Keeping the Home Fires Burning

We just got through day 13. I'm suffering from umbrella fatigue. Yes, it's been the 13th day of continuous rain in Sydney; from drought to drenching, the pendulum does swing both ways. And I guess now it's official, autumn is here, and I have to say a begrudging thank you for making it so obvious that you've arrived. Say hello to soaked hems, muddy feet and one constantly wet dog. I'll just try to think of it as one less bath I have to give him.

I know posting on the blog has been quite scanty of late, must be that crisp autumn air forcing me into hibernation. But the advantage of this is that my motivation for baking grows even the more as the weather gets colder. Keeping those oven fires burning is one way of staving off the chills.

Sydney houses, are notoriously known for not being able to stand up to the colder months. Many overseas friends living here who come from much colder climes always gripe about the inadequate amount of insulation in our houses. And coupled with the lack of central heating in most homes, it makes the winter months even more unbearable.

Our comparably mild winter probably doesn't warrant builders making houses with central heating a standard thing, but no matter where you're from cold is cold, especially at 6am when the dread of getting out of bed to take a shower overcomes you. I guess keeping the oven on is one way to get around this minor setback.

I made these cakes earlier this month but decided to give it an encore appearance at around day 7 of our marathon rainfest, while holed up at home just watching the spate of storms come and go. It was either build an ark or bake a cake and seeing as I was sitting on a pile of passionfruit, I made some cakes. If I was going to go down in a deluge, I might as well go down with cake.

With my priorities in the right place, I spent the better part of a day baking. With no central heating in our house, Jack (the dog) and I spent the rainy afternoon in front of the blazing oven, our makeshift fireplace. I'm sure he spends his time loitering around the oven just in case a rouge piece of food happens to accidentally fall out and magically land in his strategically poised mouth. He's quite the optimist, but it's still nice to have his company, no matter what the motives. He likes to think of himself as the sous chef, although most of the time he's more like the cleaner, mopping up spilled ingredients. He doesn't mind.

Right now, passionfruits are ubiquitous, so there's every reason for you to buy a whole lot. Here in Sydney we get the smaller round and wrinkled variety that have that distinct deep purple colour. They look quite strange and unassuming on the outside, and they weigh almost nothing but once you cut through that purple woody exterior there's a wonderfully rich and intensely brilliant daffodil yellow pulp inside.

By itself the pulp can be a little too tart to eat, but ripple a few spoonfuls through some vanilla ice cream or yoghurt and you have yourself a killer dessert. And if you are familiar with the Australian picnic staple, the pavlova, then you know that it's the passionfruit that gives it its bite.

The cakes are actually lime flavoured, but only subtlety. The passionfruit syrup is what gives the cake its kick. And like many other tangy fruits, a little bit of sugar takes this a dish a long way and livens it up a bit more. Add a dollop of whipped cream and you have all the insulation you need to get through a rainy day.

Baby Lime Cakes with Passionfruit syrup and cream
Serves 10
Recipe from Australian Gourmet Traveller



FOR THE LIME CAKES
125g soft butter
165g (¾ cup) caster sugar
2 tbsp finely grated lime rind
3 eggs
120g (½ cup) sour cream or plain yoghurt
150g (1 cup) self-raising flour

PASSIONFRUIT SYRUP
110g (½ cup) caster sugar
80ml (1/3 cup) lime juice
3 passionfruit, pulp only

PASSIONFRUIT CREAM
300ml thickened cream
1 passionfruit, pulp only (optional)
30g pure icing sugar, sieved

Preheat oven to 170ºC.
Beat butter, sugar and rind using an electric mixer until light and fluffy, add eggs and beat to combine, then add sour cream or yoghurt and beat to combine.
Fold in flour, then spoon mixture among 8 greased and floured 150ml-capacity dariole moulds and bake for 15 minutes or until golden.

Cool for 5 minutes then turn onto a wire rack to cool completely.
For syrup, combine all ingredients and ¼ cup water in a small saucepan and stir over medium-high heat until sugar dissolves, then bring to the boil and simmer for 10 minutes or until syrupy. Makes about 1 cup.

For cream, combine ingredients and whisk until soft peaks form.
Refrigerate until required.
To serve, pour half the warm syrup over cool cakes and serve with passionfruit cream and extra syrup passed separately.

Weekend

Don't be alarmed, I am still alive. Although, I've been experiencing the giddy highs related to the consumption of too many Adriano Zumbo pastries.

As cramped and as hole-in-the-wall his shop may be, people flock and people queue, in single file, just to be able to get to the front of the line to tell that person behind the immaculately styled glass counter what fares you are after. Usually it's a little piece of this and that, or perhaps a splurge on a decadent Zumbo dessert or a handful of macaroons if your budget will still allow.

Walk too fast and you will almost miss it, that narrow, unassuming little piece of real estate on Balmain's Darling St. Walk too slow and you might not get there in time as the place is almost always cleaned out before close. You might be stuck with a quiche or a plain brioche if your not hasty, not that these aren't worthy, but the real spectacle are his speciality desserts, tarts and macaroons that change every now and then. The stuff way down the back of the shop, that's what the mob's all after.

I've long been touting Balmain as a food lover's mecca, pastries, breads, butchers, cafes and gourmet stores line it's main street and it's a wonder why they have only just decided to capitalise on all its gastronomic potential. I could literally eat my way through Darling St, and this week you are actually encouraged to. The Balmain Rozelle Food Week starts tomorrow the 21st of April until the 27th of April, so if you are lucky enough to be in Sydney, then head over down Victoria Rd or over the Anzac bridge and make your way down Darling St, sampling the finest fare these providores have to offer.

If you are interested in this event then download the whole program by clicking here.

And in case you were wondering what I got from Adriano Zumbo, there were the mandarin and chocolate macaroons. Worth their weight in edible gold leaf, oh boy were they good! And a Miss Marple, which is a crepe shaped into a cup filled with mascarpone creme, strawberries, oranges and some Grand Marnier topped with a glorious sugar lid. It's art you can eat.

Have a great week guys and and I hope to be back blogging with something almost as delicious very soon.

Getting Seriously Stoned

There's been a chill in the air of late. Autumn is well and truly here and although summer may well be done and dusted, some of it's late harvest has decided to stick around for a farewell party. Yes, stone fruits are something to look forward to come summer, but there's always enough left behind to tide you over till the beginning of autumn. In a last ditch effort to relive summer days, I suggest getting stoned.

Of course I'm not talking about sparking up a doobie and getting fried, but rather enjoying the last that summer has to offer in its stone fruits. I'm having summer weather withdrawals right now, seeing that we never really got to have a proper one on the east coast. So this was my way of sparking up some lost memories of summer.

And really, what's a summer without a peach? The quintessential image of biting into a ripe one, its juice dripping from the corners of your mouth, can make up for all the lucklustre weather we have had for months. They said it was going to last till March and it certainly did, and it looks like we just sailed right into autumn without even the slightest bump. Maybe there was the odd lightning crash and tree falling on one's roof, but other than that, as far as I'm concerned we've been in autumn since December.

So this is my long overdue swan song for the summer we never had- almond cakes topped with roasted peaches. There's only one way to bid her farewell and it's with the best she had to offer. So rosy blushed peaches was an appropriate choice for a goodbye offering.

I actually made this a few weeks back, although never had time to blog about them for a while. I found the peaches at the Entertainment Quarter Farmer's markets going for a song and couldn't pass them up. Then I happened upon a recipe for Almond cakes with roasted apricots on the Australian Gourmet Traveller website, and you know when you see a recipe that you simply must have right now, well that sheer impulse overcame me and I was bent on making this that very same day. I'm sure the droolworthy photograph on the AGT website helped in stoking the urge for them right away.

Seeing as I didn't have apricots but had a heap of cheap peaches lying around, well, you know what I did. When life gives you peaches, you can decide to make a cake.

Peaches, like many other stone fruits, roast very well and there's very little you can do to improve on its flavour. So you might as well stick to the basics, a little sugar and little bit of booze and you have yourself a top notch dessert. It's amazing what wine does to a syrup. The booze of choice for this fare was a Seppelt Rutherglen Tokay that we bought on our last trip to the Hunter Valley- a sweet, honey flavoured dessert wine that was ideal for a fruit based dessert.

I have to say that the almond cakes didn't turn out as dark as they were pictured on the website, so I was a little worried I had made a mistake. But after tasting the cakes, there wasn't anything to worry about. Not sure why there was a lack of colour, but at least it wasn't lacking on taste. Two thumbs up for this recipe and perhaps a better and less illegal way of getting stoned.

Almond cakes with roast Peaches and orange blossom fool
Serves 6
Adapted from Australian Gourmet Traveller



SPECIAL EQUIPMENT: blowtorch (optional)

110g (½ cup) raw caster sugar
1 vanilla bean, seeds scraped
8 peaches, halved, stones removed
4 pieces of orange rind, removed with a peeler
80ml (1/3 cup) dessert wine
1 tbsp orange juice
3 tsp orange blossom water
300g crème fraîche
30g brown sugar, sieved

FOR THE ALMOND CAKES
120g (¾ cup) pure icing sugar, sieved
50g almond meal
35g plain all-purpose flour
¼ tsp baking powder
2 tbsp finely grated orange rind
2 eggwhites, lightly whisked
90g butter, melted and cooled

Preheat oven to 200ºC.
Using a blowtorch, scorch the peach skins until they blister. They should peel off easily.
Combine sugar and vanilla seeds in a bowl and scatter over the base of a roasting pan large enough to hold peaches snugly.
Place peaches, cut-side down, in a single layer in pan, pressing into sugar.
Turn peaches and scatter over orange rind.
Combine wine, orange juice and 2 tsp orange blossom water in a jug and pour around apricots.
Roast for 10 minutes or until just tender and golden.
Set aside to cool, then, using a slotted spoon, remove 4 peach halves from syrup and process using a food processor until smooth. Set aside.

MAKING ALMOND CAKES
For almond cakes, reduce oven to 170ºC.
Combine dry ingredients and rind in a bowl, add eggwhite and fold through until just combined.
Add butter, stir to combine, then divide among six shallow pie moulds, smooth tops and bake for 15 minutes or until golden and centre springs back when lightly pressed with a fingertip.
Cool in pans for 5 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack placed over a tray.
Spoon a little apricot syrup over cakes and cool completely.

Combine crème fraîche, brown sugar and remaining orange blossom water in a bowl and whisk until thick and smooth. Fold through apricot purée to form a ripple effect. Top each cake with 2 apricot halves and a generous dollop of fool. Serve with syrup to the side.

Trolling around Thainatown

I rarely ever do restaurant reviews on this blog as there are so many other blogs that do it so much better. Not one to impose on already well trodden territory I steer away from reviews not only for the latter reason, but simply because I don't eat out nearly as often enough as other bloggers who do reviews. Oh yes, and I'm unable to take a decent photo inside a restaurant for the life of me.

Reviews in my opinion are so relative and mostly based on comparisons from previous experiences and tastes of certain cuisine. I don't think I have gathered enough food mileage to be able to be an expert in anything. But sometimes in a serendipitous, fluky way, you happen to have your camera when you go out for a casual lunch and next thing you know, you are taking a photo of ever dish.

I may not be an authority on most cuisines, but I think I have eaten at enough Thai restaurants and eateries to be able to gather an opinion about the food. And I have to say that although there's an abundance of Thai places in Sydney, the bad far outweighs the good. Thai cuisine is usually marked by its depth of flavour; the beautiful cohesion of taste sensations and textures. It's usually a splendid symphony of sweet, sour, spicy and herby, put together with such harmony. There simply are too many Thai restaurants serving bland and watered down versions of the real thing.

Simply put, when the menu says, "this dish is very spicy", I want the dish to deliver on its promise. I want it to be flaming hot enough for me to be able to breath fire afterwards. There are just too many renditions of seemingly spicy dishes that just aren't that spicy at all. If my brow isn't sweating, then you really haven't done your job. And I'm not even one of those people with high levels of tolerance for capsaicin.

Which brings me to Chat Thai. Chat Thai is a little bit of an anomaly, as in that even in the midst of a million other Thai eateries in that part of Pitt St which has been affectionately coined Thainatown, there is always a line of people outise waiting to get in, even at 11:30pm. Spoilt for choice in the midst of Thainatown, there is something about Chat Thai that people are willing to wait in line, outside, sometimes in the cold and rain.

Some say that it's usually the most dubious looking eateries that are the most authentic and the best priced, and to some extent this has been proved correct. This however cannot be further from the truth when it comes to Chat Thai. Although a handful of their dishes take a short detour from the original, the flavours are truly Thai at heart. And when they say spicy, they mean it.

The restaurant's interior can fool you, it doesn't look like a Thai restaurant that would serve traditional Thai fare, and serve it well. It looks more like an uppity bistro than an Asian eatery. But nothing could be further from the truth, it's just a plus that the place comes with soft mood-lighting, modern brown tables, rustic brick walls and to my surprise, friendly staff that make up for the wait you have to make for a table during peak hours, which can be up to an hour and a half.

To be honest, I cannot recall what we had that day. I was too engrossed in the eating part, that I forgot to remember the dishes for the blogging part. Hence the reason why I don't do reviews. All I remember is that there was a pad thai somewhere in the mix, a staple at any Thai place. And if they can't get a pad thai right, then there's really no point in wasting your time. But the heartening thing is their pad thai was good. Good enough that every last morsel was scraped off the plate.

So if anyone is in Sydney looking for a Thai place whose kitchen doesn't close at 10, then head over to Campbell St and put your name on the list for a table. If you come late enough, you won't have to wait that long. Chat Thai has several other locations around the city although I've only been to the one in Haymarket. Weirdly enough, it's the only one not featured on the website.

CHAT THAI
20 Campbell St
Haymarket, Sydney NSW
Phone: (02) 9211 1808
Open: 7 days 11am-2am

All The Way, With Carbs Today

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.

Hit and miss: Martha makes good, then goes bad, Part II

This post is the part where she goes bad.

If you haven't read the little disclaimer at the beginning of the previous post, then I suggest you do. Just in case any Martha zealots out there decide that they need to defend her honour down to the last perfectly clove-dotted glazed ham and immaculately pressed apron. I know that a lot of you who have been defending Martha think I'm an absolute retard that is incapable of following a recipe, but I'm willing to overlook that.

If my problem is a matter of comprehension, then I admit, I am an idiot. But when parts of the recipe are missing, or there are omitted ingredients and inaccurate instructions, then I would like to know who the idiot really is? Her recipes can be at times lacking and at other times convoluted to the point of ridiculous. For someone who wants to make it easy for everyone to be able to cook and bake, she does a horrible job of it. And it seems that I'm not the only one who feels unanimously about the hit and miss factor in Martha's recipes.

This recipe is a little different in its degree of suckiness in that, it hasn't failed to include any vital instructions or ingredients, everything in the recipe was there, except for the flavour. It appears that Smitten Kitchen's Deb, also had the same problem with the recipe and many of the commenters on the Martha website feel the same way. I decided to make my own go of it, just to make sure their sentiments were in fact true, and lo and behold- the pretzels are as bland as cardboard.

And when I say they are like cardboard, this is no attempt at euphemism, they are literally as flavourless as paper. There isn't a hint of chocolate in these pretzels, and be careful not to over-bake them even the slightest amount, as they will turn into volcanic rocks- flavourless volcanic rocks. A bitter disappointment when the recipe is introduced as the "sweet versions of the salty snack".

Oh Martha, Oh Martha. How do you get away with this? How do you continue to publish such rubbish without even checking them first? But the good news is that, were not all doomed to never have the sweet taste of chocolate pretzels on our lips, someone did do their homework and came up with a chocolate pretzel recipe that works. Rivka of Not Derby Pie has redeemed us all with her version of choc pretzels that is proven to work and most importantly taste like chocolate.

Check out the better version here.

The version I have posted below is the original Martha version, just because this is the one I used to make the pretzels pictured above. But I actually would not suggest making them unless you are willing to make some changes. Better yet, just click over to Rivka's recipe and have all the work done for you!

Chocolate Pretzels
Recipe from Martha.com
Makes 24 small pretzels

¼ cup unsweetened Dutch-process cocoa powder
1 tsp good-quality instant espresso powder
3 tbsps boiling water
110g (½-cup) unsalted butter, softened
¼ cup granulated sugar
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
½ tsp coarse salt
1 large egg
2 cups plain all-purpose flour
1 large egg yolk
coarse sugar (like demarara or pearl) for sprinkling

Stir cocoa and espresso powders into the boiling water in a small bowl until dissolved; set aside.
Meanwhile, put butter and granulated sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment; mix on medium speed until creamy.
Mix in vanilla and salt.
Reduce speed to medium-low.
Mix in egg, then cocoa mixture.
Gradually add flour, and mix until a smooth dough forms.
Turn out onto a piece of plastic; pat into a square.
Wrap dough, and refrigerate until cold, about 30 minutes.

Divide dough into 24 equal pieces.
Roll into balls. Shape balls into 12-inch-long ropes.
Twist each rope into a pretzel shape. Space 1 inch apart on baking sheets lined with parchment paper.
Preheat oven to 160ºC.
Whisk egg yolk with 1 tsp water in a small bowl.
Brush cookies with egg wash; sprinkle with sanding sugar.
Bake cookies, rotating sheets halfway through, until dry, about 15-20 minutes, depending on the size of you pretzels.
Let cool on sheets on wire racks.

NOTE: Cookies can be stored in airtight containers at room temperature up to 1 week.

Mr. Baguette: Banh Mi, Baby, Banh Mi

Ooh, let's start with dessert! The foodie porn flix of us eating a very weird yet quite delicious Vietnamese dessert at Mr. Baguette in Rosemead.

Two still life views of our "weird" dessert which consisted of sweet grean bean noodles, white beans, red beans, and ice drowned in coconut milk.

Mr. Baguette is a banh mi and bakery chain in So Cal. Mr. Baguette's banh mi seem like a steal if you happen to live in the Silver Lake or Eagle Rock area and are used to paying $9 for something that is called a banh mi but is really a poor excuse for a sandwich served on stale French bread. How much would a banh mi cost on the Westside? Anyhoo, Mr. Baguette's banh mi range in price from $2.85 to $4.35 which is actually pretty high end considering that most places in the OC charge about $1.50.

These high prices are not scaring the masses away. Hiking Gourmet T and I revved up the old M3 and bombed out to the San Gabriel Valley on an early Sunday morning only to be greeted by mobs of people ordering banh mis, pastries, and iced coffees galore. One would have thought that we were at Philippe's after an SC game! But the place opens at 6 am so I guess that banh mis early in the morn are de rigueur.

Two views of the grilled chicken sandwich (I splurged for a sesame baguette which is 20 cents extra) which included the odd ingredient of sliced American cheese. I thought that it worked but Hiking Gourmet T was not as enamored with it as I.

My other sandwich (I only order a lot for my art, Dear Reader), the grilled beef banh mi. This was "eh." The first time that I had had it was at a picnic at the Hollywood Bowl and it was fabulous but on this day it was kind of boring.

My Doppelganger's smoked bacon banh mi. This looked really French to me.

I bought a "Special" banh mi for mumsy. The "Special" is the house sandwich so to speak. It has pate (accent aigu), ham, pork meatloaf, and headcheese. Since mumsy has old world tastes I knew this was the sandwich for her.

Two views of my pate chaud (that's "pat show" to you) stuffed with beef curry. In Italy this would be called a "Nun's Breast." For some reason the Italians like to call anything that slightly resembles a boob a "Nun's Breast." Apparently, the Vietnamese have the same sense of humor since they've added a nipple to the top of this pastry.

Despite the shape, this pate chaud was quite yummy and one could see the skill that went into making the pastry: many layers that were tender yet flakey at the same time.

Mr. Baguette
8702 E. Valley Boulevard
Rosemead, California 91770
www.mrbaguettesandwiches.com