Laugh or Cry?

Now that I am officially getting my A in G (Arse into Gear) and embracing this blogging malarkey it becomes abundantly clear that being up to date with pop culture is part and parcel of life on the interwebs.

Apparently last week I should have been in floods of tears regarding the unfortunate demise of a particularly attractive TV doctor. Alas we have only just unpacked the telly and it seems NZ TV isn’t quite up to speed yet.

In response to a fierce swathe of tweets with heartfelt hash tags #ohno #RIP #tragedy I headed straight to the couch and briskly flicked through the remote to try and watch a crisis of apparent magnitude unfold.

I was surprised to be greeted with a repeat of the Two Ronnie’s. They were doing their “fork handles” sketch and were deftly able to prove that it is both a comfort and a frustration living in a time warp. So there we have it. Whilst Doctor Patrick Reid was making the women of Australia cry, Ronnie Corbett was making me laugh; It’s a funny old world isn’t it?

So to a recipe....
I think a banana cake is in order as I can’t think of a better cake that conveys both nostalgia and optimism. There is something inherently uplifting about turning sad limp fruit that is well past its prime into something joyous and wonderful.  Its’ the culinary equivalent of turning an old man into a young hottie. Perhaps an idea that might make for compelling TV viewing as at the crux of any great comedy or drama is the thrill of the unexpected.

Should the writers of Aussie TV need inspiration to make their grief stricken audience laugh once more; my suggestion is to reincarnate said sexy doctor as a frustrated cockney shop keeper.


Watch this and see if you laugh or cry?

 

Either way its a blessed relief to have a slab of banana cake on hand. And a bonus food styling tip - placing flowers near a cake in a photo always make it look like a funeral buffet.

Risen from the Dead Banana Cake

 

175 g self raising flour

125 g melted butter

150 g castor sugar

2 large eggs

3 over ripe mashed bananas

50 g chopped nuts of choice

100 g choc chips

1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

1. Preheat oven to 170 c and line a loaf tin with baking paper.
2. In a large mixing bowl make a wet mixture. Start with the melted butter, sugar, then the eggs, mashed banana and vanilla. Stir well.
3. Add the flour a third at a time, stirring well after each addition, then fold through choc chips and nuts. Scrape into loaf tin.
4. Bake for 1 hour or until cooked through. Leave in the tin on a rack to cool then eat in thick slabs in front of your favourite TV show.

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!!!



 

Cupboard Love

Quite possibly the world does not need another brownie recipe – it is a genre compressively covered; however this one is a welcome addition. Able to be whipped up in a matter of minutes this cheery looking tray bake uses pantry staples to dramatic effect.

I happened to have frozen berries on hand, but they are mere window dressing to this dense and moreish treat. You can creatively dabble with requisite contrast in flavour and texture. Why not try substituting handful of raisins that have been plumped up in rum or an ethereal combination of figs and glace ginger to give a fragrant twist.

Either way it yields a divinely dark and moist slab of cakey goodness. Sugar, butter and cocoa are all heaped on the high side in this recipe to give a richness  that is quite difficult to resist.

 

 

Quick and Easy Brownie

200g butter

1 1/3 cups sugar

3 eggs

2 tsp vanilla extract

1 cup cocoa

1 cup plain flour

1 tsp baking powder

1/3 cup slivered almonds

½ cup frozen berries

1. Preheat oven to 160 and line a shallow rectangular tin with baking paper.
2. In a small saucepan melt butter and sugar, allow to cool slightly then add lightly whisked eggs and vanilla.
3. In a large bowl combine flour, cocoa and nuts. Pour wet ingredients into dry and mix well.
4. Fold trough frozen fruit (reserving afew for the top)
5. Pour into tin, smooth out to sides and then artfully place any extra berries and nuts.
6. Bake for 40 mins or until crusty on top and a skewer inserted to the centre comes out clear.
7. Allow to cool in tin, before cutting into delicate squares.

 

Surprise Package

 

It was only once my family had happily devoured this delicious dinner that I confessed to it containing parsnip! I am not sure why this handsome winter vegetable is the case of such prejudices?

Perhaps it’s just a case of a limed appeal in an unadorned state. Granted a pasty pale parsnip does not have the crunchy vibrancy of a carrot or the comforting starchy charm of potatoes, but it does have a unique nutty sweetness that endears it to rich wholesome fare.

 At their peak in the depths of winter, parsnips mature as their starches convert to sugar giving it the characteristic butter toffee like flavour. With the savoury addition of fennel, leek, garlic, rich pork mince and a golden blanket of pastry I felt quite confident that I was showcasing parsnip potential.

PORK AND PARSNIP PASTIE
A glug or two of olive oil
700 g pork mince
1 leek
2 cloves of garlic crushed
1 parsnip
1 large potato
1 big fat granny smith apple
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
½ teaspoon sage
½ teaspoon of cracked black pepper
A good pinch of salt
1 cup chicken stock
1 block of puff pastry
One egg (to be used as a pastry wash)

1. Fry the mince in batches to give lovely brown nubbly effect, whilst that’s all happening get on with peeling and chopping the vegies into small chunks. Set to one side prepped veg and mince.

2. In a drop of olive oil, soften the sliced leek and garlic, add in the chopped veg and let them begin to sizzle. Add fennel, sage and salt and pepper, and then return the browned mince to the pan. Pour in the chicken stock and allow it to boil briskly, reduce to a simmer and let it bubble away until the liquid is reduced by 75% and the vegetables are cooked – about 10 mins.

3. Allow the meat mixture to cool slightly while you roll the pastry and preheat the oven to 190c (fan forced)

4. On a well floured surface roll the pastry into a large rectangle; aim to make the pastry the same thickness as a gold coin.

5. With a light touch lift the pastry onto a baking paper lined tray, dab the perimeter generously with egg wash then place the cooled meat mixture along the long edge of the pastry.

6. Fold the remaining pastry over the mince, then squeeze and tuck the edges together to seal. Lightly brush with remaining egg wash and then make feint slits along the top to allow steam to escape as it cooks. Sprinkle with extra fennel and black pepper.

7. Cook for 30 mins or until gloriously puffed and irresistibly golden.

8. Serve it up with a knowing smile and only confess to it containing parsnip once the meal is in full swing!

 

With thanks to my helper

 

 

Who could resist?

Neighbours that can bake

Back in the good old days recipes were swapped across fences. The art of baking was a unifying force as the sweet waft of stoves in action filled streets. I can only imagine it would be a stroke of pure blessed luck to lob alongside cooks that were generous in knowledge and skilled in their craft.

Hence my delight that for the next little while the cosy south island of New Zealand is my home. Christchurch to be precise. A poor wounded city that is bravely rebuilding a future. A city with its fair share of quirks and snarls, but city with quite possibly some of the finest baking I have ever spied.

Let it go on official record that our Kiwi neighbours are damn fine bakers. Fingers crossed that during my NZ tenure I learn a trick or two from my fellow Antipodeans.

Check out this delicious assortment on offer at my local Saturday morning haunt - The Riccarton Markets - baking at its best!

 

The Kiwis are masters of sweet toothsome millimetre perfect slices. A cup of tea with out a little square of one of these is a wasted opportunity.

 

This is Anna - she bakes like a woman possessed every week to deliver cakes that are plump and bursting with interesting things. I stalk her stall every week to see what is on offer.

 

Each little home made morsel is as perfect as can be. The hazelnut ameretti are crunchy on the outside and sweet and succulent on the inside - just like they should be.

Row upon pretty row of macaroons at their picture perfect best, Rose with cinnamon happen to be my favourite, closely followed by salted caramel.

 

 

and yes the custard does playfully ooze from these beauties with each bite.

 

Even the much maligned doughnut is given a delicious twist and turned  irresistible by the deft hand of a Kiwi baker.

 If you want the low down on the biggest, best most delicious thing then just ask a hungry wide eyed boy on limited income!

 Yes New Zealand- with your fairy tale beauty and old fashioned hospitality - I think we are going to get along famously.

Look who has a new toy

 

Just in case it was the lack of a fancy long pointy nosed camera that was holding me back from blogging greatness.......

I hereby vow to only post photos of great quality and have celebrated accordingly with a most glorious cake.

Here she is straight from the oven-

 

Rhubarb with coconut crust cake

 

A bold handsome cake best served straight from the oven on a cold winter’s day. You can play around with the fruit to match the season and your mood, however the bitey tang and blush coloured hue of rhubarb always make a delicious cake.

 

For the cake

80g unsalted butter

275g brown sugar

2 eggs

½ teaspoon of vanilla essence

Grated zest of 1 small orange

230 g sour cream

300g self raising flour

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

400 g raw rhubarb cut into 1cm pieces

 

For the topping

50 g butter

2 Tbs cream

½ cup brown sugar

1½ cups shredded coconut

1.    Preheat oven to 180°C. Grease a 24cm spring form tin

2.    Cream the butter with sugar and add eggs, vanilla, orange rind and sour cream, mix well to make a smooth mixture.

3.    Briskly fold in the flour and the cinnamon to make a thick batter, to which 2/3 of the rhubarb is added.

4.    Spread mixture into prepared tin and scatter and press remaining rhubarb on top of the cake.

5.    Bake for 50- 60 mins or until a skewer inserted to the centre comes out clean. Trap for first time players....... make sure the cake is quite well cooked at this stage, as once the topping goes on it is only for a short while. Don't be scared of overcooking- with all of the lovely fruit and sour cream this is quite a moist cake and difficult to over cook.

6.    At the 45 min cooking mark start to prepare the topping. Combine butter, cream and sugar in a saucepan, allow to melt and form syrup then add coconut and cook, stirring constantly for another 2 min.

7.    Spread the hot topping over the cake when it is sufficiently cooked and return it to the oven for 15 mins until it forms a caramelized golden crust.
8. Serve warm with a hearty dollop of cream and hopefully a spot of sunshine.

 

 

Got any photography advice you would care to share over a cuppa? 

 

 

 

Salad days

A little bowl of something crunchy and delicious is my little treat. Actually the mere act of being home and tinkering about with nice lunches is probably a bigger luxury in itself. I won't bang on about why I have ditched bread from my daily routine- what I will do, is show you the greatest hits of lunches past.

 

None of them took more than 5 mins to whip up, and none of them used anything clever - they are just a delicious mish mash of tastes and textures and in the realm of a thousand times nicer than a boring old sandwich.

 

 

A little lunchtime trip to Asia - shaved cabbage, leftover chicken, a handful of peanuts and plenty of herbs and lime.

Yes I have hopped on board the quinoa train. A Lebanese fatoush of sorts, with a nice added bonus of leftover roast lamb bits!

 

 Ohhhhh! a weensy taste of summer. 2 fat peach halves with goats cheese, grilled until brown and artfully plonked on some peppy rocket. The joys of seasonal fare!!

And its lunchtime in Mykanos with this little number. Haloumi cheese how I adore you and your squeaky, salty, oozy ways.

 

 What's on your radar for lunch today?