2009 Ravensworth shiraz viognier Top gold again
2009 Shiraz Viogner wins top gold at the 2011 Wine wise Small vignerons awards. 5th year running our shiraz has won gold medals at the SVA.
Hell’s kitchen, street food & duck congee
“Welcome to Hell’s kitchen, announced the Canberra Times on its front page on Saturday February 12. Wow, I thought, I bet every restaurant owner tonight is enjoying this front page, which is very visual, with rats, cockroaches and ants scurrying across the newsprint.
There must have been some nervous diners that night, trying to sneak a furtive peek behind the clean and orderly facade of clearly the restaurant in question. But of course the story about hygiene failures in some kitchens related to all food-service operations, right down, possibly, to the sausage sizzle out the front of the hardware or homeware store.
I’m feeling pretty cynical about this article. Clearly it wouldn’t be fun to be struck down with food poisoning, even more so if you’ve just spent $160 a head getting it. But there must be some hundreds of restaurants and food outlets in Canberra, and I’m pretty sure that if there was a significant food-poisoning event we’d rightly hear about it.
I’ve been eating out most of my life and only really thought I had food poisoning on one occasion that wasn’t associated with drinking lots at the same time – and as you know, I get into some weird food and situations.
The same day I read this story, I head to the Multicultural Festival where crowds descend on Garema Place to enjoy the vast array of ethnic foods. And it doesn’t stop me one bit from enjoying egg nets from Singapore, blood sausage for Poland, a beautiful and tasty date dessert from Yemen, even a green slushy and fairy floss from Bengal - I’m a bit dubious, too. It’s possible they come from this part of India but it does seem odd. There was a lot more food on offer too – I wish Canberra could be like this every day.
Some of these outlets may blur the edges of modern, Western food-preparation practices, but do we want our food filled with preservatives, packed into multiple layers of plastic, devoid of pathogen and flavour?
No, not me anyway. I got more of a shiver at a fete last year when I saw a huge, 10kg frozen block of sausages being defrosted on the barbecue when demand was higher than supply.
I’m reading this article tonight, having just unwrapped two Chinese roast ducks, bought from the very place named as a past offender, which continues to be one of my favourite Asian takeaways.
I remember when I first visited Singapore in the mid 1990s, the hawkers’ markets were such a revelation, so raw and fragrant. They’ve been cleaned up now, but I just loved the variety. One stall sold just one dish – duck porridge or congee. A bowl filled with soft, glassy-looking rice, dotted with dark, fatty duck deposits and topped with soy and spring onion. A simple street food, basically made from leftovers, that really captures the essence of this kind of eating.
So after the street market in the city, I get the urge to re-create the duck congee – hence the duo of Daffys from Dickson.
Tonight, we have the breast meat, warmed through with steamed rice and a snake-bean stirfry, no tricks. Tomorrow, the leftovers – bones, legs meat, skin and rice – all get bundled together for my duck porridge.
Given the lag time between writing this and publication, you might have read in the meantime a headline along the lines of, `Part-time food columnist and amateur hunter poisons himself, our city’s idiots revealed’. But even so, I’d rather feed the family true food than some antiseptic invention.
Some hints. Generally, you’ll cook the rice in the dish with the bones and meat. I used a pressure cooker and made the stock separately and have adapted the recipe to suit. If you haven’t got a pressure cooker, use a cup of uncooked rice to two litres of stock and cook over a very low heat.
Duck porridge
2 ducks (except breasts), meat ripped apart, skin shredded, bones, chopped and rinsed.
2 cups steamed rice, long-grain jasmine used (made from a cup of rice)
1-2 cups chicken stock
4 spring onions, 2 chopped, 2 whole
1 tsp ginger, minced, another 3 or 4 slices not minced
1 clove garlic, minced
3 tbsp soy sauce, salty
Make the stock first. Bring the bones covered with water to the boil. Remove from heat, strain and discard the cloudy stock. Rinse the bones and add to the pressure cooker. Three-quarters cover with chicken stock, whole spring onions and ginger. Seal the lid and cook at high pressure for 40 minutes. Don’t open the lid until the pressure decreases – if you open a pressure cooker straight away, not only will you get a face full of steam, but you’ll also boil the stock, patience.
Strain this and put the stock back in the pot. Stir in the rice, the proportion should be about two cups of cooked rice to a litre of stock. Add duck meat and skin, chopped spring onion, extra ginger, garlic and soy. Seal in cooker again and this time at low pressure, cook for 90 minutes, allow to cool before opening.
Serve with a drizzle of soy and the simple Southeast Asian salad that follows.
Achar
beans sprouts, topped and tailed
shredded vegetables – carrot, snowpeas, Chinese cabbage, spring onion
chopped peanuts and herbs, to top
vinaigrette to dress – olive oil, soy, balsamic and garlic
Ouzo, fishing & good times
I bet this guy walking up the driveway with my brother will launch into some story about food, he has that old school European, Mediterranean swagger about him, the shotgun slung over his shoulder only reinforces my thesis, I casually look for an escape route remembering a this particular scene from the Godfather.
He is out on the farm looking for hares, meaning he wants to shoot them and eat them and as he saunters up the granite, the thick Greek accent pours out and from his pocket appears an unassuming bottle of Grotsch swing top “you try this, ouzo, is good, expensive….careful!”
I whip the top off and draw in the fiery fumes, “you try!” Ahh maybe later I think, its 7am and a long day ahead cutting wood and hedging the vineyard. This stuff, much like grappa or jet fuel, can put you on your back with days lost. It’s probably sitting at 90% alcohol and would certainly make the Stihl chainsaw run like a dream. You need to have moved to this directly from breast milk to be able to handle it.
Alex, as he is called, grabs a bag of figs from the heavily laden tree on the way out. Again it impresses me no end how southern Europeans know food and would never pass an opportunity to gather some for the pot.
The said bottle of almost pure ethyl alcohol might come in handy as we are heading off to the south coast for a brotherly weekend fishing, four of us, our baby brother absconding as he’d rather look at his ink and biceps in the mirror at the gym than hang around his older and more comfortable-in-their-skins brothers.
Next youngest sibling has this coast house caught in a time warp from last century with hundreds of old records, some were possibly from my pre CD collection. I sold the lot to him for a 100 bucks, a jar of mousse and a Don Johnston jacket back on the 80′s in preference to this new technology which was sold primarily for the fact they doubled up as a drinks coaster. The likes of Lynyrd Skynyrd, Rodriguez & Dylan blare from the speakers, the bookcase is filled with Ludlum and Wilbur Smith, there’s plenty of beers and little food as the beach rods are baited up and we head to the nearby shore.
I must have missed the meeting as I’m amazed at the kit these guys have, great big rods, buckets, tool kits that would suit a GP pit crew filled with all manner of lure, sinker and other stuff that is apparently required to catch fish. I can’t say I’m a keen fisherman, I forgot my little set of kids rods, which I’m glad of now as it would have been like bringing a butter knife to an axe wielding party. I think I’m the cook.
It’s my youngest son’s first real experience and being the thoughtful lateral thinker he is, he says to me after an unfruitful hour or so watching “Why don’t they just eat those little fish they keep throwing away?” commenting on the baitfish they are indeed tossing away with a repetitive fervor, there’s something out there at least.
Eventually the big beach rod goes wild, like it hooked onto an Collins class submarine only with more power, it’s a big one or something with a mean streak a mile wide because little bro is struggling as the beach comes to a standstill. You see guys fishing here all the time but I’ve always thought it a front for drinking. After a fight in which we win, notice how it’s now a struggle I’m involved in, out of the water comes this huge, Ohh at least 4 foot long I reckon, beautiful, grey, whitish fish that resembles tuna.
Turns out to be an Australian salmon. A seriously strong for it size fish, I reckon its about 3 foot long, 3-4kg, built for swimming fast. Everyone seems to know what to do; they quickly break its neck and bleed it. Apparently if this isn’t done quickly they are even more inedible.
I’ve seen these fish before, they are from the same type of fish as tuna and salmon, fast swimmers, with huge gills and a massive blood line running down their sides. The reason why they need to be bleed is this aerobic muscle common to all pelagic fish: this term might mean something to a scientist, basically it swims all the time rather than a bottom feeder or rock fish.
Years ago, Ray Smith, our handy man and professional fisherman down in Tasmania, used to show me how to remove the blood line as he called it, he would then eat it, like raw and I would then turn green. Amazing man really, could drink 30 cans of diet ale in one seating and walk, perform personal dentistry at the bar with a pair of long nose pliers.
Once this fish and its brother are back at the house, I went through the process of filleting them, the deep purple, liver coloured tissue makes up half the flesh on the, Oh, at least 2 foot long, fish, so there’s not that much.
They fit in with tuna, mullet, Atlantic salmon in many ways except they are entirely devoid of flavour and texture once cooked but they are all we have so I hit the shops with a list and a plan.
I’m thinking curry, make up for what it’s lacking. Another guy I used to stand next to in a kitchen was Venkatesh Ramachandran (Jewel of India) clearly of Indian origin, this extremely tall man has this natural flair with food, he quietly adds this and that and in no time a brilliant dish would appear from the heaven’s where his upper body exists. One dish I remember he showing me was the Southern Indian favourite, Meen Moilee. A coconut fish stew of sorts, simple, fragrant and made for a fish like Arripis.
Being down the south coast and thus as far from India and her ingredients as you can be, I had to adapt to local conditions, you however should be able to find all that is required. The best fish are firmer and juicer for this dish, Trevalla would be my ultimate choice or monk fish as a treat.
Our salmon is pleasant if not a tad mushy but I’m focused on all this old school music at my finger tips, I ignore the kids laughs as I try to explain that this is real music “What with all the crackles and skipping?” Yep, love this old music, might follow in the footsteps of Mary-Lu Zahalan-Kennedy with her masters in Beatles music, maybe a post-doctoral certificate in Barnsy, the JD years. He’s a man that wouldn’t have been frightened of a wee 500mls of Greek rocket fuel, as we are.
Meen Moilee
1kg firm fish, skinned and cut into thick slices
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
Juice of one lime
salt and pepper
Gravy
2 tbsp clarified butter (ghee) or oil
2 brown onions, sliced
A thumb size piece of fresh, new season ginger, peeled and chopped
4 cloves garlic, smashed
2-4 green fresh chilies, roughly chopped
Half a handful curry leaves
1 tspn mixed curry powder
2 ripe tomatoes, seeded and chopped
300ml coconut milk/cream, the top third thick cream reserve
salt
Garnish
Lime segments
Coriander leaf
Steamed rice
Marinate fish: dissolve turmeric in lime juice with salt, rub fish and leave for an hour or so.
No the gravy, heat butter or oil, when hot add onion, fry until softening then add ginger, garlic, chili and curry leaves, cook on high for a bit, should be getting some decent aromatics now, add curry powder. Bang, now it’s starting to build, mix in tomato and thinner portion of coconut milk, cook for a little bit and gently slip in the prepared fish. Lower heat and cook until fish just starts to firm up, add thick cream and season. Serve with condiments.
The perfect valentine’s gift, comfort & ribs
What do you give a gal who has everything? I reflect on possible Valentine’s gifts for my bride of almost 21 years. Na, I can’t really think of anything that would make her life more perfect than it already is.
For instance, a husband who, as the previous two decades have passed, is really comfortable in his skin, puts this comfort above everything else and has reduced his clothing needs to a pair of footy shorts and a singlet. No longer needing the expense of suits, shirts with sleeves, dancing shoes nor dacks that don’t come with a gusset. I can see why truck drivers are kings of their own domain. Yes, it’s true she really did win the partnership lottery.
Given that we got married so close to this day that celebrates the anniversary of the very many martyrs who share the unfortunate name Valentine, we tend to skip any niceties associated with it. But it’s still important to pull yourself off the couch, brush off the crumbs and think of something special around this time of year. Keep her keen.
No grog at the moment that’s normally an easy one. Grab a bottle of fizz, some chocolates and Bob’s your uncle. I’m into my third year of Febfast, so it takes the shine off something as shallow as this. So what can I do?
Nothing says I love you more than there being more of you to love so a decent dinner should work. I fall back to my favourite food group, which contains such sub-categories as bacon, sausage and ham. Pork, no less.
Recently, on our endless quest to attend live sporting events for our 11-year-old son, we were up in Sydney on the way to watch the Sydney Kings get flogged again at the King Dome, and popped into Kobe Jones on Kings Wharf for a meal. We hadn’t been here before but it came highly recommended, plus there isn’t much else around Darling Harbour. Nice food, Japanese for the masses served with all that added professionalism you get in the big smoke. One dish we all enjoyed was barbecue baby back pork ribs. They didn’t seem very Japanese, but our kids enjoyed it nonetheless so they’ve asked me to add it to the home dining repertoire that includes many comfort foods like breaded lamb cutlets, toad in the hole and spag bol.
So I hit the books. Most recipes use spare ribs (not sure why they are called this, what ribs are spare besides the one Adam used) which are fully fatted. These US style back ribs are cut from further along so you get a full rib with the meat in between – less fat, more bone and are a pretty nice communal meal.
Ginger is one of the main flavourings in this recipe, mainly because you get the new season knobs coming in now, despite all the rain up north where they come from. This is beautiful ginger, sweeter and more delicate than the robust aged, hard skinned ginger that packs more heat. So if you can find any (Belconnen Markets for me) use it for this dish plus adding it to orange and carrot juices.
Generally, you’ll be given a north American barbecue recipe, filled with brown sugar and caramelised. This is tempting, but the Asian versions are more elegant and preserve your health more to some degree. So get into them, a delicious summer meal. Just make sure you’re comfortable and have lots of napkins. If you were to drink, a nice cold bottle of riesling hits the spot, since this is the #summerofriesling on twitter.
Barbecue baby back ribs
4 racks back ribs
master stock (see below)
marinade (see below)
apple soy dipping sauce (see below)
Place the ribs in the simmering master stock and cook for two hours, cool in the stock. Place on a rack over a roasting tray and chill until needed, allowing them to dry off totally, discard any liquid and then paint them with the marinade, keeping any drips, two to four hours. Now simply barbecue over hot coals brushing them with the marinade until crisp and tender. Serve with rice, stirfried vegetables and apple soy dipping sauce.
Master stock
2 litres water
200ml soy sauce
300ml Chinese cooking wine
2 large knob gingers, smashed
100g yellow rock sugar
100g palm sugar
4 cloves garlic, smashed
spices – star anise, dried chili, cinnamon stick, Sichuan pepper, cumin, coriander seeds (as you see fit)
Bring to simmering point and cook for half an hour. Strain, ready for use.
Marinade
60ml soy sauce
30ml mirin
30ml oyster sauce
30ml honey
1 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp ginger, minced
1 tsp garlic, minced
1/2 tsp white pepper, ground
Apple soy dipping sauce
1 granny smith apple, grated plus any juice
1/2 recipe of marinade ingredients except honey
1/4 cup chopped spring onion
Suckling pig, Bloody Ponting & sour dough again
Diary entry, December 26th, 2010. Boxing day….Dear diary, what the duce is going on here? (I’ve self edited here but you get the idea) It’s Boxing day, a hallowed day, and like every red blooded Aussie I have a plan: arranged the day, turned off the phone, set the out of office email message to “Sorry I’m on holidays watching the Baggy greens reclaim the ashes, set the world right” the entire day devoted to watching test cricket live from the G, TV volume turned down so I can listen to the always amusing Kerry O’Keeffe, Paul Kelly music on standby for when they change. No cooking either as we have the mountain of leftovers.
All this and I’m not really that much of a fan, it’s just what you do, today, watch the cricket. It’s part of our makeup, in our genes, our structure, its summer, a screen door slamming, some sort of water fight going on outside, Christmas leftovers and watching a group of grown up men hit a red ball around a very green oval with a piece of willow.
And who could blame us for such confidence after the joy of Perth, if they hadn’t wiped the floor out west I would have found something better to do, anything, because this is torture. The woeful day unfolds, a day that has me resembling one of those science experiments where a can of cola flavoured refreshment is placed in a vacuum chamber and slowly crumples into itself to explain the absence of pressure, the inverse of what the selectors should be going through.
I reflect on our Christmas present to my mum, four good seats at the SCG, day four, in the decider. She would have opened them yesterday and thought why is her second borne son being so mean, what’s next tickets to the Australian open to watch someone we’ve never heard loose for some good reason day 1.
Mind, knowing mum she is possibly the only fan left who would look forward to this, sitting in the Victor Trumper stand surrounded by confident and most likely pink skinned poms as their team takes on the Aussie side, which after today might mean the Marist 1st Eleven.
By mid afternoon I can’t find any joy here, I drift back to the sanctuary of the kitchen vowing to never watch cricket again and look at what’s possible. Now you may know that I’ve become slightly obsessed with baking bread, you can check out my website, brilliantly named www.bryanmartin.com.au, for any updates to my quest and for the base recipe for what I’m about to launch into today.
In short the main change has been the adding of steam to the oven, I’ve found a little pressure vessel that would normally be used for spraying various chemicals onto plants, an organic atomizer I guess, made sure it was clean of any Glyphosate…just tricking I actually bought a new one. When the loaf goes in the oven (also lowered the temp to 210C) I spray a heap of atomized water onto the bread and the general vicinity, close the oven and maybe repeat halfway through so the loaf has a nice crusty exterior, otherwise as is.
I have to confess that my planned Anatidea Christmas dinner didn’t eventuate, the duck in question was 200km away and not likely to fly here. Seeing as the name of this column has been changed I owe it to you to know the providence of what comes across the chopping board each week and also I’m continuing my quest to lower carbon footprint. So I lost interest the 4 hour drive just before Chrissy up to Thirlmere and back, where they apparently grow good ducks, geese and quite possibly swans. Good news is that they are going to set up a stand in 2011 at the EPIC Farmers Market so I can then justify the travel.
My problem was thus, what to have for lunch at this late a date? After a conversation over the Hilux ute, couple of follow up calls, a local suckling pig stuck it hand up “Choose me!” Main problem was this: It’s still alive and apparently it wasn’t really suckling anymore, small though, about yeh long (Jeff holding his hands about 2 feet apart). No problem, my oven is big and I have a back up pit and rotisserie, let’s do it. Instead of the drive up to the highlands, on Christmas eve I just had to drive the 3K’s down the end of the street, chuck a right turn, second driveway, over the cattle grid, veer towards the sheds on left, honk the horn twice and someone will turn up.
It’s all very Wolf Creek as usual, my shopping trips, a couple of guys were hanging around, dogs everywhere, one capped chap split off – I’m sure he looked over his shoulder, checking if it was safe – and we entered an old shearing shed. In the corner next to the lathe, a coolroom (good sign, they have a HACCP policy) and after a brief struggle the pig in question was brought out (dressed, as in slaughtered and cleaned rather than in top hat and tails) and laid on the cleared bench for inspection. My first thought, if this is a ‘sort of’ sucking pig, I’m sort of a teenager. It is young about the size of a spring lamb, 12 kilos in its undies and socks, but suckling it aint. Looks good though, after a size conversation, we take to it with a tape measure and hack saw. If the police walked in at this point we might have had some important and pressing questions to answer.
I toss the slightly dismembered carcass into the back of the Crusier, and no I didn’t have my own HACCP guidelines, and on the quick trip back home I came up with a plan. No way I need all this pork cooked so I just prepared the loin for the festive lunch by pretty well boning it out (In the biblical sense), stuffing it and slow roasting.
And it was lovely, very tender, pale, being a true free ranger and not cooped up in a shed with 1000’s of his sisters and brother, there is a purity of the meat, doesn’t really smell porky as such so I’ve added this supplier to my iphone app, Eatlocalculator.
One shoulder was slow roasted as a backup, the usual process, lots of garlic, rosemary, a bottle of white wine poured over, salt and pepper. Covered and cooked at 150C for two hours, uncovered for another hour, cooled and chilled, any stock rendered, reduced, strained and saved.
Next day, boxing day, the skin is removed – don’t worry, I can hear your gasp, this is carefully reserved for adding to salads – and all the meat diced. Getting back to the bread, I have a sour dough brew going as per my previous recipe but the weights augmented to 300g mother, 600g water, 900g flour plus about 12g salt. It’s at the post first ferment stage and we continue with the narrative.
Cut the dough into two even sections and roll both out to a longish oval, flatten out with finger tips. On one, smear a good amount of tomato sauce, the a light sprinkle of cheese, next the cabbage jam and press as much pork as you can fit, leaving a good centimeter clear around the edge, some more cheese to finish and then carefully place other section of dough on top, pressing the edges together. Let this prove again until it rises up, poke a few holes into the meaty chamber and into a 210C oven for 40 minutes, using heaps of atomized water.
So what is it? I’m open for suggestion, Italians might call it a calzone, the British maybe a pork trencher, for me it tastes like something you’d see on a Yum Cha trolley, so maybe I’ll name it the Caucasian pork bun. Yummie it is, the soft bread envelops the rich filling and, as I return after a few hours to the telly and the autopsy of this disastrous day in Australian cricket, I think oh well, the day wasn’t completely wasted and, looking at my family tree, I think I’m at least ¼ English so will practice my chanting for Sydney next week. “And did those feet in ancient time….walk upon England’s mountains green…”
Roast shoulder of pork, in sour dough, with cabbage jam
1 small shoulder of pork
Handful rosemary tips
head of garlic, halved
1 bottle white wine
salt and pepper
Sour dough
Good quality pale mozzarella
Tomato sauce
2 tins good Italian peeled tomatoes
3tbsp olive oil
basil leaves, torn
2 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed
Heat oil in pot, stir fry garlic until browned, discard. Add basil, cook briefly and then tomatoes. Cook this down to a chunky sauce.
Cabbage jam
½ small head of red cabbage, grated
1 small red onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
oil
1 tspn honey
100ml stock (Use the wine reduction for roast)
Fry onion, garlic and cabbage until very soft, add honey cook until caramelised, add stock and reduce to syrupy mass.
Bring back the port pipe, Ahhh, the peat & oatmeal
I’ve always wanted to be a complete man, the whole package, sure there’s lots of holes in this objective, too many really, however there is a short list in my head of things that I think would go some way to achieving my goal. It’s not too farfetched or elaborate, not like I’m trying to climb a big hill, be 3 inches taller or put together a flashmob* at Belconnen Mall.
Although I must say it would be pretty cool to organise one, so here’s the instructions for Brymob #1:
“On the afternoon of Thursday 3rd Feb, call 1194 to synchronise your watch, be at the south side of the Merry-go-round in Civic at 12:45 pm look for a couple with lanyards around their neck sitting near the statue of a sheep, approach and say “Surely you jest”. You will be handed the rest of the instructions. Make sure you have the 2kg of brown sugar and the balloon full of glitter ready, at precisely 12:56, remove overcoat and run in direction of fountain, reciting the satanic verse and then follow my lead, I’ll be the one in the police uniform…….”
Yep, that would be a pretty cool but getting back to my vision resplendent. The complete man. I like those old movies from the forties and fifties, where everyone had the slightly drunk elegance about them and seemed to always have a cut-glass vessel filled with two fingers of whiskey. That’s what I’d like to achieve, be able to drink whiskey, straight up. I’ve tried it recently and kinda liked it. Back at Christmas we had a late night at my father in laws house up in the Blue Mountains, lovely place, decorated like it’s a second hand and/or olde wares shop. There’s all this fine china and crystal glassware from prior generations, a different glass for every spirit, they must have been legless 24/7 based on the amount and variety filling the cupboards here: old fashioned, highball, sherry, port – although they seemed to be missing my favourite drinkware, the port pipe, must have come later, something quite sophisticated about a drinking sweet red wine out of a tube – wine, champagne, brandy balloons. Then the drinks cabinet itself, like wow, I’m pretty involved with alcohol but this is impressing me no end.
At the back of the shelf, behind the vermouth that must have been opened pre-war, is a pristine bottle of Maker’s Mark Bourbon, so obviously late at night we cracked the wax with a plan and proceed to drink as much as we could whilst retaining enough colour to make it look like the original hue once we watered it back. Yep you’d think that in your early late forties you’d be over this teen stuff but obviously not.
So whiskey or whisky, the sweeter American version is quite easy to drink, too easy reflecting on the head after our Animal House recreation, but Scotch whisky is another beast altogether, fiery, malty, peaty – ahh, the peat, I recite inexplicably – this is much tougher to knock back and is one of those things I’d like to be able to do without gagging. So I end up with a bottle of Talisker that will take years to get through, so I do the obvious and cook with it. I can feel the collected gasp of 1000 Scots “ahh, why be you cooking with such a fine Islay malt?”
The answer is Cranachan, a lovely Scottish dessert that is dead easy to make when the raspberries are plentiful. Ultimately it’s just another way of consuming grog, you can picture the scene at inception, the befrocked highlander staggering around the castle, thinking OK all I have is whisky, honey and oatmeal, on its own its just breakfast so grab some wild berries from near the Loch, bung ‘em in, brilliant, dessert.
Cranakan (serves 4)
300g pure cream
200g clotted cream
200g frozen raspberries, thawed (or fresh if you have the cash)
1-2 tbsp icing sugar (depending on ripeness of berries
4 tbsp each: oatmeal, honey (Heather honey if you like) and whisky
100g plump fresh raspberries, best you can find.
In a dry frypan, carefully toast the oatmeal, once it burns, discard and start again, you now know what not to do, remove and cool, should be just coloured. Whip pure cream to soft peaks, puree and sieve frozen berries with sugar as needed. Mix into the whipped cream the oatmeal, honey and whisky. Put a heaped tablespoon of puree berries in the bottom of serving glass or bowl. Carefully mix the rest of the berries into the cream, creating a whirling pattern, don’t over mix. On top of puree add a good dollop of cream mixture, then clotted cream, about 4-5 whole berries, then repeat, dusting the top with some reserved oatmeal. Serve immediately, do not pre prepare this, other than toasting oatmeal and pureeing berries as it seems to separate.
*A flashmob is a group of people who assemble spontaneously in a public place, perform an unusual and pointless act, then disperse quickly as if nothing happened.
Italian & sons, Canberra
Reasons for getting out of bed today: well the weather’s certainly warming so it could be to get stuck into that list of odd jobs that should have been finished ages ago apparently; end of school holidays, there’s a good one, the house has been turned upside down so it’s hard to not bound out of bed and cheer as the kids leave for school but still not the main force guiding my day; to let the eager builder’s in to finish the job, nah, they seem to be working in a different universe where time has no meaning.
Nope none of the above. What has me leaping outa the old sack today is a booking at Italian and sons in Braddon, in short pretty well the best vino e cucina we have in the capital. Well that was the thought just over a year ago when this thriving little joint opened and I’ve been counting the days before we could revisit and see how Pat Trimboli’s plan is panning. Which was simply to give the public the experience of going to his grandmother’s place on a Sunday and having a great Italian meal.
You can still see this inspiration on the menu as we get seated, each night there is generally one main course, plus maybe a special, and it varies little each week if at all. So today, Wednesday, I know that the piatti del giorno is salt crusted beef, it will cost $32.00 as it will tonight being Wednesday too, Thursday each week you can head on down to Braddon and have veal marsala, Friday is fish obviously, you get the picture. There’s a heap of antipasti and a pasta to choose from as well the neat range of simple yet incredibly satisfying pizza.
Its busy, think we got the last table and generally you’ll either have to start early say around 6.00 or later after 8.00, being a small restaurant it’s the only way they can meet demand here. We’re on the early shift but we don’t feel like there’s pressure to eat up. Daylight saving has started, it’s the first really warm day so everyone looks summery, the streets outside are busy mostly with middle age folk in co-ordinated sporty gear, meaning there must be some sort of event in town and indeed there is on further investigating. Turns out the Transplant games are on, I feel I should take notes here due to family history and my diet but this doesn’t deter me from ordering amongst our dishes tonight, Calabrina Nduja. Which sounds kinda Shakespearian, along with his heros like Ferdinand and Orsino. O beautiful pork sausage, I have fed upon this woe-nderful dish thrice already, how I’ve missed thoust smokey, fatty way, though art dear to me when met with Capocollo piccante for $16.00. and some of the great wood fired foccacia.
The antipasti selection reads well too, olives, salt cod, calamaretti, buffalo bocconcini, carpaccio. We settle for a couple we haven’t had before: ‘Sarde in Soar’ which is a brawny mix of sardine fillets mixed with sultana’s, pine nuts, spiked with vinegar ($15.00), a tangy dish filled with all the richness of these little fish along with crunch and squish; and Jerusalem artickokes, broadbeans, peas and asparagus ‘vignarola’, ($17.00) this dish has that cooked down character that Italians prefer, an intense dish, sweet with an overriding earthy flavour, gutsy to say the least.
And the wine list has gone from strength to strength, I questioned whether they would stay to this commitment of using almost solely Italian wines, now there are a good range of other European stars. It’s very strong, interesting and slightly dangerous, lots of depth we knock back a couple of Falaghina’s from Terredora ($11.00) which is made for a dish like tonight’s sardines. The choice for a bottle of red is huge, need some help here and we get it in the form of Tony, which is more like “ehy, Toiny” he’s like a character out of Goodfella’s, being working in the industry for 40 years, out of Melbourne where he’s been involved in big established places like Floretinos’, fits in well at Italian sons, like his always been here. Which wine I ask, I’m feeling like something savory, raisiny like the Campofiorin which has been a favourite for decades, “Ok” he says and we end up with David Sterza Valpolicella ripasso 2008 ($67.00) a neat wine, this style is like a junior version of Amarone, where the dried must is refermented with the corvina grapes to produce a less characterful wine. Good to see a convincing wine list backed up with knowledge.
The mains next and as I say tonight it’s the salty beef fillet roasted in the wood fired oven served with a horseradish sauce on rocket. No sign of a sticky jus which is the norm locally, the sauce is light and has a good amount of bite, the beef is perfect rare, juicy smokey and obviously well seasoned, just a nice way to have a steak without all the usual suspects. There’s another main tonight braised Capretto with polenta and thyme ($32.00) this is truly Italian, the baby goat has been slow cooked in a light gravy, smell faintly goaty with herbal notes, the polenta holds the dish together, very easy to knock back with the medium weight wine.
I’m starting to get a little tense, I know the cheese list is stunning here, we hit it hard last time so head straight to the desserts, I think a dedicated visit in the future to wade into the curds is called for, suffice to say it a worthy selection. Can’t go past the delicate and intensely creamy cannoli ($12.00) a Sicilian triumph, nestled in the rhubarb and mint relish. Gosh they’re good, if I had an Italian mama I’d say they were just like hers, also we grab a plate of the excellent biscotti, they’re an elegant way to finish the night.
You get taken to another place here at Italian and sons, seems like it always been here, but when I think of it, you’d be hard pressed to find such excellence anywhere, the vision and professionalism the Pat Trimboli and family have brought to this little part of Canberra needs to be celebrated, I dare say, even more strongly than a year ago, that this is a defining moment in Canberran cuisine, the species has evolved.
Everyone seems to be more European basking in the warm spring evening, couples seem more in love, there’s one such in front of us that have spent the night passionately embracing each other, ah spring, I glance at my wife about to replay the romantic scene “Getta grip, sunshine, you’ve got a loooong way to go before you add me to your to do list”
Italian and sons, 7 Lonsdale St Braddon, 61624888 lunch & dinner Tues to Sat www.italianandsons.com.au 16+/20
Aubergine restaurant
Without much further ado or any interesting story let’s get straight into it, ended up at Aubergine in the Griffith shops this week, nice little group of cafes and restaurants if you live close, I don’t so had to drive, here’s what happened.
The dining room always gives the impression that Aubergine is for serious eating, sort of place you plan and book, don’t eat for the day to allow for the full menu. It’s on the large side of intimate, the small side of cavernous, lofted ceiling gives a sense of space, allows time before the sound waves of close chatter – like I know already that the guy next to me builds stuff – from the fairly crowded floor to bounce back as a background hum, who ever designed this place knew what they were doing.
Seems like the design was influenced by a cook with Godly aspirations, not suggesting any God in particular, with the kitchen way up top, looking down, past the brightly lit bar and first tier diners, onto the flock of low laying diners. A chef can see how the entire operation is travelling, or at least it looks like he could and should.
Another restaurant to have the confidence to demand a double seating on the busy nights. This does come up as a negative amongst some vocal yokel’s, just about everyone wanting to eat at 7.00pm so they can be back and tucked in by 9:30. From the restaurants point of view it doesn’t take a genius to see that they can double their revenue when demand is high, staffing costs become less significant, more diners to spread the word. For me it’s a good sign as long as both settings get the same attention. As we are seated tonight, the second last table, there’s a good feeling, lots of active staff, up and down to the heavenly kitchen, nice warm welcome, we are indeed well.
Aubergine continues with their 3 course set price menu, creeping up to $68.00 now but there is an increasing confidence and complexity within the dishes on sale, so it seems a good trade off, not sure what you do if you only want 2 courses, remember I said don’t eat too much during the day and it’s a walk in the park, maybe ring up and see if can’t handle the set menu.
The food is less sun soaked than last visit a year ago, more complex and flirts with excellence in a couple of dishes that should come out first being the entrees. Framing this is a fairly conservative main course list which could handle some of the flair and deringdo of the starters.
Last time here the sardines were interesting and obviously memorable, tonight there’s a finer flavour running through the thrilling and tart escabeche marinade, the dish is augmented by a couple of spuds that seem to have precision turned on a lathe, and the half dozen or so sardine fillets are scattered with tiny little carrot discs, an elegant plate where the acidic dressing balances natural fish oils and sweetness of carrots. Just about all the entrees have appeal, in retrospect I should have gone with a double up here with magret duck, pig’s head and cured kingfish, all on offer although not all together on the same plate.
Complex sounding arrangements they are indeed, like the other first course, which my guest had if you were wondering whether I was eating alone: zucchini flower fritter with asparagus custard and goats cheese. The custard has intrigue an dis intriguing, a wobbly fresh cheese curd like texture dotted with white asparagus tips. Light as a feather, delicate, the goats cheese making it’s barnyard and salty presence felt giving substance and flavour. A well orchestrated arrangement.
Served with this, a glass each of Joseph Gattin Riesling ($10.50) all the way from Alsace, France. Well it would have been served with the entrée if the entrée arrived in time, there is a bit of a line to get started, not quite long enough, by 2 minutes, for it to be an issue though. Being a bit tight with the cash I didn’t want to spring for another glass, I hardly know this lass plus we have a bottle of red breathing and possibly a police road block on the border. So we licked the bowl and imagined that this flinty, floral riesling that has, had, a beautiful white peach flavour, is superb with the sardines and tailor made for the zucchini arrangement.
So, moving on, the mains, following the same theme, arrived in the nick of time before being uncomfortable, two are chosen for obvious reasons. Fillet of john dory (with), south coast squid (plus) quinoa and roast capsicum – for your reading pleasure I’m adding the missing conjunctions, it’s a new trend to leave these out, it’s just part of the service – this is fine, the dish is layered over a streak of roast capsicum puree, nice a sweet, quinoa, a few fillets of dory, they look like they could be over cooked but turn out not so, crispy with enough juice, then carefully scattered little rolls of full flavoured squid. It comes together quite well. The unusual, ancient grain, quinoa – which, if you’re trying to say this in your head, should sound like keen-wa, rather than what my brain is telling me – has a cous cous-like look but more a buckwheat flavour and texture, again I’m full of intrigue and promise to learn more about it. It certainly works well with fish and squid.
The other, which is in front of me, was a bit of a panic buy, I was thinking how good the pig’s head entrée sounded and ended up getting the mustard crusted pork cutlet. I’m a fan of the pig as you know, in fact at pork school, which doesn’t exist but should, I’d certain I’d be a prefect. But, however, well, I would generally steer clear of a cutlet unless it was attached to the rest of the pig, gently rotating over coals. It’s just a bit boring, it’s well crusted, as promised, tastes of mustard, yep, no problem with conforming to the sales pitch, my fault for ordering it. The again, its does make up for itself, redemption comes in a cute little copper frypan, like you imagine every French person has tucked away at home, filled with a gratin of cauliflower and blood sausage, this is good stuff, the waiter knows it. I would give up cutlet in a blink of an eye for a 30cm frypan of this, the braised fennel on the side has charm and flavour too.
The wine, a pinot noir, has been looked after well, decanted and breathed, it’s from Phil Moraghan’s Curley Flat vineyard in cold as a witches tit Mount Macedon ($88.00). Nice, floral, red fruited, tight oak, pretty classy wine, enjoyed it to the last drop.
And then we had our desserts, one cheese plate and one twice cooked rhubarb soufflé (with) apple and raspberry. Cheese first, generous, there’s about half a dozen curds, a few usual suspects including super creamy delice de Bourgogne, stinky Pont l’Eveque and the charming Pyengana cheddar from North east Tassy, all good and cheesy. The twice cooked soufflé ends up tasting like a sponge, the three flavours all work together, old fashioned flavours with modern treatment, nothing earth moving but enjoyable.
Wrapping up, which is what this part is for, there’s some decent food here, in fact some of the best around, I still think they can go further though, the knowledge and experience is there, a lovely dining room, let’s see what you can do now you have our attention!
Aubergine Restaurant 18 Barker Street Griffith 6260 8666 www.auberginerestaurant.com.au Lunch Tuesday to Saturday, Dinner Monday to Saturday, all cards (ex Diners) 15.5/20
The Lanterne Rooms
Peranakan cusine, the food of the nyonya, is an intriguing mix of tradition, faith and culinary challenge that revolves around a group of people on or near the straits of Malacca which separates Malaysia and Indonesia with Singapore perched precariously at the tip. A trading route between the east and west that brought Chinese traders to the region who found the local gals alright and set up digs.
The cuisine that evolved is a complex mix of Chinese technique, equipment and ingredients like woks, steaming, noodles, rice and sauces with the indigenous food of both Malaysia and Indonesia. Considered by many, including me, one of the world’s true fusion foods, in that it’s not just a mere blending, rather an irreversible meshing. Way before masterchef and the food channel, the babanyonya had perfected a challenging food culture that has been passed down to modern times.
I came across this cuisine almost 20 years ago after coming out of the wilds of Tasmania to a little bar in western suburbs of Melbourne, a well travel chef of African extract went through the technique of making Singapore style laksa. Done to death now, but back then the exotic aromas of lemongrass, lime leaf and galangal were intoxicating, the dish made the little hotel, previously a topless bar, a local hit for different reasons, with a line forming for a bowl of oily, orange noodle soup rather than boobies.
Enter Jeffrey Shinn, of this heritage but with many years experience in Europe, along with Joshia Li, of Chairman and yip fame, both behind the refurbishment of the restaurant, formerly known as the Campbell brasserie and many others besides, into this well furnished old fashioned oriental Lanterne rooms.
You can see throughout the Shinn’s menu the use of Paranakan techniques and ingredients. The heady perfume of the rhizome, galangal, enriching the gravy cloaking duck kapitan, spicy winter melons accompanying little pan fried quails, agar jelly and water chestnuts finishing the pannacotta, a fragrant lime leaf and chilli sauce to dunk the super crispy duck filled rolls ($15.50) that are a decadent start to this meal, so crispy with an appealing sweet, salty tang emanating from within the pastry, a vegetable pickle I’m told, a little extra that changes the dish from the average.
A restaurant that stands for something, has a strong voice speaking a consistent language. You won’t find better staff around, they seem to be everywhere yet invisible, a dish comes out, is presented and described again for us before the waiter vanishes, how do they do that, mirrors? Pan fried quail with 5 spiced melon and cucumber salad ($16.00), as we are three each entrée sized dish is augmented so we can have an appropriate serving, here half a quail each, still sizzling. The birds are delicate and juicy, crispy outside, the slightly bitter melons and sweet cucumber give a refreshing lift, they are gone far too quickly, their last vestiges whipped away before the third entrée appears from the shadows.
The room, if you’ve not been here, harks back to old Singapore, a few rooms separated by wooden teak looking curtains, partially obscuring other groups of diners, full of eastern intrigue, lanterns as you’d expect illuminating the rooms with moody light, the sound is mute, being absorbed by a bamboo lined ceiling. It’s all working, you feel that at any time soon, O-ren Ishii’s crazy 88 will crash through the walls, wielding weapons, squirting….I digress, the food, back to this next course.
Wagyu #9, a char-grilled steak, I’m thinking oyster blade or rump, it’s trapped between having great flavour and firmer texture, more of both than you’d expect from starrier cuts from loin and chest, served with a little herbal salad ($18.50). We could have had a similar dish for mains, enjoying this little number, you can really taste the marbling of beef fat, best waygu I’ve had in a while, quite simply presented, appropriate.
We’ve already polished of a bottle of gruner veltliner from Sepp Moser ($37.00) ultimately a simple version of this intriguing Austrian variety, peachy with the slightest suggestion of pepper on the finish. There’s good knowledge of grapewine here, the list is dotted with these interesting imports or you can go local which we have done, a bottle of Nick O’Leary’s all conquering 2009 shiraz – curse you Nick, one of these day’s, the wine just piped mine at the Wine wise SVA recently – it’s a dense yet elegant shiraz, with lovely spicy oak, full of currant and berry aromas, touché.
Main courses are shared too, along with a cylinder of steamed rice. FOD tonight, is ginger poached ocean trout ($29.50) a delicate construction of thin scallops of fish in a very aromatic broth, its simple and satisfying, the other two dishes muscle in pretty quickly so it was worthwhile trying this first before the arrival of twice cooked pork ribs with black vinegar and palm sugar gastrique ($28.50) and duck kapitan ($30.50) confounded the palate with intense richness, thrilling sweetness and tangy chilli.
The former is a classic Chinese dish, master stock poached ribs, cooked a second time in oil, then dressed in the quite tangy combination of Chinese black vinegar and the caramelised palm sugar. There is, almost lost, a waft of rosewater lingering around these colossal flavours. Sticky fragrant ribs a hit tonight. Duck kapitan sounds like a hark back to the colonial past of this region, the capt’ns favourite. A Penang dish and a welcome change to the usual duck confit or Peking duck that we tend to be served – not that I’m complaining, lovin’ the duck in all its many forms – haven’t had this for years, baked duck drenched in a tomatoey sauce spiked with the previously mentioned camphor like galangal and loads of fresh chilli, juicy, fragrant and exotic.
The dessert menu is pretty direct and shows more of a Euro-Asian fission, the better is chocolate and coconut panna cotta with pandan pearls ($14.00) where a little glass of layered cooked cream is topped with sago pearls, a take on gulai malacca, along with the neat agar jellied nuts, an elegant dish, carries plenty of flavour and polish.
You gotta hand it to the team here, they know what is needed to give the total dining experience. The food is a good as ever – I have had some of these dishes before but it’s is a welcome return – carries all the exotic entrapments a modern Malaysian restaurant requires, the food is well crafted and complete yet ultimately simple, a relevant and concise wine list, beautiful rooms to enjoy their wares, subtle and knowledgeable staff, easy access, put altogether just an enjoyable evening out.
Lanterne Room 3 Blamey Cres Campbell, 6249 6889 www.lanternerooms.com.au. Lunch Tuesday to Friday Dinner Tuesday to Saturday 15/20
Tongue & Groove
After a long, hectic week there is nothing quite like heading out on Friday night for a brew and some decent food. You can speak freely about the week, the ups and downs, who did this or that. Well at least that’s how I found myself tonight sitting with three modern gals for an informal drinky with some grub at a pub.
“Are you sure?” I’m asked “We’re having a constructive repackaging session” A what?
Wow, I sit quietly mesmerized by the direction of the conversation, who is this person they’re talking about, sounds like the love child of Attila the hun and Ronan Keating, as I still try to work out what this term actually means? I think I could name it in good old fashioned un-PC language.
The movie Sex and the City 2 is on, must be why there’s a lack of other female drinkers here, preferring to endure Rhinoplasty than be subjected to 2 hours of this rehashed, dated material. The screening has given me access to a couple of comfy leather couches over a break-your-shin-if –you –don’t-see-it table, to sit back and see what’s goin’ down with the food here.
We don’t have too many real pubs in town, particularly around the city itself, unless you want to spend the time next to a poker machine or someone distantly Irish, Tongue and Groove sits in food central, just across the road from North quarter on Bunda street. It’s generally got a crowd out front for drinks as they are tonight, I’ve never seen so many dudes with shaved heads and suits, did I miss the memo? Walking through the bolding throng you might be surprised to see a dedicated eating section off to the side, I was, and to see one smiling Chris Hansen standing at the counter. OK, I thought, this guy knows what he’s doing, being behind a couple of well known eateries, there might be more than the average pub food on offer.
The design of the place is both cool and interesting, I think the name is neo-urban New York chic, something like that, for me it’s like the set for Pink Floyd’s The Wall. A huge space, enormous concrete X’s hold the distant roof up, at the rear a full frontal reclining semi-nude mural covers the space, out front a busy bar under the glare of moveable lights. Yet with all this noise emanating from the drinking section, why can I so clearly hear the, what was it called, the deconstructive replanting?
Anyway, there’s some serious noise absorption going on here, maybe being helped by a thousand of hanging mobiles that recreate, in 3-D, the vaguely familiar masculine mural. I’m feeling the love already, waiter bring me some food.
Snack wise there’s tapas, some handy pizzas and bread, a separate lunch menu and dinner menu, to save time before the influx of Sex in the City-ers, we order the dinner banquet, $44.00 per person ($55.00 with dessert) you just need to be a quartet.
Also, taking advantage of the great cinema next door, T & G offers a dinner and cinema option for $29.95, includes five mains to share plus tickets on Monday and the weekend nights.
After a quiet brew before the arrival of my guests, I grab a couple of bottles of Chardonnay, no idea why it seems fitting for some reason.
The banquet menu has an Asian feel, mostly Chinese with a South East Asian influence, so the melting pot that is Singapore comes to mind. The dishes arrive in pairs so as to not clutter up out little knee high setting. First to make the journey is a beautiful arrangement of perky betel leaves, filled with an aromatic mix of prawn, herbs and coconut. These are excellent, reminiscent of some early David Thompson work, love the sweet and sour taste with earthy tamarind in the background, ahh can we have some more please? Very attractive, delicate morsels, the crunchy, slightly bitter betel leaf a standout. First impression, there’s some decent experience in the kitchen here, a good start.
With this Ocean trout tartare, glistening fresh trout sit on a crispy, cassava like bikky, there’s a zinging, nose clearing addition of wasabi, I’m channeling Tetsuya, it’s a textural dish with the only problem being there’s only one each, I eye off the last one, but wouldn’t want to cross any of these women, they’d tear me a new one.
Gyosa, little pot-sticker dumplings, filled with prawn and white sesame paste are out in a jiffy and very good, I’m pretty taken with things now, relaxing into what I know will continue to be a good feed. Instead of the pork belly dish within the menu we are treated, as they are experimenting with this as an addition to the menu, to the best pork buns I’ve had, they have a Momofuku modern feel, tender freshly made steamed bread around unctuous, sweet BBQ’d pork. Stunning, I’ve been to some pretty handy Yum Cha places lately but none have come close to this, yes indeed, we have a new contender and I can see this becoming a signature dish in the future, mark! Dem! Words!
5-spiced shin beef, a bigger more substantial meal sits between us, dark and glossy, intense and slightly familiar. Cheong Liew down Adelaide makes something like this, very sweet, fall’s apart without much coaxing, seriously good beef, I look at my glass of brassy Eden Valley chardonnay, totally out of its depth, my kingdom for a glass of mouverdre.
With this intense addition, a couple of side dishes, supremely crispy and tasty sticky rice cakes, a great accompaniment given the relaxed setting, that crunch with the omph of the beef is breath-taking.
The food keeps on coming, each dish so different from the other, distinctive, contrasting, I look to the kitchen surprised not to see it filled with celebrity chefs. Tea smoked kingfish, this Martin Boetz-esque number is thrilling, again a slight bitterness that adds to the dish along with the sweet cinnamon enhanced soy action. Lovely dish, just keep them coming boys, great value this menu and to boot we get these knotted snake bean with peanut brittle, that are so good and so not-what I expect from a Canberra pub, what’s going on here, topsy turvy world.
I’ve gotta head and leave the team behind, parenthood has me way past my bedtime so haven’t the time to grill Chris and the team here as to how they managed this, it’s such a pleasant surprise when expectations are shattered, I really thought I be sitting around a bar eating yet another serve of soggy salt and pepper squid and drinking NZ sauv. Blanc under the banner of a modern pub.
Yes, along with Thirst over the other side of town and Italian and sons up the road, we finally have some really good, relaxed dining in the capital and as the Roger Water’s song goes, I have become comfortably numb.
Tongue and Groove 1 Genge St, City, 6230 4455 www.tandg.com.au 12 till late most days, All cards, BYO $1.50/glass 15/20
Canberra Times, June 30, 2010
Keanu, Berkshire blacks & Fergus
Have you seen the movie, Julie & Julia? I guess I should, being into food and all, but I have this fear that it will do to the cooking genre what Keanu Reeves did for the wine industry in ‘A walk in the clouds’.I truly believe, and it’s a little weird and possibly unnecessary, that the global oversupply of grapes and wine is solely to do with this movie and more specifically his acting.
Anyhow, it’s a movie, I’m lead to believe, about a food blogger, Julie Powell, who cooks over a year the 500 odd recipes from Julia Child’s Mastering the art of French cooking, there’s possibly some sub-plot that is resolved Hollywood style. Child is said to be the greatest influence on American cooking, not sure if she deserves or would want this mantle given the general state of American food.
For my mind Richard Olney’s simple French food is by a far more interesting and personal food than the more Classic French Haute cuisine of Child. He was possibly the first food columnists around and I’d still grab one of his books in preference to the encyclopedic Mastering the art.
So with this in mind I’m thinking of starting a similar project, something tricky, grab a well known cookbook, say Fergus Henderson’s Nose to Tail eating and work my way through that over a year, the finale my admittance to hospital. Not sure I’ll blog though, I missed the boat on this process, believing it to be just slightly more useful than Tweeting and Unicycle hockey.
Being committed to the task I’m in the market for a pig to raise from scratch, nothing like seeing a project all the way through. There are a few choices here. In pig breeding the exotically named ‘Large White’ is by far the most dominant with the Landrace up there as well. The common theme here is large carcasses and snowy white/pink skin. The pork equivalent of white trash. Just about every morsel of pig you’d eat would come from these breeds.
What I’m interested in is an heirloom breed, like tomatoes, these never look as good. Breeds like Berkshire and Wessex Saddleback’s are superior in taste but they just don’t grow these humongous hams for Christmas and, both being blackish, the general public might balk at getting a few pubesc hairs on their chops.
So I’ve found a supplier of a Berkshire and the project shall commence in 6 – 9 months when he or she is of size, I’ll keep you posted look to my blog http://Ihaventthef-ingingtimeforthis.com
Another decision is from which end to start, Henderson’s crispy pig tails is a cracker but we might head to the other end for a preview of what’s possibly to come.
This recipe comes from his second book ‘Beyond nose to tail’, which delves, thankfully, into some more pig cookery plus many other animals and vegetables cooked in a British fashion along with a cracker of a dessert and bread section from his most excellently named pastry chef, Justin Piers Gellatly.
Seeing as I have a head on hand so to speak, the pot roast half pigs head is my starting point. This head comes from a fairly young animal, a ‘Large white’ breed. The rest of the animal would have weighed about 40kg and was last seen spinning idly over embers next to a case of iced Cooper’s, the head saved and halved for my lonely, late night pursuits.
In a sturdy pot, sauté the onion and garlic in fat until soft, add pig cut side down, deglaze with brandy, ignite if you feel comfortable, add wine reduce by 1/3rd, add herbs and enough stock to not quite cover head. Fergus will suggest an alligator in a swamp look. Season, cover and very gently simmer for 3 hours. Baste as you go, uncover and remove ear treatment in last hour to crispen. Once the pig is tender, remove and stir in watercress, let it wilt some, add mustard and check seasoning.
Serve up as is with a robust white wine, something with extract and power, slightly rustic, this is not for a pretty boy modern Chardonnay. Spain’s Albarino, a Vermintino from Italy or a Rhone variety like Viognier or Marsanne.
Pot roast half pig’s head
Duck or goose fat (Yeh!)
8 Eshalots, chopped
8 Cloves garlic, chopped
½ cup brandy
½ bottle white wine
Half a pig’s head, shaved with ears covered tightly with foil
Chicken stock
Bundle of herbs: Thyme, parsley and rosemary
Dijon mustard
Big bunch watercress
Salt and pepper
Canberra Times, November 2009
Italian & sons (Sep 09)
To tell you the truth I’d rather not have to write this one up, word of mouth is spreading but it going to be hard to get in the door me thinks. Let’s just keep it between ourselves so we know we’d get a table at this spanking new, Italian eatery down Braddon way. It’s a little hard to find, look for the neat Yellow sign on the left, heading north.
The Trimboli family has been in Canberra for what seems like ever. In fact Dominic and I worked out that we have possibly known each other for 3 decades starting at the Snow deli in the new and cutting edge Belconnen Mall.
Whilst this Mall looks like it needs a revamp or a well placed and timed explosion, the Trimboli family have moved on, Mezzalire and now we have Italian and sons, which has just opened the doors and sets a new standard in dining.
Mark my words, Braddon will develop, now that the car yards are closing, to a real foodie destination, with Italian and sons setting the pace.
Pat Trimboli must look forward to Sundays, as he reels off all the things he does on a normal week, not only keeping Mezzalire at the pinnacle of fine dining but now developing this place. It’s his idea and Pat has drawn on his architecture background to create a unique and exciting venue devoted to the pursuit of everything great about Italian food and wine.
It’s a long room, walking past Dominic smiling away at the counter and espresso machine, then strolling by the range of hanging cured meats that are used throughout the menu. At the back where we set up for the night is the main kitchen and blazing wood fired oven.
It’s a sleek, modern expression with a classic delicatessen feel. The menu is totally absorbing, so much to choose from: Antipasti; Affettati (these are the meats, I’ll get back to them); pizze, pasta and the piatti del giorno, which is set for each night so you can plan ahead.
A bit about wine before we look at the food, the list is almost entirely devoted to Italian wines or Australian grown varietals. But you can feel secure that the staff will hold your hand through the choices if needed and believe me there’s nothing better; these wines; this food, be brave.
I love the stuff so launched head first into a couple of glasses: Zonin NV Prosecco ($9.00) and Torre Solaria Insolia ($8.00). Then, without much coaxing a bottle of Donna Fugata Sedara Nero D’Avola ($49.00). Without tearing the wines apart with the senses, take it that they all go brilliantly together like tea and toast.
OK, the food, let’s get into it.
A bowls of mixed olives, raisined black ones, Sicilian greens ($8.00) and a neat pile of super light, crispy foccacia ($8.00) eases us into the night. The oven is set at such a temperature that the bread feels like it cooked in 30 seconds flat, just a light dusting of salt and rosemary.
From the antipasti list we restrain ourselves to: bruschetta with sautéed mushrooms, parsley and pecorino ($11.00) piled onto a thin crispy slice of bread, the mushroom impress with a touch of truffle oil; Salt cod fritters with lemon ($15.00), this trio of light as air balls have a pleasing, yes, I’ll say it again, pleasing crunch ahead of the intense salty flesh within; and then Calamaretti fritti ($15.00) a little arrangement of delicate, soft tentacles and the like, sitting prone on a garlicy emulsion.
Each plate is so precise in flavour, distinct and ever so moreish. It would be enough just to come here, have these with a bottle of prosecco, and stroll off sweetly into the night.
However there’s more, those half dozen cured meats hanging at the end of the bar, remember them, they make up the affettati, which you can read as cold cuts. Yep, I prefer the Italian language as well. You can have one, two or three ($10.00, $16.00, $23.00) to share.
Capocollo piccanti is a coppa like cut but from the shoulder rather than the neck. It’s filled with almost enough pig fat, almost. Then something special Calabrian Nduja, don’t try saying that too fast, it’s a great big, soft half cured sausage. We get a demostration of its texture which, from a distance, appears boob-like. The centre is spooned out onto a plate and mixed with olive oil and chilli giving a tuna like texture and is pretty amazing and dare I say a unique dish.
The main problem you will face is what to do next. There are 4 pastas to look at, or pizze, that Pat is so diligently throwing around, that he ends up with a crowd of female suitors. Given the foccacia was so impressive, these pizze would be inspired I’m sure.
We end up going head on into the piatti del giorno. Me, obviously, the beef rib eye ($30.00, only on Saturday’s) cooked in the wood fired oven and served with a herb salmoriglio. This sauce after some googling is a southern specialty base simply on salt, lemon and herbs.
The meat here is well roasted on the outside, absolutely crisp and served medium rare, the fat content is ample, as I am in training for the fun run, this is an excellent choice, simply served on rocket, pecorino and the dressing. It really sings this dish, no question it’s a great way of cooking a steak, and if you have a table booked for this weekend, I’d recommend it.
The other dish is a risotto of beetroot and calamari ($18.00 entrée size), this is a simple peasant like dish that has all that earthy flavour beets give plus some more of those nice calamari bits.
So we’re eating well at this point, turning over the menu the dolci and formaggi certainly tempt. There are twelve cheeses here, I hit the cheese rooms a bit but have really only heard of two or three of these so we ask for some more help. No idea where they find all these but we agree to the suggestion from goat, cow and sheep ($25.00).
Sottocenere is worth a special mention, it’s a hardish cow cheese that is covered with this grainy ash, smells smoky and a little mushroomy. Bite into the cheese and you get this very intense truffle explosion, if you missed out on the truffle moment this year, grab a wedge of this it really has the dirty, yeh, a real filthy, funky earthy character we’ve come so used to.
And then to finish off, like we needed something else, a little treat of two Sicilian ricotto stuffed cannoli with rhubarb and mint ($11.00). Not much to add here, they are a lovely little duo, crispy, oozing a rich custard, mesmerising really. Washed down with a little glass of Pellegrino passito di Pantelleria ($11.00) – now this is a nice dessert wine, full of blossomy flavours, it smells like spring screaming at ya; sweet, fresh and zippy.
I’m done, it’s a great place, unique, inspired, all that. Get on the phone now, dial 6162 4888, whilst you can still get in. A new era in capital dining.
Italian and sons, 7 Lonsdale St Braddon, 61624888 lunch & dinner Tues to Sat, no BYO, all cards www.italianandsons.com.au 16/20
Silo Bakery (April 2010)
They say, I think or at least they should say, imitation is the best form of flattery. Whilst there are many industrious and good bakers out there, cooking this staple, few come close to the bread that Leanne Gray has been turning out for a decade now, if there is such a thing she seems to be a master of this craft. Silo could be transported to any large, cosmopolitan city and still stand tall because of the fundamentally great bread produced.
The bread, and I’ll just talk about one at this stage the stiratto(?), has a texture, smell and weight that only the best has, a slight sourness, an ability to improve rather than act like a cake and crumble. Whenever I find myself in the vicinity of Kingston, which isn’t often enough, I will head in, join the usual queue and grab a few loaves, each time with an anticipation that few foods or places give me.
So, to be sent in to try the lunch and breakfast is a treat as I know the bread will be part of the fare, it will be busy which seems to be the main criticism aimed at Silo, a nice problem to have really.
Bookings for lunch are recommended whilst Breaky you just have the take your chance and wait, today, we get in early for lunch and already the place is buzzing, whilst I strongly recommend a visit maybe not for an intimate lunch because it’s always lively with a line running through the room, queuing to buy the many breads, cheese and pastry the bakery in renowned for.
The lunch menu is a list of a dozen or so dishes that get more complex and sized as you caste your eager eyes down the page. The menu reflects a European passion the owners obviously have, being cooler now the menu has a range of hearty sounding comfort food, sausages, warm tarts, braised dishes utilising local produce where possible.
Because I know it won’t be the usual suspects we arrange an antipasta plate first ($), and as expected the plate arrives with over half a dozen crafted treats to begin the lunch with, alongside obviously some bread to break.
In the middle an oyster, easy, they didn’t have to do much to this just open it before it is served, the mollusc tastes like a local south coast former inhabitant, it is still paddling in a little briny water which is the reason why it seems freshly sucked, salty, slightly nutty, intensely flavoured. This little gem doesn’t need anything else and I anticipate more of his or her brothers and/or sisters in my well chosen main course, a land meets sea concoction.
Back to the antipasta, in the 12 O’clock position one little brioche filled with pork and veal, a little like a mini pork pie, dainty it is in a crisp pastry, simple and worthy of the master hisself, Fergus Henderson whose cooking a lot of this reminds me of. Then, in no particular order: a crouton covered with a wobbly almond mousse on chorizo, a little ragout of mushrooms and eggplant; a stack of grilled Mediterranean vegetables; a proud and tasty little arrangement of plump red grapes with Jamon; then another crouton this time with seared salmon. It all tastes true and fresh and unique, there are a few mainstays that will be here each day as well as something different, it’s all good and a nice little lunch by itself.
Graham, the other owner and partner here, has many interests and one I know of is wine, his small, ever-changing list on the blackboard reflects and great knowledge of the wines of the world and also wines that balance the food from the kitchen. You won’t find a supermarket list here nor will you pay a fortune for your choice. I wash down the antipasta with a crisp glass of (?) Pinot Grigio, a simple wine full of honeyed fruit and almonds that is very comfortable with the first course as I am.
You don’t often get the chance locally to have sausages and oysters together on one plate, even as I write this I know many would not try this combination but there are good reasons to put these two seemingly immiscible individuals together. It’s done in places like France and New Orleans, chefs like Pierre Gagnaire and Shannon Bennett agree it’s a marriage made in a slightly weird heaven, something to do with the salty and the fatty, working a treat together. Its good, the locally made Toulouse sausage are somewhat more-ish, the same sucked oysters a nice seasoning to the already tasty sausage and to lighten the mood a crisp salad of endive, raddichio and the like. Be brave try it next time you’re there, all it really needs is a good beer.
Along with good bread, Silo’s incredibly busy kitchen knocks out some crackingly good pastries, all lined up on the marble slab, so within the lunch menu a few dishes are included from the bakers oven like today’s Flamiche tarte. Now you won’t find a country called Flem on the map, but being brought up on Wilbur Smith novels, the guy who made a diamond cutter a sexual term, he always made the connection with the Flemish and South Africa so the region covers an area in and around Belgium and Holland where they speak Flemish and presumably like leeks and washed rind cheese because this is what this tart has as a filling. It sits within a blossoming flower like buttery fermented pastry. Anyway, it’s a nice tart, the leeks soft and sweet, enhanced by the intensity of the ripe Pont L’Eveque cheese and bound together and lubed up with the delightful pastry, yum.
I think Silo’s was the first cheese room in the capital, before this we all thought cheese came out of a cow in clingfilm, this little room, which again I visit whenever in town will always have a good range of European and local curds, held in the correct conditions and served at the right time. Not sure how Graham works this out but every time you can guarantee the cheese he is serving and recommending will be eating well and within the menu you’ll see the cheese in use like this tart.
No time for desserts or coffee today but I know that tomorrow I’ll be back for breakfast….
Well that was a short sleep but I’m back here, same seat actually and this time we’re partaking in a nice birthday breakfast. I don’t normally do breakfast partly because mine generally rotates solely around getting caffeine but today we’re here and as soon as I get a coffee I’ll be in a position to think about the food.
Like the lunch menu yesterday, Silo has a good grip on interesting sounding simple dishes: Scrambled eggs and smoked salmon, Welsh rarebit and sausage and the like. The later I choose because it doesn’t come up often, this fondue on toast as I call it, is a nice entry point to the day, the slightly sour, cidery/winey taste and nutty cheddar topping, so much flavour, with a couple of familiar sausages hitting it off well together, the body is wandering what I’m up to and feels like a another beer, my guests scramble is nice a creamy, enriched by the smoky fish.
Then to finish my little journal, the coffee, another of life’s essentials, so important to our wellbeing yet, for me, generally so disappointing, I order the normal winemakers shot, ie whatever you call it, fill the group handle thingy with freshly ground coffee to the brim, it needs to be strong but not extracted, I’m sure some so called barristers just keep pouring more hot water through the beans which ends up being bitter. So I’m possibly expecting more out of this than the food which I was pretty sure they’d nail. So the double shot flat white comes….looks good, has one of those patterns on it, on the edges you can see the dark brewed coffee colour permeating the textured, whipped milk, and the taste, quite good, strong enough, not overly extracted, nice and thick with none of that distracting froth.
It’s hard to fault a place that does all of this so well, seems to be the perfect business model: bread, pastry, coffee, cheese, wine and to also serve a decent lunch and breakfast, it has my two thumbs way up
Silo Bakery 36 Giles St Kingston, 02 6260 6060, b-fast & lunch Tue – Sat, no BYO, all cards, www.silobakery.com.au 15/20
