You might be interested to know that I've been storing up fats this winter, hoping to insulate myself from the icy climes that my Australian disposition is unaccustomed to. And with the storing up of fats comes, well, not surprisingly enough- an unwelcome heftiness around the belly, however, I find myself still feeling an overall sense of coldness inside.
So despite all this fat storing, my condition hasn't changed. There's something impertinent about this cold that seems to seep through all my layers, regardless of what seems like the most impermeable thermal layering on my part. Perhaps I'm just not meant for this weather? But I really do love London, even her rainy days, just not the way she bites in the cold. All I have to say is thank-God for double-glazed windows, something I've come to love over the past few months.
So, I'm afraid that this pot-belly I've acquired ain't getting any smaller and this weather is the perfect breeding ground for the flu. And, after flicking through my flickr account, I've stumbled upon a forgotten dish I made last June using quinoa- that much revered grain of the Incas. Just like now, this was made at a time when I was needing something nutritious, but something that didn't seem too healthy. Like when your parents try to hide vegetables into your food hoping you were none the wiser. Despite my penchant for desserts I do love healthy meals, although if someone ever tells me they eat only bread made of sprouted grains and drink nothing other than non-homogenised, unpasturised milk, and everything raw, I'll probably give them some look of bemusement.
This dish is healthy, but doesn't wreak of wholesomeness in that elitist sort of way that looks down on anything that has touched a stove. The quinoa grain, grown in the heights of the Andes is a quiet achiever, unbeknownst to most, quinoa boasts a solid reputation for its nutritional potency. Packed with vitamins– phosphorous, magnesium, zinc and iron, plus loads of fibre, it can pride itself as the only grain that is a complete protein, containing all 8 amino acids required by the body. And not to mention it's gluten free, so it's perfect for coeliacs; but really, it's perfect for anyone. So don't mess with the quinoa.
Frankly I don't know why quinoa isn't getting more of a rap. It's perfect. It's the kind of food that you can feed your kids knowing you won't have to disguise them as something else less healthy. And it's possibilities are endless, it might even oust rice as my favourite starch of choice, as it's just as fluffy but packs a bigger punch.
Aside from harping on about quinoa, you might know about my fascination with Eumundi Smokehouse sausages, namely in:
In The Closet, And A Really Good Pizza Recipe
Australians All Let Us Rejoice
All The Way, With Carbs Today
Lifting The Fog
And this post is no different. This time I used Chicken and Chilli sausages. It was perfectly juicy and even when a little overcooked, an oversight on my part, it didn't dry out.
I cannot mention it enough how much I miss Eumundi Smokehouse products, although I might have found some answers to this stark absence of Eumundi in my life. Aside from the various farmer's markets around London, there are a number of online grocers and butchers that are selling a large range of gourmet sausages in the UK. Here are some to name a few, if you happen to live in London:
Abel & Cole- organic grocer
Heap to Home- mail order sausages and bacon
Biggles- gourmet sausage supplier (wholesale and retail), home delivery, Marylebone store.
This quinoa dish is something you can easily whip up and eat in no time. Also it's completely versatile and open to adaptation, maybe toss a few root vegetables in with the quinoa, or eat it with a side of broccoli instead. The possibilities are infinite. I shows it doesn't take that long to get a proper meal going and this is certainly proof. Half an hour in a kitchen to eat something wholesome and sound, or a microwave dish zapped in 60 seconds devoid of any flavour and nutrition- I know which one I would choose.
Quinoa Lunch Bowl
Inspired by this recipe
Serves 4
FOR THE QUINOA
1 tbsp olive oil
1 small brown onion, diced
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
1 chilli, deseeded and finely chopped
250g mushrooms
1 cup Quinoa
500ml stock (whichever is your preference, in this recipe I used chicken)*
sea salt and black pepper
parsley, roughly chopped
8 gourmet sausages *You might need to add more stock or water if you see that the quinoa is drying up.
FOR THE GARLIC GREEN BEANS
olive oil
5 cloves of garlic finely chopped
400g green beans, cut into thirds
sea salt
MAKING THE QUINOA
In a medium pan, heat olive oil over medium heat.
Fry onions until soft and translucent.
Add the garlic, chilli and mushrooms and cook for another 2 minutes.
Add the quinoa and stock and stir to combine.
Cover pan and allow to simmer for approximately 20 minutes or until the quinoa has taken all the liquid and is translucent. The quinoa should be soft with a slight bite, if not, then add some water and cook further.
Meanwhile, grill sausages until cooked. Slice before serving
MAKING THE GARLIC GREEN BEANS
Heat olive oil in a pan.
Add garlic and beans and fry until beans have become a bright green colour.
Season with salt.
Assemble qunioa, sausages and green beans into a bowl and serve.
Happy New Year!
Where did all the time go? Months spent outside the blogosphere must equate to years. While others have kept up their posting at such a prodigious rate, I on the other hand feel like I need to reacquaint myself with the blog.
It seems that the London fog had clouded my head and sucked out every will to write, albeit, none of my will to eat. I had no intention of going on hiatus, as such, which must be the blogger’s equivalent to the celebrity stint in rehab. I in fact, had every intention of keeping up the posts at the same rate, if not even greater than in Sydney– but it just didn’t pan out that way. The excitement and responsibilities of moving to a new city, the anticipation of travel and my lack of kitchen paraphernalia all contributed to the derelict state of the blog. But it’s time I dust the cobwebs off and start the old girl back up again.
Now here’s something from the vault that has yet to see the light of day– a Chorizo and Pea risotto that I made back in August last year, not long before I left for London. Perhaps it’s not the most obvious choice for a comeback, it’s rustic and almost too quotidian– and especially if you are reading this in the heart of the Australian summer, it’s not exactly the sort of summer fare that relieves you from the blistering heat. But in the dead of one of Britain’s coldest winters in decades, this is sort of thing that really warms your cockles and staves off those sudden chills.
During these winter months, sometimes there’s nothing better than a meal devoid of any pomp and pretension and just serves you up want you want. Comfort. It seems also most hackneyed, but the idea of comfort food will never be out of place. Aside from nourishment, we all know the sensual and consoling nature of food. Just watch Ratatouille and let Remy show you the power food has over one’s sensibilities and lift us out of our momentary fog.
So to lift this seemingly pedestrian risotto out of banality, I decided to use Testun di Pecora Con Foglie di Castagne. The testun, I picked up at the Pyrmont Grower’s Market last year from Formaggi Ocello. It’s a bit of a mouthful to say, but the testun is simply a sheep's milk cheese covered in chestnut leaves. It’s aged for no less than 28 months, and at $120/kilo, it’s earned its worth in flavour.
The cheese has a subtle nutty taste, salty, with hints of sharpness and a nice sweet finish that is characteristic of many sheep’s milk cheese. I’m not sure exactly if the chestnut leaves are responsible for adding that nutty flavour to it but I imagine the wrapping serves a great purpose in imparting flavour.
The addition of the testun di pecora does lift this risotto out of the familiar and gives it that little oomph that perhaps something like the addition of truffles in pasta would do. Ok, perhaps that is a stretch, as truffles are in a league of their own, but the cheese does infuse a nuance of flavour that sets it beyond the norm.
I should add that the chorizo I used was a picante that I also procured from the markets at the Eumundi Smokehouse stall. How I miss their preservative-free gourmet sausages- this seems to be quite lacking here in England. Their love of pork becomes blaringly obvious when at the grocery store or the markets you will see shelves stocked to the brim with all manner of pork sausages, but when all you are wanting are some lamb merguez, or even just beef and Guinness, you leave feeling a little bit empty-handed. And I’m not particulary one for supermarket-brand sausages, filled with all sorts of preservatives and numbers and letters I cannot pronounce. Usually I stay away from anything with too many numbers in its ingredients list.
However, I have found a stall at the Greenwich Markets that sells lamb merguez, but when I came back to get some they had sold out. I was only gone for an hour! Which makes me suspect this could be the only place in London selling lamb merguez.
So there you have it, my first post of the year. I’ll try to be a little more proactive with the blogging, but thank you for your emails of concern when I dropped off the radar.
Chorizo and Pea Risotto
Serves 4
1.1 litres chicken stock
1 tbs olive oil
1 brown onion, finely chopped
2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
2 chorizo picante, diced
400g arborio rice
dry white wine
1 cup freshly shelled green peas (frozen is also fine to use)
sea salt
freshly ground black pepper
50g butter
125g freshly grated testun di pecora (or any other hard sheep’s milk cheese)
Heat the stock to a gentle simmer in a medium pot.
Meanwhile in a wide saucepan, heat olive oil over medium heat and fry onions until soft, 3-5 minutes.
Then add the garlic and chorizo and fry until chorizo is crispy.
Add the rice and stir until the rice becomes slightly translucent.
Add a splash of white wine and stir.
Begin to add a ladle of hot stock and continue to stir rice.
Keep adding ladlefuls of stock, stirring until each batch of stock is absorbed. The rice should be soft, although not gluggy; there should be a little bit of a bite to it. Use more or less stock depending on the softness of the rice.
When the rice is just about cooked add the peas and cook for another 2-3 minutes, season with sea salt and pepper.
Remove pan from heat and stir through the butter and testun di pecora.
Place a lid on the pan and allow to sit for 2 minutes before serving.
You might not have noticed but posts have been particularly sparse on the blog lately, and it partly has something to do with the little announcement that I am making on the blog today. The news flash, might be exciting for some, or not so much for others but either which way there are no doubt still many food possibilities that lie ahead on the blogging front. So don't worry, I'm not going to turn into a knitting blog or anything. Not that I dislike knitting blogs but it's just that I don't know how to knit, not even a sock puppet, or a scarf, so I say stick to what you know.
Well, eating is what I know, and food, especially those of the sugary persuasion will still be the focus of the blog, and really nothing will change except for my location. So let's see if you can guess where Milk and Cookies is headed to this August for two years? The clue is in this dish.
Guessed it yet? I'm pretty sure this clue is a dead give away. So indeed, it's true, to the possible dismay of many Londoners, I am going to the land of the eternal pub crawl or at least I hope it is, and will be checking out what the city has to offer in terms of food.
Hey, maybe I'll run into Jamie Oliver at the Borough Markets and ask him why my banana and honey bread more resembled baseballs rather than bread rolls. But I'd much rather run into Rick Stein any day, I love how he's such and advocate for British food and produce no matter how much of a bad rap it gets. Too bad he won't have Chalky with him though, that dog was the shiz.
But there you have it, I'm on my way to the northern hemisphere, I'm doubtful about how it compares to its southern counterpart, but I guess it's home for a couple of years.
So I'm sure you don't need a recipe to make bangers and mash, but here's one for the onion gravy that I pinched from Jane and Jeremy Strode of Bistrode.
Onion Gravy
makes about one-half cup
100g unsalted butter
1 tsp brown sugar
2 medium onions, sliced thinly
1 tsp red wine vinegar
200ml beef stock
sea salt
fresh cracked black pepper
Melt butter in a heavy-based saucepan over low heat.
Add sugar and onions.
Cook slowly until caramelised, about 30 minutes.
Add vinegar and cook for another five minutes.
Add stock and season with salt and pepper and simmer for 15 minutes until sauce has thickened.
No matter how bad a rap carbs get, I'm still a staunch advocate for the stuff. How anyone could go on a diet deliberately eschewing the stuff is a mystery to me. Although for the sake of your hips, I do know how the formidable temptation of starch can be too much to bear. And sometimes under the weight of that incredible urge you give in. All the way.
I'm going through a pasta phase right now. And I've had it almost everyday this past week. If there ever was a fixation in my life right now, aside from the shopping thing of course, which probably is more gender-based than anything else, this pasta thing is probably it.
The Italians really knew how to do carbs- with their beautiful breads and pasta, they really knew how to throw a carb party. I know that there's some contention concerning the true the origins of pasta, but it's without myth or lore that the Italians were the ones who made pasta their own art form. Turning this dough of wheat and eggs into a myriad of shapes and forms. If there is an Italian nearby, I suggest you go and give them a kiss.
But enough with public displays of affection; did I mention I have also fostered an addiction to Eumundi Smokehouse sausages. I've mentioned it before, how I go ga-ga over their range of gourmet sausages and not to mention their chorizo. And although a kilo of the Russian Farmer's sausages will set you back over $30; it must be all that Vodka in it, there's no price you should put on good taste.
And you know a good thing when you smell it, as you enter their small shop in Dulwich Hill, you are hit by the aroma of spices and a curtain of smoked meat hanging from a bar suspended above the counter. Everywhere you look it's meat. And there's something to be admired about a butcher who doesn't hold back with the spices and the booze. I say the more the merrier.
Their products are all made of natural ingredients and contain no preservatives. So it's best to eat them as soon as you buy them, which is really nothing to complain about. The sausages I used for this pasta were their lamb merguez sausages, a combination of lamb, red wine, coriander, parsley, pepper, mint and chilli. When fried, it exudes a perfume that rouses the palate and gets any carnivore's attention.
And why not put the two loves together, pasta and sausages. It's simple gourmet, and I'm sure country folk everywhere tending to pasturelands in the back of nowhere have been enjoying the staple of pasta and sausages for a long time wouldn't even bat an eyelid at this dish, but it's classics like these that never go wrong. I'm not sure if an Italian would call this dish a real classic, but it's simple enough with pasta, sausages, tomatoes and a splash of white wine thrown in for good measure.
I can't think of a better way to relieve those autumn cravings for comfort than with a classic pasta dish. You can use pretty much any shape you want, I like slurping my way through it, so linguine was the way to go, but if you prefer the pasta without the loud, sloppy sucking then penne or rigatoni would do just as well.
EUMUNDI SMOKEHOUSE
402 New Canterbury Road,
Dulwich Hill, NSW
Phone: (02) 95690205
Opening Hours: Thur-Fri 11am to 6pm; Sat 7am to 2pm
Their products are also available at a number of gourmet farmers markets and gourmet food stores. Contact Eumundi for more stockists.
Sausage and Capsicum Linguine
Serves 4
Adapted from Australian Gourmet Traveller
6 (750g) sausages, skins removed and chopped into 4cm slices
1 red capsicum
3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
1 onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 small red chilli, finely chopped
50g (1⁄4 cup) tomato paste
50ml dry white wine
1 can (400g) crushed tomatoes
sea salt
½ cup coarsely chopped flat-leaf parsley
500g dried linguine
freshly grated parmesan, to serve
Roast the capsicum in a preheated oven at 220ºC for 20 minutes.
Remove from oven and peel skin off.
Deseed and cut capsicum into 2cm-wide strips.
Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan, add sausages and cook over medium heat, turning, for 5 minutes or until golden. Transfer sausages to a bowl.
Add onion and garlic and sauté over low-medium heat for 3 minutes or until softened, add chilli and sauté for another 2 minutes.
Add tomato paste and stir for 5 minutes or until sauce thickens, then add sausage, capsicum and white wine and cook for 2 minutes, stirring to coat sausages and reducing liquid by half.
Add tomatoes, season to taste with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, then simmer for 10 minutes or until sauce is thick.
Stir through parsley.
Meanwhile, cook linguine in a large saucepan of boiling salted water until al dente.
Drain and transfer linguine to the frying pan and combine with sauce.
Divide sauced linguine among plates and top with any remaining sauce from frying pan and serve with parmesan.
