bambi's revenge.

Greg left me there in my thistle thrown and brought the truck in to get me. I blushed all the way back and tried to be tough.

Back at the campsite it's bacon and eggs on the grill as we wait for the rest of the hunters to trickle back. Aside from Jeremy's haul, there hasn't been too much success. But like the week before, that's the luck of the game.

After breakfast, I hobble around and help break camp while the hunters share their stories of injury with me- I'm not the first and I won't be the last to 'do' my knee. I tell myself it's badge of honour and try not to limp too much.

It's a month before I can walk properly again. Somehow I think I did better than the deer that morning. Besides, I end up with back-strap marinaded in Greg's special honey and garlic sauce and several sticks of cabana in my fridge.

What surprised me most was how peaceful the whole affair was. I had expected it to be all loud noises and blood lust. But hunting, if you go with people who respect the animals that feed them, can be a relatively calm activity. It certainly beats what I know about the abattoir.

I expected to come home a vegetarian, and whilst I'm not sure that I am dead keen to race out on another hunt just yet, I'm certainly curiously at peace with being a carnivore, as long as I know where my dinner has come from. And I certainly have a new understanding of the lifestyle that surrounds those who have the knowledge and skills to bring home their meat from the bush.

Note: Deer hunting in parts of Australia is also seen as a method of pest control as the animals are very destructive to both farmlands and native flora.

It's important to be well trained and to hold a gun licence for the use of any firearm. For hunting purposes you should check with local authorities for rules, regulations and permits and obviously the cleaner the shot, the better for the game animal.

Please note that I do not personally endorse hunting, but I do understand the lifestyle and see value in it's safe and humane practice.

I am very grateful to Greg and his family for taking me along on this trip and for being so patient with me while I worked it all out. It was certainly one of the most educational trips I have made.

AWW Just Four Ingredients fast- cookbook review

2010-05-13T12:45:00.001+10:00

AWW Just Four Ingredients Fast

Review: Jane de Graaff

"To tell the truth, I wasn’t so keen on the idea of a cookbook that oftentimes seems to be more full of serving suggestions than actual cooking.

But as I slid through the pages noting everything from mussels in garlic broth to duck with caramelised apples- a funny thing began to happen. I realised that this cookbook is less about the nitty-gritty of making crème anglaise than it is about helping us out when all other options have been sucked dry."

Read the full review here

Review featured on the ladylike Sassi Sam website.

Get her off the pitch: Book review for Sassi Sam

2010-05-13T12:37:00.004+10:00

Get Her Off The Pitch;
how sport took over my life
By Lynn Truss
Review- Jane de Graaff

"It’s not often that I venture outside the world of food and food books for reviewing. It takes a fair bit of interest to shift me from this happy comfort zone- but when Lynne Truss’ new book came my way, I thought maybe it was time to step outside of the food zone, if only for a moment.

I was sceptical when I began. After all I’m not the sporty type.
Really.
The only time I kick a ball is to try and make my puppy run, and the fact that he’s not a retriever and rarely comes back with it for me to throw again has never been an issue for our doggy/master relationship.

So I was interested to see if the erstwhile comments of a female sports writer could turn me into a sport-loving lunatic given the right angle and enough personal insight."

Read the full review here

Note: Review featured on the sparkling Sassi Sam website.

Apricots on the Nile- a memoir with recipes

2010-04-30T15:40:00.004+10:00

I have been moved.
Deeply moved.
By images of mango trees, hot days and markets seething with hawkers and melon sellers.
Images of Cairo and Egypt in an era passed- where manners and strict class division separated the well-to-do from the working classes. I have been carried away on a fragrant story of one woman's formative years and her longing to see it all again.
Apricots on the Nile is the story of food writer Colette Rossant's childhood in Egypt. And it is a beautiful book. At 178 pages it's easy to devour almost in a single afternoon- with recipes to try out at dinner time.
A story of summers spent at holiday houses in Alexandria, of a mother who constantly left her behind and of the kitchens where she found solace in the company of the family cooks and their food.
Rossant writes of an Egypt that is no more- but she does it with such eloquence, such passion and such evocative description that you almost breath the same air as her memories.
It's a beautiful book, full of recipes and charming anecdotes that remind us that garlic should be eaten in great quantities and that a party is not a party without party food.
It's a book that made me hungry for life. A book that made me long to delve into my own memories of food. But above all it was a book that made me want to play in the kitchen.
What a memoir!
And it got me wondering...

What are the recipes that really bring your childhood to life?

What are the defining food moments that are an intrinsic part of who you are?

Where did those recipes come from and which ones will you one day pass on?

I'm going to start documenting this question and ask it to whoever I can. Better yet, if you have a food memory or recipe from your childhood that you would like to share, feel free to pass it on. I'd love to hear about it.

Our Family Table: Book Review & Interview

2010-04-28T10:37:00.005+10:00

Our Family Table: Book Review & Interview with Australia's first MasterChef

"If you were an avid MasterChef devotee like I was- you'll know the story by heart: Mum of three boys from the Central Coast puts her heart and soul on the line every week to cook for (and sometimes against) some of Australia's top chefs and palettes. Yes, it's the story of Australia's first MasterChef- Julie Goodwin...

We got the chance to ask Julie herself about the whole experience and how the book (Our Family Table) has turned out. So here's what Australia's first MasterChef had to say..."

* Click here for the full interview and review

Note: Interview featured on the Girlie Gastronomy pages (books/interviews) of the very ladylike Sassi Sam.

High Tea: The Australian's Women's Weekly- Cookbook Review

2010-04-21T10:23:00.004+10:00

High Tea: The Australian Women's Weekly

"I’m having a really tough time not squealing with giddy excitement. And I’ll be honest and say that I’m generally not prone to fits of girlish glee- for fear of blowing my cover as an independent and formidable feminist.

Still- when the Australian Women’s Weekly ‘High Tea’ recipe book came my way- I could literally feel my sleek black outfit morphing into a frilly apron, lace collar and bustled skirt."

-Writes Jane de Graaff
Read the full review here.

Note: Review featured in the Girlie Gastronomy pages of www.sassisamblog.com

Disposable love... hook turn!

2010-04-09T10:50:00.001+10:00

The other day I fell in love- with a hot cup of coffee in a take-away cup. But it wasn't just any take-away cup...

It was this brilliant little re-usable gem from the Melbourne company, celebrating the love of all things Melbournian, hookTurn (Ha, hook turn... geddit?).

I don't usually gush about product unless I feel that there is a really good reason. So you can guarantee that if I'm posting pictures and comment, it's genuinely heartfelt.
These little babies are just kitsch enough to make the re-usable coffee cup less about toting a brand bearing cup-of-cool and more about just keeping your coffee warm, nodding to what they actually are and reducing waste as we go.

I've always loved the idea of the re-usable cup. I'm just not such a big fan of the ones with logos, brands and messages posted all over the sides.

So when I came across this one (and for only $10 a cup), I was pretty taken by them. Ours was a spur of the moment purchase - thanks to the guys at Camberwell's Coffee Collective, who stock them and who, like a lot of great coffee spots, offer a discount on your BYO cup. Just an extra benefit if you slurp down the devils brew like I do.

These BYO cups were one of those purchases that just make me all warm and fuzzy. It's a squishy little cup that you just want to HUG!

Dishwasher safe, withstands up to 200degC, keeps your coffee hot and "won't contribute to the mountain of discarded paper coffee cups littering the streets and bins around the world"... *warm. and. fuzzy.* That's all I'm saying.
Plus, for a local lover like me... it's supporting a Melbourne based company.

Check it out: www.hookturnindustries.com.au - and get yourself a re-usable coffee cup. I don't care what kind, but I do recommend this one.

Get your buns in the oven: SBS Food Online

2010-03-25T16:09:00.018+11:00

Get your buns in the oven: SBS
"The weather is cooling, the leaves are turning and the long hot days of summer are receding into the distance. In Australia this can only mean one thing... Easter is on its way and with it, hot cross buns."

Writes Jane de Graaff
Read the full article on SBS here.

Note: Article featured at www.sbs.com.au/food

With special thanks to Tony Dench and the team at Dench Bakers in Melbourne for allowing me to see how the pro's do it.

Introduction to Cupping at Market Lane: Broadsheet

2010-03-22T19:03:00.006+11:00

Intro to Cupping at Market Lane:

We were lucky enough to get along to an Introduction to Cupping at Market Lane for the Melbourne Food and Wine Festival. Here's how it works.

By: Jane de Graaff
Images: Julia Atkinson

Note: Article featured at the brilliant www.broadsheet.com.au

Last Minute, But Not Too Late:

2010-03-18T15:16:00.001+11:00

Last Minute But Not Too Late: Melbourne Food & Wine Festival

Melbourne Food and Wine Festival: We've chosen some great last minute events that there's still time to catch.
By: Jane de Graaff

Note: article featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

Melbourne Food & Wine Festival: So much to taste, so little time...

2010-03-18T14:12:00.010+11:00

Melbourne Food and Wine Festival: so much to taste, so little time...

There's no doubt about it, the Melbourne Food and Wine Festival is big this year.
But Broadsheet has got you covered writes Jane de Graaff.

Note: article featured at www.broadsheet.com.au

Finger lickin' Chinese chicken:

2010-03-10T15:37:00.001+11:00

Occasionally when I have a little free-range bird on hand I'll be thinking roast chicken, but not the usual rosemary and lemon with veg type deal.
Sometimes the little chook calls for a treatment that is a little more pungent, a little more spiced, a little more.. exotic (to me anyway).
This is where the trusty soy sauce comes in handy. It's one of those things that I panic without. What can I say... me and salt- it's a long romance- so here comes the Chinese chicken.

Ingredients:

1 x 1kg chicken - washed and patted dry
1 Tablespoon seasame oil
1/4 cup soy sauce - you can vary it up with light & dark combos
1 Tablespoon oyster sauce
1/2 Tablespoon Chinese five spice
2 cloves of garlic - finely sliced and a little smashed
A good slug of shaoxing/Chinese cooking wine
A healthy grind of fresh cracked pepper
Fresh or powdered ginger to taste - I like it quite gingery

Method:

Mix all the ingredients except for the chicken in a bowl and make sure they are well combined- no one likes chunks of powdered ginger- whisking is good. Then place the washed chicken in a glass bowl and pour the marinade over. Tip a little into the cavity too and rub it around to get the flavour inside and out. Cover the dish tightly and place it in the fridge for a few hours or until ready to cook.

Thoroughly preheat the oven to 180degC. Place the chicken on a wire rack over a dish of hot water- using boiling water helps to get it up to temp and to keep the oven hot.

Roast on the middle rack of your oven for about 45mins, basting with left over marinate every 15mins or so.

Turn the chicken and place back in the oven until cooked through, maybe another half an hour, basting as before. Just before you're done, turn the gorgeous chicken right side up again to let it crisp up a little.

Take it out of the oven and allow the chicken to rest, covered, for ten mins or so.

Serves with wilted bok choy and steamed lotus root, or any lovely Asian greens that take your fancy.

Just as easy as a roast chicken, but just a little bit different.

Tomato Paste - save the season!

2010-03-10T15:13:00.001+11:00

I don't have a one track cooking heritage. I don't have a cultural tradition that I savour and salvage and store away.
For anyone who's followed my bits here and there, I am slowly discovering my Dutch heritage- but it's a slow process owing to Holland's lack of 'wow' factor on the world culinary stage and a family that has not had the hugest focus on their Dutch roots.
On my mothers side (Aussie, Scottish, possibly Jewish) we have little traditions of our own- but they are more family tradition grown from a love of exploratory and intrepid cooking than closely guarded, heritage specific cooking traditons passed on.
But I am NOT complaining- more marveling at the places where we find connection and tipping my hat to the friends who willingly hand on their own food culture traditions at my (I'm sure often prying) insistence.
In the meantime I start up little practices of my own- wonderous culinary gems gathered willy nilly from the things I love and have a great desire to know more about.
Today I am glowing with the red jewels of the tomato season. Kilos of them heap on my kitchen bench. And in an effort to make the most of this and stock my own little larder- I am making tomato paste.
Why bother I hear you ask, when buying the stuff is so convenient and cheap? It's simple really. I like to know where my food comes from and what's in it above and beyond colouring and preservative #60214378 etc. To this end hear the pot sizzle and steam away on the stove and watch the wet goodness reduce to a brick red thickness.

Homemade Tomato Paste:

Ingredients

2.5kg super ripe tomatoes
1/4 cup of olive oil - extra virgin is always best

Method:

Wash and chop the tomatoes into rough chunks. Heat the oil in a large soup pot and add the tomatoes. Cook the tomatoes covered for 10mins and then give a good stir. The y should be breaking up and have released a lot of liquid. Make sure the liquid is boiling and leave it to cook uncovered for a further 20mins. Allow to cool slightly and then using a stick blender, puree the tomato mixture until nice and smooth. I cover the top of the pot with a cloth so that hot liquid doesn't splash up and burn me. Some people like to run the mixture through a sieve here to remove seeds and skins, but I like to leave these in for a chunkier paste.

Thoroughly heat the oven to 150degC. Lightly oil a large flat baking tray that will hold the tomato mixture and then pour it all into the tray.

Put the tray in the oven and cook it for roughly 3 hours, turning it over with a spatula every 30mins or so to make sure the moisture is removed evenly and you don't end up with over dried scabby bits- eewe. You'll see it slowly begin to thicken until it is a paste, just monitor it towards the end until it reaches the paste consistency you like.

Then spoon it into sterilised jars (check the Jam post for simple tips on sterilising jars) and top with a little oil to seal. Store in a cool, dry place -or the back of the fridge if you have room- until needed for pizzas, pasta sauces and soup flavour boosters once these balmy days are gone!

There you go- homemade tomato paste with no nasties- at a total of about $2 for 4 jars!!

It's more about flavour than cost, but if you do it at the right time of year, it's a damn sight cheaper and better than the last mad rush at the supermarket.

Note: Please excuse the undecorated bottle caps- I've run out of fabric, but not cooking initiative, and so I plough on regardless of the lack of frills!

I am a bandycoot! Neighbourhood figs:

2010-03-05T18:11:00.036+11:00

Patience listened to my muffled giggles down the phone line; "You've been bandy-whating?"
"Bandy-cooting!" I reply, stuffing my bag of ill gotten gains into the boot of the car. "I'll be there in 5 minutes to get you." I disconnected, jammed the keys in the ignition and sped away from the scene of the crime!
Just to put it all into perspective, I was running late to collect him (Patience with a capital 'P') from some late-night work because I had decided that I was going to do something that had been niggling at me for weeks. I was going bandycooting!
Let me explain- bandycooting isn't quite what it sounds like, especially if you think it sounds like I am packing heat and hunting bandycoots. Oh no.
Bandycooting is acutally the rather poetic name given to people who (in the world wars) stole fruit and veggies from other people's backyards and crop patches during the night.
Snowdroppers stole other peoples underwear and clothes from the washing-line.
Bandycooters stole the food they were growing to try and make rations go further.
In fact, I am reliably informed by my mother (who takes tours for the Sydney Historic Houses Trust) that to be suspected of 'badycooting' was the worst kind of shadow you could cast on a persons good name in these times- after all, if other people had put in the hard work to grow their own supplies, why hadn't you?

Just to be clear, I wasn't technically a total bandycoot. I wasn't climbing fences onto private land and raiding the hard work of the unsuspecting backyard gardener. We have out own little hard-won plot of veg and I know how much it would hurt if someone pillaged our tiny crop.
I was being a little more thoughtful in my 'cooting'- raiding an unloved local tree for suburban figs. This tree sits by the side of the main road, on public land outside an office block and is just groaning with fruit.
In fact it is begging for people like me to stop by and unload it of it's juicy burden- after all, if we don't it just ends up as half-eaten bat-bitten rot on the roadside.
But don't worry, there's plenty of fruit higher up for the batties to continue feasting on, it's a tall tree.
What is discovered when I got to the tree under cover of darkness was twofold.
1.) I am not a very good bandycooter- having neglected to change out of my sparkly metallic silver top and hence standing out like a reflective beacon in the night (so much for being inconspicuous).
2.) I wasn't being quite as resourceful or as innovative as I thought, someone had beaten me to the punch and much of the ripe fruit from lower branches was gone... this wasn't the work of bats.

Still, I was there and I wasn't leaving without my prize! So I jumped and jiggled, reached and stretched to net what was ripe and within my grasp. I managed to gather a neat little pile of about 10 beautiful, sticky-ripe figs... and they were subsequently delicious!
Sure it mightn't have been the biggest haul, but it was certainly one of the more satisfying. I'm even keeping one little figgy to see if I can strike a tree of my own. You never know, might be my tree that's causing a little roadside joy in the future.
In the meantime I'm keeping an eye on that tree for the next round of fruit. Just as soon as the green ones come good I'm hoping I'll get in first for the harvest, and considering I saw a little old woman out there in broad daylight just a few days ago, I won't be so shy about it either!

Get down and Jam with it: Plum & Rosewater Jam

2010-03-05T15:56:00.009+11:00

There's a lovely expression called 'bottling the season' that creeps under my skin when things are ripe and just begs me to dance a tango with fruit, sugar and the stove top. Bottling it, jamming it, preserving it- I just love taking fruit when it's fresh and stockpiling it as jams and chutneys for a rainy cold day with open fires and crumpets.

That's the joy of seasons, you can look forward to the ones ahead, whilst still enjoying the one currently on offer.

Today at the local IGA I was greeted by a tray of ready-to-go blood plums; perfect to eat right now, but sitting there at a discount price it seemed a tray just made for jamming.
Jam making is one of those things that you either have time for, or you don't. Luckily today I was in research mode for an article I'm writing and had plenty of time at the computer ahead of me. So what better way to be doubly productive than to get a pot of jam on the boil and babysit it while I'm working?
Now I recognise that not everyone has a kitchen at their disposal during work hours -sadly I don't always have this luxury either- but jamming is a great thing to do whenever you've got stuff that's holding you at home. I grew up in a house where mum made marmalade (mum-alade) whilst helping us with our homework, and I reckon I might give it ago next time I've got a bit of DVD watching planned.
Trust me, home made jam is totally worth the odd break or two in a movie.

Easy and relatively quick Plum & Rosewater Jam:

Ingredients:

1kg ripe blood plums- washed, quartered and de-stoned
2 cups boiling water
2 tablespoons lemon juice
3 cups sugar
1 teaspoon rosewater (I usually just add a dash of my own measure, but if you don't have it, just leave it out)

Five ingredients- that's it! No stuffing round with pectin in this recipe! And the rosewater just gives it that extra-sexy aroma to tanalise and warm you in the winter months. What could be better than a jar of rose scented plums? It's just that tiny point of difference.

Method:

First- place a small plate or saucer into the fridge to chill, this is for the set test later on.
Next- make sure you have some clean and sterilised jars on hand so that the jam will keep when bottled.
*See note below on sterilising*
Place the plums and boiling water into a heavy based saucepan on high heat. Bring to the boil and then simmer uncovered for about an hour. Check occasionally to make sure it hasn't done anything weird and is just happily bubbling away.
The plums should be nice a soft by this time, the skins will have mostly peeled away, but the quarters will still be holding their shape a little. Some people like to take the skins out, but I reccommed leaving them in for the rustic feel and for colour. Jams are just better when they are chunky and full of real bits.
Reduce the heat to low and add the lemon juice and sugar and stir- without boiling- until the sugar is completely dissolved. If you taste it now it's like really syrupy plum cordial.
Then bring the pan up to a rapid boil, reduce to a steady boil and leave bubbling away uncovered for 30mins.
Check to see how the set of the jam is going *see note below on testing jam set* and if it's not quite at setting point, boil it for another 15mins and do the set test again. At the last minute stir through the rosewater just to give it that wonderful (extra) sexy fragrance- a little bit of Eastern flair with your scones.

Once your jam has a good set, spoon it into the sterilised jars (I always spill plenty) and seal it up whilst hot to create a good seal and then let it cool for storage.
Just think of all the joy those crumpets are gonna get come mid-winter tea and toast!

Wether you choose to decorate the lids with little fabric caps is up to you- I can't help myself, if I'm playing Nanna, I just have to go the whole hog. So yes, I am one of those neighbours who pops in with a jar of jam... tea anyone?

*Setting test: Place a dollop of the jam onto the chilled saucer from the fridge, pop it back in the firdge for a minute, then take it out and run your finger through it to separate it in half. If it stays in two distinct parts then it's ready and has a good set. If not, just boil it a little longer. How much set you go with is up to you. I don't like my jam to get too jellied up.

*Sterisling bottles/jars: You can do this by heating them in the oven for 15minutes or by boiling them in a pot on the stove for 5minutes or so. I'm no expert- but fingers crossed my jams don't seem to have any problems if they are stored in cool places. Either way, just remember to heat the jars slowly otherwise they might break, and jam making is messy enough without broken glass everywhere too.

The first roast chicken & heating a UK kitchen:

2010-03-05T10:58:00.027+11:00

My first shot at roast chicken was as a traveller living overseas in the UK in 1999. We liked to refer to ourselves as 'dirty backpakers', despite the fact that we had a fixed address most of the time, for most of the year.

It was Easter and I was homesick. My girlfiend and I considered ourselves to be not half bad in the kitchen. So in a bid to feel closer to our roots at this family time of year, we invited the local priest of the girls boarding school we worked at round for dinner. Father D was a lovely guy in his 50's with a penchant for whiskey and telling bad jokes. We loved him and he certainly had time for us in the holidays when the girls from the boarding school were home with their families.

We all shared mango for dessert as a nod to our homesickness for sunshine and beaches- sadly it was unripe and tasted remarkably like fruity cardbaord- still, the spirit was there.

What I remember most about our flat in Ascot was the kitchen.

Windows down one end overlooked the large flat lawn leading to the woods behind the house. We were three floors up, top floor hidden under the eves- but the kitchen window was bright and clear with a perfect view of the squirrels and the back-burning below. Burning off days were my favourite, with the groundsmen in their gumboots piling bonfire heaps of refuse and then watching it smoulder away in the mist.

Somtimes I didn't even mind being on the weeks washing-up duty because of that view.

The heating in our flat was intermittent at best- wall heaters would fail in the night and hot water was questionable and limited for a house of five girls. Do the washing up and there were no hot showers for a while. On really cold days I would turn on the oven and sit in the kitchen with the door sealed shut, reading a book. Somtimes I might even bake a cake while the oven was on, depending on what groceries we had. Homemade croissants were a favourite after we'd all done a cooking class on them. No wonder we all put on weight.

Still, the roast chicken Easter lunch was a success- despite the poor tools we had and the unripe mango. In many ways getting this dish right through pure luck and a 'lets just do this' attitude was a right of passage. It proved to me that with the right kind of will, you can cook anything, anywhere.
You don't need fancy pots, good knives, matching plates or even an oven with even temperature. What you need is the desire to do it, people around you with a good sense of humour and a willingness to at least give it a go.
Being sensible about reading the way your oven distributes heat also helps- a little jiggle and shift here and there got our bird evenly browned and cooked through, without burning it to a crisp.

To this day the memory of that meagre and somewhat haphazard feast is one of joy and it stands as one of the better meals I have eaten in my time. Nothing quite like a roast with friends to banish homesickness and enjoy the moment.

Roast Chicken with salt and lemon:

The best rule with roast chicken is always just to keep it simple.

Rub salt on the chicken inside and out and leave covered in the fridge for a few hours until ready to cook.
Thoroughly preheat the oven to 190degC
Rub the chicken with oil and season with salt and pepper
Stuff the cavity with two halves of a whole lemon- feel free to squeeze the juice around the cavity
Place the chicken on a wire rack over a tray of water (use boiling water so it's up to temperature)
Place the chicken dish on the middle tray of your oven and bake for 45 mins
Turn the chicken and leave for another 40min
Turn the chicken right side up again for another 5mins
Rest for 5min and the joint and serve with a salad/veg of your choice

Note: Mango for desert is a geat idea, as long as it's ripe.
Chook chook.

To never taste again

2010-03-05T10:15:00.001+11:00

Backdate: 8th of February 2010-

I can't stop thinking about my uncle. He can no longer speak and he has lost the opportunity to eat. He who already lost his sight and walked haltingly with a cane and dark glasses- he can now no longer speak, eat or taste.
The result of 40-odd years of smoking.
Because cigarettes will do more than kill you.

Over the phone my mum tells me horrific stories of him, her big brother, mouthing words like 'help me' and the panic in his eyes when he realised that he could no longer make a sound. Her happier stories tell of moments that say 'i love you'- great strides for a relationship stranded by years of pain, his alcoholism and her hurt.
I was sitting at a favourite cafe as I thought all these things, musing over C the barista slipping me a sly latte that magically didn't show up on the bill. Wallowing in a bowl of spiced breakfast cous cous.
We make friends in the strangest places, particularly when there is food involved.
C is a kisser. A toucher. But I still didn't expect the outpouring of love with a big hug that I received when I told him about my uncle. In a world of food lovers, the thought of never eating again, much less speaking, is a terrible reality that strikes a chord.
C never even met the man, and still my sad news was met with a genuine need to show solidarity and support. Maybe my sadness and confusion were more evident than I thought. Perhaps the idea of never being able to speak, taste or eat again strikes harder than we can imagine.
I am conflicted.
Happy that the medical profession can ease the suffering of my life-long smoking uncle, horrified by the life that this help confines him to.
Apparently he jokes that there is only so much pureed bolognaise that one man can take.

Cheap Eats 2010 arrives-

2010-02-26T10:50:00.004+11:00

I love the arrival of a fresh book- particularly when it's full of great places to eat!
So here tis! Cheap Eats 2010 hit stands this week, and for the second year in a row my name is in tiny little letters in the contributors section. Good fun and happy eating to all those insatiable munchers out there.

May you find delicious and reasonably priced eats around every corner.

Epicure article: The Age Cheap Eats 2010

The best salad ever:

2010-02-22T14:44:00.007+11:00

Okay- 'the best salad ever' might be a bit of an over statement. After all, I've still got an awful lot of salad to try before my tasty time on this earth is dine, errr done.
In the meantime, let's go for 'the best salad yet' for this finocchio treat (and yes I do know that finocchio is also slang for poof in Italian- so I have a number of friends who LOVE this salad for just the reason! Yay for Mardi Gras!).
And I'll freely admit that I am in love with it, for it's cute name and flavour.
Happily, so is Patience, so there's a lot of salad on the menu right now. Which is great considering I have 9 months to get ship-shape for my wedding dress and a whole lot of good eating to do between now and then- and I don't plan on stinting in the food department, maybe just modifying is all. Damned be diets! So finding an adorable salad option that makes a meal all on its own is just a win-win-win for me!

Ingredients:

2 medium fennel bulbs- finely shredded
1 tsp coriander seeds
2 tablespoons walnuts- smashed
1/2 tsp salt (or to taste)
2 tsp pomegranate molasses
good squeeze lemon juice (we use half a lemon)
drizzle of olive oil (best quality really makes all the difference)
grind of fresh cracked black pepper
Tablespoon fresh mint- shredded
dash of white wine vinegar

Method:
In a mortar and pestle smash the coriander seeds, walnuts and salt- then lightly toast in a hot frypan. When the fragrances are released, take it off the heat- you don't want this to burn. Put to one side.
In a large salad bowl toss shredded fennel, lemon juice, olive oil, pepper, mint and red-wine vinegar to coat and combine. Toss through the toasted nut mix and last or all add the pomegranate molasses. Toss through and serve in a big white bowl as a light and satisfying dinner for two.
Serve with a chilled white or rose and then quietly drift away to heaven on a crunchy fenocchio salad dream.

Note: this salad was inspired by a recipe from the Elizabeth Bard novel with recipes Lunch in Paris- a perfect read for any lover, foodie, or lover in love with food... let us all eat fresh from the market and surrounded by love. Even in our darkest days.
* We sometime add some fennel seeds to the nut/seed mix too.

MoVida Terraza: BreakfastOut Review

2010-02-18T21:52:00.005+11:00

MoVida Terraza- Spanish Breakfast on the terrace:

"You feel like running with the bulls or maybe throwing some tomatoes, only problem is that despite what the menu and your brain are telling you, you're not in Spain."

By: Jane de Graaff

Review for the brilliant www.breakfastout.com.au

The sweetness of honey

2010-02-05T14:33:00.009+11:00

I've been obsessing over honey. It's been like this since early Spring.

Written late Sept- 2009:

I see blossoms, I think bees and then I get all gooey over honey. And today while I was out for a stroll in the early Spring sunshine, praying desperately that some would inch its way into the depths of my winter weary soul, it happened- hovering just on the edge of hearing, the first thrumming hum of the blooming weather.

It took a minute for my eyes to adjust, but once I fixed focus on the little white flowers, I started to see them, fat bottomed bees darting in and out of the corners of my consciousness.

It's a happy moment when you tune in to their pollen collecting world.

My focus has recently been tuned of course. Affected by the beautiful honey story of Grace Pundyk and her sticky sweet journey in The Honey Spinner.

When you drift off to sleep on the back of an Arabian honey tale, no wonder you dream viscous dreams and wake up with nothing but honeycomb on the brain.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------->>>>>

Back in the present- many months later and swamped by stories of city dwellers hoarding hives in backyards, on roofs and trucking them hither and thither on friends properties- I am still swimming in honied dreams. I have a pot of Tasmanian Leatherwood that I eek out into my chai tea and sneak spoonfuls of when no one is looking- it's pungent, herbal and buttery qualities lingering on the tongue.

I burn through various un-heat-treated and organic varieties, trying new ones at each trip to the market.

Christmas saw my sister gift me with a jar of Salvation Jane honey, the comb and all packed into it's glass jar. Patience has taken to chewing on nuggets of it, but only when he thinks I can't see.

We've had honey cakes, honey toast, honey tea and honey gin. You'd think that we'd be getting over it by now. But there's no sign of the obsession slowing.

I'm a stickler for supporting Aussie organic varieties, but can't help nabbing a Dabur for comparison from our local Indian grocery store (it was relegated to the 'cooking' pile).

I'm still looking for a jar of Australian native bee sugar-bag honey. But I'm not looking too hard, trying not to find it until I've whittled down at least some of my heaving honey stores...

But something still haunts me, tickling at the back of my mind.

I want to grow my own honey, start my own hives. I want to nurture a little colony and be gentle in what I take and leave for the bees. I want to label my own jars and gift them to friends and family. I want a stockpile of gluey golden gold.

One thing stands in my way... Patience and his allergy to bee-sting.

I'd like to say 'harden the fuck up'- but considering that he could potentially die if he swats one out of his way, perhaps this is a little inappropriate. And life without a hive is a damn sight easier than life without Patience.

Still- if I can't grown my own, the next best thing is to drown myself in it in the kitchen. And here is a favourite way to do it.
This recipe is adapted from Stephanie Alexander's The Cooks Companion.
But a test here and there has helped me tweak it until it's just right for my palate.

Loukoumathes with Ironbark honey from Tasmania:
You have to make sure that the paste is really good and smooth and it's important to have the oil nice and hot, otherwise these little Greek darlings just won't puff up the way they should.
This is one of those recipes that once you've mastered, you can whip up just about anytime to much applause. It's easy and impressive. And with the right honey... oh so sticky divine.

Ingredients:

1 tps instant dried yeast
tiny pinch salt
1 tsp caster sugar
1 1/4 cup plain flour
1 1/4 cup warm water
olive oil for deep frying
Tasmanian leatherwood or other strong flavour honey to serve
icing sugar and cinnamon to dust over for serving

Method:

Mix the try ingredients (bar the cinnamon and icing sugar) thoroughly in a medium size bowl. Add the water a little at a time until you have a smooth paste. It's important to get it well past the dough stage to a reasonably runny paste with no lumps.

Heat the oil in a deep fry-pan and when really hot drop in spoonful (about a tablespoon) of the batter/paste. Fry until golden brown, turning to get even crunch.
Drain on paper towel and serve with a good dribble of leatherwood honey and a sprinkle of icing sugar and cinnamon to taste.
I like to serve these piping hot with a cup of mint tea. Delish at any time of the day.

Makes between 12 and 16 depending on the size you go for. I usually end up with fewer, bigger puff balls.

Where the wild things are: SBS Food

2010-01-21T09:30:00.011+11:00

"When your dinner is still running free, where do you start? Jane de Graaff braves the gore and looks at the process of getting wild game from the field to the table."

By: Jane de Graaff

Note: Article featured in the food pages of the SBS website.

I owe a great deal of thanks to Greg Benton and his family for taking a rookie like me along on their family camping trip, showing me how it's done and for putting up with my many silly questions. Man did I have a lot to learn.

Transformation of the degustation: I eat, I drink, I work

2009-12-24T15:32:00.005+11:00

Transformation of the degustation: riding the wave of new degustation experiences

"From the standard multi-course meal to the newer 'tea-gustation' and 'coffee-matching', the idea of dinners matched to a beverage of choice is taking off around Australia. Jane de Graaff talks to the people championing the transformation of the degustation... from cocktail to coffee matching."

-By: Jane de Graaff

Article featured on the wonderful I eat, I drink, I work website.

Love to be mis-quoted

2009-12-10T13:48:00.007+11:00

In keeping up to date with all my blogging/food writing/tweeting contacts, I read a fabulous article about the debates around codes of ethics for food bloggers.

The article is an interview with a favorite food blogger, Ed Charles (tomato), for the online magazine Upstart.

What I quickly feel the need to point out is that there's a comment in there attributed to JdG- and yes it is a comment that I left on a website discussing the topic.

What I need to address is that the small bit of my comment that they did pull out to use isn't quite representative of my complete view of the subject.

'However not all comments were that positive, the signature JdG wrote that "to require guidelines [for blogs] would be to hobble a medium that revels in its freedom.”'

Implying that I don't support the idea of a code of ethics for the world of food blogging, which is NOT the case at all.

The original comment that I made was in reference to the idea of a code of ethics being mandatory for food bloggers. The total comment was;

"I think what needs to be recognised is that bloggers have a freedom that makes blogging what it is. The blogs that are successful are popular for different reasons, some because they do not follow the rules and provide renegade commentary, and others because they adhere to the traditional rules and build for themselves a sense of 'integrity'- there is room for both as long as readers are able to identify which is which. Truth and fact in both is preferable, but not required. To require guidelines would be to hobble a medium that revels in it's freedom."

My point was that codes of ethics are wonderful if people have the choice to adopt them- but hobbles them if it becomes mandatory/required to adopt them... that's all.

For the record, when I write/blog, I always write with a journalists code of ethics in mind. But that doesn't mean that I think everyone else should have to as well.

Personal bloggers are not journalists, nor should they be treated as such- it's fun to keep that in mind when you're reading something entertaining that you have found online.

I guess I wasn't misquoted... more taken out of context on something that I feel very passionately about- otherwise the article is a great read, and one that I recommend.

And you can quote me on that. :)

Uncovering Umami: SBS Food

2009-12-09T15:46:00.005+11:00

Uncovering Umami:

"Never mind the sixth sense, Jane de Graaff goes in search of the fifth taste. Umami."

-By: Jane de Graaff

Note: Article featured in the food pages of the SBS website.

I strongly recommend a few umami taste experiments at home- give it a go and you'll be pleasantly surprised.

Christmas feast with a conscience: Good Living (SMH)

2009-12-08T17:20:00.007+11:00

Feast with a Conscience:

"Sourcing a local and organic Christmas meal from within NSW can be done."

-By: Jane de Graaff

Note: Article featured in the Sydney Morning Herald Good Living lift-out.

Image: Miriam Neilson from Pasture Perfect Pork. It's where I'm getting my free range and organic ham this Christmas, because I know the pigs lead happy lives.

A multicultural Christmas: SBS Food

2009-12-08T17:12:00.006+11:00

A Very Multicultural Christmas:

"With a population whose heritage spans the globe, there's no longer a common 'traditional' Australian Christmas dinner. SBS Food talks to some of Australia's top chefs to find out how their heritage affects the Christmas table."

-By: Jane de Graaff

Note: Article featured on the Food Pages of the brilliant SBS website.

Meeting Matt Preston

2009-11-26T12:23:00.014+11:00

Cue MasterChef music.

It's official. I'm in love. I'm leaving Patience to run away with food writer extraordinaire and TV personality Matt Preston.

Or more correctly, I'm leaving Patience to run away not just with Mr. Preston, but to carry on a torrid and florid affair with his cravats.

After all- the man and his neck-ware of choice are synonymous. You simply can't have one without the other. Thank goodness.

But there is much more to this bear of a man than his cravats and TV personality. And I would be telling a lie if I said that I didn't have a writers crush on this man long before he appeared on TV rolling chocolate over his tongue whilst staring into the middle distance.

My crush began several years ago reading his wondrous and transporting accounts of food and dinning that appear regularly in The Age's Epicure and weekend supplements. It was only reinforced by seeing his passion for food moved from the page to the screen. Though that tiny box is sadly ill equipped to hold his enthusiasm for flavour and food history.

I went weak at the knees recently when I was asked to read his book 'Cravat-a-licious' and interview the man.

(You can check the interview out here on the wonderful Sassi Sam website)

Sassi sent me the book along with the details of the publicist 'should I be available' to set up an interview.

Available? .... Whose gonna stop me?!

I was thrilled to be granted 20-minutes in between radio and TV appearances- and was determined to bridle my enthusiasm and maintain my dignity during the process.

I should confess right now that about two months ago I spotted Preston dinning at Sydney's Bodega with Chef extraordinaire (and Melbourne's favourite son) Andrew McConnell.

I tried to work up the courage to say hello and express my love of his work.

I told myself to wait till the meal (mine and his) was over and try and catch him outside, but after several glasses of sherry my confidence failed me and I simply smiled on the way out- telling myself that no-one wants to harangued by ditzy fans while sharing a meal with friends.

He assures me that he would have been delighted if I'd said hello.

I'll know for next time...

In a candid moment during our interview- a moment that I was NOT prepared for- he did the unthinkable and .... removed hi cravats!

I almost stopped breathing- what was wrong with this picture?

Then, he offered them to me to examine. When I told my sister this, she asked if I had managed to steal one or tried to trade them for my underpants. Sadly, I did neither- where's a sister when you need her!

Still, despite failing to make off with a cravat (and forgetting to ask for an autograph on the book)- the interview was thoroughly enjoyable. It's hard not to love a man so clearly passionate about what he does. Luckily what he does is write about food... and we love to read it.

Note: I have no doubt that Patience is tired of hearing my declarations that I am leaving him for this or that chef/food writer/insert other ridiculous idol here.

It must be said that he is called Patience for a very valid reason and that indeed, I have no intention of ever leaving him- unless I meet Ferran Adria, Heston Blumenthal... and maybe Fergus Henderson.

What!? A girl can dream can't she...?

MoVida Aqui & Terraza: Broadsheet

2009-11-25T15:59:00.004+11:00

MoVida Aqui & Terraza

"The highly anticipated new MoVida restaurants have opened and represent a new approach for the brand. Are they selling out?"

- By: Jane de Graaff

Note: Article published for Boradsheet.com.au - the verdict on the food is to follow, but so far it's looking good.

Grandma- my cooking heritage

2009-11-23T08:27:00.013+11:00

My Grandma- Dorothy Noel Finlayson- cooked until the day she died.

She cooked until she could no longer taste or see what she was cooking and had little appetite.

She cooked because she loved it. She cooked because it made her happy.

She cooked because food keeps family close.

When her sight began to fail her, Vision Australia marked her tins so she could find what she needed- though 2 marks for sugar and 3 for salt was not always a fail safe.

A large number of her accidents were the result of midnight forays into baking. And one broken nose was the result of her frail arms no longer being able to lift the glass flour jar down from the shelf. It was then that she switched to lighter plastic containers- ain't nothing gonna hold Granny back.

She'd try anything once- twice of she liked it, and then one more time again to perfect it if we liked it too.

You had no more to mention an interest in haggis or a hankering for pavlova and ten tonnes of the stuff would appear in her fridge along with the words 'you take it home dear, it's only me here and I couldn't possibly eat it.'

Cooking was Gran's way of loving, living and (as previously mentioned) entertaining herself in the wee hours of her insomnia.

When we stayed over, she served us porridge like mum suggested- but she added cream. Her meat loaf was moist and rich and her kitchen often smelled of freshly fried chops (she just loved their fatty little tails). There were always new cakes and biscuits on offer and every Christmas she contributed a much anticipated ice-cream plumb pudding to the spread of turkey, ham and seafood.

She is the only woman I know who got smaller as her cooking skills grew.

She is also the only person I know who would think nothing of whipping up a batch of meringues.

She wasn't any good at the light touch for scones... but the delicate meringues never failed her. Almond, vanilla or coffee.

My Gran used to cook with us in the holidays. My Gran always smelled of baking. She was an excellent cook and an excellent teacher. And that is my cooking heritage.

I'm lucky because she shared her cooking secrets, and the time we spent together in the kitchen was about passing skills on. We have the luxury of her hand written recipes- all gathered together in one place. I'm holding on to them and I plan to hand them down to my own children, along with the skills she taught me.

Some people are not so lucky.

Some people never get the chance to ask Gran for that recipe, that secret ingredient.

Thank you Gran.

For the sustenance, the love and -most of all- for the cake.

A whale of a time- thanks for the memory

2009-11-22T06:42:00.015+11:00

Recently, in thinking about my most confronting culinary experiences, a memory that I had carefully hidden away to protect my moral fiber came popping to the surface.

The year was 2004. The place was a huge drinking party in downtown Tomiai- a semi rural town on the outskirts of Kumamoto in Kyushu, Japan.

Myself and one other Gaijin (westerner / foreigner) were the guests of honour and every tray of brilliant food at that feast came directly our way, before being passed to the rest of the raucously drinking group at the banquet table.

There was a lot of noise; cheers every time we declared that a dish was 'oishi desne' (delicious), much clapping and shouting whenever we managed to collect a particularly delicate morsel with our chopsticks (Westerners are notoriously not so good at these things) and rousing choruses of 'Kampai' as hot sake was delivered to the table.

The smoked unagi (eel) went down a treat to the great surprise of many at the table and there was endless fascination with our apparent enjoyment of basashi (horse-meat sashimi).

We were on a roll and the party was in full swing.

Then a small dish of jewel red meat made its way to my place in the next round of culinary roulette. I was intrigued by it's marbled appearance and at this stage was still enjoying the game of 'how will the westerners eat this.' So far all the food was delicious and the unexpected array of dishes was like hearing all your favourite songs played randomly back-to-back at a party- you uttering 'oh I LOVE this song' at every new tune.

I asked my travel partner (who spoke some little Japanese) what this next delight was. He in turn asked his closest companion. Listening to her answer, he nodded, went pale and then whispered to me those dreaded words: 'it's whale'. And I immediately went cold as I eyed the small plate.

From memory this dish was particularly tiny, with only about five strips of the dark pink meat fanned neatly upon it. It was one of those dishes that was a rare delicacy for the guests at the table and -after myself and my companion had taken our obligatory pieces- there would be only three others privileged enough to have a taste. That's no small compliment to us awkward dinner guests.

The thin strips gleamed dully up at me, sliced so finely that you could almost see the pattern on the plate below. My hesitation was palpable and as I wavered the party atmosphere around me began to hush. I leaned in to my companion and whispered 'I can't eat it- it's whale, I just can't- it's a problem for me.'

By now there was a definite dimming of noise as the guests sensed that something was amiss, and inquiring eyes began to turn our way. I started to sweat and I swear the music just faded away. Our heads still together, my companion hissed back 'Looks like it'll be more of a problem if we don't' eat it'. He briefly conferred with his translator, her quiet manner helpfully more muted again so that no one could hear what was going on. Then came the mumbled decider; 'if you don't eat it they'll want to know why and it's been ordered specially for us...'

As an ungainly Westerner blundering through the polite and delicate details of Japan, I decided I had already unintentionally offended enough strangers on my five-week trip- I didn't need to embarrass our generous hosts as well.

I nodded and smiled, trying to look pleased and grateful, then sitting up very straight, composing my chopsticks and with great poise, I took a piece of the dewy meat and raised it to my mouth. All eyes were on me as I ate, so I added in some convincing groans of pleasure to appease my hosts and assure them that the honour 'was all mine'.

Then, I swallowed the biggest lump of guilt, shame and horror ever presented to me on a plate. I decided that I was probably full after this and begged off before anymore tasty surprises arrived.

Later that night my partner and I discussed the whale offering beyond the moral and ethical doubts we had about eating it. What we wanted to discuss was how it tasted. To our sad and common disappointment we realised that not only had we chosen to over-step our personal ethical boundaries in the interests of avoiding embarrassment (to our hosts and ourselves), but that due to the tiny offering of the prized flesh, neither of us could really tell what it tasted like beyond being meaty.

Perhaps our senses had been dulled by the sake and party spirit. Perhaps our palates had been overwhelmed by the vast array of unusual flavours and sensations on offer. I think it more likely that I subconsciously blocked it out.

That was my first and last experience of whale- I'm sorry that I can't tell you exactly what it tasted like (except to say that it's remarkably similar to guilt with a side order of regret), but I could have happily lived my life never given the opportunity to find out.

Note: image borrowed from: teenee.com

Meeting an Idol- Frank Camorra

2009-11-19T11:05:00.007+11:00

I thought I was past it- the idiotic giggling and gushing like a school girl. I thought years of working in radio and meeting celebrities both A and B list had dulled me to the jitters.

It is not so.

Yesterday, whilst waiting at the bar of the new MoVida Aqui on Bourke street in Melbourne's CBD, I worked myself into a nervous sweat.

True it was 30degC + outside, so the sweating might have been obligatory, but I was in a tizz- and this is not a good look for a journo.

You see I am a Frankophile- but not in the traditional sense. Nope, I am a deciple of Chef Frank Camorra and his brilliant Spanish food, so perhaps a 'Camorraphile' might be a better descriptor? And in meeting him for a chat about his latest MoVida brand venture, I was meeting an idol.

I waited while he finished up another chat on the terrace of the new Aqui, nursing a cool drink in the heat in his chefs whites.

I sipped my water, tried to look calm as I made notes about the layout of the bar, the Euro posters on the walls and the menu that finally included paella into the long list of Camorra dishes that foodies love.

I glanced at the great man, trying not to look nervous. I'm sure I failed miserably. I made some more notes. I poured another drink. I sweated it out.

When Frank finally got to me, I had downed so many casual glasses of water that I felt like a water bomb about to explode... and I'd run out of time to go to the bathroom.

See, I'm all professional disinterest and poise.

Despite my discomfort, the half-hour chit-chat just flew. It's so nice to be able to speak to the chefs of this city and find out what they are hoping to achieve.

It's nicer again to meet a chef who is doing stuff that you simply adore.

*gush gush gush*

You get to ask all those deep and interesting questions like "are you excited about anything in particular on the menu" and "can you sign my left breast".

*again- gush gush gush*

I thought I was past it- the silliness and the jitters - but I think I finally understand what some teenagers feel when they see Robert Pattinson (twilight) in the flesh. I didn't quite scream myself hoarse or faint dead-away, but I'm sure I was nodding all together too enthusiastically as I scribbled notes.

Laugh all you want- but I think I handled it well, and next time I'll hold off on the water.

Note: Image borrowed from movida.com.au

To Market, to Market: Broadsheet

2009-11-04T09:25:00.005+11:00

To Market, To Market:

"Where do you go for the freshest produce this time of year? The farmers' markets are out in force in Melbourne."

-Jane de Graaff, for Broadsheet.com.au

I just love farmers' markets. There's always such a beautiful and enthusiastic energy in the boundless fresh fruit and veg- an almost carnival atmosphere that makes the grocery shopping so much more than a grab'n'go exercise.

Why not take your picnic blanket and make a morning of it?

Hopefully I'll see you there.

Tapas at home: Broadsheet

2009-10-20T14:00:00.006+11:00

Tapas at home:

'Melbourne has some great tapas bars on offer, but you can also re-create the fun at home. Where to start?'

By: Jane de Graaff

Image- the front of Casa Iberica, Melbourne's one stop tapas shop.

Article featured on the savvy new site www.broadsheet.com.au

Izakaya Rising: Broadsheet

2009-10-16T13:47:00.004+11:00

Izakaya Rising:

"They're popping up all over town, but what exactly is an Izakaya?"

By: Jane de Graaff

Article featured at the very fresh and switched on Broadsheet.com.au

Single Origin: BreakfastOut Review

2009-10-16T09:26:00.004+11:00

Single Origin: BreakfastOut Review

"It might be single origin, but it's multiple happiness..."

By: Jane de Graaff

Review for the brilliant www.breakfastout.com.au

Eel in green sauce

2009-10-14T18:23:00.013+11:00

I've had another Dutch success- though this time the inspiration seems to have come from Belgium.

Still, eel in green sauce is also eaten in Holland and now it's part of my repertoire as well.

Originally made with river eel, here in Aus it seems more likely that the dish will be made with sea eel, but the concept remains the same.

It might be 'in green sauce', but I find the result to be rather more yellow than green. I guess this may change with different herb ratios or eggs that aren't quite so happy and free-range, and I have yet to report the findings if I were to use fresh herbs (rather than dried as the recipe suggests)- but you get the drift.

This is another gem from that brilliant work of the 1970's 'Dutch and Belgian Cooking'.

You see, despite all evidence that this book is less than exemplary when it comes to Dutch cuisine, I live in hope.

First... find your eel.

In my case a certain amount of scouting around town turned up Win Sam Seafood, in Glen Waverley, who regularly display Australian eel, but it is worth checking before you set out. After all, it's not your most common fish item.

I also found that Ducgo Live Seafood in Box Hill often has eel, but they were down on stock when I called.

Eel in Green Sauce- "Paling in het groen"

Ingredients:

1kg eel, cleaned
3 Tspn butter
6 shallots finely chopped
1/2 tsp dried sage
1/4 tsp dried thyme
1/4 tsp tried tarragon
2 Tspn finely chopped fresh parseley
1/2 tsp salt & pepper to taste
3/4 cup dry white wine
1/2 cup water
3 eggs yolks- lightly beaten
Juice 1/2 lemon

Method:

Cut the eel into 5cm pieces. Heat the butter in a fry-pan and saute eel over moderately high heat until pieces are lightly browned on all sides.

Add the shallots, herbs, salt and pepper, white wine and just enough water to barely cover the eels. Bring the dish to a simmer, cover the pan and cook gently for 6-8 minutes or until the eel is tender when tested with a skewer.

Remove the eels to a serving dish and set aside. Ladle a small amount of the hot pan liquid into the beaten eggs yolks and whisk thoroughly. Then pour the whisked egg mixture back into the pan liquid, along with the lemon juice- whisking continuously until slightly thickened.

Note: do not allow the mixture to boil, particularly after the eggs have been added or it will cook the egg proteins into unattractive milky strands.

Not so appealing.

Pour the sauce over the eels in the serving dish and place in the fridge to chill.

Serve cold, garnished with extra parsley and heavy, dark bread like pumpernickel, to scoop up the sauce.

Surprisingly sweet, the dish has a velvety, creamy texture and is lovely in a small serve as a starter, or as a larger dish for mains.

Perfect for warmer days.

Bitterbollen

2009-10-14T18:22:00.006+11:00

Finally! Super Dutch success!

A dish that I loved, Patience wolfed down and we'll happily make and serve again.

These little deep fried balls of mince-y goodness are found lurking anywhere you can buy a beer in Holland- a bit hot like chips here in Australia. Only these are served with mustard and they're a great stomach liner for the long beer filled afternoons ahead this summer.

Easy to make, tasty to eat and interesting enough to impress guests when you serve them.

Again, this recipe is derived from one found in Dutch & Belgian Cooking - published 1978 through Bay Books. Anything that can be served on cocktail sticks is a winner according to the era.

Bitterballen: Savoury mince balls

Ingredients:

(makes about 40 balls- depending on the size you roll them)

3 Tablespoon butter
5 Tablespoon plain flour
1 cup chicken or beef stock
500g pork or beef mince (we use pork)
1 Tablespoon finely chopped parsley
1/2 tsp salt
freshly cracked black pepper to taste
1 tsp brown or Worcestershire sauce
oil to deep fry
2 egg whites, whisked until frothy
1/2 fine bread crumbs
Mustard of your choice to serve

Method:

In a large fry-pan brown the mince evenly. Doing it in batches helps to reduce the water content that can cause it to stew rather than brown, and you'll want it to be nice a browned all over. Remove it from the pan and set aside.

In the same pan melt the butter, add the flower and cook for around 2 mins, stirring constantly. Add the stock to the p

an a little at a time, stirring continuously until a smooth paste is formed. Add the cooked mince, parsley, salt and pepper and Worcestershire sauce. Stir together until thoroughly combined.

Spread the mixture out evenly on a flat plate and chill for two hours or until firm enough to handle.

Heat the oil for frying in a saucepan. Form the mine mixture into balls about 2cm in size. Dip in the beaten egg whites and then roll in breadcrumbs. Drop into the boiling oil and deep-fry until crispy and golden brown, about 4 at a time is good.

Pile in a bowl and serve with a dipping bowl of mustard and an icy beer, or a crisp glass of gin.

They're best eaten while hot and crunchy, they're a crowd pleaser- but then, they are deep fried and served with beer.

Note: You don't have to use brown or Worcestershire sauce- but they do add a nice tang to the bitterballen. I've seen other recipes that leave this out all together or substitute other sauces including tomato, it's up to you.

Steak Frites: a la France-Soir

2009-10-13T08:59:00.006+11:00

Steak Frites: a la France-Soir

"We've always thought France-Soir makes the perfect steak frites; so we decided to ask chef Geraud Fabre exactly how he does it."

-By: Jane de Graaff

Video featured at the new and brilliant Melbourne website Broadsheet.com.au - check it out for more Melbourne food, fun, fashion and 'hot around town' news!

High Stakes: Hospitality, drugs and the workplace

2009-10-12T13:53:00.009+11:00

High Stakes: Hospitality, drugs and the workplace

Hospitality gets a bad wrap for a party-hard lifestyle, but what do the professionals in the industry think about drug use and how it effects the workplace?

-By: Jane de Graaff

Featured on the brilliant website: www.ieatidrinkiwork.com.au

NOTE: Whilst researching this article I was interested to find that the prevailing attitude in hospitality is that employees are just more open to talking about drug use, rather than a feeling that it is more prevalent in hospitality than other industries.

It's still a thorny topic for obvious reasons however and I would like to thank everyone who took the time to speak candidly to me on the subject.

-JdG

Veal Tongue with sour sauce-

2009-10-12T11:20:00.014+11:00

OK- it looks a bit gross.

I'll even go so far as to say that it appears a bit rude... it's not my fault that it looks so anatomical in it's bowl of water.

It's veal tongue by the way.

This is another attempt at a Dutch recipe from the brilliant (and very 'of it's time') 1970's 'Dutch & Belgian Cooking' from Bay Books Round the world cooking library.

God bless the developments in cooking... and god bless Patience for having the courage to try all the dishes that I place in his path. I'm pretty sure that he didn't sign up for this.

I have to say that I went into this dish a sceptic. It could have been hideous for so many reasons. But thankfully this one was a winner, despite it's ubiquitous 'grey' Dutch sauce.

And it's surprisingly simple- as long as you allow for the extended cooking time to melt the tongue into its gelatinous, gooey glory.

This dish was inspiring to me for two reasons.

First, it's Dutch, from one of the few Dutch cookbooks that I've been able to find written in English. I think I've made it pretty clear that I'm on a mission to connect with my Dutch roots, so here I start with looking at Dutch cooking as the first link back to my heritage.

The second reason the dish caught my eye was because I am fascinated by offal, 'olde foode' and the cuts of meat that industrialisation has seen fall by the wayside.

Tongue is one of these. A cut that we often overlook now that mass production allows us to buy prime cuts, prepackaged and divorced from the use of the whole beast.

If I'm going to allow myself to eat and enjoy meat, I'm not going to ignore the more time consuming cuts.

So I'm adding tongue to my diet- and it's a fantastically tasty, unusual and incredibly cheap option.

Veal tongue with sour sauce- Kalfstong met zure saus

Ingredients:

1 veal tongue (about 1kg)

1 tsp salt

1 carrot- peeled and sliced

1 onion- roughly chopped

leafy tops of 1 bunch celery

1 sprig parsley & 1 bay leaf

1/4 tsp grated nutmeg

4 peppercorns- crushed

1 clove

For the sauce:

4 tablespoon butter
4 tablespoon plain flour
2 cups of the cooking liquid (see method)
2 eggs (lightly beaten)
3 tablespoon white wine vinegar

Method:

Soak the tongue in cold water for several hours or overnight. Rinse the tongue under cold running water and rub lightly with salt.

Place the tongue in a large pot along with the vegetables, herbs and spices and cover with water. Bring to the boil and then reduce to a gentle simmer (advice from Stephanie Alexander's notes on tongue cooking says that the water should be barely moving- otherwise the tongue will toughen).

Simmer gently for 3 hours or until the tongue is tender when a thing skewer is inserted.

At this point you'll need to skin the tongue, so remove it from the pan and while it is still hot peel the outer skin off- it will come off easily while the tongue is still very hot and gets more difficult as the tongue cools, so the quicker the better. The skin is grayish and tough looking and should separate quite easily from the gorgeous glutenous pink meat underneath.

Strain the cooking broth and set aside two cups to make the sauce. Put the rest of the broth, along with the tongue back into the pan to keep warm.

In a new pan melt half of the butter, stir in the flour (taking care to get rid of any lumps that form), then slowly add the cooking broth that you set aside earlier. It's important to do this slowly and the whisk the sauce continuously until you have a smooth sauce.

In a bowl combine a little of this warm sauce with the lightly beaten eggs, whisking to make sure the eggs don't cook in the warm liquid. Then add the egg mixture to the pan of sauce over a low heat and continue to whisk. Add the remaining butter and vinegar.

Do not allow the sauce to boil once the eggs are in otherwise you will get strings of egg protein in the sauce.

Slice the tongue and remove any gristle from the root. Arrange the slices on a warm serving dish and pour a little of the sauce over.

Serve warm with a side of broad beans.

Note: This dish can also be served cold, but is best enjoyed warm when the tongue is still soft.

The buttery sauce is cut beautifully by the sharp vinegar that gives it the 'sour sauce' name and it keeps well in the fridge for a couple of days.

Having not been a huge fan (or so I thought) of tongue before I started cooking this dish, I am now a changed woman and find nothing tastier than freshly cooked veal tongue.

The dish can be made with beef tongue too, but obviously the younger veal cut will provide a more tender result. I'll also be honest and say that the smell of veal tongue is not as pungent as fully fledged beef (for those with sensitive noses). Not that it's a bad smell, it's just very brothy.

They both taste wonderful however and a beef tongue certainly feeds more people.

Eet Smakelijk!

And what an adventure!

Rabbit Brabant Style- a Dutch disaster...

2009-10-12T08:58:00.007+11:00

Today I had a realisation- when it comes to Dutch cooking, my mother might be right.

She maintains that the majority of Dutch food that she has experienced in her time is grey. Her comments are not to be discounted, after all she has been married to my expat Dutch dad for 30+ years- so she oughtta know right?

What she means is that it seems to end up smothered in a grey-ish sauce comprised mostly of butter and flour and that as a result it tends to look (and in some cases taste) the same.

I've been busily trying to defy her. Claiming that with culinary contributions that include Edam cheese, pickled herring (rollmop) and poffertjes (tiny little fluffy pancakes), there has to be more to this cuisine than meets the eye?

So I spent the weekend on another Dutch cooking mission- armed with a 1970's copy of 'Dutch & Belgian Cooking' from Bay Books Round the world cooking library.

Perhaps the book itself was a bad choice- but it seems to be one of so few Dutch cook books out there written in English.

I have to say that my first dish was less than pleasing to the eye. Sad considering that the ingredients were all good. So far I'm yet to find anything outstanding beyond canapes. *Sigh* I'm including the recipe here more as a documentation rather than as a recipe that I suggest you try. After all, rabbit and prunes sounds like such a good idea... it's so easy to see just how I got sucked in! But in the end, the grey sauce just let me down.

Rabbit Brabant Style:

Ingredients:

1 young rabbit- jointed
1 medium onion diced
1 tsp dried thyme leaves
1 bay leaf
1 cup wine vinegar
1/2 cup water
pinch salt
black pepper (freshly cracked) to taste
1/2 cup flour
2 tblspn butter
250 grams prunes (soaked overnight in water)
1 tblspn brown sugar
1/2 cup beer
2 tblspn flour

Method:

Place the rabbit pieces in a shallow dish. Combine the onion, thyme, bay, vinegar and water and pour over the rabbit. Cover the pan tightly with foil or plastic and marinate over night in the fridge.

Remove rabbit from the marinade and dry thoroughly, strain and reserve marinade. Season flour with salt and pepper and coat the rabbit evenly.

Heat the butter in a large frypan with a fitted lid. Brown the rabbit on all sides over high heat until golden. Add the strained marinade mixture to the pan. Lower the heat, cover the pan and simmer for 30mins. Then add the drained prunes, sprinkle over brown sugar and simmer for a further 15mins.

Combine the beer and flour, mixing until smooth. Remove rabbit from the pan to a warmed serving dish, add the beer mixture to the sauce stirring continuously until the sauce has thickened.

Distribute the prunes around the rabbit and then pour the source over to serve.

It's at this point that I wonder why I poured the sauce over at all. Maybe it would have been better reserved for adding at the table to each individual plate. The dish looked okay until I poured it on. But the sauce just looked like a lovely beige clag... yum.

Patience and I stared at the final dish. He even dared to taste it and concluded that it didn't taste too bad... maybe a touch vinegary.

But the fact remained that the finished product was such a congealed mess on the plate that I simply had to call my mother (with tears of laughter streaming down my cheeks) to describe what was in front of me: "Maybe you were right." *Gasp-giggle-gasp* "... it looks like the dog threw-up all over my perfectly good rabbit and prunes!" *squeals of laughter* - my mother paused for breath; "well at least it's more beige than grey darling... well done!"

Note: not such a great Dutch dish... ahhh well, the search continues- onto the next one! And as Patience pointed out, it all comes down to that sauce, but it could have something to do with the era the cookbook is from.

Back to basics... 3 egg omelette

2009-09-20T15:40:00.010+10:00

I like to over complicate.

But only when it comes to flavours and cooking. If the recipe calls for one clove of garlic, I tend to add two. If the suggestion is a pinch of pepper or salt- it's easy for me to add a whole handful.

My cakes are full of chunky, lumpy, delicious extras and my soups become stews because there simply isn't enough room in the pot.

They taste fantastic, but they're sometimes what you might call... heavy handed.

So I'm getting back to basics.

I mean I know what I like and which flavours work well together, but I just have to remind myself that sometimes simple is best- and that often it's about what you can still add at leisure, not having everything all packed on in advance.

I started on Friday night with a simple omelette. And I mean really simple.

Ingredients?

3 eggs- lightly whisked together
knob of butter (1 tblspn)

That's it.

No milk, no onion, no tomato and no cheese- all the extras that I usually like to add.

Not on Friday.

On Friday it was just eggs, lightly whisked and a knob of butter in the pan.

Method: It's simple; whisk the eggs together (3 for Patience's omelette, 2 for mine). Melt the butter on high heat in a non stick pan and just before it browns, tip the eggs in and shake the pan vigorously. Continue shaking the pan until the the omelette folds over itself and is just set. It really only takes about 30sec... anymore and the potentially beautiful simplicity of the omelette becomes bland rubber.

Tip the omelette onto a warmed plate and serve with optional salt, pepper and parsley.

That's it.

Dinner in less than a minute... for real.

I told you it was back to basics.

And I'd forgotten how wonderful and comforting a simple omelette can be.

No wet patches. No burnt bits. No puddles of oiled out cheese.

Just simple, soft, feather light omelette.

It's something I should do more often.

Julie & Julia- the movie and culinary experience

2009-09-18T17:07:00.010+10:00

I have this to say; anything that showcases a love of food and cooking can only be a good thing.

These are two remarkable women. Remarkable in that their passion for food saved them.

Weather you love or loath them, whether you think that the characters are well played or not, to criticise this movie is to take a little bit of joy out of the world.

My mother grew up watching her mother recreate Julia Child recipes, while I spend my life playing with food, setting myself challenges and blogging about it, much like Julie Powell- seeing the two stories combined is a reminder of how food binds people- in so many different ways, and who cannot see that as lovely?

Invited to the Village Gold Class 'Julie & Julia Culinary Experience' I didn't really know what to expect apart from the cushy seats and a glass of wine.

What we got was a better than 3D experience. Eating beouf bourginion whilst watching a bourginion drama unfold on the screen was a very sensory experience. And yes, the bourginion we ate was from the Julia Child recipe.

I have no desire to break this movie down. If you love to cook, write a blog, or just like to eat, go and see it.

It is a story for people who love food.

If you want to play with your food- go and see it as the 'culinary experience'. It's great fun, and it's better than smell-o-vision, it's taste-o-vision.

Julie & Julia- Official Trailer

Vale- Keith Floyd

2009-09-16T09:03:00.006+10:00

I remember being inspired early in my life by one flamboyant TV chef- who later became the face of Continental sauces and the abiding link that I have to fruity bow ties.

He was a Brit, but he didn't need to spatter his style with the F word and shock tactics to gather in a loyal following. What he used instead was enthusiasm and (from what I remember) a vibrant and user friendly approach to food.

The was man Keith Floyd, and his legacy for me is abundant memories of a happy bunch of teenage girls playing at replicating his food (and style) in a messy kitchen...

He was the first TV chef that I ever remember performing brilliant culinary feats in exotic outdoor locations; on beaches, by the edge of bustling markets, perched on cliff tops and striding along piers somewhere in the Asia pacific region. He always had a glass of wine and without fail sounded like he was enjoying it.

My early memories of food as fun, art and fancy are filled with snippets of Floyd. The cooking landscape is somewhat blander without his flourishes. R.I.P.

Image: borrowed from www.bestuff.com

Are you being served? - SBS Food, feature article

2009-09-15T12:07:00.007+10:00

Are you being served?

-Jane de Graaff asks career waiters what good service means to them, how customers should behave and what they really think when you click your fingers for the bill...

Feature article at SBS Food online.

Image borrowed from: www.askspikeonline.com

The Time Traveller's Knife: Virgin Voyuer article

2009-09-01T17:38:00.011+10:00

The Time Traveller's Knife:

Once upon a time mouths watered at the smell of sparrow pie or roasted cows udder.

-Jane de Graaff asks what happened to our favourite fare of yore...

Article published in September edition of Virgin Blue inflight magazine Voyeur.

Images:

(above) Zampone- Pig's trotter filled with cotechino & celery, Mt Zero lentils & Calvados jus.

Courtesy: Church Street Enoteca & Chef Ron O'Bryan.

(left) Rabbit- rabbit and vege.

Courtesy: Danks Street Depot & Chef Jared Ingersoll.

Published by Murdoch Books. Photograph Alan Benson.

BreakfastOut Review: Kamel

2009-09-01T11:04:00.006+10:00

Breakfast till 3pm is always a good idea- and so's a trip to the roughly Middle East...

Breakfast Out - Kamel:

Would you get out of bed for a trip to the Middle East?

-By Jane de Graaff

Review featured on the lovely and very useful www.breakfastout.com.au website.

Taste Melbourne

2009-08-30T16:42:00.027+10:00

A certain question hangs in the air... Taste Melbourne, will it be, well, tasty?

Turns out that thankfully- it was. Decidedly so.

Can there be anything more satisfying than gathering a great gobful of 'the best that Melbourne has to offer' into one place and being able to have a teaser-taste of each? When you're right there in the steamy, fragrant, pungent and spritzy thick of it.... I think not.

Let's be honest here, in rickety financial times not all of us can afford a degustation at the three hatted Jacques Reymond or the celebrity chef helmed The Boathouse. But that doesn't mean that we wouldn't like to be flavour raiding with the best of them- and so why should we miss out, when Taste Melbourne comes to town.

This year I opted for the midway ticket (between general-entry and the deluxe-super-charge versions) that included some crowns to spend on the food on offer, but also allowed the luxury or adding more or less as I felt so inclined.

It's not necessarily a cheap exercise by the time you've sampled everything that makes your saliva ducts hit overdrive, but the alternative would leave your back pocket decidedly more deflated.

Weigh it up growling tummies of Melbourne!

It's a bit of a wonderland if you don't mind the ravenous crowd (and later in the evening the slurring and staggering hoards). It's all part of the fun as far as I can see and it's nice to find so many people on the trail of a good food experience. Eat it up!

The Press Club- Spring Bay half shell scallops with Tarama:

Scallops on the half shell are a most beguiling dish, particularly when they're still attached. Buried under a springy pile of salad, dressed in a creamy tarama sauce redolent of fish-fresh ocean spray and flecked with salty black olives, each mouthful was a textural Odyssey, mostly taken by sea.

Crunchy, soft, silky and creamy all in one and served in an abundant, vibrant and artistically tangled mess.

Jacques Reymond- Tempura of quail breast, tajine flavours & whipped Persian fetta:

This was one of the prettiest dishes on offer- a daintily tottering stack of lightly battered quail giving a satisfying crispy crunch, topped with a delicate cream-lemony dressing and decorated with a streak of shrieking green herb sauce scribbling the pate.

The black rice underneath was a little gluey and non-descript (which was a shame)- but perhaps my taste-buds had already been assaulted by too many other flavours...

Hellenic Republic- saganaki with peppered figs:

A pizza wedge size of crispy fried cheese is every cheese-o-philes dream. Hence I was in creamy, salty, crispy-with-a-gooey-centre heaven. It helps that saganaki makes my world complete- but topped with peppery and sticky stewed figs, the sweetness combines with the cream like BrAngelina- a perfect and sexy match. The best part being that this serve wasn't skimpy and there was plenty of surface area crunch going on.

Maha- Turkish Delight filled doughnuts, with pine nut sugar & rosewater honey:

Just when I thought I was all flavoured out- I ventured into dessert. And then I lost my mind.

Balls of puffy, fluffy, golden fried dough exploded in my mouth into a lava flow of melted Turkish delight. Drenched in lightly floral rosy-honey syrup and dusted with crystals of nutty sugar I felt my jaw clench with the sugar rush. It was better than my first memories of candy floss and just as sticky sweet. Good thing I was full, otherwise my blood sugar would have blown the roof off.

If you didn't make it this year, note the date and start planning for next year. Because with all the best under one roof... it's one hellava mouthful of fun.

Where the wild things grow: Virgin Voyeur article

2009-08-30T16:42:00.010+10:00

Where the wild things grow:

-Jane de Graaff uncovers the bounty that lies beyond our backyards and finds a few tasty ingredients to add to tonight's dinner.

Article published in August edition of the Virgin Blue inflight magazine Voyeur.

Image: Courtesy of Alison Pouliot

Pig's head and Sherry tart...

2009-08-30T16:41:00.015+10:00

Seems 'twas a Spanish weekend. From a Saturday lunch at MoVida to a Sunday night dinner of pigs head with my none too squeamish food loving friends.

The thing is, if you are interested in food, it's easy for a whole weekend to be blissfully taken up with plots and plans for eating, tasting, experimenting and examining food.

Who wants to see it as fuel alone when it can bring so much joy?

Not me.

And if I don't know how to deal with in ingredient, I'm sure as hell gonna spend some time trying to find out.

So Saturday night dinner was an all-in-food -adventure. And when HAM gathers his food group contingent together around his enormous wooden table, it's not for the faint hearted.

You must be; A.) interested in food and generally inquisitive (there's not too much room for the picky or diet conscious... unless it's a legitimate allergy or intolerance).

B.) Prepared to get your hands dirty if anything is required of you in the kitchen. And C.) Happy to chat about it in minute detail over red wine while the dishes bubble, boil and crisp in the open almost industrial kitchen.

Saturday night's theme was Spanish- with the centre piece of a slow roasted pigs head.

Sides and accompaniments included and entr

ee of sliced leek topped with the tenderest slow cooked octopus, a hotpot of chorizo, potato and beans (simmered in stock made with the pig brain), and salad of pine nuts, cabbage and blood orange. Quite a feast and all cooked up by friends.

My addition to the evening was a Spanish dessert of sherry, quince and almond tart- and I have to say, it's one that will now grace my repertoire of 'what can I bring to the party' dishes.

Like any tart you need to allow the time to make the beautiful, buttery short crust case, so it doesn't fit into the 'ill just whip it up' category, but it's certainly worth the effort and it beats bringing the bog standard chocolate cake to dinner.

The recipe is from the October 2008 edition of Australian Gourmet Traveller (The Spanish Issue).

Almond and sherry tart with quince jam:

Ingredients:

300grams quince paste
120ml sweet sherry'
3 eggs
100gm caster sugar
Finely grated rind of one lemon and one orange
300gm almonds- roasted and finely ground
1/2 cup plain flour
75gm butter- melted and cooled to room temperature
1/2 cup pure icing sugar- sieved together with 2tsp ground cinnamon

Cinnamon Pastry:

200gm plain flour
120gm butter- chilled and coarsely chopped
60gm pure icing sugar
2tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 egg- lightly beaten

Sherry Syrup:

250ml sweet sherry
1 cup caster sugar

Method:

1.) For cinnamon pastry process four, butter, icing sugar in a food processor until fine breadcrumbs form. Add egg and then process to combine. Turn onto a work surface and bring the dough together using the heel of your hand. Form it into a disk and wrap in plastic. Refrigerate for about 2 hours or until firm. Roll out on a lightly floured surface to 2mm thick and use to line a a 26m tart case (or spring form cake tin me my case), trimming the edges, refrigerate until firm (about 1/2 hr). Preheat oven to 180degC and blind bake the crust (weighted down with beans etc) for 12-15mins. Remove weights and bake until just golden (about 7mins). Remove from the oven and allow to cool.

2.) For sherry syrup, stir ingredients in a saucepan over medium high heat until sugar dissolves and the liquid boils. Reduce heat to medium and simmer for around 12mins or until sauce is syrupy. Set aside.

3.) Combine quince paste and 80ml sherry in a saucepan, stirring over medium heat until melted and smooth. Then spread it evenly over the bottom of the tart case, painting a little way up the sides if you wish.

4.) Whisk together eggs, sugar and citrus rinds until thick a pale. Then fold in almond, flour, butter and remaining sherry. Pour into the tart case and bake until golden and springy to the touch (30-40mins). Cool on a wire rack, dust with cinnamon icing sugar and serve drizzled with sherry syrup.

It's one of those tarts that remains nice and moist without being to sludgy, and the footprint of quince jam in the base looks very pretty when you serve up a slice.

Beware however, there will be none left to take home and it's certainly holds a case for seconds, even if you're full.

From scratch: the rise of the in-house specialty item

2009-08-12T16:16:00.007+10:00

From Scratch: the rise of the in-hou se specialty item

"From preserving vanishing skills to saving the bottom line,

Jane de Graaff looks at the reasons that chefs are staying in-house for specialty items."

Featured on the wonderful website www.ieatidrinkiwork.com.au

With special thanks to Ron O'Bryan and the Barca family for including me in their salami making.

Rocky and Ron crank out the salami: the machine is the Barca family sausage machine- an old school manual crank handle that Rocky remembers from his childhood.

Because everyone deserves a treat: Cookie- Melbourne CBD (Review)

2009-08-11T14:09:00.028+10:00

I'd like to be very clear.

I'm a fan of Cookie.

For one very simple reason:

It's always fun.

From the minute you climb the inner city ribbon-round-the-lift staircase and enter the non-descript door, there's just something so lively about the bar/restaurant space with it's noise, clamor and mural drenched walls. It's noisy, yes. But in a 'we're-the-life-of-the-party' kind of way. And when you ask to see the wine list and are presented with a veritable bible of a book, then you know you're in for a good night, and the noise level is understandable.

There's also something really pleasing about the almost too casual service and the fun flirting of the bar staff. Let's face it, what girl doesn't like to batt her eyelashes when she places an order? And it's easy... once you've had dinner, you can just about roll from the restaurant to the bar on the other side of the partition continuing your conversation all the way.

But Cookie didn't just win my heart for its obvious style and convenience. It backs it up with consistently good food. So they might not rotate the menu to maximise seasonality or to catch the latest trend, but it's a reliable Thai fusion feel with signature dishes that never fail to impress.

This visit, I had a friend from Sydney in tow and as well as a Melbourne local, which brings up the proverbial 'you can please some of the people'- but on this occasion, we were 'all of the people' and we were all pleased.

Dishes are best shared and come in the small, medium, large variety priced from $8.50-$38.50 and it's easy enough to add dishes as you go.

Being a fan of hands on puzzle style food, I couldn't wait to order the betel leaf salad with smoked fish, chicken and roasted coconut. Presented on a floral plate the glossy green leaves make an eye catching and sticky-finger fun starter. We tried spooning sedate little heaps of smokey fish into the leaf wrappings, but quickly abandoned such decorum in favour of stuffing the leaves to bursting point and shoveling them into our mouths before they lost their guts.

The mushroom salad was a cool and slippery-slurpy dish to follow- with coriander kicks. And the Thai sausage certainly delivers a chili tasty treat- thank god for the side of cucumber to cool burning lips.

But let me tell you about the pork belly.

Pork belly is a carnivorous delight in any language.

However, when you deep fry it and then smother it in fragrant and coconut-creamy red curry, laced with fresh peppercorns and crunchy green beans, well, then you've taken decadent and upped the ante. There's a crunch in your mouth, followed by an explosion of melted fat and curry.

We licked that bowl clean.

Lady like as we are... We. Licked. It. Clean. And then licked it some more... just for good measure.

Cookie has been on the winners list for sometime and with such a mix of fun, food, inexhaustible booze (of every kind) and inner city chic, it's gonna be there for a while longer yet. Just make sure you book for dinner, order enough of the pork belly to go round and opt for a non-school night- so you can take full advantage of the wine list.

The verdict? Like I said; all of the people, all of the time. What a treat.

Name: Cookie

Address: First Floor Curtin House,

252 Swanston Street Melbourne CBD

Phone: (03) 9663 7660

Open:

Mon-Thurs & Sun: 12noon-2am

Fri & Sat: 12noon-3am