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really, we can't get enough of the sprinkles.
so, ho ho, we made gingerbread, at the start of the month, and again on tuesday. any excuse to break out the all-natural-coloured sprinkles, the startlingly fake-coloured flowers, and the silver dragees. that long-ago gift of a tin of pink dean and deluca sugar came in handy too. we even went out in search of tiny candies, and returned with a package of pez (with a very blond disney princess dispenser) and a tube of mini m'n'ms.
small was crucial, because the gingerbread-house cutters i had found were for gingerbread houses about two inches tall. and the gingerbread-man cutter i'd been given for my birthday (thanks, sonya!) were for similarly-statured gingerbread men.
the kid takes a somewhat freeform approach to decorating the little men: as many little m'n'ms as she can fit. which makes for quite a lovely, chocolatey biscuit.
and so i leave you with this: the waitrose gingerbread recipe. i used backstrap molasses instead of golden syrup --
[ now. given the choice between a locally-produced molasses, which is a by-product of the sugar-refining process, or the organic molasses produced solely for its end result of molasses... way the hell over in peru, which would be the ethical choice? do you buy local, or organic free trade air miles? does it make a difference if the organic one has a pretty label, while the local one is kind of plain and has a black trickle down the side of the jar where it has leaked out like a by-product of say, a petroleum-refining process? these are the thoughts that went through my head as i stood in the aisle of the health food shop. imagine the thoughts i had while debating whether or not to use a raw egg white icing recipe! ]
-- and a couple more teaspoons of a couple more spices (cinnamon and nutmeg), and ended up with a dark brown biscuit, crisp and crunchy. it was very sweet, and still not really spicy.
my plane leaves in about three hours. my fingers are numb.
happy xmas to you.
Served on Friday, December 21, 2007 at 01:30 p.m.
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stuff i might miss over the summer.
we came running down the hill under the harbour bridge, knee-deep (for some of us) in grass, stopping twice for dandelions. we came down over the hill, and we saw the pink and white van.
we may have gone overboard on the sprinkles.
Served on Thursday, December 20, 2007 at 07:59 p.m.
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my arms are covered in bruises. perhaps this is how inner turmoil manifests itself, on the outside. the most gruesome one at the moment - since the original matching set on the inner edge of each elbow, from scaling a wall a week ago, faded -- is the one with the sharp, slightly blistered burn surrounded by a purple blossom of bruised tissue. that one was from lowering my forearm onto the rim of a pot while boiling pasta, and mysteriously, it does not hurt at all. there are two others, on the inside, and outside, of my upper arm, which i assume came from walking into ill-placed doorhandles, and i do that once or twice a day, so they're nothing special.
but let's talk about bruises that matter.
sigh.
just past sunday noontime, we met deborah in the narrow corridor of adriano zumbo patissier, to procure supplies for our luncheon picnic. you may recall, we attempted such a picnic months ago, to herald the spring, and were rained out (or, in, as the case proved to be). despite the steady light drizzle, our summer picnic barreled on; we were defiant!
i'd been thinking about the scuro all week. from the original zumbo lineup, it's been revived for the december best-of collection. i have no recollection of it in the early days; back then it was all about the macaron. but to see it, this manly slab of flourless chocolate biscuit, and mousse, and layers of assorted caramel concoctions... in my head, it was a dense and sticky thing.
so it was a surprise when we popped open the cakebox in the park to discover that scuro had swooned like a lady. fallen with such force, actually, that it had embedded itself into the passionfruit tart beside it. it was not too warm out, and we had not swung the carry bag, so who knows what happened. perhaps it went insane with desire? the tart is rather ravishing after all.
and ravish it we did. the crisp pastry shell, the rich filling that filled our mouths with a warm passionfruity glow. the vibrant technicolor sunset across the top of it was contained within a barely-there layer of gelatin, but even that was enough to give a welcome, wobbly edge to the passionfruit creme below. this one, deborah had been thinking about for months, and i would say it was not at all a disappointment. deborah?
the scuro was much more delicate than i had imagined, quite light for something so dark. i especially liked the cakey bits, drenched in chocolatey juices, and the very pleasant burnt caramel flavour in the mysterious foamy middle layer. and it did my head in, in the end; i can no longer sit down and eat and endless quantity of quality dark chocolate, without suffering dizziness or a turn in my gut, but with the scuro, i was compelled to keep eating until it was gone.
i will not tell you how we ate it, this collapsed ruin of a cake, but just know that deborah, the kid, and i have eaten together enough times over the last two years that we had no qualms about seeing each other like that. spoonless (zumbo had run out that day). with crude (though genius!) shovels fashioned from the cardboard bases of our pastries.
it was not all depravity, of course. we had real food to start. mine was quiche! and i never order the quiche. but this one had been giving me the eye every time i walked in the shop, and finally i bit. sue, she is called, filled with spinach, goat's cheese and blueberries.
the pastry was still crisp, and the one real fear i have about quiche filling -- that it will be a mouthful of eggy-cheesy-eggy -- never materialised. they were serious about the spinach. look at it! a great knot of greenery. the goat cheese was mild, and the blueberries not at all discordant, and i would love to try this again, warm out of the oven, and with a knife handy to make sense of the clump of spinach.
and that, folks, is the last zumbo post for a little while. in a sudden turn of events, i suddenly lucked into a plane ticket to london (and a train ticket to paris). lucky for the 12 hour overnight transit at changi airport, and the freezing cold that awaits me. and lucky, really, for the sister at the other end of the planes and trains and automobiles.
i leave in two days, and i have not begun packing. i have yet to buy me some of that expensive european money, and a piece of beautiful hand luggage, and travel insurance. at least i managed to buy two polypro skivvies at the adventure shop sale yesterday. i still have print deadlines to attend to - just, and the house is a mess. i am so clenchy, and the tightness in my throat, and the knot in my stomach...
but you know what else awaits me? cake. by god, will there be cake. and falafel.
if it turned out to be the kind that's green on the inside, that would be just tops.
Served on Tuesday, December 18, 2007 at 10:31 p.m.
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anytime is good for cake, of course, but this time of year, there's a tiny bit more than usual in this household: october is the kid's birthday, and then mine in november, and two weeks ago, right at the start of december, the boy's.
i'd been wondering out loud a few days prior such things as "would you like a chocolate passionfruit tart?" and "what about an old skool cream sponge from the vietnamese bakery? what about a lamington cream sponge??", but on the day, he requested a pavlova, with passionfruit, and that was that.
except it sort of wasn't. monday morning, i set the refrigerated eggs on the kitchen counter so they'd be perfect room temperature when the time came for the beating. i took the kid to music class; we went out for birthday dimsum. and then mid-afternoon, we returned home, and i discovered that the eggs had been returned to the fridge. such callous and violent efficiency makes me want to weep. (and maybe i did weep? i can't remember.)
a couple hours later, back on the bench, the eggshells were still cool to the touch, and i made the fool decision to proceed anyway. the beating of the eggwhites was not a success. well, it was a partial success, but the peaks to which we aspired did not eventuate. and then the hour and a half of baking, and the instructions to cool completely in the oven... as time went by, it became painfully and sorrowfully clear that there would be no birthday pavlova.
but there was day-after-birthday pavlova. and that turned out ok. better than, even. the meringue was a bit spongier than i'd like, but covered in a big, fluffy doona of whipped cream, a couple of sliced-up mangoes and a drizzle of passionfruit, it had no reason to feel a lesser cake. truly, a golden moment.
here's what you might do with your cream, if you make a mango pavlova. whip your cream as normal, perhaps adding some vanilla extract along the way. when it reaches optimum consistency, gently fold in a small tub of peach and mango yoghurt. hell, beat some more, if you like. the yoghurt gives a fresh tang to the cream, and a little voluptuous body, and the bits of fruit -- bells and whistles, sure, but who doesn't like a little jingle-jangle from time to time.
this was the first pavlova i'd made since acquiring an electric mixer -- how could it have been so long since the last one? -- and it made me feel like i should be whipping them up every couple of weeks from now on.
but not for the boy. no longer. over the last few weeks, he's packed his stuff, moved it all into a corner in the loungeroom. it's a large corner, which shrank substantially this morning when his dad loaded a portion of it into a trailer, and drove off into the country with it. the rest goes after xmas, with the boy. there is sadness hanging over us, and regret. and relief, and warmth. ten years is a long time, but god, it went by quick. so clear, the memory of exchanging numbers on the train back to the city on mardi gras night, and sitting at the base of the rusted metal pubic art on the hill at sydney park, looking at my sneakers... a headphone bud, bursting with accordians from "amelie", being slipped into my ear on an overnight bus from hue.
Served on Sunday, December 16, 2007 at 10:34 p.m.
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one thing i remember about two days after my birthday is that it was dirty, stinkin; hot. it was about 11.40 when we left the park, and just before noon when we arrived at about life; i was slick with sweat, and the lenses in my sunglasses had steamed up from the heat coming off my cheeks. the kid was fresh as a daisy, perhaps only slightly wilted, because she'd been in the pram while i'd been pushing it up that god-damned hill. at least one of us looked presentable; it was like we were about to meet the queen.
all morning, maeve had been going through a list of what she might do when she met maggie. "i might dance for maggie," she said, "and then i might sing a song for maggie, and then i might say hello..." we have "the cook and the chef" on every week, so maggie beer is like, i dunno, a familiar grand aunt? and she was at about life signing cookbooks that day, as well as launching her new range of fancy ice cream.
and amazingly, as i stood there in the doorway trying not to puddle on the floor, someone handed me a tiny cone of ice cream, and one to the kid as well. now that's a welcome. a smooth and creamy welcome, with a rich vanilla flavour and... an intriguing tang. that something else, when i managed to read the label on a tub a little while later, is elderflower. i wish that i had had a moment longer to savour it slowly, for bang on twelve maggie appeared and began signing books for the handful of people who'd shown up punctually. i popped the rest of the cone into my mouth and grappled for the cookbook in my bag.
a couple weeks before, i had told the boy that if he bought a copy of "maggie's harvest" for his mum's birthday, that i'd take it to get signed. so there we were, inching forward towards the grand lady. "where's maggie?" said maeve, and there. she. was.
"hello!" said maggie, brightly. but maeve was not singing, and not dancing, and not even saying hello. there was something very interesting on the floor just right of maggie's feet. so i told maggie how excited we were about her ice cream, and she said that she was too, and we got through it in the end, and then it was time for lunch.
the salad display at about life is a wall of great big bowls bursting with colour and delight. it was extra delightful that day, because of a small platter of grilled lamb cutlets sitting unobtrusively to one side. it became very important to me that we should acquire a portion of these... but what constituted a portion? the counterstaff did not know, because it was a one-off special for the day, but they helpfully suggested that i tell them how many i wanted and they'd put it on a plate for me.
so i asked for two -- one each for me and the kid -- and some of the tomato and hand-torn mozzarella salad on the side. and some bread and butter, please. oh, and also that amazing strawberry tart in the cake cabinet.
and what showed up was a heaped platter of colour and delight: the lamb was well-marinated and tender, with just enough charred fatty bits on the edges; the tomatoes were big and juicy; the cheese tasted pure, of cream. the bread, after it had been put to good use soaking up lamb juice and olive oil... sigh...
but by that stage the kid had already moved on. swiftly and methodically she picked off the perfect glistening strawberries atop the tart, and started on the stewed rhubarb at the same cracking pace, until the intense sourness stopped her. mm! it was sour! but i ate it all, relishing the tartness. what didn't get eaten (shock!) was most of the pastry. "pastry". it looked lovely on the shelf, all dramatically misshapen and caramelised, but it was chewy and ultimately unyielding, a handful of seeds and grains pressed into a pie dish, and tasted like what i imagine those moulded birdseed things taste like. sigh. (this is a different sort of sigh from the one in the last paragraph: it is a healthy cake sigh.)
following the banoffee pie debacle of a couple months back -- there were a couple thin slices of banana atop the cloud of cream, and i thought that there might be more banana hidden beneath, mingling with the caramel... but no, those were the only two whispers of banana in the whole thing, dried out from being baked. and the cream wasn't cream; it was some sort of soft meringue, i think. and the biscuit base was too big a slab. and... and... well, it just wasn't a very good banoffee experience (my first time!) and i would hope that it gets better from now on --
i guess i'm trying to say... well, i'm hesitant to put the kibosh on cake at about life, based on two out of two not quite stellar instances... but maybe go all out on the savoury stuff -- the salads, the tapas plates, the wraps filled to bursting point and served with a handful of undressed rocket -- and if there's lamb lurking about the glass case, order it! and then buy a tub of maggie's ice cream from the grocery department.
which, in case you are interested, also comes in quince and bitter almond, and burnt fig jam, honeycomb and caramel. on the way out, i bought a tub of the latter for the boy, and briefly considered having it autographed by maggie, but she was outside in the sunshine, eating a big plate of something delicious. we sidled past into the heat. "where's maggie?" said maeve.
Served on Monday, December 10, 2007 at 09:32 a.m.
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what is this shiny little beastie?
for a start, it really is small, waiting out its sentence on a saucer from an espresso cup.
i came across a tray of them this morning in the deli counter of norton street grocer, past the great wall of boxed-up panettone, the $4 punnets of fat raspberries, the cheeses...
[ ok, so i didn't make it past the cheeses; there is right now a fior de latte mozzarella as big as a baby's head, in a tub in my fridge. oh, and i didn't actually make it past the raspberries either. ]
what it is: creamy, salty cheese, rolled up in a slice of grilled eggplant, rolled up in a slice of prosciutto, immersed in red-and-green-flecked olive oil. it was about all i could manage for lunch on this crazyhot day (aside from a wedge of chorizo baguette topped with sliced tomatoes, ha!).
about all the kid managed was a mini ice cream cone of sara lee's finest french vanilla, rolled in coloured sprinkles and studded with raspberries.
Served on Sunday, December 9, 2007 at 10:43 p.m.
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so. the night before my birthday, i tackled the cha cha cha. but the day before my birthday, ana came 'round with little lucia and littler astrid -- apparently it made a big difference to be stuck between four different walls with her two under two? -- and i figured the least i could do was ply them with cake.
ana has some strange rules about food. stuff like, you can't mix fruit with chocolate, or fruit with anything actually: fruitcake is totally out. so it took a little longer than usual at the zumbo counter, trying to figure out what might be acceptable. in the end, i picked a sort-of chocolatey one, and a sort-of fruity one, and hoped that it would all work out.
the cheech and chong (descended from the quasimodo from earlier in the year) is a crisp pastry shell with a frangipane-and-rhubarb filling -- all at once sweet and tart -- topped with a great wobbly disc of blowtorched chiboust. this delicate union of creme patissiere and creme chantilly was thoroughly infused with the fresh taste of pear, and i wanted more. MORE. and as it turns out, there were no issues with the fruit and pink chocolate garnishes, because maeve swiped them all before anyone else could.
the malt 'n' teaser had been recommended to me on several occasions, and finally i bit. but there is not so much to bite with this one: it's layer upon soft layer of lush malty, chocolatey, vanillary... stuff. [well, ok, because you need to know, i have just this morning made a special trip up the road to read the little placard: malt bavarois, vanilla cremeaux, chocolate sabayon.] even the vaguely cakey bits -- malt dacquoise and praline feullitine -- are moist and sticky with syrupy goodness. truly, you could eat the whole thing just by pressing it between your tongue and the roof of your mouth... and i believe i did. it was lovely and comforting, quite the opposite of cha cha cha (though one is not better than the other; you will just have to decide what you deem appropriate behaviour from your dessert).
and the cupcakes? from the old skool bakery across the road. the kid chose them, one for herself, and one for lucia, even though her one memory of lucia is that lucia likes to poke her in the eye. and this is how it worked out: she ate her cupcake, bided her time, and then ate all the frosting and three chocolate buttons off the other one, because, as it turns out, lucia is still too young for pink icing.
ana loved both the fruity one and the chocolatey one, and unexpectedly, maybe even liked the fruity one just that little bit more. me? i grew a little older, and a little bit fatter, with an unprecedented three zumbo cakes under my belt.
Served on Friday, December 7, 2007 at 02:26 p.m.
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here's the thing: i really like chocolate, and i really like cake... but when confronted with a display case full of treats, i'd more likely get the pink thing filled with cream and berries. as you have witnessed.
every now and again though, a chocolate cake unleashes a call so strong that i cannot resist. well. i'd been resisting the cha cha cha at zumbo for a while, before i finally succumbed (three weeks ago now, sigh, how time does fly).
but, so. what you may have already noticed about this cake, is that it actually contains no "cake". the base is sesame-riddled pate sable, sure, but the rest of this artful construction is all thin planes of chocolate and fat trails of ganache -- two layers of comforting milky-chocolatey ganache, and a feisty middle layer of quite burny chilli-dark-chocolate ganache. surprising, the level of heat, though not as surprising as the salt wash on the underside of each piece of chocolate.
you probably know that i dabble in chocolate-covered pretzels -- the bigger the grains of salt embedded in 'em, the better. i have no qualms about mixing sweet and salty (though possibly, i am not quite ready for the jam-vegemite combo suggested to me in the past), and a few months ago, when i saw these earthy granules of chocolate-dipped fleur de sel, i was smitten. and so, the salt-wash chocolate? it was compelling, and although at first i couldn't work out where the salt was -- and if i was only imagining it -- once i isolated the source, i couldn't stop licking it. the disappointment that came with the end of the salt was only fleeting; the smooth dark chocolate took away that ache.
this is not a warm and comfy dessert. it is punchy and aggressive... perfect, as it turns out, for savouring slowly on the eve of a thirty-fifth birthday, while watching the season finale of "californication".
(and why "cha cha cha"? one "cha" less, and it would've been a fitting tribute to that scary girl in "grease". feisty!)
Served on Wednesday, December 5, 2007 at 10:47 p.m.
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after the kid interrupted me one time too many this morning, i sighed heavily, and drew the last tentacle on a bongo-drum monster. then i got us dressed, and took us up the street for a saturday promenade. there are many lovely things in the shops these days, but few as lovely as this vision in pink in the glass case at adriano zumbo patissier.
if you are lucky enough to know me (or, un-, as the case may be), you may well know how tediously indecisive i am. you may have been out shopping with me... hell, you may even have been in the changeroom with me, as i try on the smaller one, then the larger one, then the smaller one again, and the larger one (and so on...) until i no longer know which is which, and neither actually fits better than the other. or maybe you just know that i am the sort of person who might see a shiny thing in a shop, who will pick it up and fondle it and then walk away, and then return to the shop three or four more times over the course of a week -- a month, even -- walking away each time until it finally gets bought by someone else, in which case it was not meant to be, or i decide i do not need another shiny thing after all. and maybe now you know more than you wanted to, about me.
but today, this pink thing. it already had an audience when we entered the shop; countergirl was reading out loud a list of its components to a(nother) pair of curious girls. "creme de rose," she said, "with lychees. and raspberries. and the macaron, though the macaron isn't actually flavoured."
i had only intended to buy a chorizo baguette, for lunch, but as i progressed along the counter, suddenly there were two pale pink rose macaron calling to me like sirens from the middle, and then at the end, this pink thing.
some people think that pink is a soft, girly colour, but really, it makes me bold and decisive. faster than normal, i had put money down on the lot, although i left pinky for later in the afternoon when i had a spare hand to deliver it safely home. and how pleased i am for this uncharacteristically bold decisiveness, for when i returned not quite four hours later, they had all sold out!
so this is what you did not get to eat: a rather wonderful biscuit, moist and chewy on the inside; more plump raspberries on the perimeter than i bothered to count; a slightly clotted creme filling, tasting faintly of roses -- the perfume of it coming out of the box was far more intense; whole fat lychees hidden within. rather a monstrous end to such a beauty, but golly, what a frolic of taste and texture.
Served on Saturday, December 1, 2007 at 10:21 p.m.
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i was eating a bowl of foodhall pho bo tai the other day. nothing spesh, but at that moment, sitting at the counter overlooking the theatre that is sussex street traffic, i thought it was the best thing ever to be eaten. oh, how i love the heady herby beefy broth, the slurpy noodles, the bouquet of basil and sprouts that wilts in the hot soup. now you want one too, don't you? i ♥ vietnamese food.
so despite the vow i'd taken to not buy another cookbook ever, i found myself standing in line at borders* a few weeks ago, with this handsome tome in the crook of my arm: "secrets of the red lantern: stories and vietnamese recipes from the heart", written by the clever kids who run that surry hills restaurant.
i used to live a few blocks away from red lantern, would walk past it pretty much every day, and i never went. so silly. just look at the book, full of evocative photographs of delicious food. (the feelings they evoke are hunger, i think, and regret.)
but here's the thing: a lot of the ingredients in these recipes are things i have sitting in my kitchen, or are, at least, familiar things i grew up with. most of these look to be comforting and achievable recipes. i could make this stuff at home. i think.
if i really felt like it, i could even make the pork terrine, the pork pate, the pork belly, the garlic mayonnaise and the pickled carrots required for a banh mi sandwich. there you are: the recipes for each component are helpfully compiled on consecutive pages, with a persuasive picture coming up the end for encouragement. for now, though, i'm happy to pay three dollars to the chatty girl in the tucked-away shop in the other chinatown foodhall. well, maybe i'll give the pickled carrots a go.
i'd also like to make canh chua ca, the tamarind fish soup of which i ate great tureens as i moseyed through vietnam in the time of SARS. and i will make banh xeo, of course. and the avocado ice cream? mmmmaybe.
but it's not just a cookbook; alongside the pretty pictures, and the compelling recipes, are chapters of a family history woven through: a story of a childhood in saigon, an exodus aboard a boatload of refugees, a life rebuilt in cabramatta. there is a dictatorial asian father, an estranged daughter -- the storyteller, plain and true --, a time in the desert (figurative), and finally, redemption. it's more than you could ask for, really. i expect it will be on my bedside table for quite a while yet.
* are you signed up to the borders mailing list? they send you a better than average discount coupon or two every week, perfect for when you need that 35%-off nudge to buy yet another cookbook.
Served on Wednesday, November 28, 2007 at 11:09 p.m.
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what better way to start the day than with a big bowl of warm crumble in a puddle of cream? every now and again, i dig out my trusty crumble recipe (actually luke mangan's crumble recipe, from the sydney morning herald a while ago); with rhubarb at $2.99 a bunch, and strawberries at $2.50 a punnet, now was one of those times.
luke mangan's rhubarb and passionfruit crumble
6 stalks rhubarb, chopped
1/3 cup passionfruit pulp
250g strawberries, hulled and halved
1/4 cup caster sugar
for topping:
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 1/3 cups rolled oats
1/2 cup plain flour
90g butter, softened
1 tsp ground cinnamon
preheat oven to 160C. combine rhubarb, passionfruit, strawberries and sugar in a bowl and divide between 6 x 1 cup capacity ramekins. to make the topping, combine brown sugar, oats, flour, butter and cinnamon. spoon topping on the top of the fruit and bake for 30 minutes or until the top is golden and fruit is soft. serves 4.
i've never actually made it with passionfruit, but have added pears regularly -- as i did on this occasion -- or cherries, and sometimes apples. also, i bake it in one large baking dish rather than little ramekins, which requires quite a bit more baking time: you'd have to keep checking to see when the rhubarb and strawberry juices were bubbling. if you're lucky, they bubble right up to the surface and the crumble goes all pink and sticky. mmm...
Served on Wednesday, November 28, 2007 at 09:22 a.m.
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wow. the time sure goes by.
and it's not that i've got nothing to say. in fact, my camera is full to the brim of past eatings, and my head is soft with trying to figure out how to tell you about those slivers of chocolate with a saltwash on the underside.
!
i've completed my last session of comic artist rehab, a milestone of mixed emotions because i feel generally good about this handful of strips and the potential to keep going in this direction... but now that the deadlines are done with, i know i just won't get any more comics drawn for a while. finishing up rehab means a freed-up pocket of time that i can squander away on the internet once more, with no regrets.
which will be good for the blog i suppose. um. though not right at this moment.
Served on Tuesday, November 27, 2007 at 09:32 a.m.
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you come, day after day, and hope that i might have written about a cake or a soup or something. and instead, this chasm of disappointment keeps getting bigger. i'm sorry, and it's not just that i have all this work to do. in fact, i do have a lot of work to do, all overdue now as of four days ago, and i'm doing my best to procrastinate, and i think i'm doing that quite well. but, so you see, i could well be using this stolen time to blog.
instead you get a painful memory about cake gone wrong. how's that for chasm of disappointment? eh?
Served on Thursday, November 22, 2007 at 05:17 p.m.
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rehab is going swimmingly...
Served on Thursday, November 15, 2007 at 09:38 a.m.
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so this is what 35 feels like: like any other day, except with all the love and virtual cake that facebook has to offer. due to unforeseen circumstances, i actually ate three zumbo cakes yesterday (which, never fear, you will hear about one of these days), so i had to consciously steer today away from the real-life cakefest it otherwise might have been. it was going quite well too, until my aunt and grandmother showed up at around 10.30 in the morning with a whole ricotta cheesecake.
my good parents had left me birthday cards when they were here in october, and i opened them to find one -- from my mother -- covered in an enticing cluster of gem biscuits (one of my favourite biscuits ever, and ones that i don't actually eat enough of, because i don't actually eat a lot of biscuits), and the other -- from my father -- adorned with a velvet cocktail dress and its sparkly accoutrements, as well as the phrase "paint the town red on your birthday!". which is interesting, because now i know that my mum thinks i am five (or perhaps she cleverly surmised that i need a warm, comforting childhood memory to cling to), and my pap thinks i am a vamp. huh.
inside this somewhat unsettling card, he had concealed a crazy and unexpected amount of cashmoney, so what i did was take everybody out to lunch.
i pointed my aunt in the direction of zilver, where i'd tried -- unsuccessfully -- to get in once before, at lunchtime, on a weekend, when the queue was out the door and almost down the escalators. just past 11 on a tuesday morning? no problem. the usual suspects were lined up: ha cheong, wu kok, char siu sou, char siu bao, a plate of bright green vegetables with its accompanying dish of oyster sauce, a cluster of steamed scallop dumplings, and egg tarts to finish. i love that, where most dimsum places give you three piece of whatever to a serve, zilver give you four. i love the light, flaky pastry in the baked treats -- clearly they are packed with shortening. sadly though, the egg tarts -- quivering circles of gold in their meltaway pastry shells -- numbered only three, but my aunt and grandma were happy to share.
we made it home in time for cups of tea and slices of cake, and then all too soon it was time to eat again.
last night the boy had asked where i wanted to be taken to dinner. the act of which raised all sorts of issues in my head, and not just limited to: red lantern? flying fish? tetsuya? -- well, we live in hope -- (glebe point diner? bodega? ottoman cuisine?...) ultimately, i knew it had to be in the neighbourhood and affordable, and so i ventured that we could try again for rosso pomodoro, which, being a half-hour walk away, really pushed the boundaries of being "in the neighbourhood". the first time we attempted to eat here, maybe a year ago, we fronted up to the door, and the doors, though open, had clouds of construction dust billowing out of them; they were renovating that week. last month we tried to get a table for the kid's birthday family get-together, but it was booked out. tonight, with a 6 o'clock phone call, we managed to secure a table for 7.
i was excited!
and justly so. the tomato sauce is fresh and pure, the bresaola and rocket perfect foils. the pizza bases are crunchy, then chewy. they are thin where they need to be, and puffed-up slightly where it counts. the best part is, there is just enough cheese, and no more.
[ recently, we called up another local pizza place for delivery, and made a point of asking for half as much cheese as they'd normally put on. the guy on the phone was confused. "oh, so you want 50% more cheese?" he asked. "no, no," we said, "less cheese. less." it took a while to make things clear. ]
but, so, rosso pomodoro. we had wonderful pizze, and we were well looked after. the charming and friendly waiter explained all the specials, flirted with the kid, brought her fancy italian strawberry juice at the start, and at the end, chose a pink plastic paddle to go with her strawberry gelato.
me? i had a fat slab of old skool tiramisu, so boozy it sagged to one side, sitting in a thin brown puddle of itself. it was great.
Served on Wednesday, November 13, 2007 at 11:23 p.m.
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the kid has not been playing fair of late. dropping of naptime aside, the deal is that i take her out to fun places and buy her treats, and in return she is sweet and docile and generally nice. i'm even happy, in principle, for her to set the itinerary. playground? cafe? that shop over there full of fun kitchen things? yup! these days she wakes up in the morning, and her first words are, "where are we going?". really.
however, on recent excursions, she has been cheery only up until the part where i gaze across at something that might solely interest me. at this point, she will become most floppy and whiney, and she will say things about wanting to go outside now. there may even be grunting!
i know it's all part of growing her own personality, but bloody hell it's getting tedious. this afternoon, after a bus ride back from the city, she chose going to the newsagent with me rather than following her dad home. the newsagent by the busstop has decreed every saturday and sunday, "magazine day"; all magazines are 20% off. this is almost as good as a national public holiday to me. as soon as i flipped open the cover of "vogue", the kid ran up the aisle and said that she had to go to the toilet right away.
i was extremely furious. extreme furiousity! this entailed grabbing her hand, and walking super fast across the street, past the church, down the hill, only pausing a moment when she stumbled, and not at all when the loosely-knotted balloon string came away from her wrist and drifted off into the blue with her bright pink xmas balloon. we had been to the david jones xmas concert in hyde park earlier in the day, a travesty of shrek in a santa suit.
but there was no jolly hoho left. there were tears (hers) and slamming of doors (mine). and after her dad took over and wiped her bottom and read her a book and put her to bed, he said that maybe i could go out and play by myself tomorrow. he went out himself then, to the beach and a barbeque and a night off, and the kid slept for three hours until i roused her. she was a different child then, sweet, docile and generally nice.
i don't get too much work done these days. i don't seem to get much of anything done, actually, except keeping the kid entertained. the two or three hours after she goes to bed for the night... i am torn between work, and this blog, and comic artists rehab. and on nights like this one, when the sofa upstairs is vacant, there is also "gilmore girls" to contend with. who's winning tonight? not work. blog -- well, i could write another post, but i won't. i posted a comic today, so i won't have to again until wednesday. so.
hey, did you know gingerbread frappucini are back in season? i think it would be the perfect accompaniment to the biscuit factory exhibition. only a day away...
Served on Saturday, November 10, 2007 at 10:45 p.m.
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um, so, i don't get to vote, because i'm not a citizen, and i'm not a citizen because the last time i tried to become one a couple years ago, the beryl on the phone said that since i didn't have the very passport stamped when i first landed on these fair shores over twenty years ago, my application would be incomplete. and if i want to become a citizen now, i'd have to take the goddamned citizenship test. it's not enough i pay taxes? huh?? turns out beryl was talking out her old, shrivelled-up ass anyway. perhaps she's even drafted some of the questions on the test!
krispy kreme does not fly such an exclusionary flag. happy to take votes from anyone, they are offering free doughnuts for australia the day after election day, if you register to vote on their site. free doughnuts, folks!
[ or, as free as it gets with an "invitation" to make a "donation" for every doughnut... proceeds help out the salvos, but golly, they sure got that hidden-worm-behind-the-election-promise thing worked out ]
Served on Tuesday, November 6, 2007 at 03:23 p.m.
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i was going to say, "let's go for three", but the sonoma muffin post has turned out to be a zumbo muffin post, so. let's go for four.
this is not a long-forgotten fred williams, not one of his later works with its vibrant and abstract marks of the australian scrub. i found it in the bread basket at zumbo over the weekend: the artichoke and mushroom flatbread. look at it! littered with wedges of marinated artichoke and tiny sliced mushrooms, and just enough tomato and cheese to round it out. but yes, redolent with memories of the sunburnt country, now that has gone all winter again. what is this? damn climate change. nevermind, it gave me opportunity to defrost that enormous green icecube of broccoli soup languishing in the freezer. mopped up with chunks of mushroomy, artichokey bread, it made a splendid lunch.
a few months ago, this was the flatbread on offer. yuh, more olives than you could poke a stick at; a great salty treat.
speaking of bread... i was shocked and saddened to discover, yesterday, that zumbo no longer stocks the sonoma soy and linseed in the shelves beneath the ceiling. "but why??" i may have wailed. turns out he's flogging his own. i settled for a fat loaf of olive oil bread.
it was just as soft and squishy as counterboy had promised, with a welcome nudge of salt. i had it with butter and broccoli soup. the soy and linseed thing was not such a disappointment after all.
Served on Tuesday, November 6, 2007 at 09:25 a.m.
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well. since we're talking zumbo...
the plump raspberry heralds its lineage. this saucy daughter of the envie (remember? chocolate ganache and squishy raspberries in a fine pate sucree shell) goes by the name, envious. but take your cue from the bite-sized yellow macaron: yes, a passionfruit-chocolate tart. how can it be, you wonder.
as did i.
i'd take a bite, and the fleeting tang of passionfruit would be almost imperceptible. the next bite would be an intense burst of sunshine, and then the ganache would melt away, fast and chocolate, and i'd be left wondering... did i just --? and on it went.
i hear they make this by straining passionfruit pulp and stirring it through the ganache. while there are no hidden surprises in the crisp pastry shell, no squishy bits of fruit to tease your tongue, i love that the passionfruit component is not quite homogenised; you get a different passionfruit-chocolate experience with each mouthful.
today i saw a big tart, for sharing or sheer spectacle. it was festooned with many a small yellow macaron, and spears of vegetation, truly a tiny garden of eden.
next down the runway, barbados: a moulded wall of palm sugar mousse, and then sticky rice pudding, a thin layer of coconut jelly, and one of mango with bits of pineapple, all on a biscuit base.
the first time i saw this, it was a lopsided construction. i seem to remember it did not have the rice pudding (any counterboys reading today? please set me straight!), and it looked like a soft, pastry version of a soviet era factory building. i was intrigued.
the first time i ate it -- a couple of months ago -- i was leaning up against the counter at adriano zumbo patissier, eating spoonfuls of the velvety mousse from the cake that had just been slid across to me. the rice pudding had, by then, been incorporated into the structure, and -- fine, i have come to terms with the fact that the pastrychef likes a little bite in his grains of rice, fine -- and that aside, it shot right up to one of my very favourite things from the zumbo kitchen. i think it was the mousse that done it, the faint caramel flavour, the way it felt full and fat -- yet light -- on my tongue before it swiftly dissipated. or maybe it was the summery thrill of tropical fruit. or hell, it was the sticky rice. oh how i love it, al dente and all.
this one here, that i finally brought home with me last week, seems different again. the rice pudding tastes more complex than i remember, with shades of lime and... basil? is it possible? it's almost savoury, certainly, and plays off the medley of sweet things in a most satisfying manner. the pastry base is a little sodden; perhaps i have left it too long before eating it, but i don't expect it was ever meant to be the star of the show. barbados is at least two desserts in one, maybe even four! it is possible that you may feel like you've had an island holiday after you've eaten it. and like a holiday, it will make you feel like you need another one.
it is fun, is it not, being able to follow the evolution of these beautiful cakes? to see them through gawky adolescence to their final splendour? a few weeks ago, there was a row of nascent religieuses behind glass. they were somewhat garish, a little clunky, but not without charm. this afternoon i caught a glimpse of the elegant poufs they had become, all dainty, detailed piping, and a promise of roses and lychees. this religieuse exerience, i think, will be the one i have next.
Served on Saturday, November 3, 2007 at 10:12 p.m.
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beautiful, they are, like jewels.
Served on Saturday, November 3, 2007 at 04:12 p.m.
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i know that you know that i know that muffins are, like, way behind cupcakes in... well, everything. for a start, there is no frosting. and most muffins i've had are bite after bite of dry, dense mastication. the little ones like rubbery pucks, the big ones like a workout for your jaw. so not fun.
but. yesterday, i found the best muffin in the world. sonoma make the best soy and linseed loaf in the world -- with the whole soybeans? -- whoulda thunk they would also sell the best muffin [note to self: double-check if they bake the muffins inhouse. edit 05/11: i have been informed, via the comments box for this post, that all pastries sold at sonoma, including the best muffin in the world, are made by zumbo. well!].
i only bought it because the kid wanted a snack as we passed by, and then sitting in the park across the road watching the monster raven skulk across the grass, i discovered the muffintop crunchy with sugar, and the moist, moist, crumbly inside with its generous -- almost wanton, really -- display of juicy berries.
"we're sharing, right?" i asked the kid, but she was already off chasing the giant bird. tops.
Served on Friday, November 2, 2007 at 10:11 p.m.
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"comic artist rehab is where four comic artists (who havenít been as busy as they should) commit to drawing four panels every four days for four weeks."
this month, i am one of those artists -- and today is my first strip! come for a squiz if youíre interested or if youíd like to arrange for an intervention for someone you know.
my friend, amber, set this up, and clearly she is plenty busy as it is, because she is also the one responsible for the kids craft weekly website, and now book, which i spent a chunk of last month working on, and which is finally back from the printer, with its satiny smooth cover that i can't stop stroking (and now i know how matt moran felt at that good food show demonstration). you know you want one!
Served on Friday, November 2, 2007 at 09:56 p.m.
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halloween! halloween? in australia?
last saturday, the kid, my mum and i were just walking up the street to lunch, when we suddenly decided to get on the bus into the city. the spontaneous plan was to partake of the sydney food and wine fair in hyde park, but as we approached, we realised that the enormous crowd of people we saw across elizabeth street was just the queue to buy food vouchers. ghastly!
it did not take much for us to turn left up elizabeth, and head for the lindt cafe instead. how's that for spontaneous eh?
before too long, we were ensconced in plush white seating, surrounded by cool marble and glidey waiters, with a selection of well-crafted, modestly-sized (but satisfyingly filling) sandwiches before us. spicy sausage panini with yoghurt and grilled peppers; roast beef schiaciatta with mustard, vintage cheddar, marinated tomatoes and bitey cress; club sandwich with smoked salmon and goat curd with dill. we were so satisfied we couldn't even order dessert! well, ok, so i did have one of those only slightly over-the-top $6 iced dark chocolates. but still.
instead, i made do with a couple of special edition halloween lindor balls to go. the jack-o-lantern is a regular milk chocolate ball, and the spooky ghost one is a milk chocolate shell with a white chocolate filling (it also appears to use the font, template gothic, for smallprint -- my favourite font from the 90s and boy does it take me back to that special place -- although really, i think it's just the effects of the limitations of printing small on plastic)... neither of which were extraordinary. i'm not even demanding an exotic pumpkin pie filling; just an orange-infused chocolate would have sufficed, and a dark chocolate shell for the ghosties. is all.
a day later, the crazy hot weather had rendered the filling a perfect liquid consistency, though by that same token it also sent the milk chocolate the wrong side of cloying.
i did get a raspberry lindor ball too, because, well, you know me and raspberry chocolate, and also, it's wrapped in pink foil.
(and did you know you can now get bars of chilli dark chocolate? like, the regular 100g dark bar with a gentle burn in the back of your throat? for $4? bafflingly, the lindt shop is the most expensive place to buy lindt chocolate, but if you eat at the cafe, and present your cafe receipt at the shop counter, they take 15% off. so we did, and they did.)
but look! here's the tricky raspberry-chocolate treat for you: adriano zumbo's raspberry-chocolate macaron. i got it monday afternoon, a lone specimen perched atop a case of plain chocolate ones. its speckled biscuit like a jewel in the raw, its fruity ganache mysterious and coy. but see, if only there had been more filling, i would totally be saying "voluptuous and jolly".
Served on Wednesday, October 31, 2007 at 07:22 a.m.
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two recipes
1. red velvet cupcake. behold.
i figured i'd be trotting out the ol' martha stewart one-bowl chocolate cupcake recipe yet again, but when i came across luckykat's red velvet post a couple of weeks before the kid's birthday, i knew that i'd have to make them. you know how it is... so hard to resist the mythological cuisine of the american deep south. more importantly though, it looked like a simple enough pair of recipes. lucky, kat had already sourced and tested them for me.
so the day before the birthday saw us two roaming the streets of balmain, buying red food colouring -- pillarbox red, as artificial as you can get; raspberries -- suddenly up to $8 a punnet; buttermilk -- aggravatingly unstocked at the supermarket, but i tracked down the last carton on the peninsula at the local deli, for about twice the going rate. so far, so burning a hole in my wallet.
the cake recipe called for a whole bottle (just a bit more, actually) of red, into which you dissolve a surprisingly small amount of cocoa powder. the cocoa was measured with my wonderful new measuring spoons, a completely surprise present in the mail from the green bananas. look! the bowl of it is actually a miniature mixing bowl!! thanks, santos!!!
and then i chucked a few more things in the batter, and suddenly everything went like molten lava. i filled a tray of regular-sized cakes, and then another of mini ones -- and ok, i overfilled so i wouldn't have to wait for a second round of oven time, the cakes rose dramatically and i was vexed until i figured out that i could hide it all with frosting, hurrah!
this recipe yielded a voluptuous and pillowy soft frosting. there are other versions out there with half the cream cheese, which i guess gives you more definition when piping the icing on. however, i applied mine by dipping each cupcake headfirst into the mixing bowl and then slathering on quite a bit more with a butter knife. the texture was lovely and rich, perfect for licking off the beater at the very end -- breakfast of champions...
... although maybe after three or four cupcakes, things go a little funny.
these were great cakes! moist, not overly chocolatey, and very, very sweet. i will definitely make them again, although i may not have to just right now, because there is a box in my freezer with three unfrosted cakes, and another box with a quantity of leftover frosting, and any day now i will complete the experiment called "does cream cheese frosting freeze ok?". does red velvet cake? we shall see.
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2. spanakopita
a few weeks ago, when spinach was $1 a bunch, i googled a recipe on the internet, and because i neither bookmarked it nor printed it out, i cannot remember where i got it from. tchk. however, because it turned out to be a really good recipe, this afternoon i fished about my recycling bin, and retrieved the scrap of paper on which i'd scribbled down these notes from the screen:
2 pounds spinach -- wash, coarsely chop. 907g
2 tbs olive oil
cook onion, chopped, scallions 4
add chopped spinach, handful at time
5 mins, wilted, liquid released
cook on high until dry
stir in 1/4 cup dill
cool. squeeze liquid
large bowl:
4 eggs, beaten
add spinach
8oz feta crumbled 226g
1/2 tsp salt
black pepper
melt butter
1 pound filo
8 sheets bottom
8 top
oven 375ƒF 190ƒC
bake 45min
helpful, huh? but see, i cooked off these notes, and it was delicious. i think i may have used just three eggs, and brushed the filo with olive oil instead of butter, to no ill effect. i ♥ spanakopita.
Served on Monday, October 29, 2007 at 10:17 p.m.
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where does a day go? hell, where do they all go?? so we lost an hour this morning, but that does not explain how i'm suddenly at the tail end of october. it's been a month of eye-twitching work and a week of xtreme tourism, and even though it's really only 10pm, i am so very tired.
perhaps i'm missing that 470ml of blood i donated on friday. you should do it! it's draining (ha!) but fun: you go in, they bleed you, and then in return they pour you one of their finest lukewarm, uncreamy milkshakes. this time i chose caramel.
Served on Sunday, October 28, 2007 at 10:44 p.m.
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i am leaving for the beach, leaving in too few hours and not quite packed, but i just wanted to put it out there that i think i have more than redeemed myself from the unfortunate madeleine affair of a few months ago. poof! it is gone from your mind.
many cupcakes were eaten today by me and the kid. she's three!, as she keeps reminding us, and to celebrate, my olds are taking us to the sunshine coast -- golden beach, to be exact. we will paddle in sheltered waters, dig moats in the sand, eat hot chips by the bucket (and the same quantity, probably, of ice cream). we will pick strawberries, and maybe see bindi irwin. maybe.
yesterday i discovered that it is possible -- just, and only because my mum made dinner and took the kid to the park, so maybe it is not possible after all -- in a day, to finish off a print deadline, build a suite of kiddie ikea furniture, and bake a batch of red velvet cupcakes. if you leave the cream cheese and butter out on the counter overnight (and not think too much about the cockroaches that prowl the kitchen in the dark), it will be the right consistency to whip up a bowl of frosting first thing in the morning, for the first birthday breakfast cupcake.
see you in a bit.
Served on Thursday, October 18, 2007 at 11:34 p.m.
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when is a post not really a post? when it's a postcard!
but i've been werking. werking so intently that there has only been a break for hank moody -- i only break for moody -- and my right eye twitches even when i'm not at the computer.
yesterday, this postcard showed up in my mailbox, and though it wasn't a real, live cake, it cheered me immensely.
from nellie:
"CAKE! is what i have just had in the little cafe at the back. i came to ask if they were hiring -- they are not. but in the cafe in the back they had cake, walnut cake, very light, with strawberries and cream. i am always hiring for cake."
i think i am done. done-ish, because i seem to remember that saving print-ready PDFs takes about 1400 hours longer than you expect. and normally i would say, "this calls for cake!", or "send cake!", but on the cards is a batch of red velvet cupcakes for the kid's birthday tomorrow. she wants raspberries on 'em.
Served on Wednesday, October 17, 2007 at 09:59 a.m.
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that clever simon was selling his lamps at kirribilli art and design markets today, so i bribed the kid with the promise of a cupcake and away we went.
coming out of milsons point station, we took two right turns in the direction of the colonial bakery (as documented by grab your fork) and came face to face with the cold, harsh reality of silver-shuttered windows.
the colonial bakery, folks, closed on sundays.
the kid was understandably dismayed, and truly, so was i. i'd been looking forward to an olde time cupcake (or a cream lamington) eaten on the bowling green. but the grumbling and pleading was only at a low level for now, so we made our way through the burton street tunnel, almost pretending to look at the crafty wares on display as we headed towards the foodstalls at the other end. at some point i gazed over at the other aisle, ostensibly looking for alien lamp pods, but what came into my line of sight was a three-tiered tray laden with tiny cupcakes. well, at that distance i couldn't be certain, but i said it anyway: "LOOK! CUPCAKES!" before we continued our mosey at a slightly quicker pace. i sure hoped it wasn't novelty soaps.
and it wasn't! it was a table covered in actual palm beach cupcakes, every single one of them a lovely and elegant affair. the kid was immediately drawn to the big cupcake covered in pink frosting and a marshmallow flower with a little chocolate button in its centre. i really liked the look of the cake stand: three levels of bite-sized chocolate cupcakes with pink frosting (two shades!), or chocolate, or speckled-cookies and-cream.
"what is the difference between the darker pink and the lighter pink?" i asked.
"they are essentially the same chocolate and raspberry cupcake, but the darker ones have more raspberry," was the helpful reply.
so i got one of each. delicious, and the darker one was more delicious than the other. the frosting was quite sugary, but the tartness of the raspberries balanced it out. the cake itself had a texture i had not yet encountered in a cupcake. dryish (though not unpleasantly so) with a dense but fine crumb and a deep chocolatey flavour. the frosting-to-cake ratio was about one-to-one, which is the way it should be, no?
the kid was methodical. she picked out the chocolate button, then ate the marshmallow flower, then the frosting, and then finally, the cake. not even half the cake, actually, which when i did try, surprised me with the raspberries baked all the way through, and its, hmm... slightly muffin-like texture. hmm. it tasted healthy, is what it was. that said, i was not lucky enough to eat it with frosting, so clearly, i will have to continue my study in a month.
we chased the cake with a mandarin, and then after a short wander, a bag of farm-fresh strawberries from a stall in the clearing, and then a fat sausage in a roll, and then an apple for the kid, and a laze on a sunny-shady patch of grass. and then we felt ready for another cupcake.
by this time -- an hour to closing -- the mini cupcakes had been reduced to $1 (from $1.50) and the regular ones $2.50 (from $3.80). you could even buy a tray of 12 assorted minis for ten bucks. and oh, how i wanted to! but instead, it was little chocolate-raspberry cupcakes all 'round, and they were just as good as we remembered them.
the luminous objects were lovely, and i was quite drawn to the bornagain books, but i didn't end up buying any art or design. instead, having discovered that the bread merchant on these sunday markets is brasserie bread -- sold out before he even had a chance to fully unpack his bounty of loaves -- what came home with me, wrapped in swirly-printed tissue, was a tender sour cherry-rye-sourdough.
breakfast tomorrow is gonna be great!
Served on Sunday, October 14, 2007 at 10:57 p.m.
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i'd like to tell you i've been hanging out in all the best places, surrounded by beautiful, um, cakes... but instead i am crazy busy with the kid who has finally outgrown naptime (she has also become toilet-trained, in the same week, so i'm not complaining too much), the kids craft book, the "gilmore girls" dvds, and facebook.
sonya wrote on my wall: "when you don't update your blog i wonder what you're eating and if you're eating at all."
which is sweet, no? and of course, i have been eating. just a half hour ago i was demolishing a bowl of butterscotch and honeycomb ice cream, with strawberries...
(i love this time of year, when my fridge is full of berries: a punnet and a half of stawberries, two of blueberries, and one of raspberries.)
...and i've been making food: spanakopita and wontons and yoghurt cake. stories that i will tell you, one day, soon.
Served on Wednesday, October 10, 2007 at 12:05 a.m.
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