Childhood memories, plum jam & magic mushrooms

We are in the middle of jam season with the end of the summer fruits being dried or made into jam as the autumn fruits begin. Plum jam has to be one of my all time favourite preserves and I still have a few jars of homemade damson jam from last year. These need to be used to make way for this season's bounty.  A dig through the freezer this afternoon uncovered a pack of left over sweet pastry made for the Christmas mince pies, more than needed as usual, and this got me thinking about an old childhood favourite.

As a child I remember visiting the local cake shop and gazing at the array of sweet treats. Cream buns, tea cakes, meringue snowmen, custard tarts, cream horns and more standing shoulder to shoulder in the glass cabinet, just at the right height for a hungry child to drool over. 

On the occasions when I was allowed to choose, my favourite was always the little cream filled tarts made to look like an upside down mushroom. A crisp, sweet pastry case with a dollop of plum jam in the bottom, covered with vanilla mock cream, dusted with cocoa and nutmeg and a little pastry stalk. Just a magic mouthful of sweetness to brighten up the day. So much better than the neenish and pineapple tarts with their tooth achingly sweet icing.

While neenish and pineapple tarts seem to have lasted the distance sadly the little pastry mushroom has not. On a rare occasion I succumb to a neenish tart but they are nearly always a disappointment. Lovely in their own way they never quite match up to that childhood memory of a sweet little mushroom tart. So with damson jam and left over sweet paste to be used it's time to take a trip down memory lane and see if these childhood favourites are the same as I remember.

A bit of research unearthed a few online discussions about 'remember those little...' and a Country Women's Association document outlining how to present them at a show but none of the recipes listed were quite what I remembered. That's the problem with childhood food memories. They are born of unjaded taste buds still reeling with amazement at all the incredible flavours in the world and enhanced by the innate childlike ability to give the everyday a touch of magic. They are further complicated by the adult memory which seems to see the past through a rosier lense. Were these the mushrooms around which faeries danced? Perhaps.

I think the trick with these pastries is to use a high butter content sweet pastry like a pate sablee which will keep its crispness, as once made these will need to be kept in the fridge. My pastry was a left over clogging up the freezer and suited my purpose to empty its contents and not rush off to the shops.

Once thawed the pastry was rolled to about 3mm thick and cut into rounds with a 5 cm scone cutter. The pastry bases were pressed into a dished patty pan tin. Once pricked with a fork they were filled with pastry beads and cooked at 170C for about 6 minutes, the beads removed and the bases returned to the oven for another 5 minutes until golden brown. The remaining pastry was rolled into a thin sausage shape, cut into 3 cm lengths and baked on a biscuit tray in the oven to make the mushroom stalks.

After cooling  a half teaspoon of plum jam was placed into the pastry bases and then covered with mock cream. The tops were levelled with a knife and dusted with cocoa, a little nutmeg and a pastry stalk was pressed gently into the middle of each one.

The mock cream recipe used here was one in which you make a sugar syrup and beat it into the butter. I like this one by Robyn Alderton on ABC Central West NSW radio which can be found here on the ABC website. There are however lots of mock cream recipes and if you want to try these I suggest you use one with which you're familiar or one that appeals to your taste. Some use gelatin which improves the stability of the mock cream but I know that these won't last long round here so I didn't include it.

So were these mushroom mouthfuls as I remembered them? The tartness of the plum jam offset the sweetness of the mock cream in a perfect combination. Rich and sweet they were also dainty and small, my idea of the perfect sweet treat. One (or maybe two) mouthfuls to satisfy the sweet tooth without too much damage to the derriere.  If I close my eyes I can almost feel my nose pressed against the cake shop window. Move over macarons.

Dredge Bread and Pate

Today I have to bake bread. Partly because we forgot to buy it and partly to clear the pantry of the bag ends of flour that are hanging around, which is the whole point of why I started this blog. To use what's on hand instead of heading out to spend more money. To ask what have we got to eat, not what are we going to eat, which generally starts with a trip to the shop and ends with a bin full of manky food that has been lurking forgotten in fridge and pantry. Bad for the planet and bad for my wallet.

I used to bake every week but somehow I got out of the habit. Work got busy, life got busy..... I'm sure you know the deal. I really miss baking days. Once you know what you're about, home bread baking is a bit like a working meditation. Provided you stick to the formula, and create a baking plan, all it requires is for you to help it along while you get on with other things. The reward is bread and baked goods like no supermarket ever sold.

I first read about Empty the Shelf bread in the River Cottage Handbook No 3 Bread by Daniel Stevens. This was one of the first bread books I purchased when I started baking bread and it is dusty, dogeared and full of pencilled notes where I have made changes to suit personal taste and local conditions. Just what a good cookbook should be. I don't use it so much now. Despite my embarrassing collection of bread books, my favourite bread guru is still Daniel Leader and my regular bakes are mostly adaptations of breads from his Local Breads book.

When I feel lazy and need bread Daniel Steven's recipe is my fallback position. It's not a lovingly tended, overnight retarded sourdough but is a great everyday loaf. We call this bread Dredge Bread because it's a chuck together loaf using yeast, leftover sourdough starter and a combination of whatever we can dredge up.  Bag ends of flour and a cup or so of seeds and grains from mostly empty jars that are lurking on the pantry shelves, not enough to do something substantial with, but too good to chuck out.

Today's mix for Dredge Bread is a combination of rye, spelt and unbleached bakers flour at about a 1:2:7 ratio and a combination of sesame and flax seeds, quinoa and a half bottle of rice seasoning, a Japanese mix of seaweed flakes, salt, a little sugar and ground rice. It makes a great topping on grilled salmon or with steamed rice and tamari but it has passed its 'best before' so in it goes and I will cut back on the salt to compensate.

I love this bread because you chuck everything in the bowl and mix, knead, rise, proof and bake.
Two loaves of bread, minimal input and less stuff in the pantry. Too easy. Didn't even have to leave the house.

Good fresh grainy bread is always a great match with pate which sounds like a plan for tonight's dinner. In the fridge we have a fillet of smoked trout, but all the pate recipes I can find want horseradish. Guess what, no horseradish. Plenty in the garden, but not today. Grating fresh horseradish requires internal fortitude and a gas mask! It's a story for another time. Next best thing in keeping with the seaweed in the bread theme, Japanese mustard and/or wasabi and maybe some yuzu to give the lonely lime in the fruit bowl some punch as there are no lemons on the tree at this time of year.

So I worked with a combination of a half packet of left over cream cheese, some butter, chopped chives from the garden adding the yuzu, wasabi and Japanese mustard pastes gradually in pea sized amounts, then the pepper and lime juice until the flavour balance was right. I didn't add salt as the pastes are quite salty in themselves.

The final result was really pleasing. A delicate trout flavour enhanced by the heat from the wasabi and mustard while the yuzu provided a citrusy punch offset by the milder citrus notes of the lime juice.

Together with steamed beans and carrots from the garden and a salad of today's freshly dug dutch cream potatoes, combined with the preserved manzanilla olives from last year, parsley, spanish onions from the store cupboard, yellow teardrop tomatoes and the first of the peas all dressed with a red wine vinaigrette. 

 As evening approaches the thunder is rolling over the hills, the temperature is dropping rapidly and rain is in the air but the wine is cold and the meal is a feast of garden and pantry.

PS. The Seed Whisperer has just come in from the garden laden with strawberries. Guess what's for dessert.

Trout Pate

Yield: Approximately 1 1/2 cups of pate

125 gms softened cream cheese

30 gms  softened butter

1/2 teaspoon each wasabi and Japanese mustard paste or to your taste

3/4 teaspoon yuzu paste

juice of half a lime

2 tbsp finely chopped chives

finely cracked black pepper

1 smoked trout fillet approximately 160gms

Mash the cream chesse and butter until smooth and well combined. Add the yuzu, Japanese mustard and wasabi pastes gradually tasting as you go. Add the flaked trout, chopped chives, juice of half a lemon and a grind of black pepper. Mix gently to incorporate trout. Taste and adjust seasoning. Scrape into a serving dish and cover. Leave in fridge for an hour so let flavours develop.

Serve with fresh grain or seed bread and salad as a meal or with crackers as a dip.

Strawberry, vanilla and black pepper preserve

Some days are all about serendipity. Lately I've been reading Robin Mather's book, 'The Feast Nearby: How I lost my job, buried a marriage, and found my way by keeping chickens, foraging, preserving, bartering, and eating locally (all on $40 a week)'. It's a lovely collection of seasonal essays written while she lived in her cottage near a lake in Michigan coming to grips with eating locally and sustainably. In chapter 2 titled, 'On snapping turtles and strawberries', she outlines her recipes for french method strawberry preserve and for whole strawberries in balsamic black pepper syrup.

I was interested in this chapter of the book because I have strawberries on the kitchen counter begging to be processed and I need inspiration. I generally make a few jars of strawberry preserve each year for the express purpose of mixing it into fresh natural yoghurt as a sweet treat. You will never eat bought flavoured yoghurt again if you begin mixing your own with home made fruit preserves. Twice the flavour sensation and none of the nasties.

In a weird kind of way the idea of strawberries and pepper sounds like it could make a good partnership in a sweet dish. Strawberry preserve is always super sweet and the addition of a little heat on the back of the palate from the pepper is worth exploring.

There are lots of peppercorns in the pantry carried back from a trip to Cochin (Kochi) on the west coast of India, the Malabar Coast. I love opening that jar and smelling the pepper. It takes me back to washing elephants in the river with the Mahouts from the elephant sanctuary, watching the local kids playing cricket in the park, visiting the spice markets in Mattanchery, crazy tuk tuk drivers and the fishing nets at dusk in Jew Town. When I finally finish that jar I'm going back for more. The other half says we'll just have to eat more pepper.

So today's kitchen experiment is Strawberry, vanilla and black pepper preserve. Sweet with just a little heat on the back palate made by crushing the pepper, tying it into a muslin bag and macerating it with the strawberries, a vanilla pod and sugar for 24 hours prior to cooking. I followed my usual strawberry preserve recipe for amounts with the addition of the cracked pepper and made it loosely following Robin Mather's instructions, adding the juice of a few lemons during cooking as she does.

It's Valentines Day and what more perfect dessert than fresh yoghurt swirled through with today's experimental jam and a little dark chocolate. I think I'm in love!

I will share this recipe soon but I want to experiment a little more and try it with just a bit more pepper. I'll keep you posted.

Potatoes and Trout

It's potato harvest time. The first potatoes out of the ground are steamed, dressed with butter, salt and pepper and consumed within thirty minutes of seeing the sun. It's a harvest ritual and the flavour of the newly dug potatoes is savoured sitting on the grass in the sunshine where for five or ten minutes all is right with the world.

The potato is a generous plant and digging up the patch is like finding buried treasure in your garden. There's more underneath that you see on the surface. Now there is 60kgs of potatoes dried, brushed and put to bed. Royal blues snuggle side by side with kipflers, ruby lous, kennebecs, dutch creams and king edwards. A potato for every occasion and another challenge for the cook.



Ruby Lou Potatoes

 Summer seems to have deserted us this year, it's raining and cool and it is time to extract some items from the slowly diminishing pantry and freezer for a meal. A plastic zip lock bag of frozen flaked ocean trout stripped from the left over baked ocean trout we served to friends at Christmas is today's lucky dip item. Together with some freshly dug royal blues it would seem we have the makings for fish cakes.

Cooking from the pantry and freezer is sometimes experimental and intuitive so there are no amounts for this type of dish other than a few guidelines. Use more potato than fish at a ratio of roughly 3:2 (potato:fish) or less fish if you are adding lots of other extras.  You need a nice flourly potato that will crumble easily. Salad potatoes or new baby potatoes won't do the job. Steam or boil the peeled and washed potatoes, drain, allow to cool a little then mash to break up the potato into small pieces. Add the flaked fish. You can easily substitute a tin of salmon or tuna for the ocean trout to make these. Just make sure to drain it well. It's all about using what you have on hand.

Then it's up to your own imagination. Add a combination of the following or anything else you fancy according to your own taste; chopped spring onion/spanish onion/chives - parsley/lemon thyme/lovage/mint - grated lemon zest/lemon myrtle powder* - finely chopped celery/peas/corn kernels/chopped capsicum. It all depends on what you have in the cupboard or fridge.

Season with salt and pepper and add sufficient egg white to bind mixture. Too much will make it wet and it will fall apart, not enough will make it dry and it will fall apart so add carefully. For six large fishcakes I used one small egg white.

Form the mix into cakes (small or large as you prefer). You can even shape them into fish fingers and I promise the kids won't guess you've made the switch. Mix the egg yolk with a little water and then flour, egg and breadcrumb the cakes.  I used panko crumbs because that's what was in the pantry. They are larger and give a crispier coating but you could use any breadcrumbs you like. Fry in a shallow pan of neutral flavoured oil (about 1 to 2cm, less if you like) over a moderate heat, turning when brown.  Drain well on kitchen paper. Keep warm in oven. Serve with home made tartare sauce*, lemon wedges,  a tossed salad and handcut chips if you like. A perfect meal for a cool rainy day and you didn't even have to get in the car and go to the take out.

*I make the tartare sauce using egg mayonnaise, chopped cornichons, plain yoghurt,  a little lemon juice, chopped parsley and mint, with small pieces of chopped lemon flesh or zest stirred through. Seasoned to taste.

*Lemon Myrtle is one of my staple pantry items. It is an Australian Bush Tucker food from a Queensland rainforest tree with dark green lemon-scented leaves. The leaves are used fresh or dried & ground and have a lemon & lime flavour and scent. They can be used with baked fish or chicken dishes, as a lemon tea or in cakes and biscuits.

Summer Strawberry Cake. A quick solution to the strawberry dilemma

This summer has been great for ducks and berries. Plentiful rainfall has meant the berry patch has produced in abundance. One thing I have learnt about berries is that they can be a self limiting food. Until now I never thought you could say no to a raspberry or look at a gleaming pile of strawberries in despair. Yes, I know, poor me, such a tough life but even the birds have had enough and avoid the berry patch now. They have their eyes on the ripening fig trees, as do I.

Today I am trying to deal with the 1 1/2 kgs of strawberries picked on Friday before heading to the bottom of the yard to pick the next load. It's like we've struck the motherload. They are beautiful picked and eaten fresh, baked with rhubarb and maple syrup, in smoothies, with yoghurt, in salads with crisp cos, baby cucumbers, borage and balsamic, dried and tipped into homemade toasted museli......we've just about reached our limit and still they keep coming. Necessity however becomes the mother of invention and I'm constantly on the search for new recipes.

It's back to work tomorrow and a home baked cake in the tearoom can make a big difference in a busy, stressful day. It's an opportunity to pause, share a chat, exchange ideas or just draw breath before reentering the fray, so Strawberry Cake it is. I found a strawberry cake recipe at food on paper which had been adapted from the Smitten Kitchen. I love the fact that recipes start to develop a life of their own in cyberspace where people share great ideas and others adapt them into equally great ideas.

My version follows the recipe on 'food on paper' but uses panela rather than white sugar and I have added grated lemon zest into the batter along with the vanilla. I tossed the strawberries in a little aged balsamic before placing them on the cake with a generous sprinkle of raw sugar hoping for a little caramelisation during baking.

The result is a richly fragrant cake in which the strawberries nestle gently into the cooked batter. The top has a light sugar crispiness and there is just a waft of lemon and strawberry in the air. This is a lovely cake that I can see becoming a firm favourite in strawberry season.

Carrot cupcakes

Like the ubiquitous pumpkin soup, everyone has their own version of carrot cake. It's one of those perennial favourites that still makes a regular appearance on cafe menus everywhere.  A rich, moist concoction of carrots and spices, often with a cream cheese icing adding to the decadence. Maybe its lasting quality stems from the fact that it's easy to make. No creaming of sugar and butter just a quick whisk of eggs, sugar, oil and vanilla followed by a fold of flour, spices and carrots, into the oven and you're done.

Well this week we have carrots. Piles of them. I am certain they are multiplying underground everytime I turn my back. Where are the rabbits when you need them? As part of the ongoing battle to use them up; this week carrot cupcakes are on the menu for lunches and snacks.

This is the recipe I have been making for more years than I care to remember adapting the recipe to suit the moment. Sometimes I use cinnamon or a combination of cinnamon, nutmeg and cardamon with a touch of allspice. On occasion I add chopped walnuts, almonds or even hazel nuts and at other times crushed pineapple or grated apple for the non nut eaters. Each ingredient changes the flavour in subtle ways but all versions are delicious. This version uses a combination of dark muscovado and raw sugars which I think creates deeper malt and toffee undertones complimenting the spices and the natural sweetness of the carrots.

I am nearly out of cinnamon and the rules are to use what's on hand so I have again reached for the fragrant spices with rose petals to which I am rapidly becoming addicted. One sniff of the packet transports you into a heady high of spicy nirvana. Oh yeah!! Any minute the spice police will be here telling me to step away from the packet. I promise to go quietly as long as can take just one cupcake....

On a final note I think these cakes actually taste better the day after they have been made. Once iced keep refrigerated. Remove from the fridge about 15 minutes before serving.

Carrot Cupcakes

3 eggs

1/2 cup raw sugar

1/2 cup dark muscovado sugar

3/4 cup neutral flavoured oil (rice bran, sunflower, grape seed are all good choices)

1 teaspoon vanilla

3 heaped teaspoons fragrant spice with rose petals

1 1/3 cup plain flour

1 1/3 teaspoons baking powder

1 1/3 teaspoons bi carb soda

2 cups fresh grated carrot (raw)

1/3 cup crushed pineapple

1/2 cup chopped walnuts

Heat oven to 150 degrees Celsius. Sift dry ingredients and spices and set aside. Whisk eggs and sugars till frothy. Add oil and vanilla. Whisk again to combine. Fold in sifted ingredients and then add carrot, nuts and pineapple. Fold again till just combined.

Divide into 12 lightly greased muffin pans and cook for 25 to 30 minutes till tops spring back gently or skewer inserted comes out clean. Cool on a rack.

Icing

125 gms cream cheese

250 gms soft icing sugar

60 gms butter

1 teaspoon cinnamon (or vanilla)

1 1/2 tablespoons milk

Combine till smooth. Keep cool. Spoon a dessertspoon of icing onto each cake and spread with small palette knife or pipe with swirls or stars. Sprinkle a little cinnamon on top to decorate.

The Full Monte.....Carlo that is!

While our Kiwi neighbours may dispute the origin, it could have been the lamington or the pavlova to celebrate Australia Day but my favourite is a biscuit that dates back to 1926, the Monte Carlo. You can buy them in the packet with the parrot on the label but homemade is so much better. Two crisp, buttery, honey and coconut flavoured biscuits sandwiched together with a dollop of vanilla butter cream and raspberry jam. Served with a cup of piping hot tea the day doesn't get much better.

Reading the recipe, a hand me down from my partner's great Auntie Rose, there are two problems. I have no honey and no brown sugar. Substitution is necessary. I found a pack of organic panela (evaporated cane juice) hiding behind the dried chillies and a bottle of date syrup kept for squeezing over winter porridge. Add flour (self raising and plain), butter, eggs, vanilla, rosewater, icing sugar, dessicated coconut, berry jam, milk and we're good to go.

As I left the pantry with arms full I knocked a packet of spice mix on the floor. 'Fragrant sweet spices with rose petals', a Herbie's Spices mix. A luscious crush of coriander, cassia, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, ginger, poppy seeds, cloves, cardamon and rose petals. This was pure serendipity. The label said, 'an exotic sweet blend to enhance cakes, biscuits, friands and meringues'. I can only think the Kitchen God was giving me a nudge today. In a country made up from a crazy, diverse bunch of people from all corners of the world this sweet blend could represent the ultimate example of culinary and cultural harmony.

Life can always do with a little extra spice and given that I made the berry jam with a hint of rosewater this year this mix of culinary cultures just might work.

Hence we have Monte Carlos with a modern twist for Australia Day. Would Auntie Rose recognise it? I'd like to think that as a great kitchen alchemist herself she'd roll up her sleeves and embrace the change.

Happy Australia Day.

Monte Carlo Biscuits

185 gms butter
190 gms self raising flour, sifted
100 gms plain flour, sifted
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
90 gms brown sugar or panela
2 tablespoons date syrup or honey
30 gms dessicated coconut
1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon fragrant spice mix with rose petals (optional)
raspberry or plum jam

Filling
60 gms softened, unsalted butter
100 gms icing sugar, sifted
1/2 teaspoons vanilla
3 drops rosewater
2 teaspoons milk

Cream butter and sugar till light and fluffy. Add date syrup/honey and cream again until light and well blended. Add egg and vanilla and beat well. Add flour, coconut  and spice if using and mix well. Shape generous teaspoons of mixture into ovals, place on a well greased baking tray and press with the back of a fork.

Bake in a moderate oven (350 degrees C) for 10 to 15 minutes. They should be golden brown. Remove and place on a rack to cool.

To make filling cream butter and icing sugar till light and pale. Add vanilla and  rose water to milk and gradually add to mixture, beat until well combined.

When biscuits are cool pair them together. Place a teaspoon of  butter cream filling and a small teaspoon of jam in the centre of one half the biscuits and gently place remaining halves on top pressing gently.
The panela adds a little crispy, toffee crunch to the biscuit and the touch of spice is perfect. This recipe made 20 monte carlos on Thursday. There were none left by Saturday afternoon. No cook could ask for more!

Reinventing Junket

Someone should rename junket. It gets bad press.  It has a reputation as nursery food and is generally thought to be a bland, milky substance served to the sick and digestively infirm. Searching through the pantry for what to use up this week I came across a packet of junket tablets. I think these were an impulse buy in the supermarket a year or so ago when I got all nostalgic.

I like junket. Done right it's delicious. When the weather is hot and you don't feel much like eating, an icy cold, milky junket with the right flavours can be a fine thing. You only need a small serve of this soft, silky curd which could be a likened to a very light panna cotta. Effortless to eat and easy on the stomach. Essentially junket is rennet and sets milk into curd, the first stage of cheese production. The curds and whey of Little Miss Muffet fame.

On the shelf next to the junket was a packet of Chai which I buy at the market from the girls from realchai. Hmmm... junket and chai. I've made chai icecream so  it could work. Little Miss Muffet goes to India? I was prepared to give it a go.

After infusing the chai with milk and a little brown sugar I let it cool, added a few drops of rose water and the junket. A quick stir, set and chill. Too easy.

The flavour was light, sweet, spicy, aromatic and utterly, utterly delicious. Served in antique, demitasse cups, it's a new slant on summer afternoon tea. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship!

Aromatic Chai Curd

4 tbsp chai mix.
500 mls fresh full cream milk
2 tbsp (generous) light brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon rosewater or to your taste.
2 junket tablets
1 tbsp cold water

Serves: 4  (half cup servings)

Get your serving cups or ramekins out before you begin.  Junket sets quickly so once added to the milk you need to pour it into the serving cups straight away.

Combine chai, milk and sugar in a saucepan and heat gently. Stir as you go to help chai infuse. Do not let mixture boil. As edges start to barely simmer remove immediately from heat and leave to infuse for 30 minutes stirring occasionally to prevent skin setting on milk.

After thirty minutes strain through a fine sieve or muslin and squeeze chai mixture to extract liquid and flavour.

Check temperature. It needs to be at 37 degrees C (blood heat). Heat gently if needed to reach desired temperature.

Add rosewater followed by the junket tablets which have been crushed in the cold water. Give a quick stir and pour into serving cups without delay. Leave to stand at room temperature for 30 minutes and then refrigerate for at least two to three hours, but overnight is better.

Serve chilled

PS. If you don't want to use junket tablets which contain animal rennet you could make this with vegetarian rennet which available from cheese making suppliers. You'll need to follow the manufacturers instructions regarding amounts. Alternatively you could try setting with agar agar. It won't have the same texture but it won't contain animal products.

The soul of a carrot

What's the collective noun for carrots?  A bunch? A bunny? A crunch? A warren? In our house this week I think it's simply a bounty as this aptly describes the abundance of  the carrot patch. Beautiful orange carrots that are finally growing straight after years of working the soil to get very last rotten little rock and impediment to a straight root out of the way. They are not perfect, but they are pretty darn close and the taste is like nothing you buy in the supermarket. One of nature's superfoods they are full of polyphenols and carotenoids, but you don't actually need to know this to know they are good for you.

In his book 'In Defence of Food', Michael Pollan says you 'don't have to fathom a carrots complexity in order to reap it's benefits' [sic] and that 'we don't really know what is going on deep in the soul of a carrot' that makes just so delicious. 

What I do know is that eating carrots straight from the vegetable garden is just plain good for you. The sweet, crisp taste of a freshly harvested carrot falls into the category of food as medicine. Deep down in your own soul you just know it's doing you good.

The problem with all this bounty is the need to eat carrots...every day....twice a day at least. Some can be stored of course, but they are at their best straight out of the ground. That this abundance arrives at the time I have vowed to eat out the pantry just adds to the challenge. Never mind we are nothing if not creative.

This recipe was inspired by Stephanie Alexander's kohlrabi, carrot and cucumber salad with mint and peanuts from her book, 'Kitchen Garden Companion'. This is one of my 'go to' books for ideas to use up veg garden produce.

Carrot, celeriac and cucumber salad

2 to 3 medium carrots
1  large cucumber
1/2 a small celeriac root
2 teaspoons sea salt
2 tbsp each thinly sliced coriander and mint
1 red chilli, halved, de-seed and slice finely
2 tbsp chopped dry roasted peanuts or cashews

Dressing

1 tsp panela (evaporated cane sugar) or palm sugar
1 tbsp brown rice vinegar
1 tbsp lime juice and 2 tbsp orange juice
1/3 tsp of yuzu paste* (about the size of a pea)
1 teaspoon good quality sesame oil
A pinch of freshly ground white pepper

Serves 4 as a side or 2 for a generous and healthy lunch

Wash vegetables and peel cucumber and celeriac. Make long thin ribbons of the carrot, cucumber and celeriac using a vegetable peeler. Place in a bowl, add salt and gently toss to coat. Leave for 30 minutes. Place in a salad spinner and spin out as much liquid as you can.

Tip vegetable ribbons back into a clean bowl.

Whisk dressing ingredients together and taste. Adjust seasonings and add sufficient dressing to vegetable ribbons to coat, but not drown. Add sliced chilli, mint and coriander. Toss gently to combine.

Mound vegetable ribbons on a platter, sprinkle the chopped peanuts over the top.

Serve straight away.

*Yuzu is a type of citrus originating in China. The paste is widely available in Asian supermarkets and has a unique citrus flavour which is reminiscent of grapefruit and mandarin. Beware it's a bit addictive, especially with duck!

The year of the six inch cake

In her cookbook 'Miette. Recipes from San Francisco's most charming pastry shop', Meg Ray says a six inch cake is an elegant sufficiency. She explains that in her shop the largest size cake they make is only six inches. Her principle being 'less is more, small is better, balance is everything'. This got me thinking about portion size. Where did we start to get the idea that bigger is better when it comes to food? In general we eat with our eyes and so consume what's put in front of us rather than what we actually want or enjoy.

These days when I go to a coffee shop and ask for cake, more often than not I am served a piece that will require serious bike time to try and counter the impact on my hips! My hips really don't need any extra impact thanks. Often this Everest sized piece of cake comes with cream and ice cream. Why both? Why even one? Many cakes don't need it. Sometimes I wonder if it's there to help you slide the last few mouthfuls down more easily. Even if I share this piece of cake with a friend we both feel as if we've performed an Herculean task consuming it and vow as we finish that we'll not be eating dinner tonight! This is a lie but it makes us feel better at the time.

Don't get me wrong I like cake, I like it a lot, and there will be times when you need to make a bigger cake to feed a crowd, but I'm with Meg Ray. What I want is an 'elegant sufficiency', something that will let me balance my desire to be healthy while enjoying my life and not ending up as a heart attack statistic. I want proportion and beauty in equal measure. Good quality ingredients, put together with passion, in a size that is designed for real people.

When I was a kid my Mum used to bake a beautiful apple cake. It was only ever made in a seven inch cake tin.  Cut into eight it fed six of us happily for dessert, often with some left over, and graced many an afternoon tea table and special celebration.  Now we'd look at a seven inch tin and think it was small. After a serving I never felt I hadn't had enough or that I was robbed of an experience because of the portion size. It was delicious and full of intense apple and lemon flavours with a beautiful crisp, cake like crust and,  if I remember correctly, went well with a small scoop of real vanilla ice cream. All in proportion. Balance and harmony.

Hence in line with my resolution this year to get some balance back in my pantry and freezer I have decided that this is the year of the six inch cake.  Less is more, small can be better and balance is everything.

To celebrate this decision (and to needing to spend less time on the bike perhaps) I share my Mum's recipe, but I warn you it is an intuitive cake. Give it a go and you won't be disappointed. Oh, and it works perfectly in a six or seven inch tin.

Mum's Apple Cake.

Filling

550gm granny smith apples or any good cooking apple.
1 teaspoon of grated lemon rind
2 tablespoons of sugar
2 tablespoons of butter

Peel and core apples, quarter and slice. Place in pot with butter, sugar and lemon rind. Add a little water if required and cook. When cooked drain off any liquid. This apple mix needs to be dryish. Leave to cool a little. If you like you can also add a little cinnamon to the apple. I prefer the lemon on its own.

Pastry

60gms/2 tablespoons butter
40gms/2 tablespoons sugar
1 egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
Self raising flour.

Preheat oven to 320 degrees F/160 degrees C.

Grease and flour a six inch tin and line base with baking paper.

Cream butter and sugar. I generally whisk this by hand in a bowl. Add vanilla and egg and whisk till it is well combined and light. Work in sufficient SR flour to make a workable dough. You are looking for a texture somewhere between cake and pastry. You want a smooth dough that doesn't stick to your fingers but is easy to work.

Roll out a little over half the dough and place in tin so it covers the base and come up the sides about four to five centimetres. Place the warm, drained apple in the pastry. You may not need all the apple as you don't want to fill higher than the pastry.  Roll out the remaining pastry a little larger than the tin and place it on top of the apple, tucking in the edges, as if you were putting it to bed.

Bake slowly in oven on the middle shelf till nicely tinted. About 30 minutes. Remove from oven and stand in tin for 10 to 15 minutes. Turn onto a rack and invert right side up to cool.

Ice with lemon or passionfruit icing and serve with or without cream/ice cream.

Cucumbers and cricket.

New year here means test cricket. While the men of the house spent Monday at the SCG watching India and Australia stoush it out, I dealt with the really serious business of  summer. The vege garden and what to do with all it produces.

This week cucumbers are my nemesis. These sneaky little critters hide among the raspy leaves and before you know it you have ten cucumbers sitting on the bench waiting to be used.

Samuel Johnson is supposed to have said that 'a cucumber should be well sliced, and dressed with pepper and vinegar, and then thrown out, as good for nothing.'  Undeterred by this scurrilous maligning of the cucumber I went in search of something cooling and soothing for the hottest day of the year and came up with Chilled cucumber and borage soup from Signe Johansen's book Scandilicious.

Taking about 15 minutes to make, followed by a really solid chill in the fridge, this soup is perfect for a summer day. Not only did it use produce from the garden, frozen stock from the freezer and my own addition of a handful of left over snowpeas from the fridge, but also the deceptively hairy leaves and incredible blue flowers of the borage plant from the herb garden. These leaves really did add a 'cucumbery' coolness and depth of flavour to this soup that was surprising. Trust me, I applied a before and after test to see if there was any difference.

This is my version based closely on Signe Johansen's delicious recipe.

Chilled cucumber & borage soup

1 small white onion finely chopped
I tsp rice bran oil or other non flavoured oil
3 or 4 Lebanese cucumbers, halved and seeded
1/2 cup of  trimmed sugar snap peas or snowpeas
300mls fresh well flavoured chicken stock (homemade or bought)
1 cup young, small borage leaves  from the tops of the stalks(the bigger leaves are too hairy and prickly so avoid these)
white pepper
yoghurt and borage flowers to garnish

Cook onion in oil till translucent.
Put onion, cucumber, stock, borage leaves, peas in food processor or blender and process till smooth. Add salt (if needed) and white pepper to taste.
Refrigerate for several hours and serve in chilled bowls with yoghurt and borage flowers to decorate.


Borage has long been associated with happiness and raising the spirits. It was apparently fed to crusaders and gladiators prior to battles and competitions. Perhaps then it should be on the menu for Sachin Tendulkar aiming for his hundred 100th, or is it Micheal Clarke's secret weapon? It certainly made for a happy ending  to the day at our house.