Flip It Like It's Hot(cake)

As for me the notion of breakfast, as a meal, generally oscillates between the comfort of routine and the pleasure of ceremony. Somehow, you can have the same thing for breakfast everyday and it’s no drama, as if we need to start the day with one constant before we are hit by all the variables that follow throughout. Then there is the ritual of the café breakfast, now that’s another thing.

We’ve made it somewhat of a sport to go out for breakfast here in Sydney, and if you are even trendier or sporting a hangover on a Saturday morning, it’s brunch. But it seems that the café breakfast, no matter what time of day is experiencing a revival. Before, it seemed rather preposterous that you would even leave your house at such an early hour to go and have breakfast out, when you can have a perfectly good one at home, but times are a changing. Nowadays, the hottest thing in Sydney’s eateries is the breakfast menu and I’m not the only one who has noticed.

But then again who can maintain such an addiction? As much as I do love the idea of breakfast out everyday, my hip pocket simply isn’t big enough. And besides, sometimes, all I want for breakfast is a good warm bowl of porridge and nice cup of tea. I know there was once upon a time, when I was about ten, or maybe even twelve when all I wanted for breakfast was chorizo and toast. This craving lasted for weeks and I remember my mum stocking up with containers of chorizo in our freezer just to keep up with my morning appetite.

I’ve now kicked that nagging chorizo habit in the mornings, and have move on to something else. I love pancakes or are they hotcakes, well either one. I’ve done pancakes/hotcakes at many a Sydney eatery; there were the nutella pancakes at La Plage, of course Bill’s ricotta hotcakes, sourdough ones from Brasserie Bread (which I highly recommend) and there were the hotcakes at Fifi Foveaux’s, which I might add are preferable to Bill’s- sorry Bill. But now it’s time to take the hotcake back to my own kitchen.

Setting down a plate of hotcakes at my own dining table didn’t have the same allure as eating them out at some café, but the taste was certainly enough to distract me from my humble surroundings. I made coffee flavoured hotcakes (or are they pancakes?) with some rosy red oranges and a drizzling of maple syrup. And to sound crudely cliché- it was simple and satisfying. Which I guess is what everyone looks for in a breakfast; I’ve never seen anyone sit down for a three course breakfast and whoever has the time to do so should really re evaluate how they spend it. Breakfast can be familiar and breakfast can be unchanging, but it should never be boring, or convoluted.

As for these hotcakes, well let their taste speak and that heady aroma of coffee in the kitchen for themselves. Then perhaps you can sit down and contemplate whether you are eating hotcakes or pancakes because I really don’t know the difference between the two and truth be known, I really don’t care, as long as they taste great.

Coffee Hotcakes with Rosy Red Oranges
adapted from Delicious Magazine, June 2005
serves 4



1 1/3 cups (200g) self-raising flour
1 tbsp instant coffee granules
½ tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 tbs golden caster sugar
1 egg, separated
200g Greek yoghurt
200ml milk
20g unsalted butter, melted, plus extra to brush

To serve
Rosy red oranges, peeled and segmented
Icing sugar, to dust
Maple syrup or honey

Sift the flour, soda and baking powder into a bowl and stir in the coffee and sugar.
In a separate bowl, beat together the egg yolk, yoghurt, milk and melted butter.
Beat in the dry ingredients.
Place the eggwhite in a separate bowl and whisk until soft peaks form.
Fold the eggwhites into the batter.
Brush a non-stick frypan with melted butter and place over medium-high heat.
Drop 1/4 –cup of mixture into the pan for 1-2 minutes until golden.
Flip over and cook for a further minute until golden on other side.
Transfer to a baking tray loosely covered with foil, and keep warm in a low oven while you make the remaining hotcakes.
Serve 2-3 hotcakes per person with some sliced rosy red oranges.
Drizzle with some maple syrup or honey and dust with icing sugar.

The Penguin Parade

A group of penguins is usually referred to as a colony of penguins. Although, when they are breeding, their colony turns into a rookery or a peguinery. When they are floating out at sea, they are then a raft of penguins. When they are on land they are a waddle of penguins. And other times they are referred to as a parcel and sometimes a huddle. So then, what is the collective noun for a group of penguin waffles?

I personally am quite amused by the phrase "a waddle of penguins", but for this instance I am calling this particular breed a parade of penguins. Quite adorable is this parade, and to think that they are meant for eating seems almost a sacrilege. But now that a collective noun has been established for these new breed of penguins, that neither swim nor waddle, I can get onto explaining what exactly waffles have to do with penguins.

It all started while rummaging through an old cupboard that held all of mum's old Mother's Day presents. Yes, she has such a thing, a stockpile of all the unusable presents we gave her as children. You know the kind of presents that mum gets from her kids that she really can't do anything with but simply nod and smile in appreciation of her children's inherent thoughtfulness- no matter how unpractical. In this secret hoard are things like potpourri, bath oils, foot spas, hair crimpers, an endless amount of trinkets and more cosmetics than you could poke a stick at.

So while going through this mass of "junk" I came across this Sunbeam Waffle iron called Woodles. Woodles makes waffles in the shape of penguins and creates a depression in the belly of the penguin where ice cream can be scooped into. The contraption is sheer novelty and sheer genius! Well every childish sensibility in me was tickled by the very idea of Woodles. So I decided that since my mother could find no use for it, that I would take it for myself. Neither she or I could remember when she received this present, although all we know is that my sister gave it to her, probably in the vain hope that mum would start making these woodles for her. She never did.

But not to worry, years later, I have found a great use for it and will hopefully revive this poor creature's popularity. For me most of its appeal comes in that indentation in the penguin's stomach that makes room for ice cream. It's a great example of culinary design and engineering and who knew it could be found in a penguin's physique.

These waffles are a variation of Heidi's Sour Cream Waffles only instead of sour cream I used buttermilk. I decided to do this upon happening on some nearly overdue buttermilk in my fridge. Better that they be used to make waffles than never to be used at all and end up in the rubbish heap. The buttermilk lends to a denser and slightly tangy waffle, which I think is a great contrast to the sweetness of the ice cream and maple syrup.

Obviously, this recipe can be made regardless whether or not you own your very own peguin waffle maker, although the novelty of having your waffles in the shape of a penguin is worth shelling out the $30 for one. Mother's Day is coming up, perhaps your mother, unlike mine will appreciate the childish fancies of having one.

Buttermilk Penguin Waffles
adapted from this recipe
makes 10 penguins

1¾ cups plain all-purpose flour
1 tbsp caster sugar
1 tbsp baking powder
a pinch of salt
1½ cup buttermilk
3 large eggs
100g unsalted butter, melted
maple syrup and vanilla bean ice cream to serve

Preheat and lightly grease waffle iron.
In a large bowl sift in flour, sugar, baking powder and salt and make a well in the centre.
Whisk in the buttermilk, eggs and melted butter until the flour is just incorporated. Make sure you do not over mix.
Spoon batter onto the centre of the waffle iron and close the iron.
Cook for 3-4 minutes until the waffles are golden brown.
Serve the waffles with a drizzling of maple syrup and vanilla ice cream.

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.

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.

Morning Glory

This morning at 7:30am, I left work, stepped outside and was met by what I can only describe as a torrential downpour. The street was flooded with water and the mesh awning above the front entrance was caving in under the weight of all the water it had collected. As I made a swift bee line for the car, I noticed how incredibly beautiful it actually was. I raced back up the front step to get a better view.

The striking thing about this portrait was that despite all the rain, the sun was still shining incredibly brightly. The scene was nothing short of surreal. It was the most glorious display of nature I could only imagine and was the perfect reception back into the land-of-the-living after another round of night shifts. The sky was lit with brilliant hues of yellow and orange and the deafening sound of pattering rain was strangely exhilarating. Like witnessing a violent thunderstorm I was awed by this exquisite act of nature. There were no words to describe it other than breathtaking.

Every time these nightly shift rotations come around I always dread stepping out and seeing what a beautiful day I am missing because I’ll be asleep for most of it. But after witnessing this natural display, all the cares, the fatigue and the hunger suddenly dissipated. It was dreamy. I only wish I had my camera at the time as it really doesn’t seem like my words are adequately capturing the moment, but luckily the image will be forever etched into my memory.

To top off this natural exhibition; on my way home whilst driving down the motorway, I literally drove through the end of a rainbow! It was extraordinary; I have never seen the end of a rainbow before, but I actually saw the point where the arc reaches its end. The highway runs through a patch of national park and this was the exact spot where the rainbow ended. Okay, so I’ve just pulled an overnighter but I wasn’t delusional, I wasn’t on crack and this isn’t some sort of fanciful pretence. I saw the end of the rainbow. No pot of gold though.

And so it was that this glorious morning motivated me to bake these cookies. Funnily enough the cookies turned out in the same shade as that of the morning sky, so I thought it appropriate to name them after this morning.

These cookies have everything. A spot of morning cleaning uncovered a whole bunch of ingredients I had forgotten about in my pantry, so I decided to use them. I bought some dried fruits not long ago and somehow they were pushed to the back of the cupboard and were left there to almost deteriorate; happens all the time in this house*. I still have a jar of expired Vegemite, and even though I bought a new jar, I still cannot bring myself to throw out the old jar. The silly things I do. All this gratuitous wastage was really getting to me so I decided to use as many of the dried fruits as possible.

The cookies turned out like muesli cookies; sweet enough to be a cookie but had enough fibre to make it a muesli. There's nothing like a cookie for breakfast, and after the cookies, well I slept snugly for 10 hours straight.

Morning Glory
(makes 15 large cookies)

¾ cup unsalted butter
1 cup soft brown sugar
¼ cup dark muscovado sugar
¼ cup honey
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 egg
1 cup plain all-purpose flour
¼ tsp baking soda
¼ tsp baking powder
1/8 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon ground
1 tsp all spice
½ tsp ground ginger
1 cup rolled oats
¼ cup chopped almonds
¼ cup chopped walnuts
½ cup sultanas
¼ cup dried apricots, chopped
½ cup dried figs, chopped

Preheat oven to 180˚C. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
Sift together flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, all spice and ground ginger in a bowl and set aside.
Cream butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Add vanilla and egg and beat until well blended.
Gently incorporate flour mixture to the batter.
Add the rolled oats, almonds, walnuts, sultanas, apricots and figs and mix until all ingredients are well combined.
Scoop out the batter using an ice cream scoop onto the prepared baking sheet, spacing them about 5cm apart.
Bake for 15-18 minutes, less if cookies are smaller. When cookies are done, remove baking sheet from oven and let cool for 5 minutes.
Transfer cookies to a wire rack and cool further.

Glorious