Pumpkin and Sunflower Seed Scones

I heart scones. I never thought I would have to use this already vastly exploited phrase, but there really wasn't any other way of capturing my current scone attraction. I don't absolutely love scones, I won’t go gaga over them; I simply just heart them. It's probably a lot like telling someone gently you don't love them, but you do like them, a lot. And I hope that these scones don't take it the wrong way, I really do heart them. They make getting up in the morning much more bearable. And if it weren't for them, I would be an even bigger grump in the morning than I am now.

This newfound attraction to scones has come out of nowhere. I don’t know what exactly it is about them; and I wouldn’t say it has reached obsession stage, all I know is that I have had a penchant for baking them lately. I mean I shouldn’t look into it more than I ought to; sometimes I just have a need to bake. Maybe it’s their rustic nature and the fact it always reminds me of the countryside- rolling hills, flocks of sheep, all soothing visions. Or it could just be that scones are so easy to whip up. The general rule is, three parts dry to one part wet. How easy could that be? Or perhaps it is because they are so versatile. The plethora (I just needed an excuse to use that word) of possibilities to be had; thinking off the top of my head you could have spinach and fetta, cinnamon and currant, apple, lemon, ginger, lemon and ginger. An endless myriad of possibilities.

Since I have been up to my knees in work lately, all I have managed to make are these scones. They aren't much to look at; it isn't a magnificent hazelnut gateau or a sexy fig tart, and I guess they’re not supposed to be. If there were a Lamborghini and a Volkswagen parked next to each other, well the scones would be the Volkswagen, but that’s okay. I would happily take the VW, anyway it’s far less temperamental and attention-seeking. Okay, I am rambling on and I am aware that this analogy has been sufficiently explored. But just so you know, don’t expect a glitzy extravagant offering when it comes to scones, but do expect them to get the job done, which is satiate your hunger morning, noon or night.

Pumpkin and Sunflower Seed Scones
(makes 20 small scones)



2½ cups plain all-purpose flour
½ tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp baking powder
½ tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt
½ cup cold unsalted butter, diced
½ cup sunflower seeds
1 cup grated pumpkin (jap or butternut)
½ cup orange juice
½ cup buttermilk
¼ cup honey

Egg Wash
1 egg
1 tbsp milk or cream

Preheat oven to 180°C. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
In a large bowl, sift flour, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda and salt together.
Using a pastry blender, cut in butter until the mixture resembles coarse meal.
Mix in sunflower seeds and grated pumpkin until they have been well coated in flour.
Make a well in the centre of the bowl.
Mix together orange juice, buttermilk and honey in a separate measuring cup and then pour all at once into the dry ingredients. Mix until incorporated.
Transfer the dough to a lightly floured surface and roll out to approximately 3cm (30mm) in thickness.Using a cutter, cut out as many portions of dough as possible. Re-roll leftover dough and cut out more portions until all of the dough has been used up.Place scones on a prepared baking sheet at least 5cm apart.Whisk together egg and 1 tbsp milk and use this to brush the tops of the scones.Allow the dough to rest for about 10 minutes.
Bake in the oven for 10-15 minutes, until the tops are golden brown.Remove from oven and transfer to wire racks to cool.

Breakfast Bliss

These scones are also for Nandita's Weekend Breakfast Blogging event. She is away right now getting some R&R, but Pavani of Cook's Hideout has been elected to take the wheel for this round. Check out the round up soon.

At a Snail's Pace

They say that when you're a kid everything goes by so slowly, for the most part I think it is time that seems to drag on the most when you are young. Time, it’s every child’s adversary, especially when birthdays and Christmas only come along once a year and time just feels like it’s dragging along ever so slowly. Days upon days of waiting in eager anticipation for that hallowed day to come, where the prospect of a new bike or plaything awaits you.

But when you get older, it appears as though the opposite happens and it seems that time is just slipping away through our very fingers. It seems to get the better of us no matter what age we are, we can never seem to find the perfect pace for time to pass us by. In difficult times we wish time would make haste and be over with, and then with great moments we wish we could just let time pass unhurriedly, if at all.

Time, as the saying goes certainly flies by. So much so when you get older. But no matter how slowly or hurriedly time passess, it is the waiting that is the most painful thing; especially when it comes to this time of year, when the vestiges of winter are slowly coming away and the hope of spring is looming not to far around the corner. When you begin to impatiently anticipate in groaning expectation, the arrival of spring and it seems that every last bit off winter is trying its best to stay. Like an overstaying guest, these last winter days just seem to be slowly passing by. I don’t know if it is just me, or because I am so eager for spring to come, but these last few days have actually become colder, not warmer. As if Madame Winter were trying to spite me for urging her early departure.

How I wish to see the advent of spring, there is just something about it. Summer has its nostalgia, but spring has its expectation. I don’t know exactly what of, but the expectation of new things perhaps? I am being a little fussy; the weather here has actually been astoundingly genial even for this time of year, yet the arrival of spring still lies ahead. The thought of berries, cherries and asparagus is a cause for excitement. New season means new fruits and vegetables! For a foodie, the turning over of the seasons is like Christmas all over again. The expectation what new things await you at the growers market is enough to cause an aneurism in some people's heads, including mine.

Making these Cinnamon Snails yesterday somehow reminded me of spring; don't ask me why, they just did. The rhyme and reason for my postings, many times at best, have no clear correlations with each other. I will happily talk about shoes and cookies in the same post, or write about girlfriends and then post a recipe for scones. Or the time when I wrote about the consequences of blogging along with a recipe for strawberry friands. Who knows what occurs in this brain of mine, the cerebral gymnastics routine my mind goes through from cookies to shoes, or girlfriends to scones seems to match up somehow in my head. If I haven’t already lost you, here is the recipe for Iced Cinnamon Snails; may you enjoy them whatever season you are in.

Iced Cinnamon Snails
(makes 12)
from this cookbook

DOUGH
2x 7g sachets dried yeast
¼ cup lukewarm water
1 cup milk
125g unsalted butter, cubed
4 cups plain all-purpose flour
a pinch of salt
¼ cup caster sugar
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/3 cup currants
1/3 cup sultanas
80g unsalted butter, melted
¾ cup firmly packed brown sugar
1 tbsp ground cinnamon

ICING
1 cup icing sugar
1 tbsp warm water
½ tsp vanilla essence

For the dough,
Dissolve the yeast in warm water.
Place milk, cubed butter in a medium saucepan and heat until butter is melted.
Sift flour and salt into a large bowl. Add sugar (caster) and stir to combine.
Make a well in the centre and add the eggs, and milk and yeast mixtures.
Stir until a smooth dough forms.
Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 6-8 minutes, working in extra flour if dough is too sticky.
Add the currants and sultanas at the last two minutes of kneading.
Place the dough into a large lightly floured bowl and cover with plastic wrap. Keep the bowl in a warm area and allow to rise for 30 minutes to an hour. The dough should have doubled in size.
Punch the dough down and on a floured surface roll into a 23 x 60 cm (9 x24 in) rectangle.
Brush generously with melted butter, reserving some for later, and sprinkle some brown sugar and cinnamon evenly over the surface.
Roll the dough up, to make a log.
With the seam-side down, cut the roll into 2cm thick slices and place on baking trays 1.5 cam apart.
Brush the tops of the rolls with the remaining butter.
Cover loosely and leave to rise until doubled again.
Preheat oven to 180˚C.
Bake rolls for 20-30 minutes, or until lightly browned.
Remove from oven and allow to cool on a rack for 10 minutes then drizzle with icing.

For the icing,
Dissolve icing sugar in warm water and add vanilla essence in a mixing bowl.
Stir until smooth. Add extra water if the icing is too thick to drizzle.

Foods to Try Before You Die: The Australian Edition

Melissa of The Traveller's Lunchbox has called on a few bloggers, namely five, to help her gather a compendium of must-try foods before you die. Well those five food bloggers have now also passed the baton on to another five food bloggers and I have had the pleasure of being tagged by both Helen of the amazing Sydney food blog, Grab Your Fork and the delightful Ximena of Lobstersquad.

Now this list does not necessarily contain the finest examples of cuisine in the world, but I do think they are flavours one must definitely experience at least once. Perhaps, just so you can say you have tried it or even at least find out whether you like it or not, it’s worth discovering. The choices may be somewhat unconventional; you might say they are off the beaten track. Just think of the beaten track, then turn left and around the corner and that is where you will probably find some of these things.

Because we are rather isolated down here, I know this because so many people were shocked at the fact that we did not experience the heatwave most of the northern population did just recently, these are things that are truly unique to Australia. So I guess the only way to sample them is to come here for yourself; which isn’t a bad thing if you really think about it, and trust me it isn’t that far away. If the British and Portuguese back in the day were making those long haul trips to India to get a bunch of spices, then I’m sure it won’t be too bad getting on a plane and making the trip over. Anyway, enough rants, here goes the list.

1. Tasmanian Leatherwood Honey
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I have said it before and I am saying it again, you must and I repeat you must try this honey. You will either love it or hate it but try it nonetheless. This honey is harvested from bees that feed on the nectar of Leatherwood flowers, which evidently are endemic to Tasmania. Lucky for you non-Australians we export this delicacy, as that it appears that foreigners have a taste for this honey more than we Australians do, so keep your eyes peeled. This honey bears a distinctive aromatic and piquant flavour and no other honey tastes like it, either way you will never forget its taste.

If you want to read more, go here.

2. Arnott’s Tim Tams
Now this next statement might be debatable, but I am under the strong impression that Australians are unanimous in their love for Tim Tams. Correct me if i'm wrong, but I don’t think I have ever met an Aussie that didn’t love a Tim Tam. This chocolate coated, cream filled biscuit has changed the face of Australian snacking the day it hit the shelves in 1964 and has captured our affections ever since. Our devotion to the Tim Tam is relentless as it is the best-selling biscuit in the country. I think it is because they are the ultimate comfort snack and oh so terribly addictive. Once you open a pack, the voraciousness at which the Tim Tams can be devoured is astounding.

For those of you overseas lucky enough to get hold of such valuable booty, the best way to sample this fine treat is to do what is called a Tim Tam Slam. You do this by taking a hot cup of something, be it coffee, Milo or hot chocolate and a Tim Tam biscuit, then bite off the two ends. Once you have done this, plunge one end into the hot drink and then, as if the Tim Tam were a straw, proceed to suck the hot drink through the biscuit. And then, before the Tim Tam dissolves into a mush, quickly shove the whole biscuit in your mouth. Trust us; this very practice of “slamming” is pure bliss.

3. Kangaroo Meat
It’s the quintessential Australian icon, and many people envisage our streets teeming with these creatures hopping all over the place. Although this is not the case, unless you are in the country; kangaroo meat is one that you should give a go at least once. I have been told by many that the meat is quite dry and chewy, however if cooked properly, the meat can actually be rather tender. If you are hesitant in digging into a sizeable chunk of kangaroo steak, a good way to start off is to try kangaroo sausages. In fact, my first encounter with kangaroo was when I unknowingly ate some Kangaroo and Basil sausages at a barbeque. I couldn’t even tell the difference until someone had alerted me to it. But there is a distinctive difference in taste as the meat is obviously more gamey.

In reality many Australians are still hesitant to eat kangaroo meat. I think the thought of eating cute little Skippy the bush kangaroo is somewhat disconcerting, but hey does that mean we should stop eating Babe too? I guess the point is, try it once and see for yourself.

4. Perigord Truffles
It’s true, France and Italy aren’t the only places where you can harvest truffles; you can get them here too. This is a big fat hooray for those Australians who think that finding such a prized, yet elusive gastronomic treasure would be so far out of their reach. Well perhaps, the per kilo price is still out of many people’s reach, including me, but the probability of finding Australian truffles being served at a restaurant or getting some for yourself now looks like a much better prospect. Ever since the day the first black truffle was harvested on June 18th 1999, the Perigord founders have not looked back.

If you are in Sydney and want to sample Perigord black truffles, then make your way to The Wharf Restaurant, headed up by Tim Pak Poy.

5. Quandongs
Among many other native fruits in Australia, the Quandong fruit, with its peculiar name and appearnce has intrigued me the most. This is on the list because I myself am aiming to try one of these sometime in my life. A quandong is actually a native Australian peach. Although I have never tasted one, I have read that the taste is somewhat peach and somewhat apricot, just a bit tarter. And even though the actual fruit is not common in the city, the indigenous Australians have been eating this fruit and it has been part of their staple for thousands of years.

“The quandong fruit is only similar to peaches (and apricots) in that it has a stoney seed and a subtle peach-apricot flavour. The plant is more closely related to the sandalwood.” (excerpt from www.dining-downunder.com)

And now for the five bloggers I’m tagging:
Bonnie of Daydream Delicious
Ivonne of Cream Puffs in Venice
Matt of Abstract Gourmet
Ilva of Lucullian Delights
Jasmine of Confessions of a Cardarmom Addict

For the complete list go here.

Can you can? Jam sessions for SHF

I have fond memories of jam. Sweet, squishy and sticky; jam holds a certain nostalgic charm that hark back to the simplicity and innocence of childhood. Back then, I remember sitting on the front steps of our house watching the dogs play in the yard while eating a jam sandwich that I had made all by myself. You see, I was allowed to make my own jam sandwiches because they were the kind of snack you could make using a blunt knife. And seeing as that I was making this for myself, I would craftily make sure to spread extra lashings of jam on each slice so as to increase the jam to bread ratio. I would also take meticulous attention in spreading the jam all the way to the edges leaving no trace of the bread underneath. Once the other piece of bread was placed on top, I would get up on tip toes and with the palm of my hand press down on the two slices and with wide-eyed pleasure watch the excess jam drip down the sides of the sandwich. Once this happened, then I knew it was perfect.

The eating of the jam sandwich was no less tidy than the making of it; having to negotiate the jam drippings on the side, all the while attempting to take meaningful bites without getting squirts of jam all over yourself. No matter how much I tried to keep myself neat, there would always be the evidence of jam sandwich all over my mouth, hands and shirt. It was proof of a snack well made; every dribble, every spot was the mark of sweet gratification. A child’s mouth sullied with the remains of their meal, is one of the quintessential images of childhood. Fortunate are those kids allowed to eat with their hands and faces, bits of jam, honey and sticky fruit strew across their chubby faces.

For me jams, marmalades and preserves alike hold a certain sense of longing for simpler days; when a jam sandwich was equivalent to a warm hug from your grandmother. When playing on the streets were safe and you didn’t have to think twice before walking barefoot in the park; days where summers were filled with water fights and coming home everyday to a glass of Ribena. Luckily those kinds of days are not all lost.

So you can imagine how delighted I was to hear that Nicky of Delicious Days chose preserving fruit as the theme for this month’s SHF. Although I have always been fond of jam, the seemingly obvious progression to making my own jam sadly never arrived. By no means did I, until recently, entertain any thoughts of jam-making or fruit preservation. As a child pigging out on jam sandwiches and as an adult who loves her scones with jam, I sadly never gave a second thought to exactly how that jam came to be. If it weren’t for this SHF, the whole process of fruit preservation would have still eluded me. It was all too easy to go to the markets and pick out what flavour of jam I fancied and go home and enjoy it, sans any appreciation of the labour involved in making it.

Luckily I have been cured of my ignorance, and along that my curiosity satiated. And although my skill and flair for jam-making are yet to be refined, I think I faired well in this maiden attempt. For my first one I chose to make a Chilli Jam. I had always been fascinated by the breadth of flavours contained in chilli jams; the spiciness, sweetness and sourness all vying for attention in your mouth.

The taste was quite subtle at first. The first flavour to arouse your palate is the sweetness, I thought, perhaps I had put too much sugar, where did all the chilli go? However as the jam begins to infuse your tongue the spiciness eventually comes through. For the amount of chillies I used, the jam produced a mild spiciness- great for stir fries and soups. I assume that if you desire a hotter chilli jam you could increase the amount of chillies used or rather utilise a stronger chilli.

I also decided to make some fruit preserves- a Strawberry and Passionfruit Jam and a Papaya and Pineapple Preserve. I will not provide you the recipe for these two preserves as that the method I used was sort of a guerrilla/improv style of jam making. Toss in a few fruits here and there add some sugar and hope for the best. Now, I would not go out and recommend this style of jam making, especially when there are so many variables involved, it is best to stick to precise measurements. But because I never anticipated how much sugar you consume while making jam, I was running out. So to counter my low supplies, I decided to ration the remaining sugar evenly between the two and just add how much fruit I thought was appropriate for the amount of sugar. Like I mentioned, this is not the recommended way of making jam. If you are asking, what would Martha do? This is not what Martha would do.

Even so, with this ad-lib style of jam making, surprisingly enough the desired outcome was achieved. The Strawberry and Passionfruit had a beautiful combination of sweetness and tartness, the vibrant red colour with little flecks of passionfruit seeds throughout the jam was absolutely stunning. It was like staring into a jar of rubies, the colour was so consuming. I would recommend spreading some of this jam generously across some toast or some scones or even into a Bakewell Tart.

The Papaya and Pineapple was a tropical taste sensation. Although the preserve was slightly cloying (must have been those improvised measurements) the papaya and pineapple flavours were not lost in the sweetness. Although I used more papaya, the overriding flavour was still the pineapple. To offset the sweetness I mixed a spoonful of it with some of my favourite yoghurt and this does the trick. The yoghurt’s tartness and the preserve's sweetness is just the perfect balance. Which is essentially, what I think great food is- a well balanced equation of flavours.

I found that that I really loved the quaint and rustic nature of the process of fruit preservation. Its creation requires your full attention, and I think when you are given a pot of homemade jam as a gift, you know that there is a lot of love involved; love in the giving and in the making. I can see why some people’s most cherished memories of jam are of their mother or grandmothers stirring a pot of jam over a hot stove.

Whatever jam, marmalade or preserve it is, make sure you spread generously. Life is too short to skimp on good jam.

Chilli Jam

200g large red chillies
200g red onions
300g granulated caster sugar
200g grated palm sugar
125ml water
2 tbsp tamarind sauce
1 tsp salt

Sterilise bottles and lids in boiling water for 10 minutes. Air-dry the bottles and lids completely. Slice the chillies into discs and dice onions. Place all ingredients into a heavy based saucepan over medium to high heat. Boil mixture until the sugar becomes of a thick consistency.

THNGS TO NOTE:
Be attentive, do not burn the sugar, doing this will cause the jam to set to a toffee-like hardness. If this does occur, there is nothing much you can do to salvage the jam. Make sure if you do overcook the jam that you do not go ahead and place them into the jars. Just give up and try again as it will be very difficult to get the hard jam/toffee out of the jar once you have put it in.

A good way to test whether the jam is at setting consistency is to take a small dollop of jam and drop it on a clean plate. Place it in the refrigerator for a minute or two and see whether the mixture has set. If it has, then the jam is ready to be taken off the heat.

If you do not want seeds in your jam, an easy way to get rid off the seeds is to simly crush the fruit and put it through a sieve.

If you do choose to use pectin, be very careful as not to burn the mixture. Use a thermometer to be exact as pectic can be sensitive when exposed to excessive heat and stir continuously.

The Labels

To keep with the rustic nature of these jams and preserves, I chose to make handmade labels. All you need is some card, some string and a nice felt pen. Just use your imagination and label away!

The Bee's Knees: Tasmanian Leatherwood Honey

Honey that deserves a second look- this is what Tasmanian Leatherwood Honey is. After mentioning this honey in a previous post, I thought it was worth another glance as there is more to this exceptional honey than meets the eye. Originating from the flowering parts of Tasmanian Leatherwood trees, this resplendently unique tasting honey may be the last of its kind. I never anticipated that such superlatives could be used in describing, of all foods honey, but this one is certainly worth every adjective it is embellished with. You might say this is a saccharine romance, and indeed it is. With a honey so rare and so irreplaceable, I would even go as far as to say that this needs to be on your list of flavours to try before you die. Yes, put this on your list alongside truffles, Pierre Hermé desserts and possibly, purely out of interest the durian fruit, but nonetheless, this honey is a must.

Leatherwood Honey assumes a distinctive spicy flavour, that either makes you a supporter or a detractor. This honey has been known to divide people; some just cannot abide by the honey’s unusual taste and smell. Do not get me wrong, Leatherwood honey still tastes of honey; and because it is not so sickeningly sweet, the honey and the honeycomb lends to being eaten directly. Although when spread on a thick piece of toast it also cannot err. Just imagine, vibrant amber hues of this sticky delight flavouring your palate with nectary accents and bouquets of fresh flowers. The honey reads like a fine wine, yet the process in achieving such depth of flavour comes naturally without any human interference. Most blended honeys loose much evidence of the flowers from which the bees extracted the nectar from, however with this honey the Leatherwood plant’s scent manifests itself in the end product. Press your nose up to some of this honey and you will smell a strong aroma of fresh flowers.

Why could this honey be the last of its kind? Well, when you think of Tasmania, you envisage lush green woods, mist covered mountains and untouched landscapes. Tasmania almost seems like the last frontier; however this portrait is not quite as picturesque. The Leatherwood tree is under threat due to severe logging and is putting the Tasmanian honey industry at risk. You see the Leatherwood plant is endemic to Tasmania and accounts for up to 70% of all the honey being produced in this region. So no Leatherwood Trees ultimately mean, no Leatherwood Honey and unfortunately due to the narrow-sightedness of urbanisation, apiarists and the honey industry in Tasmania are not a main concern on the agenda. The problem is slowly being addressed, but at what cost should we compromise a resource so unique to this region?

Do not despair; Leatherwood honey is under threat, but thus far not extinct. This honeycomb was procured at the recent Grower’s Market. I asked the stallholder how to properly eat the honeycomb and he said that there are two ways. One is to eat the honeycomb wax and all; another is to spit the comb out once you have extracted all the honey in your mouth. As unpleasant and uncouth as this sounds, I do prefer the latter method as the notion of eating wax does disconcert me a little. I was reassured by the honey-man that eating the wax bears no ill effects on your digestion or your health but it still felt like I was swallowing a candle. And seeing as that I have already endorsed knife-licking, biscuit-dipping and more recently the Homer Simpson style of ingestion on this blog, I have no qualms about sanctioning wax-spitting as well. I am really not one for eating anything that resembles a candle, however if you are not opposed to swallowing the wax, then by all means.

FURTHER READING: Leatherwood honey industry 'under threat';
Leatherwood: Honey from the forest

A Tale of Two Cakes: Part II

Okay, so maybe the last cake I made was a bit of a misguided venture, nonetheless disaster was averted and I was able to turn the recipe from what seemed like a faux pas, into an inadvertent smash hit. You might say it was the Britney Spears of cakes; you know right from the start it’s wrong but yet people are strangely drawn to it and buy it’s albums. Anyway, I was just glad the cake was edible, and I didn’t have untouched pieces of cake taunting and staring me in the face spelling out d-e-f-e-a-t.

Surely this recent episode of unintentional dyslexia should serve as a lesson to read a recipe thoroughly before commissioning yourself to bake the cake. This time around all things went as planned, I read the ingredients list in its entirety and made the mental checklist whether we had all the required ingredients on hand. I also made sure I didn't mistake any ingredients for something else, like I had before.

I made an Orange and Almond Cake out of the remaining few oranges from my dwindling stash of Rosey Reds. I was quite hesitant to use these last two Rosey Reds, as though they were the last two remaining in the entire planet, however my appetite for a moist, dense cake was too fervent to ignore. After the recent episode of dry gritty cake, I needed to redeem myself with this cake.

The result- citrus indulgence. The cake was without doubt moist and dense, and the addition of syrup not only intensifies its moistness, but also permeates the cake with a delicious tang that is somehow lost in the cake after baking. I found myself simply relinquishing all better judgement and etiquette and simply began slicing pieces off the cake and picking them up with my hands and shovelling it straight in my mouth. I wavered between gluttonous shame and blissful gratification; and although my mother would be ashamed of my table manners, or rather inherent lack thereof, I cannot and will not apologise for the effects great cake has on a person. With a dollop of thick cream this cake is heaven in a slice.

Almond and Orange Cake
(Serves 6)
from this publication, Issue 28

¾ cup caster sugar
170g unsalted butter, softened
1 tbsp finely grated orange zest
3 eggs
1½ tbsp orange juice
¾ cup plain all-purpose flour, sifted
¾ tsp baking powder
2/3 cup almond meal
thick double cream to serve

Preheat oven to 170°C. Line a loaf tin with greaseproof paper.
Place the sugar, butter and orange rind in a bowl and beat until light and creamy.
Gradually add the eggs and orange juice, beating well.
Fold through the flour, baking powder and almond meal, until incorporated.
Pour the batter into prepared baking tin and bake for 45 minutes or until cooked when tested with a skewer.
Cool in the tin for 5 minutes and turn out on a wire rack to cool.
Serve with Orange syrup and cream.

Orange Syrup

2 cups caster sugar
1 cup water
¼ cup orange juice

Place the sugar, water and orange juice in a small saucepan over low heat.
Stir until the sugar has dissolved completely.
Bring to the boil and cook for 30 minutes or until the mixture is thick and syrupy.
Pour over cake before serving.

A Tale of Two Cakes : Part I

Where the proverbial cake is concerned, of course I want to have my cake and eat it to. The very purpose of cake is for its eating; there truly is no need for cake unless it is to be eaten. Imagine telling a little girl who has just turned two that she is not allowed to eat her birthday cake but merely look at the thing. Well that right there is temptation at its best, deliberately goading her to disobey orders. Cakes are irresistible and not only to two year olds, but to adults alike. The last time I was at kids’ party, I recall it wasn’t actually the seven year olds that were stealthily sneaking past the cake swiping a finger full of coffee buttercream icing, but the parents of those very children.

And when it comes to cakes, the citrus varieties are always my preference, and luckily we are smack bang in the midst of citrus season. This first cake came about after a stroke, not of genius but of unintentional dyslexia. For reasons unknown, I had read a recipe all wrong and thought that “semolina” somehow said “polenta”. I know this is quite difficult to fathom and quite far-fetched, but sadly it is true. The two words actually do not sound alike, nor do they look alike except maybe for the letter “a” at the end. And they are actually two totally different things, but I had somehow deluded myself into thinking that the recipe called for polenta, and I did not realise this “slight” oversight until after the first step, which was to combine all the dry ingredients.

Thomas Edison, was known for his countless blunders and failed attempts, in fact his laboratory even burned down after an experiment that went awry. So I don’t feel too bad, as that this cake turned out surprisingly good. The cake was rather dry, as polenta absorbs quite a bit of moisture and the texture was obviously gritty. However the addition of the syrup over the cake does alleviate any dryness and grittiness. And if it is in the eating that lies testament to whether a cake is good, well, I can assure you there was not a crumb left. I will point out that the cake's taste and texture does improve overnight, so if you are able to restrain yourself, then urge yourself to do so.

Blood Orange Polenta Cake
(serves 6 to 8)
adapted from this book

1 cup plain flour
½ tsp baking powder
1 2/3 cups polenta
4 eggs, separated
¾ cup caster sugar
½ cup olive oil
1 tbsp blood orange zest
½ cup blood orange juice

Blood Orange Syrup

1 cup caster sugar
¾ cup orange juice
1 tbsp blood orange zest

Preheat oven to 180°C. Line a round 22cm baking tin with greaseproof paper.
Combine flour, baking powder and polenta in a bowl and mix. Set aside.
Place egg yolks, sugar, oil and orange zest in another bowl and beat until light and fluffy.
Fold flour into egg yolk mixture in three parts, alternating with some orange juice.
In a separate bowl, whisk egg whites until stiff peaks form.
Using a wide metal spoon, fold in egg whites into the batter.
Pour into prepared baking tin and bake for 45 minutes or until cake is cooked when tested with a skewer.
Cool in the tin for 5 minutes and turn out on a wire rack to cool.

While the cake is cooking, prepare the syrup.
Place sugar, orange juice and zest in a saucepan over low heat and stir until sugar has dissolved completely.
Allow to simmer for 2 minutes and turn off heat.
Pour half the syrup over the cake.

To serve, cut the cake into wedges and spoon over a few tablespoons of remaining syrup over each portion.
Serve with some vanilla yoghurt.

PART II: TO BE CONTINUED...

It's my party and I'll fry if I want to

I’ve never been much of a fryer. Frankly the idea of being in the presence of oil, hot enough to scald your skin right off is not exactly my cup of tea. I do enjoy fried foods, but it’s the oiliness and that greasy film that it leaves on anything around the frying vicinity that makes it a less desirable undertaking. And not mention the unfortunate splattering that occurs; and when that rogue globule of hot oil hits you in the eye, well you can imagine the expletives that accidentally slip out. And if you were able to curb your cursing, im certain you would have said it in your head.

Moreover, don’t get me started about that pervading unpleasant fatty smell that it leaves behind when all the frying is over. Oh how I hated visiting a certain childhood friend’s house after long hot afternoons spent playing on the street. You see, as soon as you stepped through their front door, a wall of fried-fish smell would smack you in the face like a punch from Sugar Ray Robinson. I loved fried fish, it was one of my favourite things to eat growing in the Philippines, but fried fish is not exactly aromatic in that pleasant kind of way and it really is the last thing you want your house to be smelling like, essence des poisson.

Although I posses a palpable dislike for the method of frying, I do love the result. Where would doughnuts, beignets, fritters and fries be without frying? It may be an unsightly thing to do, but when properly contained, the hot-oil ogre can be tamed. And really, what is a party without a few bits of your flesh falling victim to several villainous spatters of hot oil. Growing up, a party wasn’t a party until we saw lumpia (spring rolls), turon (deep fried banana fritter), fried chicken, batter-fried prawns; you name it, we fried it.

Seeing that we were having some friends over for weekend festivities, the only thing I could think of doing was frying something. And although the perils of frying did abound, they were certainly not outweighed by the prospect of Ricotta Orange Puffs; and seeing that there was a surplus of Rosey Red Oranges and ricotta in my kitchen, the only option was to fry. An hour later, and several burn marks to bear witness to the fact that I fried for this party, a pile of puffs saw themselves being presented to a small group of ravenous adults. These puffs were great crowd pleasers and were not at all cloyingly sweet; so they will attract even those that do not have a sweet tooth.

Incredibly moist and fluffy, the puffs do not possess the greasy aftertaste that so many other fried foods tend to develop. I attribute it to the presence of orange zest. The aromatic zest counteracts any greasy tendencies, and because they are in the oil for such a short time, there really is no time for the oil to saturate the little puffs. So all I can say to you is, puff away to your heart's content, it will not disappoint. Perhaps the frying part will, but the eating part will definitely make you forget about the second-degree burns.

Ricotta Orange Puffs
(serves 4-6)

250g fresh ricotta
2 eggs, lightly beaten
½ cup plain all-purpose flour
20g unsalted butter, softened and sliced
2 tablespoon currants
3 teaspoons finely grated orange zest
vegetable oil for shallow-frying
icing sugar for dusting

Mix ricotta, eggs, flour, butter, currants and orange zest in a bowl until properly combined.
Cover with some clear plastic and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Heat the oil in a heavy based saucepan over medium heat.
Shallow fry a tablespoon of the ricotta mixture in batches for 30 seconds on each side or until just puffed and golden brown.
Drain on a paper towel.
Sift icing sugar over the puffs.

Serve with some dessert wine.

Sconey Island: Orange and Currant Scones

Sometimes life can feel a lot like Coney Island, an endless circus. You go from one act to the other jumping through hoops, breathing fire, taming lions, perhaps even handling large smelly mammals. And even though all these acts may not be arbitrary and meaningless, as you swing from one trapeze to the other, you think, perhaps a pause is required. Even though you may be in mid-air and in mid-flight, and there is nothing to catch you but a flimsy piece of netting, you know that letting go of that bar and getting out of that circus will essentially do you a world of good.

In this post-modern, technologically advanced, self-reliant world it is easy to forget that we are actually humans, not machines. So amidst busy schedules, due papers, mounting exams, film shoots and stressful jobs, four girlfriends were able to take some time out of their own personal circus and get together for lunch. Life gets crazy, but being able to take time out with some of the most important people in your life is a requisite to being able to surmount the mediocrity that so easily entangles us. That’s why I value the time I spend with these girls so much. With conflicting schedules and busy working hours it’s not too often that you can get the four of us together at the same time. However when we do mange to get our schedules to coincide, it’s superb.

This is possibly something that only females may identify with, but when a group of girls get together, it is completely and utterly possible to speak all at once and still understand each other. Multiple conversations could be taking place and several opinions are aired; nevertheless everyone understands each other and everyone is on the same page. Anecdotes containing an endless number of tangents concerning what people were wearing, what he said, what she said and a lot of, “and oh by the way”; a labyrinth of thoughts, gestures and narratives weaved into one story of what happened to me today, and yet we follow the story to the very end. Organised chaos; I guess that’s what you could call it. So you can imagine the cacophony of chatter and fits of laughter that was emanating from our table in this small Thai restaurant in Sydney’s northern suburbs.

One friend E, who works in the dementia ward of an aged-care facility, while putting herself through college, was telling us about her week. She was apparently punched in the mouth by one of the patients. The perpetrator, a deceptively sweet elderly lady, probably named Ethyl, accused E of stealing her dentures and abducting her husband and so decided to give E an uppercut to her face. Being the compassionate girlfriends that we were, we ended up in heaving fits of uncontrolled laughter, until we were virtually falling off our seats. If you knew E, and if you have seen the patients at the facility you would be laughing too.

Then another friend P shares her boy troubles and we all listen and empathise. And then as all girlfriends do, we proceed to go around the table and put in our two cents worth of advice. The advice is promptly heeded and then A, goes on to point out in a very subtle yet obvious way her latest acquisition, a cute little denim jacket, which we then also proceed to go around the table and tell her how great it looks. We ask her how much the denim jacket was and she says something approximating; “$50, it was on sale” only we know that this, in girl shop-talk really means more around the $59.99 mark. Girls know when it comes to the price of clothes, you round down.

It is the candidness and sincerity of our friendship I dare not become apathetic with. Relationships that create a sense of family and belonging are rare these days and I plan to keep these girls until we become old and senile, like Ethyl. When it comes to having great relationships there also comes a great cost. You might have to sacrifice your time, your feelings and many times your ego. So what has friendship got to do with scones, well nothing really. But I would like to dedicate these scones to all friendships around the world, for better for worse. Your soufflé may have failed to rise and your custard curdled, but with friends and scones like these, who cares.

Bake some scones, brew a pot of tea and get to know someone better.

Orange and Currant Scones
(makes 15 scones)



1¾ cups plain all-purpose flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
a pinch of salt
1/3 cup unsalted butter, diced
½ cup dried currants
½ cup rosey red orange juice
¼ full cream yoghurt
3 tbsp honey
1 egg
1 tbsp milk

Preheat oven to 200˚C. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
In a large bowl, sift flour, baking powder and salt.
Using a pastry blender, cut in butter until the mixture resembles pea sized lumps.
Stir in currants. Then make a well in the centre of the bowl.
Mix together orange juice, yoghurt and honey in a separate measuring cup and then pour all at once into the dry ingredients. Mix until incorporated.
Transfer the dough to a lightly floured surface and roll out to approximately 3cm (30mm) in thickness.
Using a cutter, cut out as many portions of dough as possible. Re-roll leftover dough and cut out more portions until all of the dough has been used up.
Place scones on a prepared baking sheet at least 5cm apart.
Whisk together egg and 1 tbsp milk and use this to brush the tops of the scones.
Allow the dough to rest for about 10 minutes.
Bake in the oven for 10-15 minutes, until the tops are golden brown.
Remove from oven and transfer to wire racks to cool.

Serve with your favourite condiment- cream (clotted or thickened), butter, jam or just whatever you fancy.

If the scones are plain, I like them with cream and strawberry jam, if they are fruity like these, I prefer them with a thick slab of butter. But whatever way you like them, make sure you enjoy it with a friend.

It's Here

Some time ago, a lovely lady from Germany named Meeta had a marvellous idea for an event where people around the world sent each other postcards; she aptly named it Blogger Postcards from the World. I thought this was such an inspired thought that I decided to participate, and in fact many other bloggers decided to join in on the fun.
The premise was simple; to send a blogger that you have been allocated a postcard, and then wait to receive one yourself. Somewhat like a global kris kringle.

I promptly sent mine off to Ulrike in Germany, and was delighted to receive a postcard from yet another German. This time my postcard came from Petra of Chili and Ciabatta. This was probably the only time I have ever lamented the fact that I don’t know German, as both these blogs are written in German.

Petra sent me a picturesque postcard of her birthplace Tübingen, in the south of Germany. The postcard now lives on my wall, pegged up with other beautiful pictures from around the world.

Citrus Covered: Rosey Red Oranges

Ever since that faithful rainy day when I decided to abandon the snugness of my doona and make the sleepy trek to Pyrmont Grower’s Market, I haven’t been able keep my mouth shut. About what? Well, about these oranges. Rosey Reds are my new citrus love. And yes, I admit, I am overtly passionate about lots of other foods, namely chocolate, pastries and cookies; however being the fickle foodie that I am, I have fleetingly turned my affections elsewhere. So for the time being, my next few posts are going to involve this beautiful fruit.

What say you are so special about Rosey Reds? Well, you will just have to taste them for yourself. There is no benefit in me providing you with an inextricably verbose description of how wonderful it tastes when the best thing to do is to sample it for yourself. If Rosey Reds are not available where you are from, then my oh my, what a quandary you are in. I will pity you for a moment but then I will proceed in continuing to gorge on my stash of oranges. You are probably thinking, you heartless glutton; and although I am truly apologetic for the lack of sympathy on my part, when it comes to citrus and especially these oranges it is each man/woman for themselves.

Okay, before I resume my citrus binge (and boast), here are some facts about Rosey Reds (courtesy of the little information ticket found in my bag of oranges):

· Rosey Reds flesh gets their vibrant red colour from the presence of Lycopene; a powerful cancer fighting antioxidant also abundant in tomatoes.
· Possesses a unique sweet strawberry-zing flavour, and tastes unlike any other orange.
· Its low acidity not only enhances its eating flavour, but is also great for people who suffer from acid reflux or are not tolerant of highly acidic foods.
· Available in Australia from June to September.
· Rich in Vitamin C.
· High in soluble fibre.
· A great source of potassium and magnesium.
· And thanks to Helen, I also know that Rosey Reds are cross breed of Navel oranges and Ruby Grapefruit

Bill's Ricotta Hotcakes with Leatherwood Honeycomb

I am no longer mad. The chaotic mess that I did call work for the past few weeks has diminished back into the reclusive and relaxed contentment that it is today. I usually don’t mind coming to work, although the past few weeks were unbearable. Thankfully, the annoyance felt before has diminished along with the stress. And although the disdain I still possess towards this channel that we have just launched still exists, I have chosen to just let its noise disappear into the backdrop of my work. I shall only give it my attention when it is absolutely required, and that is the only way we can coexist peacefully.

After that taxing week at work, I set off of on a relaxing four day weekend. Even though I only set off en route for my kitchen, it provided me with the adequate respite. To start off my relaxation crusade, I decided to make Bill Granger’s famed Ricotta Hotcakes, and although the recipe was accompanied by instructions on how to make honeycomb butter, I decided to use the fresh honeycomb I purchased at the recent Pyrmont Grower’s Market instead.

These hotcakes almost never happened and it all began at the aforementioned markets. I was at the Formaggi Ocello stand waiting to buy a tub of their beautiful ricotta; but there was a lovely yet vexingly talkative woman that was occupying all of this poor shopkeeper’s attention. I waited patiently, and waited some more, but still this woman kept complaining about the state of olives in this country or something of the like. While I lingered, impatiently tapping my foot on the rain-soaked grass, I thought- this is a woman who desperately needs a blog of her own. Instead of airing her complaints to stallholders at markets and holding up unsuspecting clientele, she should redirect her whingeing elsewhere, like on a blog!

In any case, I ummed and ahhed about whether I should stay and tolerate these irritating complaints, or whether I should just leave and make a go of the hotcakes another time. Suffice to say, I did stay and it was worth all the standing around and enduring the whining.

The hotcakes proved ethereally fluffy and the ricotta added a slight tanginess similar to what you would get with buttermilk pancakes, without all the density. I cut a few chunks of Leatherwood Honeycomb and placed them atop a stack of hotcakes and drizzled some honey over. This was a great variation on the customary maple syrup that I usually drench all my pan/hot cakes in. I cannot imagine having these hotcakes with anything else, and although I have never tried these hotcakes with any other condiments I will be hesitant to in the future as the taste of Leatherwood Honey is matchless.

Unique to Tasmania, Leatherwood honey is made from the flowering blossoms of the Leatherwood tree. With slight floral notes and spicy tinges, the honey is an acquired taste, and it is not to everyone’s likings. Oddly enough most Australians do not abide by its taste. I however was willing to give this seemingly difficult-tasting honey a go, and the result was a favourable one. Unlike many others I enjoyed the taste; sure it smelt a bit unusual, and it did taste of nectar at first. But different shouldn’t instinctively mean “bad”. The man who sold me the honeycomb mentioned that Australians are apparently too used to the taste of gum honeys, so therefore Leatherwoods honeys have become the eccentric, second-best cousin to these familiar honey varieties. Nonetheless, I am partial when it comes to this honey, and I think it is partly because of the fact that it is unique to Australia. Don’t get me wrong I still love the typical gum honeys, but Leatherwood is definitely a special treat.

Below is Bill’s recipe for Ricotta Hotcakes, including the recipe for Honeycomb Butter. I did not know where to source sugar honeycomb so that is why I opted to use fresh honeycomb. Whether or not you have the honeycomb, be sure to give these hotcakes a bash. I am thinking of making them with some mashed bananas next time; possibly when the exorbitant price for bananas in Australia drop.

Ricotta Hotcakes
(serves 6-8)
The recipe can be found in here and a PDF version can be found here.

1 1/3 cups ricotta
¾ cup milk
4 eggs, separated
1 cup plain all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
a pinch of salt
50g butter

Place ricotta, milk and egg yolks in a bowl and mix to combine.
Sift the flour, baking powder and salt into the ricotta mixture and mix until incorporated.
Place egg whites in a dry clean bowl and whip until stiff peaks form.
Fold egg whites into the batter using a wide metal spoon. Do this in two batches.
Over a low to medium heat, lightly grease a large non-stick frypan with a small portion of butter.
Drop a ladleful of batter into the pan and cook for two minutes or until the edges have turned golden brown.
Flip the hotcakes over and fry until it is cooked through.
Transfer to a plate. Top with appropriate condiments and dust with icing sugar.

NOTE: Hotcake batter can be stored up to 24 hours covered, in the refrigerator.

Honeycomb Butter

250g unsalted butter, softened,
100g sugar honeycomb, crushed with a rolling pin
2 tbsp honey

Place all ingredients in a food processor and blend until smooth. Shape into a log on a plastic wrap, roll, seal and chill in a refrigerator for 2 hours. Store leftover honeycomb butter in the freezer- it’s great on toast.

Victoire Bakery, Balmain

If I were to establish a niche in the food market, bakeries would probably be my thing. I just love bakeries, for me the discovery of a new bakery is cause for sheer elation; it’s like a drug, addictive and insatiable. I am constantly on the hunt, eyes wandering and nose twitching to and fro, searching for evidence of rising dough and baking bread.

The smell of fresh bread baking, the sight of beautiful pastries displayed pristinely in glass cabinets and the sweet taste of satisfaction after the first bite. It is all these things that I truly savour about bakeries; there is just something tangible and sensual about them, perhaps because they are indeed such sensory places. They are places were you can engage each of your senses and in that engagement arises the pleasure of the experience.

The sight of buttery croissants, rich brioches and pain au chocolat; the sweet fragrance of mascarpone and strawberry rhubarb tarts, quiches and madeleines; the crumbly texture of crunchy palmiers or the crusty feel of freshly baked boules, batards and baguettes. A bakery is the height of sensory overload and it is master baker, Myriam Cordellier-Wever and her son Herman Wever who are responsible for setting out this banquet for your senses at Victoire Bakery.

Located in Balmain, it is undoubtedly one of Sydney’s best bakeries. Neil Perry and QANTAS seem to think so, as Victoire supply both Rockpool and QANTAS First Class with specially made sourdough breads. As I have ardently expressed before, Victoire is one of my favourite things about Balmain. I first fell in love with their chewy levain ficelles two years ago and most bread-loving individuals would agree that there is no one else in Sydney who can attain the same distinguishing balance of crustiness and sourness as that of Victoire’s sourdough.

A trip to Victoire Bakery after a relatively early departure from work allowed me to enjoy my treats at home just in time to watch the sun set from my backyard. I came home with a chocolate tart, a custard pastry, some madeleines and half a dozen sourdough rolls. The shop assistant warned me that the chocolate tart contained tangelo pieces and Grand Marnier; a combination which some people did not find too agreeable. I am not sure where this dislike came from because this tart was amazing, a beautiful balance of flavours mingling together to create a sensation in your mouth.

I decided I would behave myself and share the rest of my spoils; and as usual it was met with satisfied jubilation. The custard pastry was definitively eggy, although not sickeningly so. In every bite was the perfect amount of custard to pastry ratio, which made for every bite a pure joy.

Victoire Bakery is simply one of those places where a loyal following has been forged by consistently supplying patrons with excellent products. It has certainly kept me going back for more and I see no evidence of this patronage stopping anytime soon. If you are one of the few Sydney-siders who have yet to sample Victoire’s beautiful breads then I urge- you must not delay.

The store is small and intimate and allows you to get up close to the breads and pastries. The owners are friendly and inviting, and every so often you will see Myriam greeting passer-bys, exchanging stories with customers and playfully gooing and gaaing at their babies. Victoire also sell fine cheeses and gourmet pastas, and aside from the regular French boulangerie fare, you will find the occasional bread and butter pudding and flourless brownie. Whatever your taste, you will find something to enjoy from this quaint little bakery.

Victoire Bakery
285 Darling Street, Balmain
Phone: (02) 9818 5529

Good Living Pyrmont Grower's Market

Ominous grey clouds draped the usually sunny blue skies of Sydney and the dreary appearance of the morning was enough to make most market attendees recant their commitment. Even with the looming possibility of rain, the steadfastness of market-goers did not wane. A short episode of rain did cause people to scatter and seek shelter but soon after the rain disappeared most punters were back traipsing up and down Pyrmont Bay Park.

The ground was more than a little damp but there is little that will keep these foodies away from a good marketplace, especially when it’s the monthly Good Living Pyrmont Grower’s Market. Most of the usual stands regular market-goers have become acquainted with were present and it was nice to see the popularity of these vendors continue. However, one new stall that caught my eye was the Rosy Reds Orange stand which was revelling in its newfound popularity. Many were attracted to this citrus’ juicy bright red appearance and equally fascinated by the sign that clearly stated they were "not blood oranges" but actually a variant of the navel orange. Being the citrus-fruit groupie that I was, I made haste for the stall to see what all the fuss was about and to of course, have a taste. The oranges were deceptively sweet and not as acidic as conventional navel oranges. They are a pleasant and agreeable fruit and upon tasting, I decided to buy a kilo bag.

Unfortunately not many photos were taken at the markets. My over-eagerness to shop and spot bargains hampered any plans for making things blogging-friendly. Carrying an SLR camera, a handbag and two full shopping bags was all too cumbersome and sadly I chose to forfeit photo-taking. Next time I shall bring my assistant G, to carry some of my purchases.

Roche Bros apple stand




flowers

Here is some of the loot I came home with. I say 'some', because a few items were eaten on the traverse home.

Olive and Rosemary flatbread from Consummate

Berry Jam and Mascarpone Tart from Consummate

Rosy Red Oranges; not a blood orange but a red-fleshed premium navel orange.

Fresh Leatherwood Honeycomb from Australian Honey Cellars

Muesli cookie and a Maple and Pecan Shortbread from Whisk and Pin.

The remaining loot, which also includes a tub of ricotta from Formaggi Ocello.
The Plan: to make Bill Granger’s Ricotta Hotcakes with Honeycomb sugar.

Good Living Pyrmont Growers' Market
(every first Saturday of the month, except January)
Location: Pyrmont Bay Park
From: 7am - 11am
Phone: (02) 9282 3606

Remaining Dates for 2006:
September 2, October 7, November 4, December 2

Previous posts: June 2006 Good Living Pyrmont Growers Market