Roast Duck Noodles

Duck holds a special place in my heart.  It was a humble free range duck egg that broke me from the vegan witchcraft holding me back from a world of deliciousness.  Food technology has come a long way, but there’s still no animal-free replacement for the simplicity, nay, NOBILITY, of a humble poached egg.  And thus it was.  Down my gullet, and into a new lifetime of gastronomic wonder.  Bless you duck, and all you stand for!

Despite, or perhaps because of, the revelation of revelations I have attached to said beasts, I hadn’t actually eaten duck until a couple of years ago.  The first time I tried it was in a Thai red curry.  I was slow to come around, fancying it as a less than appetising, squishier, dark turkey meat.  I think I may have tried it in a noodle dish after that, and was a bit more enthused.  Then I had an amazing duck breast main at Le Bordeaux in Ho Chi Minh City.  The discovery of a jar of duck fat at my local butcher, and now, no duck is safe when I’m around.  Well, OK, maybe a slight exaggeration – I’ve had a couple of tremendous fails trying to cook both breast meat and whole ducks myself.  But as in my previous post, if someone else is cooking (in this case, Mr Chao’s BBQ Bar), I’m all over it.

So there I was, searching for another way to use this Manna from Ponds (or farms, whatever) justice.  That’s when I came across this recipe by Jill Dupleix.  Given the rather haphazard nature of my cooking style, I don’t normally shoplift recipes – it’s asking for disaster when I try to put my own spin on stuff that might actually require rhyme or reason to taste good.  The simplicity of a bowl of plump duck with crispy veggies and sauce-laden egg noodles though, is something that I can fathom.  It shouldn’t be hurt by the addition of a spoonful of this, or a pinch of that.  So here’s my version.  Not too different, just a few more veggies and some tofu for textural variation.  Quackio quid iuris.

Roast Duck Noodles

Ingredients

2 tbsp peanut oil
1 shallot, sliced
2 celery stalks, finely chopped
1 small red chilli, finely chopped
1 tsp ginger (from a jar, whaddya think this is, bush week or something?)
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
1/2 wong bok / Chinese cabbage, finely sliced
8 large snow peas, finely sliced
1/3 red capsicum and 1/3 green capsicum, cut into bite sized chunks
1/3 Chinese roast duck, deboned and shredded
200g firm silken tofu, cubed
200g egg noodles, rinsed under boiling water to separate
100g fresh bean sprouts, rinsed
1/3 cup bamboo shoots, rinse
1/3 cup dried wood fungus, soaked in boiling water until soft, then drained, rinsed and chopped
1 tbsp Chinese rice wine
1 tbsp hoisin sauce
2 tbsp oyster sauce
2 tbsp soy sauce
Kecap manis, to taste
2 spring onions, finely chopped

Method

1.  Heat the peanut oil in a wok over a medium flame.  Add the shallot and celery, and stir fry for 1 minute.
2.  Add the chilli, garlic, ginger and stir fry until fragrant, then add the wong bok and capsicum and cook until they begin to soften.
3.  Add the duck, stir, then add the bean sprouts, noodles, bamboo shoots, wood fungus and sauces.  Allow to cook, stirring until heated through, then add the tofu and rice wine and increase heat until sauce begins to caramelise.
4.  Taste for sweetness, add kecap manis if desired.
5.  Remove from heat and serve immediately, sprinkled with the spring onion.

Korean Eggplant and Tofu Hot Pot

With the weather attempting to cool down, TheBloke and I are looking forward to busting out the slow cooker again. Last year it became something of an idol for our household, the sort that, on account of its neverending procession of deliciousness, beat the pants off the gilt framed pictures sold by the Greeks outside the church down the road.

The only problem with the slow cooker is that it’s just not that impressive a serving vessel. Which is where the All Clad tagine that my parents bought us for Christmas comes in. Not only is it stylish in looks, it’s also rapidly becoming my go-to saute pan. The heavy base conducts heat as well as our Essteele saucepans and the height of the walls is perfect for dry and wet dishes alike.

A hungover craving for bahn mi made with goods acquired from Mr Chao’s BBQ Bar on Saturday morning saw me returning with not only BBQ pork, but also half a duck and some roast pork too. Whoops. But happy day, it enabled another layer of flavour to be added to this hot pot. Of course, if you’re veganically inclined, you may choose to omit said swine and congratulate yourself for having far more restraint than I.

Korean Eggplant and Tofu Hot Pot

Ingredients

1 tsp peanut oil
1 onion, sliced
1 clove garlic, sliced
1 tbsp Szechuan peppercorns, toasted and crushed in a mortar and pestle
2 tbsp crushed dried chilli
2 tbsp soy sauce1 tbsp Chinese rice wine
150g kimchi
1 tsp chilli bean paste
1 tsp red miso paste
1 tsp sesame oil
1/4 cup straw mushrooms
1/4 cup bamboo shoots
1/3 cup dried shiitake mushrooms, soaked in enough boiling water to cover until soft (reserve water)
1/3 cup dried wood fungus, soaked in enough boiling water to cover until soft, then drained and chopped
150g Chinese roast pork (or you could use uncooked pork belly), cubed
1 eggplant, sliced, salted and then rinsed and cut into large chunks
300g firm silken tofu, cut into large chunks
500mL chicken (or vegetable) stock

Method

1. Heat the peanut oil in a large pan. Add onion and pork and saute until onion begins to colour. Add garlic, peppercorns, dried chilli, chilli bean paste, miso paste and soy sauce and saute until fragrant.
2. Increase heat and add Chinese rice wine, then the eggplant. Stir fry until eggplant begins to caramelise.
3. Turn down the heat and add kimchi, shiitake mushrooms and the water they soaked in, sesame oil and chicken stock. Reduce heat to minimum, cover and allow to cook for half an hour, or until eggplant is very soft.
4. Stir, then add tofu cubes, bamboo shoots, wood fungus and straw mushrooms. Taste for heat and salt, add more dried chilli and soy sauce if desired. Recover and cook for another fifteen minutes.
5. Just before serving, sprinkle with spring onions. Serves four people with rice and stir fried mixed greens.

Bairro Petersham Portuguese Food and Wine Festival

On Sunday, TheBloke and I made our second pilgrimage up the road to the annual Bairro Petersham Portuguese Food and Wine Festival.

The festival has been running since time began (or for nearly a decade), and brings the amazing food and culture of the local enclave to the streets. Last year it rained. This year, despite some ominous looking clouds, it was mostly fine all day, which made the event much more conducive to indulgence in cheap and cheerful Portuguese cask red and Sagres beer.

Audley and Fisher Streets were closed off and instead of cars parking to get to the train station, the bitumen was filled with happy masses and food stalls.

I set my sights high when I woke up on Sunday morning. All I wanted to achieve for the day was a barbecued sardine and a chorizo in my tummy. Luckily there was plenty of both available, although I did have to contend with a dimwitted security guard commenting that my plate “looks good… if you’re a cat” whilst waiting for TheBloke to buy us some drinks. Speaking of which, his sights were set on eating the chunks of meat on sticks pictured on the back grill above. Deliciously rustic!

Most of the stalls were selling variations on grilled meatstuffs, cornbread, bolinos de bacalhau (cod cakes) and feijoada (dried beef stew). We eschewed the huge line in front of the prawn and chilli sauce grill joint that seems to be at every food and wine festival we attend; and hit up a smaller stall for our chorizo fix. It turned out to be a good move, because instead of a stock standard commercial sausage, we ended up with a handmade work of snag art, filled with chunks of pork belly.

Unfortunately, our late arrival time (2pm) meant that we missed out on churros. First come, first served! We pacified ourselves with a plate of malasadas for the road.

An impromptu round of singing, clapping and dancing broke out as we were leaving. Accompanied by an accordian, nonetheless. Saúde!

Three Way Cookies

My usual baking hit rate is birthdays, dinner parties and miscellaneous occasions where I’ve impulse-bought something that calls for a crumblin’. Two lots of sweet treats in less than a week is some sort of record for me. Alas, a craving for chocolate has struck me down, and combined with a stack of baking ingredients that have been sitting sullenly in my spice rack for the past eleven months (since my last foray into birthday baking for three birthday weekends in a row), I decided to do something about it.

Cookies aren’t something that TheBloke and I normally have in the house (choosing to expand our waistlines with jamon et fromage instead), but they’re quick to make, don’t require me to pull the stand mixer out of the back of the cupboard, and can be easily bagged and tagged for TheBloke to take to work with him. (As an aside, while baking these I got into an internet fight with a random guy on Facebook who took offense at my anti-pornography stance. I’ve concluded that being called a “femo” as an insult is actually good for the constitution. It gives one an opportunity to ask oneself the hard questions, like ‘is it fair to judge intelligence based on an individual’s use of poorly thought out sarcasm?’; ‘is arguing about ethics in a virtual medium with idiots ever productive?’; ‘can you be a “femo” and still bake your husband cookies?’; and most importantly, ‘why aren’t you finishing off last week’s management theory workbook questions?’ But I digress.)

The best triple choc cookies I’ve ever eaten were a batch that my Mum posted to me when I was at boarding school. This recipe is admittedly little more grown up (using 70% cocoa for both varieties rather than copious amounts of sweetened milk and white chocolate), and satisfy in a single (or double… hehehe…) dose, rather than in teenage-sized handfuls. I think there’s a time and a place for both, but given my allegedly man-hating womb is still childfree, it’s good to make the most of the finer things while the eating audience is just the two of us! Their naughty name is obviously a calculated effort on my behalf to cut down my hard-arsed no-fun femme-core reputation. Der.

Three Way Cookies

Ingredients
Makes two dozen

Basic Batter
1 1/2 cups plain flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 cup baking cocoa
1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
120g room temperature unsalted butter
200g 70% cocoa dark chocolate, chopped
2 eggs, beaten

Missionary Style
1/4 cup white chocolate, chopped
1/4 cup milk chocolate, chopped

Mouth Party Time
2 tbs mixed peel
2 tbs toasted unsalted pistachios
50g Mayan Gold Green and Black Fairtrade Chocolate, chopped

Method

1. Pre-heat oven to 180 degrees celcius. Line baking trays with non-stick paper.
2. Sift flour, baking powder and cocoa into a large bowl. Add brown sugar and mix well.
3. Place dark chocolate and butter in a saucepan. Melt over a low flame until smooth, remove from heat and set aside for fifteen minutes.
4. Once the chocolate mixture has cooled, make a well in the centre of the dry ingredients and pour in chocolate mixture and eggs. Stir with a wooden spoon until all ingredients are combined and dough is smooth.
5. Divide mixture in half. Add chopped milk and white chocolate to one half and stir well. Repeat with peel, pistachios, and Mayan Gold with second half.
6. Roll dough into small balls of approx 3cm radius. Place balls on trays, leaving five centimetre gaps between them. Squish balls with a fork. OH HAR!
7. Place trays in oven, bake for ten minutes, switch trays around, bake for another ten minutes. Remove trays from oven, allow cookies to cool on tray for five minutes then transfer to racks. RACKS! OH LE ENTENDRE!
8. Is lucky. Are you getting lucky? No? Try these cookies as bribes.

Apricot, Honey and Pistachio Tea Cakes

Yet another post driven by frugality, or lack thereof. The Bloke and I have recently returned from the Wildes of Vietnam and Cambodia, and have also recently started shopping at ALDI. You may make the connection between these two occurrences and say “HI, I DO SAY JEEVES, IT APPEARS THAT MRS M’S ESTATE IS IN THE POORHOUSE!” You would, of course, be correct. But being in the poorhouse is no excuse for a lack of afternoon tea in one’s life! No, indeed, baking scrumptious things at home and washing them down with a cup of Boh Cameronian tea bought overseas during more prosperous times can be just as fun as an evening spent at the Wine and Cheese Room under the GPO!

OK, I’m full of it. Being confined to the house sucks the big one. And the only reason I baked these was because I cracked open a tin of ALDI apricot halves to serve with pan roasted free range pork cutlets last night and knew full well that they’d just fester in a pile of wastefulness at the back of the fridge if I didn’t do *something* with them. And as much as I dislike Kylie Kwong with the fire of a thousand suns, I do agree with her that food wastage is pretty criminal in these hard times (even though I threw out a whole tub of yoghurt and an entire pot of sour cream this morning… yeah, I’m working on it, OK?).

Having an infinite preference for savoury over sweet, I was hard pressed to figure out what to do with the offending leftovers, until I came across a picture of an apple tea cake (yes, just like Agnes Skinner in The Simpsons) and figured that both fruits start with A. Smart, me! A search on The Google came up with a couple of basic recipes which I tweaked to fit the ingredients on hand. The small sizes are more a product of leaving my springform pan in Canberra than deliberate planning. The pistachios were the first thing that came out of a lucky grab into the container labelled “Nuts, Legumes, Mexican” in my pantry.

Forgive my lack of enthusiasm. They taste good, but not as good as a bottle of 1986 hermitage and a lump of ripe blue on a cold city night. Beggars can’t be choosers. Enjoy.

Apricot, Honey and Pistachio Tea Cakes

Ingredients

2 1/4 cups plain flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
1 cup sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp vanilla extract
170g butter, softened
3 eggs
1 cup tinned apricots, drained and chopped roughly
2 tbsp raw pistachios
2 tbs honey
2 tbsp butter, extra
Method

1. Pre heat oven to 190 degrees celcius.
2. Toast pistachios in oven for fifteen minutes, remove and cool.
3. Meanwhile, dump flour, baking powder, salt and cinnamon in a bowl and stir with a fork to break up any lumps. Set aside.
4. Cream softened butter in a bowl, then gradually add sugar until combined. Continue creaming until light and fluffy, then add eggs one at a time, and then the vanilla extract.
5. Gradually add the flour mixture to the wet ingredients, beating after each addition, until combined. Place batter in freezer for half an hour.
6. Meanwhile, grease 12 pan muffin tin with extra butter. Combine the chopped apricots with the honey.
7. Distribute half the batter into the bottoms of the muffin pans. Top with 2 tsp chopped apricots, then divide the remaining batter across the tops of the pans. Sprinkle with pistachios.
8. Bung it in the oven for half an hour, remove, check doneness with a skewer, shove ‘em in your face at afternoon tea like the Queen’s corgi scarfing down a leftover Harrod’s pork pie. Remember the time you went to London and it rained UP, use this as a focus point for dissuading further overseas travel.

Scrimp / Save

So with this so-called economic crisis upside our faces, I thought it might be handy to share with you some of the useful money-saving tips I employ to keep TheBloke and I able to afford luxury overseas holidays, expensive motor vehicles and the finest rat infested abode one can rent in the inner west*.

With so much choice available to us as consumers these days, it is little wonder that a simple trip to ones local supermarket for a tin of beluga can often result in a basket full of banana lollies, kranskies and assorted pickles leaving alongside you.  If you’re an impulsive shopper like moi, you may even come home with a couple of hybrid poodles and a new lounge.  Therefore, my first tips for you are:

1.  Don’t shop when you’re hungry.  Of course, if your cupboards are bare when you leave the house, rectifying this situation can be a problem.  I recommend a prior trip to est. or Aria to fill the gap if this is the case.

2.  Only take cash with you if you’re heading into a store for one thing.  Better yet, take coins.  Have your ‘boy’ carry the piggy bank if you’re doing a bigger shop.

3.  Meal plan, and make a shopping list before you leave.  This will save you coming home and realising you already have a freezer full of quails and wagyu and therefore didn’t really need the three kilos you bought of each “just in case”.

My second tips are related to your choices when faced with the supermarket shelves.  Of course, I’ve blathered on about food miles and Australian growers and organics on previous occasions, but for the sake of avoiding the tired arguments related to affordability and sustainability, let’s assume that like the majority of us, you’re shopping at Woolies rather than Macro Whole Foods.

4.  When it comes to tinned food, generics can be, but aren’t always bargains. Check percentages to make sure you’re paying for food rather than liquid.  Taking out the country of origin issue for a minute (as I said, not going there today),  I find tinned tomatoes, pineapple, corn and beetroot to usually be comparable to name brand varieties.  Tinned fish, baked beans and asparagus have always ended in fail when I’ve tried to scrimp on them.  Perishable-wise, milk, butter and stock standard tasty cheese are all fine as generics.  Yoghurt, icecream and fresh-frozen fish products… not so much.

5.  Alternatively, do your dry and tinned goods shopping at ALDI.  The only tinned disaster I’ve come across in their re-labelled ranges are apricots.  No big deal.  Just make sure you have your blinkers on when you visit, lest you come home with an impulsively purchased tent, overlocker or electric poffertje maker.

6.  If you have access to a vehicle, try checking fruit and veg / delis in less effluent suburbs not only for cheap fresh goods, but also for bargain bulk purchases like crates of tinned tomatoes and big jars of olives and pickles.  Some of our favourites not too far from our suburb are the Arncliffe Fruit Market on Forest Road, Miles Fresh Food Market in Rockdale Plaza, and the Ashfield Fruit Barn on Liverpool Road.

When it comes to choosing cheaper meals, there are a few easy ways you can cut down on cost without cutting down on flavour or nutrition.

7.  The first is by quitting your sooking about how vegetarian and vegan food is limp-wristed hippy crap, and substituting a couple of meat meals a week with flesh-free alternatives.  Instead of steak barbecue a couple of mushrooms, top with low-fat fetta and serve with a lentil or bean salad for protein.  Instead of using chicken breast in a stir fry, try tofu or tempeh bought from an Asian grocer for less cashmonies than the supermarket.  Use soy, kidney or black turtle beans in Mexican dishes rather than mince.  Instead of oysters… well, OK, I’m stumped now.

8.  I know they’re fashionable at the moment, but seriously, buy a goshdarn slow cooker already.  You can cook batches of stews, curries and soups, and freeze the leftovers; and unlike conventional stovetop or oven slow cooking methods, you can chuck them on the morning and not give the process a second thought for the rest of the day.

9.  Sunday night roasts.  Not only will you feel like an honorary CWA member, if you pick the right beast, you’ll have meat for gor-met sandwiches for the rest of the week.

Lastly, I shall address how you’re going to have your manservant clean up after the triumphant meal is served.

10.  If you have room in your kitchen, check out your local Asian supermarket for bulk catering packs of aluminium foil, baking paper and cling wrap.  Or buy some reusable silicone baking sheets if you’re not creeped out by that crap.

11.  Buy the best quality plastic containers you can afford for storage of leftovers.  I know this sounds all Stepford Wife, but you’ll notice the difference in how long ingredients last if you put them in Tupperware or Sistema rather than recycled takeaway containers.

12.  Homebrand bleach and disinfectant has the same concentration of active product as White King and Domestos.  Homebrand washing up liquid on the other hand, requires half a bottle per sink.   Buy concentrated dishwashing liquid for your health (or for the sanity of the gimp that does your washing up).   Once again, Aldi’s cleaning products are cheap and work.

And voila, your twelve step guide to eating your way through these frigid fiscal times with clams leftover for a 2L cask to drown your sorrows.  Not quite in Duggar territory, but easy solutions to tighten your purse strings without tightening your belt.   Put on them dancing shoes, it’ll all be over soon.

*Two of those affordables were facetious, bet you can’t pick which.

Mixed Dahl with Homemade Naan Bread by Curry Khor

As the neo-hippy culinary coordinator for our household, I resolved to include at least one vegan meal a week in our repertoire of recipes during the hungover apocalypse which was the post-New-Year period. We already eat vegetarian several times a week, but given the new / old evidence that the best way cut carbon is to kick meat, I figured it was an easy way to greenwash our household and make us feel better about consuming nought but Californian raspberries, Kobe wagyu beef, Stilton and Bollinger on the other nights. Oh lulz everybody. LULZ.

I used to consume a dahl made from brown lentils when I was an ACTUAL vegan (imagine that!), and while that version has its place as a winter warmer, I much prefer a mixture of pulses and vegetables during the summer months – especially given that our current abode is more of an oven than Lucas Heights. While only part of this meal is vegan (the dahl, silly) – I’m pretty sure that cooking a dough made with a good quality fresh soy milk in olive oil would be an acceptable way to veganise it completely. If anyone has a crack at doing it that way let me know.

Mixed Dahl with Homemade Naan Bread by Curry Khan

Ingredients

For the dahl
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 medium onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, diced
2 birds eye chillies, diced
2 stalks celery, finely diced
2 medium sized carrots, finely diced
1 tablespoon ground coriander
1 tablespoon ground cumin
2 teaspoons turmeric
1 teaspoon sweet paprika
1.5 litres vegetable stock
3/4 cup brown lentils
3/4 cup black (du puy) lentils
1/2 cup red lentils
1 cup water
Two cups assorted vegetables, diced (I used capsicum, zucchini, broccoli and mushroom ‘coz they were what needed using up in my crisper)
Fresh coriander, chillies and various chutneys to serve (optional)

For the naan
1 1/2 cups plain flour, plus extra for dusting
2 teaspoons sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 cup milk
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
Butter to cook
Nigella seeds, to taste

Method

Make the naan dough first – you can let it rise while the dahl is cooking and shape and cook them after adding the vegetables to the lentils.

Naan
1. Chuck the flour, salt, sugar and baking powder in a bowl. Stir vigorously with a fork to kill any lumps. Combine milk and oil in a pouring jug.
2. Add milk and oil mixture to flour mixture a little at a time, stirring to combine after each addition. When the bowl contents reach a dough-like consistency, turn it out onto a floured bench and knead until it is smooth and bounces back when you poke it.
3. Oil the same bowl you used for mixing then dump the ball of dough back into it and allow to rise in a warm area until doubled in size (1 1/2 – 2 hours).
4. When the dahl is cooked, punch the dough down then divide into four, and shape into 20cm rounds.
5. Melt a knob of butter in a large non-stick frypan over a medium/high heat, then throw in one of the rounds. Allow to cook until puffy and golden, then flip , sprinkle with nigella seeds and cook for another minute or two. Remove and repeat with remaining rounds.

Dahl
1. Chuck a slug of olive oil into a mid-sized saucepan over a medium flame. Add the onion, celery and carrot, and cook for a couple of minutes until they begin to soften.
2. Add spices, garlic, ginger and chilli to the pot, stir until fragrant then drop the heat and pour in the vegetable stock.
3. Bring to the boil, then add brown and black lentils, stir and reduce heat to a simmer. Allow to cook for 45 minutes or so (until the lentils are al dente), stirring occasionally.
4. Add the red lentils and the water, stir, and allow to simmer for another twenty minutes.
5. Add vegetables, stir and simmer until tender.

Serve in big bowls with freshly chopped coriander, chillies and chutneys on side, pretend like you’re part of the solution rather than part of the problem.

Roladen mit Brodknoedel by Toba Fest

In just over a fortnight, The Bloke and I will be in Munich catching up with my extended family. This excites me for more reasons than I have words, although most of them are focussed around discovering a part of my history which has previously been rendered impossible due to geographical distance. As a first generation Australian German (on my Mum’s side) I’ve always had a yearning to see the places that my family called home before WWII, and the fact that my cousins, aunts and uncles are so excited about our impending visit is just heart-warming.

Thankfully, we’ve timed our visit to miss the hoardes of American fraternity kids that descend upon the city for Oktoberfest. Instead, we’ll be spending the culmination of the festival down at our local Concordia Club in Tempe. This recipe is a fitting tribute for both family and festive occasions. I first came across it when my Oma rustled it up for my Mum and I when we came to stay – I didn’t eat pork at the time, so she used marinated roast beef strips in the centre rather than bacon. I think the bacon gives the dish more body (especially if you’re using very lean meat) but it’s tasty either way, and definitely pays up against the sometimes fiddly nature of roladen construction! You could also serve the roladen with buttered pasta noodles or boiled potatoes if your beer condition prevents you from mucking around with bread dumplings.

Roladen mit Brotknoedel by Toba Fest

Tip: Read the recipe all the way through before starting, as you can actually make the raw roladen and brotknoedel in advance and refrigerate them until required for cooking.

Ingredients (for two)

Roladen
1 schnitzel cut beef steak per person (or one oyster blade steak per person, hammered out to 0.5cm thickness)
Polski ogorki, thinly sliced
German mustard
1 rasher of bacon per person, thinly sliced
Half a brown onion, thinly sliced
2 cups of beef stock
1 cup mushrooms, sliced
1 teaspoon cornflour, dissolved in enough water to make a paste
Olive oil
Salt and pepper

Brotknoedel – this makes about six, which you shouldn’t eat all at once as they take up valuable beer space.
1/2 loaf three day old white bread
1 onion, grated
2 tablespoons parsley, finely chopped
50g butter, softened
1/3-1/2 cup warm milk
Salt and pepper

Method

Roladen
1. Coat one side of each slab of beef in mustard, then evenly distribute the polski ogorki, onion and bacon slices over the mustard side, to make a sort of a meat pizza. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.
2. Take one edge of the short ends (given that your meat pizza is probably vaguely oval in shape, this means one of the thinner ends) and tightly roll into an, hmm, trying to think of a witty comparison point – oh yes, like a pirate scroll. A meaty pirate scroll! Roll ’til you can roll no more, then take some tooth picks and secure the scroll so that all the delicious filling is hidden from the world (just shove them in however works, along both the rolled edge and the two ends).
3. Heat a couple of glugs of the oil in an appropriately sized saucepan (one which will allow your meatscrolls to sit on the bottom snuggly but comfortably), then brown the meatscrolls well. Add the beef stock, bring to the boil, then cover and simmer gently for around an hour.
3. When the meatscrolls are nearly done, add the sliced mushrooms to the pan and cook for another ten minutes. Add the cornflour, allow to bubble and thicken for a minute or so, then taste and adjust for seasoning, and remove from heat.

Brotknoedel
1. Cut the bread into 1cm cubes and place in a large bowl. Pour a small amount of milk over the bread and squish it until it is just beginning to bind (it is very important that you don’t overdo the cowjuice, if you do you’ll be left with a sludgy mess). Beat the egg with the parsley and salt and pepper, then add it to the bowl. Cut the butter into little chunks and add it to the bowl. Give it all a good squish together and allow the mixture to sit for about half an hour.
2. Take a fistful of the mixture and shape it into a smooth ball, repeat with remaining mixture.
3. Bring a large pot of water to the boil. Drop the dumplings in one at a time, making sure they don’t stick together. Simmer for around 25 minutes. Remove from pot using a slotted spoon.

Serve the roladen, mushroom sauce and dumplings with steamed vegetables and a stein of whatever wets your moustache.

Pumpkin and Spinach Lasagne

When The Bloke and I got married last year, we were presented with a cookbook. Well, truth be known, we were presented with several cookbooks, but Huey will have to wait his turn, as his coriander and harissa filled concoctions are not on the table for discussion today; and while Damian Pignolet’s French is a beautiful read, I’m a bit too rough around the edges for all but the most peasant-y of Gallic gastronomy.

The cookbook I am referring to is a compilation of family recipes from both sides of our families, beautifully put together by my Mum (who even found the same sort of ribbon that we used for our bonbonniere to use in the binding). Its true meaning kinda got lost in the bothers surrounding the wedding day, and although I have used it a number of times since receiving it (mostly in vague attempts to recreate my Oma’s blaukraut), it wasn’t until the intertwining of The Bloke picking it up for a flick through, and a special on silverbeet at our local market Banana Joes that we talked about how special it is. Go on, everyone say “NAAAAAWWWWW!”.

This recipe comes from Scott’s Aunty Julie (his Dad’s sister). I’ve tweaked it a bit, as I am wont to do, but the basic skeleton is the same. It was delicious, of course (I wouldn’t share a dud with you, would I?) and although my distaste for the combination of spinachy things and cheese as a vegetarian standby is well documented; the substitution of the far-more-ballsy silverbeet, and addition of butternut pumpkin and an aged cheddar to the topping kicks this into the territory of highly acceptable cuisine for my less bloodthirsty friends.

Julie’s Pumpkin and Silverbeet Lasagne

Ingredients
1 butternut pumpkin, seeded, peeled, and sliced thinly.
1 bunch silverbeet, de-stalked, chopped, and washed
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1 large brown onion, finely diced
1 clove organic garlic, finely diced
2 400g tins of tomatoes, smashed up with a knife
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 cut water
1 tablespoon balsalmic vinegar
2 teaspoons brown sugar
Two sprigs thyme, washed, de-sprigged and finely chopped
3 tablespoons butter
4 tablespoons plain flour
500mL milk
1 bayleaf
1/2 shallot
1 1/2 cups aged cheddar, grated
1/2 cup parmigiano-reggiano, grated
Olive oil
Salt and pepper

Method
1. Heat a glug of olive oil in a frypan, the way you always do when you make a red sauce. Add the onion, cook, stirring, until beginning to caramelise, add garlic and cook for a further minute. Add the white wine and cook for a minute, add the tomatoes, tomato paste, thyme, and water, stir. Add the brown sugar and balsalmic, bring to a boil then reduce heat to a simmer and cook for half an hour. At the end of the cooking time, taste and adjust for seasoning, then remove from heat.

2. Meanwhile, in another frypan, heat some more oil. Fry the pumpkin in batches over a medium heat until soft and beginning to brown, remove from the pan and set aside. Add the silverbeet to the pan, then the nutmeg, and cook, stirring, until wilted. Add salt and pepper to taste, remove from heat.

3. Chuck the pumpkin back into the pan, then add the ricotta and stir until everything is evenly coated with its creamy goodness. Taste for seasoning and adjust if necessary, set aside.

4. Bung your oven on – around 200 degrees celcius should do it. Pour yourself a congratulatory glass of wine for reaching the halfway stage of the recipe.

5. In a microwave-safe jug, nuke the milk, shallot and bay leaf for two minutes until steaming, remove the bay leaf and shallot. Meanwhile, melt the butter in a medium-sized saucepan. Add the flour and cook, stirring, until it begins to foam. Add the milk all in one go and whisk rapidly until all lumps have had the bejeezus beaten out of them. Allow to bubble over a medium heat, stirring occasionally so it doesn’t burn on the bottom of the pan and annoy The Bloke whose job it is to wash up, until thick. Remove from heat, add 1/3 of the grated cheddar, set aside.

6. To assemble, place 1/3 of the pumpkin mixture in the bottom of a large lasagne dish. Place a layer of lasagne sheet on top, then cover with the red sauce, a thin layer of the bechamel and a light sprinkle of cheddar. Repeat process twice more, making the last layers of red sauce and bechamel thick to use up the last bits in the pans. Top with remaining cheddar and parmesan. Bake in the oven for around 40 minutes, or until cheese is golden and beginning to brown.

7. Serve with a non-sooky white wine, sourdough garlic bread and a garden salad.

Hippy This! Substitute olive oil for the butter (NOT dairy-free marg, unless you particularly enjoy the texture of KY Jelly on your palate), soy milk for the milk, vegan cream cheese (seasoned with yeast extract and pepper if it is too sweet as many of them are) for the ricotta, and vegan hard cheese for the cheddar. Present it to your vegan dining mates on a plate made from bacon.

Tuna Noodle Casserole

Ahhh, the much maligned pasta bake. Something that most people have in their arsenal for those lazy weeknights where inspiration is lacking almost as much as motivation. Unfortunately, the invention of pour on sauces has degraded what was formerly an acceptable albeit artless meal, into a construction rather than cuisine. The sad fact of the matter is, there’s a component of our society that use the back of a Continental packet as their Escoffier, the label on a Maggi jar as their Larousse. I feel for them, I really do. Food advertising, depicting wonder women brandishing a nutritional substitute on one arm and a flock of glowing children on the other; or clueless blokes saved from singledom by a flavour sachet, has a lot to answer for.

But honestly, what’s so hard about chopping up a few veggies, simmering a tin of tomatoes for a couple of minutes, and slapping it into a Pyrex dish with some cooked noodles and sprinkling of pre-grated parmesan? It’s not exactly rocket science, is it? You can even slap together the sauce component on a grander scale and freeze batches to stick in the nukebox if you truly don’t have a minute spare between Monday and Friday. You don’t need those preservative laden timebombs, people! Do you *usually* keep a tub of maltodextrin on hand as a secret ingredient in your cooking? Is lactic acid normally in your pantry? No! So why in the name of Zeus’ butthole do you buy food “products” with that crap in it?

Yeah, I’m ranty about this stuff, but only because lazy dinners don’t need to be fake dinners. Take this recipe for example. Based on a version that my Mum bakes, only jazzed up a bit with capers, lemon and feta cheese, it contains things that most food-oriented folks would have tucked away at the back of the fridge. And if you’re missing a veggie – substitute! A withered head of broccoli, an eggplant that’s seen better days, some steamed sweet potato that was starting to grow sentience as well as eyes – any of them could be chucked into this old standby to deliver you from the depression which is a cheese jaffle for supper.

Tuna Noodle Casserole

Ingredients
1 red onion, finely diced
1 clove organic garlic, finely diced
1 teaspoon sambal olek
1 400g tin good quality tuna in oil (I use Sirena or Sole Marie)
1/4 red capsicum, diced
1/4 green capsicum, diced
1 zucchini, diced
2 tablespoons tomato paste
10 green olives, sliced
2 teaspoons capers
Juice of half a lemon
1/2 cup feta cheese, crumbled
3 tablespoons parmesan cheese, grated
Olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Method

1. Cook the pasta according to the instructions on the packet. Pre-heat oven to 200 degree celcius.

2. Heat a couple of good glugs of olive oil in a frypan. Add the onion, garlic and sambal olek, and cook over a medium heat, stirring, until onion is soft.

3. Add the capsicum, zucchini and tomato paste, cook for five minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the drained tuna, olives and capers, stir, then add lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste and remove from heat. Chuck the cooked pasta into the frypan and stir until coated by the sauce.

4. Throw the pasta into a baking dish, toss the cheeses on top, slug a little olive oil over the lot of it and bake in the oven for about half an hour.

Serve with a leafy green salad and a smirk. Woah to go in 45 minutes. If you don’t have time for that, suck my balls and become a breatharian.