Timor Leste

After three pre-dawn starts over the past few days, it was a relief to arrive in Dili & know that I could settle for a while (and have a sleep-in tomorrow!). Flying in this morning, with white mist still clinging to the forested mountains, it looked green, lush, and there were fields of maize and bananas close to the airport. The land seemed to say, there’s no need to starve here. And, here in Dili, that’s certainly the case if you’re an expatriate. I guess this has been a UN town for years now, and no doubt all the infrastructure’s in place to supply the needs (wants?) of well-paid foreigners. I don’t think I could have been more surprised though than I was when, walking around the corner from the hotel, I came across a Turkish bakery. With strings of garlic and onions and chillies hanging above the counter, and the female staff (all of whom I’m sure were Timorese, and probably Catholic) wearing Turkish head scarves! But anyway, it certainly looked authentic and I couldn’t resist a feta and spinach filled bread, a pide I think. Even if probably made of 100% imported ingredients. I must say, though, I haven’t come across much that seems to be indigenous cuisine in my wanderings today. Early days of course, and I except the two sweet, ripe bananas I had at breakfast upon arrival. They were pretty good.

Kitchen disasters

 Okay, time to ‘fess up. Sometimes things go wrong in the kitchen. And I’m not just talking about my recent adventures with pavlova. Last weekend, for example, at the market, 5 terakihi for $10 sounded such a bargain, I couldn’t walk past it. But when I got them home I wasn’t sure which year, let alone which week, they’d died in. And as for gutting & cleaning fish in the kitchen sink (I couldn’t believe they hadn’t been gutted!), it’s not something you really want to be doing. The smell, the scales … In the end, a couple of fish were (just!) half-decent baked whole, but the rest we decided would better serve as compost around the sickly lemon tree.

And then the next day, friends announced they were popping in for afternoon tea. So I thought, why not bake the cake on the calendar. Apple & ginger upside-down cake. It looked LOVELY. But I wonder if the recipe had ever been tested? It rose splendidly, and the exterior was definitely cooked, over-cooked even. But when I removed it from the oven, the centre was heaving like a mud pool. And when I cut into it, the insides were gooey and un-/under-cooked. Socially ruined. Even worse, the last time these folk popped in, a mouse scuttled out from under the stove … the ONLY time I’ve seen a mouse in this house.

Still, at least the cake was impressively ginger-tasting.

But, all of this too say, ain’t cooking a b*tch sometimes? But wonderful, whatever happens.

My Life in France

Not mine, sadly, but the Julia Child book. Have finished reading it and (a) enjoyed it very much, (b) even if not terribly well written, with too many pointless anecdotes, but (c) did wonder at the huge discrepancies between the life events of Julia Child in this book and Julia Child as portrayed (so very, very well by Meryl Streep) in Julie & Julia. As one very small example, she was in Oslo, not some twee American town, when the letter accepting Mastering the Art of French Cooking was accepted. So, I guess the lesson is, enjoy the film, the story it tells, but don’t mistake it for the truth. Mind you, I’d still love to see Meryl Streep portray JC in a film of her life.

Anyway, moving on, I’d love to have my own life in France, but can’t see that happening in the near future. It is a blessing, though, that our garden has finally started producing. Has been a dreadful summer but we can now claim two courgettes, one lettuce, and one tomato FINALLY ripening! I’m expecting the harvest stats to progress geometrically from now on!!

Pavlova, take 3

My adventures with pavlova have been continuing. The Australian whanau were coming for lunch, so I decided on pizza (homemade) and pavlova … washed down with that world-famous (in NZ) beverage, Lemon & Paeroa. Actually, that last was an afterthought, and proved to be a successful novelty for the Aussies. But anyway, was tempted to try the 1941 pav recipe again, but this time pre-heating the oven to 150 C and leaving the mix, in its tin, in the cooling oven for an hour or so. And the result was almost like baked egg whites, very light & airy, with a thin crust. Perhaps starting with a slightly hotter oven might have produced a better crust? Still, I was pleased. And young Jack, aged almost-five, wolfed it down, had seconds, barely touched the sides I reckon. So that was a vote of confidence in the end result. But I can feel another attempt coming on. With crème brulee as a destination for the unused yolks. No complaints there.

Oh, and one more pearl of wisdom from a recent pavlova-making conversation. Pavlovas don’t rise if the weather’s wet or humid. If that were the case, you’d never make them in Wellington!

Courgette meat balls

The vegetable garden this year has been such a disappointment. It’s the rain, and the relative cold, I expect. Why, the other night we even lit the fire, it was that winter-like. So, whereas this time last year I was happily harvesting peas & courgettes, lettuces & silver beet, this year I’m just thankful for the Sunday market. And the bag of courgettes I brought home was the inspiration for this WONDERFUL dish. It’s from Claudia Roden, who says it’s a specialty of Izmir/Smyrna in Turkey. I’ll believe her. Anyway, this is her recipe, more or less. I halved the quantities given here, and then added a bit more mince ‘cos the mix was possibly a little wet … it was touch & go whether or not the balls fell apart in the oil. Perhaps if I’d salted & drained the courgettes in advance, that might have reduced the moisture content. But it didn’t really matter, and the end result was these deliciously moist meatballs, more courgettes than mince. Highly recommended!

1 kg courgettes                         60 gms Parmesan, grated

Salt                                           2 large eggs, beaten

Oil                                            black pepper

2 onions, chopped                    flour

500 gms mince   

Fry the onions until soft & golden. Slice courgettes and boil until tender. Chop finely and mix with the meat. Add the cheese, onion, eggs, salt & pepper, and mix well. Shape the mixture into balls (a reasonably level dessert spoonful at a time worked well). Roll in flour and fry gently over a very low heat so they are well cooked inside but not over-browned outside.

          We just ate these with boiled new potatoes, Jersey Bennes, and they were delicious. Claudia also suggests aubergine for these, and I guess you could experiment with adding chopped fresh herbs, mint perhaps, or coriander. Though I’m not sure coriander is particularly Turkish! But anyway, a real winner, these.  And so uncomplicated.

Osteria del Toro

One of the ‘in’ places to eat in Wellington at the moment seems to be Osteria del Toro, in Tory Street. Had walked past it many times, but it’s position on the ground floor of a backpackers’ had made me assume it would be a bit of a dive. So I was unprepared when I first walked in, back in December, for the extravagance of the decor. Nor, indeed, for the size of the place. It calls itself Mediterranean-style, and the design influences are a suitable melange, mainly North Africa and Italy, I thought. Anyway, so it looks good, is popular, has a lively vibe … but what about the food? Had mixed feelings after the December visit, perhaps the lamb shank was a mistake, but went back again the other night for a bit of a reunion with friends. The tomato bruschetta fresh-tasting with good colour, but the garlic Turkish bread disappointingly dry. My chicken main course fine, but nothing I couldn’t do (better) at home. Pleased though to note that they use Agria potatoes here. Perhaps the best dish was the lemon-infused crema catalana, or creme brulée … a burst of creamy zing served in a small pot. A good note to end on, and endings, as we know, are so important. So, on balance, more on the plus side than not. Wouldn’t rush to return, but at the same time wouldn’t refuse to either.

Cooking with mother

My recent venture into pavlova-making has made me think about how we learn to cook. It’s not only all the unsolicited offers of fail-safe recipes and cooking hints of variable worth that mention of pavlova provokes, such as:

-         you need to add the sugar a teaspoonful at a time

-         you need an electric beater

-         castor sugar gives a better marshmallow texture to the beast

-         it all depends on the temperature of the eggs; they need to be room temperature.

But it’s also friends talking of how they learnt baking with their mother. And I suppose that’s how you learn when something looks right, pick up handy tips along the way, gain an understanding of how things work. I thought of that at Christmas too, actually. This year it was Christmas dinner for 9, rather than the 25 of the year before. And it’s no big deal really, if you’re organised, but this year I did have my mother as executive chef, keeping an eye on things. And it was interesting how, while I was faithfully following recipes, she could look at the brandy sauce and say ‘more icing sugar, more brandy’, or the stuffing for the turkey and suggest adding the juice of a lemon as well as the grated zest (and, I have to say, it turned out to be sensationally good stuffing!). So, I guess I’m just thinking about the importance of inter-generational skills transfer, or, throwing the jargon away, of simply doing things with kids. I’m happy experimenting and playing around with food, but sometimes I do wish I understood the processes more. Wasn’t that the Julia Child thing too, wanting to understand?

Pavlova, take 2

Spurred on by the relative success of my first pavlova attempt (& having another 4 egg whites in search of their destiny) I decided to be brave and tackle a different recipe, the one in the 1941 cook book. Here it is. See if you can spot my dilemma.

          Four whites of eggs, 1 cup castor sugar, 1 teaspoon vanilla and vinegar.

          Grease tin and put grease-proof paper which has cold water on it and shake well. Takes about an hour to cook.

A pretty concise little recipe, admirably brief, and while I could work out that it was a teaspoon each of v & v, and didn’t need to be told that the ingredients needed to be beaten together, I wanted to know OVEN TEMPERATURES. The good old Edmonds Cookbook said 45 minutes at 150 C for their recipe, different again, so I decided to try that. Well, this pav certainly rose, and when the top started to brown I decided it was ready. What I didn’t anticipate is that it changed from statuesque to collapsed as it cooled. In the oven. Was that the mistake? Should I have removed it? So much I don’t know, have to learn by trial and error.

Still, when the sink hole in the centre was filled with whipped cream and berries, it tasted ok, if the merest tad burnt. But L declared it to be the best pav ever. I think that means he wants me to make another!!!

Fruit fool

The Sunday market was a relatively quiet affair this week, with most of the country still on holiday, but most of the vendors seemed to be there. And one of the bargains of the day was ripe stone fruit, plums & apricots. Amazingly the apricots even tasted like apricots! But there’s only so much fresh fruit one can eat before it goes off, and I don’t see myself as a jam maker. So good old Annabel Langbein to the rescue again … she has a strawberry fool recipe, but it works just as well with plums, apricots, fruit with good acidity. I peeled and stoned about 10 ripe plums, threw them in the food processor with 2 tbspn icing sugar and the juice of one lemon, and blended to a puree. Then folded the fruit into 300 ml of whipped cream.

I thought I’d be fancy and serve this in wine glasses. We have some long-stemmed wine glasses with a tortoise shell look (which conjure Chloe of Wainuiomata and her leopard skin prints when I see these glasses at the back of the pantry), and spooned the fool into these. Of course, being long-stemmed they wouldn’t fit on the shelves of the fridge, so I put the glasses in the bottle holder on the fridge door. Well, you can guess what happened when the fridge door got opened! Expletives flew. SO stupid. Still, we only lost one, and I’ll know better next time.

Butterflied roast chicken

Pavlova wasn’t the only experiment on L’s birthday. Don’t know why I keep on trying new things on special occasions, but I thought I’d try to butterfly a chicken. It was surprisingly easy actually, and delicious. Just took my kitchen scissors and snipped down either side of the backbone to remove it. Put the chicken on the chopping board skin-side-up and pressed down hard. Snipped off the wing tips, rinsed the bird in cold water, and patted it dry. Then, slit the skin on either side close to the tail end and popped the end of each drumstick through the opposite slit. The butterflied chicken then formed a neat little package, very pleasing on the eye. And now ready for the oven. Rubbed it all over with a mix of olive oil, fresh chopped rosemary from the garden, salt & pepper. Dabbed the bird with butter, and put it in an oven preheated to 200 C, in a pan with a ½ cup of white wine and water in the bottom (I think for this you want a pan that’s not way too big for the bird, otherwise it reduces too much and if you make a sauce at the end, as I did, it has a taste of burnt butter), under a loose foil tent. Start basting after 30 minutes, and do so every 15 minutes from that point. Probably twice more, maybe three … with a size 14 chicken it took about an hour & 10 minutes. The foil tent should stay on till the end … the bird browns nicely under it. But if it’s not browning I guess you can always remove earlier.

While the chicken’s resting, pour off any excess fat from the pan, then add some wine and simmer for a few minutes. Add a teaspoon of butter and when that’s melted through, strain into a sauce jug.

Anyway, served with boiled new potatoes and sweet corn from the market (so tender & sweet, just picked that morning I’d guess) and a green salad this made a very satisfactory birthday dinner for two. Especially with pavlova for pud to follow!