Bursting with goodness

 

One can feel virtuous just looking at this salad. Perhaps it’s the birdseed esq quinoa, or the vivid green silver beet, but it is hard to deny that fork full’s of this salad could only be good for you.

If quinoa isn’t your thing, you could just as easily substitute weensy green lentils, or cooked pearl barley, but I why wouldn’t you hop onboard the Bolivian super food bandwagon?  It’s super easy to cook and so danm healthy.

Much like rice, cooking quinoa involves a gentle steamy simmer with precisely the right amount of liquid to plump up each individual grain to a tender state.  Generally the ratio is 1.5 units of liquid to 1 unit quinoa and I can attest that too much liquid results in a wet mass that is difficult to resurrect. 

It adds a crunchy charm to any main meal and is surprisingly filling. With the added delight of nuts, sweet pops of currents and a zingy dressing, this salad is a keeper!

 

Quinoa and silver beet salad.

3/4 cup quinoa, (I used red for dramatic effect)
1 cup water
Juice and zest of one lemon

2 Tbs olive oil
1 teaspoon sumac
½ teaspoon salt and pepper
1 small bunch of silver beet leaves

A handful of: slivered almonds, currents, and feta cheese.

Make the quinoa by bringing water to the boil, add the quinoa then cover and simmer for 10 mins until tender and plump, leave to cool whilst you prep the colourful bits!

Make the dressing by combining the lemon juice, oil, sumac, salt and pepper.

Toss the dressing, silverbeet , nuts, currents and cheese through the cool quinoa to make a lovely speckled salad.

The case of the giant glad wrap rolls...

It is quite impossible not to be inspired by the temporary cathedral Christchurch has whipped up. Having lived here for a couple of months, I am somewhat qualified to say, that Cantabrians can be on the conservative side. Which is why something so whacky and irreverent as a paper house of worship pleases me to no end.

 

What I would give to have been a fly on the wall when the idea was first waivered. I am sure the bit where the clever architect explained that the walls would be made of giant glad wrap tubes would have been a highlight. You also simply have to adore the logic that in the event of more “rumbles” it would be one of the safest places to be. Add in the feel good factors of recycling, urban regeneration and you can see how this remarkable project gained momentum.

The contrast between the highly symbolic Neo Gothic ruins in the CBD and the cheeky optimistic pop up solution are stark. Perhaps it is the permission to be abit plucky and think outside the square that is the real blessing of a natural disaster.

I say Bravo to the Cardboard Cathedral and have noshed up a little something in it’s honour; I think you can see where I am heading with this one...

 

I have avoided the usual spinach and ricotta route, as this is meant to be a celebration of creative souls. Granted this isn’t hugely dissimilar, but it does have more playful flavours and textures going on. My kids happily chow into this, so variations are on regular rotation at our house.

Forgive my vague quantities, this is a quickly assembled up family dinner that doesn’t demand precision.

 Leek and Hazelnut cannelloni

First make the filling:

1 leek, afew garlic cloves, a nub of butter, thyme, oregano, loads of parsley, black pepper, salt, a handful of chopped hazelnuts, a handful of grated parmesan, a tub of ricotta.

In a large frypan slowly cook the leek and garlic in the butter until soft and tasty, cool slightly. Add in the herbs, nuts and parmesan mix well, and then stir through ricotta.

Into the constriction zone.

1 large jar of passata, 1 pack of fresh lasagne sheets, a pot of white sauce if you are feeling fancy and lashings of grated cheese.

Preheat oven to 180

Pour half the tomato passata into the base of a large baking dish. Add in ¼ or so of water and swish it about to make it ultra juicy.

Cut the lasagne sheets into same size rectangles, then working in a methodical fashion, dollop mixture along one side, then roll up to form a cheese filled log. Pop the log on the tomatoey base and get cracking with the rest of the batch.

Loosen the remaining half jar of tomato with ¼ cup more water then pour over the filled pasta tubes. If you are going down the path of a creamy white blanket – pour the sauce directly on to the tomato top. Either way dress the top of your dish with plenty of grated cheese.

Let it cook away and do its thing in the oven for 40- 45 mins or until pasta is beautifully soft and the top is irritably golden.

MMMMMM Beef!!!

Ohh goody; here is another thing to add to the ever expanding list of favourite things to nosh up on a lazy weekend. This fragrant Asian inspired braise is rich and flavoursome. Using shin beef requires slow and patient cooking, but the results are stickily sweet and toothsome. Serve with mountains of fluffy white rice and a crunchy green side dish- and a cheeky crisp sav Blanc.  

 

Yes it is every bit as delicious as it looks, here is the lowdown:

Luscious Beef and Ginger Stew

1.7 beef shin

6 garlic cloves

2 thumb size pieces of ginger

6 cardamon pods

1 quill of cinnamon

2 star anise

1 teaspoon crack black pepper

4 slices of orange rind

Juice of 2 oranges (top up with water to make up 200ml liquid)

1 Tbs honey

2 Tbs vinegar (rice wine for preference)

125 ml soy sauce

In a frypan sear the beef in batches to get a bit of colour going on and add some texture, transfer to large cast iron pot. Deglaze the pan with the honey, soy and aromatics, and then pop in with the meat, add any remaining ingredients.

Cover with a tight fitting lid, or some advanced tin foil origami, then bung it in to a 180 oven then turn it down to 120 and let it simmer away for 3 hours or until meltingly tender.

For preference I like to make this a day or two in advance to give the flavours and chance to brew and ripen in the fridge. Reheat on stove top.

 

 

 

The Fickle World of Friendship Cakes

I think it was the mid 80’s that my Mum was bequeathed a “friendship cake” from one of her work colleagues. The premise was simple, for the next 10 days the yeasty brew would have bits lovingly added so that it blossomed into a voluminous mixture that was then divided and shared so that the inherent joyful cosmic energy could be passed onto another set of friends.

I can vividly picture the bubbling mass, that after a life of neglect, finally died in the back of the fridge. Shall we just say that my mother is perhaps too practical for recipes that are written as poetry?

It was some time last year, whilst enjoying a mid week cuppa with one of my besties, Bec, that I innocently offered her some cake paraphernalia.  Her face recoiled as she stared muttering something not having time for the likes of that.  Suffice to say it wasn’t a “bloody friendship cake”  It was actually some very fine samples I was kindly giving her, but is it did prove two points.

First; I have long suspected that Bec and I swapped mothers somewhere along the way and secondly not everyone likes to phaff about with recipes whose instructions span days. However jaunty and heartfelt the idea of dividing and sharing a cake batter let’s just say that one persons batter is another person’s bitter.  

So when at age 38 I was bequeathed my own batch of “friendship cake” I embraced the opportunity of following the 10 day ritual and was rewarded with a most splendid cake.

 

A cake so fine I would love to be able to replicate it without the rigmarole of dividing and sharing. I have done some experimenting and have come up with this no nonsense version.

Mum is popping on a plane next week, Bec is over in November and for both visits I’ll be sure to have a yeasty brew doing its funky thing on the bench. There will be eyeball rolling and general despair at the fact they collectively think I spend far too much time in fairy land. But that I guess is the essence of friendship, knowing each others quirks and celebrating the difference. One thing is certain both their visits will involve a good few hours of tea, cake and gossip, because that’s what we do best; I can’t wait.

 

Minimal Phaff friendship cake

Up to 2 hours before making the cake make the yeast base

In a large bowl mix;

·         2Tbs of flour

·         1 Tbs sugar

·         1 heaped teaspoon yeast

·         ¼ cup water

Let it bubble away and do its thing – remember you are condensing 10 days in to 2 hours – so be cool, 2 hours isn’t long.

Preheat oven to 180c, line and grease a deep sided 22cm cake pan.

Into the yeasty brew add

·         2 cups self raising flour

·         1 cup sugar

·         2/3 cup olive oil

·         2 eggs

·         2 tsp vanilla essence

·         2 cooking apples cut into chunks

·         ½ cup dried apricots finely sliced

·         ¼ cup chopped nuts

·         2 heaped teaspoons cinnamon

·         1 teaspoon ground cloves

 

Mix well then place into prepared tin, scatter with

·         ¼ cup crumbly brown sugar

·         dot with tiny blobs of butter

 

Bake for 45 mins. It should puff up magnificently and create a wonderful appley waft throughout the house. Cover with alfoil and cook for an additional 20 mins to ensure cake is thoroughly cooked.

Best served with and a cuppa and a gossip with your best friend.

Get Set For The Weekend



Porky goodness



Come Friday night all I want is a glass of wine and a little peace and quiet. “Easier said than done,” the mothers of the world cry in unison. Well surely a cheeky crisp white sav Blanc is easy enough to rustle up, and with a just a moments forethought the dinner can magically happen too.

Alarmingly the secret to being cool on a Friday night involves actually thinking about it on a Wednesday.  Yes that’s right it takes me two days preparation to be a fun mummy.

This is the route I took last weekend, and it worked spectacularly well.

Basically as I was doing some sort of mid week frenzied mad dash around the market I spied pork roasts for a good price. One ended up in the trolley, on arriving home it didn’t even make it to the fridge – I just popped it straight in the pan and left it to do its thing, whilst I bellowed and nagged my way through the joys of homework and lunchboxes.

Not that I am a booze hound or anything, but I did use alcoholic ginger beer as my braising liquid.   It perfectly set the tone for the laid back mood I was dreaming of and created a sweet succulence that was pretty damn fine. You could just as easily substitute cider, but for preference I would stick with something that has the moody dry sweetness that only a 375ml brown bottle can.

Pork in Ginger Beer

1 pork shoulder roast (mine was 1.8 kg)

1 leek

A couple of cloves of garlic

¾ bottle of “Ranga” alcoholic ginger beer (about 300ml)

1 bay leaf

2 whole cloves

a pinch of sage and thyme

1.       Preheat oven to 160c

2.      In a large cast iron skillet sear the pork to give a nice bit of colour to the two flat sides, add in the leek, garlic and herbs and sizzle till fragrant. Pour in ginger beer and season well with a good sprinkling of salt and pepper.

 

 

 

3.       Cover the dish with a tight fitting lid then cook for 3 hours or until the pork starts to fall apart when gently poked.

4.       Leave to rest and flavours to develop in the fridge for up to 3 days. When ready to serve, heat on a stove top, then take the pork out to trim off fatty bits and shred the pork into large chunks using a fork. Place the pork back in the cooking liquid and serve with crusty bread and leafy green – and a big glass of THANK GOD ITS FRIDAY WINE!!!