Poppalina

Watermelon Ice

Today I started making sweet pickled watermelon rind, to give as a Christmas present to a few people. It's so pretty, and pretty yum, too. The recipe is from Stephanie Alexander's first book, Menus for Food Lovers. I was then faced with the prospect of eating all the flesh of an entire watermelon.

Hmm. What to do? My husband doesn't like watermelon very much, and I can only eat so much of it myself. But he says he does like watermelon granita on a very hot day. (Which today isn't.) So I decided to make a watermelon ice, which we can keep in the freezer for any time we want it.

I whizzed the flesh of one (seedless) watermelon in a food processor, and added a scant teaspoon of rose water and a capful of dark rum (we didn't have any white rum, which I would have used if we had).

I put 250 g of castor sugar in a pan with 1/2 cup of water, and brought it to the boil, stirring so it would dissolve. I let it boil for a few minutes, then turned off the heat and let it cool.

Then I stirred the sugar syrup into the watermelon juice, and churned the mixture in an ice-cream maker. (You could do it by semi-freezing, flaking with a fork and re-freezing, if you don't have one of those).

Holy moly! It was fabulous!

Too Many Tomatoes

Look, I don't mean to brag, but...

My tomatoes all kind of ripened at once,

And there were a LOT of them.

 

I've harvested about 5kg every couple of days for the last few weeks.

I've given them to friends. I've taken them to work (to impress the gardeners). I've slow-roasted them (a la Maggie Beer, and very good they are, too). I've cooked pots and pots of napoli. I've even thrown them at the dog, just for fun.

I know I should have had my act together and made passata, but I didn't. Next season I will be prepared.

It's ridiculous. We're running out of horizontal surfaces. We've eaten so many tomatoes that the Creative Genius broke out in a rash, and I think I know why...

Of course, I could always stage a neighbourhood version of this:

 

 

but it seems a bit of a waste.

It should all be over in another week, and I'll go back to having no tomatoes at all.

I dare say I'll miss them in time, but right now...

This springs to mind:

 

 

 

Shula's version of Maggie Beer's oven-roasted tomatoes

Slice enough tomatoes (preferably roma, but cherry tomatoes are lovely, too) to cover two shallow baking sheets (lined with baking paper). You need to leave some space between them.

Drizzle them with your favourite olive oil and then sprinkle over a strong, fresh, finely-chopped herb, (I favour oregano, but thyme is fabulous, and I suspect tarragon would also be good. Do the same with brown or white sugar and salt and pepper.

Slide them into a very slow oven, somewhere around 140 degrees celsius, maybe even lower, depending on your oven, and leave them for hours (if you're using a fan-forced oven, turn the fan off, or make the temperature even lower. The slower they cook, the better. Keep an eye on them after a couple of hours, you don't want them to shrivel and die, you want them to slow go soft and collapse. If they show signs of caramelising or burning, take them out. Anyway, you'll know by the smell that they're ready, because your house will smell delicious.

Put them in a container, perhaps with some more olive oil, and cover. Use them in anything you want - salads, sauces, or just eat them on bread with a good, sharp cheese. They should keep for a couple of weeks, but twenty bucks says that you'll have eaten the lot by the end of the day.

Enjoy.

How to Make Fig Jam

 

 

 

There are no photos of the cooking process, of course. There never are, but only because I invariably move into the Jam Zone and then forget to take any. Also, I tend to cook jam in the middle of the night (I have no idea why - maybe because there are a minimum of distractions at that time and I can give it my full attention).

I used a recipe from the Lovely Stephanie as a starting point, but then discovered I had no allspice, so I made up my own.

The result, I have to say, was pretty good.

I had 4kg of fresh figs, which I cleaned, destalked, and cut in half. To that I added one cup of very strong black chai (Byron and/or Rainbow, if you're wondering), the zest of 3 blood oranges, a nice big knob of fresh ginger (probably a piece about the size to comfortably sit in you hand), finely chopped, and 3 1/2 kg of white sugar.

I steeped the figs in the chai, zest and ginger, pouring the sugar over the top and left it to rest for several hours.

Just before cooking, I added the grated flesh of 4 peeled granny smith apples. This doesn't actually affect the flavour of the jam particularly. But figs are low in both acid and pectin, and the apples will make sure the jam sets. If you're ever worried about your jam setting, add cooking apples at the ratio of about one apple to one kg fruit (this is one of my Trade Secrets - don't say I don't love you). Jamsetter is for sillies.

You bring it to the boil, not too fast, making sure that all the sugar has dissolved, and then boil rapidly, stirring often, until it passes the gel test*. This could take anything up to two hours. You know you're getting close when the jam changes consistency and starts looking like jam, rather than stewed fruit. You need the water to evaporate out for this to happen. Keep a close eye on it, stir it often to stop the heat building up underneath (this will burn your jam). You'll find yourself turning the heat down bit by bit over the cooking process, as the temperature of the syrup increases, but you want it boiling reasonably hard without actually burning or boiling over. Stir often, and NEVER leave unattended (a quick whizz to the loo is as much as you'll ever want to risk). Jam is an unpredictable and dangerous creature, capable of boiling up unexpectedly and burning your house down. At the very least, it can make a mess awful enough to break your heart and ensure that you'll never try jam-making again. Jam sets at around 160 degrees celsius (320F). It's like lava, and requires handling with great care and respect. Having said that, it's dead easy and enormously rewarding.

When set, pour** into warmed, clean jars, let sit until they've stopped steaming, and then seal, tipping upside down for a little while to sterilise the lids.

My batch made about a dozen 300ml jars.

* To perform a gel test: Place a spoonful of jam on chilled plate, and return to freezer. Wait 1 to 2 minutes; remove plate from freezer, and gently push your fingertip through the jam; it should wrinkle slightly.

** I do this by ladelling the jam into a heatproof jug, and then carefully, and with the aid of a teaspoon, pour from the jug into the jars. Saves on the clean up afterwards - the less jam you spill the less messy and sticky it will all be at the end.

In Which Shula Wakes Up One Morning and Notices That She's Homeschooling

This New School idea is all very well, but it seems to have put paid to the idea of attending Old School all but completely.

Now, while I do recall mumbling something, under duress, about cutting the Creative Genius some slack, school-wise, a while back, somehow the teenage brain completely re-jigged this to mean,'You can totally stay home with me until, y'know, like, next January'.

Which I'm pretty sure is not what I meant at all but it's academic anyway, because she just went to school less and less, and now attends so rarely that I'm surprised no one's pulled her up to ask her who she is.

 

I was freaked out, at first. Kids are supposed to go to school, right? Otherwise Totally Scary Dudes in Suits turn up on your doorstep and take your children to the workhouse and you to a Gulag in Siberia. 

But I'm nothing if not flexible, and more than a tad rebellious myself, and rather than force an unhappy teenager to attend Old School, which I know from direct personal experience would see her disaffected and wagging all day every day, (along with so many other Supposedly Enrolled Students that the school would do well to hold classes in the McCafe up the road), my inherent pragmatism (and Machiavellian cunning) inclined me to lose this battle gracefully, while retaining a stake in The War.

  

So.

We cut a deal. No computers or TV in the daytime. Under Punishment of Death. And while I am available to facilitate activities, I am not obliged to invent them. CG's time is her responsibility and she is expected to present me with creative proposals (subject to approval) for how she is going to use it.

It's inspiring what a kid will think up when motivated.

She paints. She draws. She reads. She writes. She has completely cleaned her room without prompting and is keeping it neat and tidy (those who know her well will gasp in wonder at that one). She arranges excursions for herself, going to work with family friends and colleagues to see what they do for a living. She visits sick old ladies in hospital. She's even managed to earn herself some money.

But best of all, the Creative Genius bakes. She bakes impressively. And she bakes almost every day.

My pantry's never looked so good.

 

And if she keeps all this up until the end of the year, I shall be obliged to concede that she will have learnt more in her last term at home than in the previous three terms of Old School combined, maintaining, what's more, a happy and well-adjusted disposition throughout.

Teenagers. They might drive you bonkers, but there really is a lot to be said for listening to them.

Mym's Melting Moments

Biscuits

6 oz (180g) softened butter

2oz (60g) sifted icing sugar

6oz (180g) plain flour

2oz (60g) custard powder

1/2 teaspoon vanilla essence

Filling

2oz (60g) softened butter

1/2 cup icing sugar

1/2 teaspoon vanilla essence

2 teaspoons milk

Preheat oven to 160 C (325 F). In a mixing bowl, cream butter and sugar. sift flour and custard powder 3 times, then mix into butter and sugar mixture. Stir in vanilla essence.

Line a baking tray with baking paper. Roll large teaspoons of mixture into balls and place on tray. Press biscuits down lightly with a fork.

Bake on the middle shelf for 15 to 20 minutes. Take care that biscuits show only the slightest hint of colour.

To make filling, cream butter and sifted icing sugar until light and fluffy. Add vanilla essence, then gradually add milk, beating well. Ice cooled undersides generously, and sandwich together in pairs.

Give away to Deserving Friends, lest your skin break out and you gain unnecessary weight.

 

Adapted from Frankie Magazine's Afternoon Tea

How to Grow Sprouts

My mum couldn't get enough sprouts into us when we were kids. Despite our mutinous objections, she threw a handful of sprouts and fresh parsley onto almost everything she served up, to the point where all we seemed to eat was dinner-flavoured parsley sprouts.

We would carry on like we were dying, a chorus of protest erupting with us madly trying to cover our food as Mum descended upon us with the Dreaded Green Fist but, I have to admit, every one of us had beautiful skin, shiny eyes, and healthy hair. We lived in sub-zero temperatures in an uninsulated house with no curtains and almost no heating (does a tiny warmray briquette heater upstairs in the lounge room count? - I think not) but we never caught cold. We were the healthiest, most robust kids you could ever hope to meet.

These days, I throw chopped, fresh parsley onto my daughter's food by the bucketful. It shits her to tears.

More humbling still, I find myself craving home-grown sprouts more and more as I age, especially in the Winter, when we eat a lot more cooked vegetables and I get a little itchy for something really fresh and raw. This particular batch, a mixture of mung and adzuki, soaking overnight to be rinsed and sprouted over the next few days, should do the trick.

And I just know my mother would find all this Terribly Amusing. Not to put too fine a point on it, she would fall to the floor, completely unable to speak, her eyes streaming in a righteous and absolute excess of mirth, she would find it so damn funny.

So here, for the benefit of humankind, is her basic recipe for sprouting, de-archived from my unconscious with a little help from the Brahma Kumaris' recipe book, Shantivan.

Sprouts

Use whole seeds, beans or grains, but buy them from an organic grocer or health food shop, because you need produce that you're sure hasn't been treated with pesticides or that really scary stuff that stops them from growing. You can use wheat, barley, peas, chick peas, lentils, fenugreek, mung, navy, soy, adzuki, alfalfa, and probably a whole bunch of others that I can't think of right now. Mung is an excellent place to start, for quick and satisfying results.

Wash the seeds, beans or grains well in cold water. Use no more than enough beans to fill one quarter of the jar in which you're sprouting, as they increase enormously in volume, once they begin to grow. Cover with water and leave overnight.

The next day, rinse well and drain in the jar by covering the top of the jar with muslin, chux or something that will cover the jar but still allow the beans to breathe - I use a piece of tulle, and a rubber band - and place them, roughly on a 45 degree angle and muslin-side down so they can drain, somewhere dark but well-ventilated. I put mine in the pantry. Rinse at least twice a day. It's essential that they remain fresh, clean, and well aerated, lest they rot, in which case they will get medieval on your ass.

As soon as they begin to sprout, take them out of the cupboard and keep them, still tipped downwards, on the sink, or somewhere handy, airy, and light. Keep rinsing regularly.They need the light (just light, not harsh sunlight, which is too strong) at this point for their leaves take in all that weird mojo that makes them so good for you. Apparently their ideal eating time, nutrition-wise, is when the first two green leaves begin to appear. However, this is a flexible concept, where I come from. Sprouting times will vary enormously, depending on the seed. Some of the larger seeds can take much longer to sprout. Just keep doing the cupboard thing with the rinsing until they do.

Once sprouted, stop rinsing, and keep them in the fridge, covered, eating within 2-3 days. They're still okay after that, but the whole point of the fresh thing gets a bit defeated, I think. Better to grow new ones.

Be well, om shanti, yadda yadda yadda...

A Very Chocolate Milkshake

Breakfast Sunday

For those of you unsure how to satisfy the chocolate craving that is a 13 year old,

Mym has most graciously supplied her chocolate milkshake recipe, along with my whereabouts for the next week, for the benefit of humankind.

Chocolate fingerprints at no extra charge.

Approach on an empty stomach with extreme caution.

And remember, lots of mik, and don't forget the grape. It goes in last, for the amusement of others when it plugs up your straw without warning and gives you a brain aneurism.

Mym's Peanut Butter Biscuits, The Recipe

For Judi.

185g (6oz) unsalted butter, softened

2 cups soft brown sugar

1/2 cup smooth peanut butter

1 ts vanilla extract

1 egg

1 1/2 cups plain flour

1/2 ts baking powder

1 1/4 cups rolled oats

3/4 cup peanuts (we didn't have any, so we left them out)

Preheat oven to moderate 180 C or 350 F. Line 2 baking trays with baking paper.

Cream the butter, sugar, peanut butter and vanilla essence until light and fluffy.

Mix in the combined sifted flour and baking powder.

Fold in the oats and peanuts and mix until smooth. Chill for 15 minutes, or until firm.

Roll heaped tablespoons of the mixture into balls and place on the trays, leaving room for spreading.

Press down gently with a floured fork to make a crisscross pattern.

Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until golden.

Cool slightly on the trays before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely. When cold, store in an airtight container.

Makes about 30.

Keep out of reach of dogs.

Rice Pudding - A Recipe for Peace

How many pots of rice pudding have I made over the years, I wonder? Counting the 4 litres I made daily at The Galleon, it would probably be in the thousands. It was one of the most popular dishes we served, especially with rhubarb and apple.

I defy anyone to eat it and not think of their mum, or their grandma, or to remember a time when they were loved by someone, unconditionally. I've seen hard, dangerous men, with maximum security eyes, ready to stab the first man who looks sideways at them, restored to a state of perfect serenity by a bowl of (truly excellent) rice pudding. Really.

To extrapolate from this morsel of anecdotal wisdom it follows, logically, that if everyone on the planet ate (truly excellent) rice pudding on a dedicated basis we would, in time, achieve Total World Peace.

So, for a domestic quantity, pour 2 litres of milk, 1 cup of short grain rice and half a cup of sugar into a heavy based saucepan, bring to the boil, simmer and reduce until the rice is cooked. It'll take somewhere between 1 and 2 hours. You'll know it's nearly ready when it thickens up suddenly and starts to stick, which will mean that the rice grains have popped and softened. Keep an eye on it all the time, and stir it often. When it's ready, add a few drops of rose water and a splash of vanilla. It sets further as it cools, so I usually stop cooking before it gets too thick, otherwise you wind up with brick pudding, and the texture will be tough, and less than truly excellent. Decant into a big bowl, or lots of little ones, and shake cinnamon over it. It serves well cold, but there's nothing quite so good as eating it hot and fresh.

It doesn't have to be cow's milk, of course. Cow is my personal milk of choice. I've made it for vegans and the lactose-intolerant with rice or soy milk, and although I, personally, found it a bit weird, they seemed happy enough.

And just for the record, A.A.Milne buffs. In my opinion, Mary Jane was a thankless little brat who didn't deserve the people who cooked for her.

Heaven is a Bowl of Toasted Museli

I"ve been trying to replicate my mother's toasted museli for years. I know that she adapted one of the Diet for a Small Planet recipes in the 1970s, but damned if I can get hold of a copy. None of the local organic brands come even close to tasting right, and they burn the fruit. I would abandon my search in disgust, as humphy as buggery, and swearing like a truckdriver. As is my way.

But in keeping with my current Breakfast is a Good Thing theme, I decided to bite the bullet and have another go. I did a little research, and I'm happy to say that Little Birds' toasted museli, while not the same as Mum's, is a perfectly delightful alternative.

The best thing about making your own museli is that you get to to put in all the things that you really love (hazelnuts, dried muscatel grapes), and exclude that which you detest (I loathe dried apple and always will). And Little Birds suggests adding a big spoon of nut paste to your honey/oil mixture, which is downright inspired of her.

I used:

4 cups rolled oats

a generous handful of chopped almonds, and the same of chopped hazelnuts, which I toasted lightly in a pan, beforehand, to bring out the flavour,

a handful of sesame seeds,

a handful of sunflower seeds,

a big handful of flaked coconut,

and generous lashings of cinnamon, and a little cardamom powder (to offset the coffee-drinking, thank you Peter), but not too much cardamom, or you'll overwhelm things.

I mixed all that in a bowl.

In a saucepan, I heated, until melted and blended:

1/4 cup honey,

1/4 cup maple syrup (because life is short),

1/4 cup oil (vegetable, or nut),

a ts of vanilla essence,

and a generous tablespoon of nut paste (I used peanut butter, because it's all I had, but I plan to experiment with this next time). I understand that fruit juice is workable, too.

When that was all melted I mixed it into the museli, sans fruit.

The result:

It will seem surprisingly wet, but don't be alarmed.

I toasted it in 2 batches in a slow oven (mine was 140 degrees celsius and fan-forced, but that's not really going to help you, just make sure it's not too high). Set your timer and check and turn it every 5 minutes until it's golden and crispy (I think it took 20 - 25 minutes per batch but will depend a lot on what you're toasting in. I used a big Le Creuset cast iron fry pan, which was a bit slow getting off the ground, but once it did, toasted fast.

Once it starts to toast, it all happens pretty quickly, so don't wander off and forget about it, or you'll have a bastard mess on your hands that will leave you feeling dejected and inadequate, and your museli looking like shit. This is really easy stuff, even Stomper can handle it, it's just a matter of sticking around.

When toasted, take it out of the frypan, or baking dish, straight away, or it will keep cooking. Put it in a dry bowl, and stir it from time to time while you're toasting the rest. It helps to cool the museli, and will stop steam from stealing your crunch.

When it was all done, but still hot, I added the dried fruit, a couple of handfuls, which in this case were muscatels and currants (call me old fashioned, I heart currants), or however much you prefer, and I tossed it about some more. Truthfully, this much tossing is perhaps not absolutely essential, but I found it so satisfying that I can only recommend that you try it, and see if I'm not right. You've just made your own toasted museli, dammit; Toss and Be Proud.

The end result should look something like this:

I'm planning cranberries in the next lot, I'm throwing dried cranberries into everything but the wash at the moment. The flaked coconut was particularly successful and delicious, the natural oils inherent in the coconut causing it to crisp up beautifully. Much better than dessicated, (dessicated is so last millenium).

But whatever your weapons of choice, the key is too keep it as organic as you can. A lot of strange and scary creatures are used in commercial fruit drying, affecting both the taste and the value, (nutritional and spiritual), of the food.

This is breakfast we're talking about, after all.

Chant Aum, gratefully, three times,

and then knock yourself out.

And, if you're in Australia, be sure to eat it with this:

then write and tell me, in 25 words or less, exactly what kind of epiphany you had.

Golden Syrup Dumplings

For 2 days the sun came out, the air turned warm, the birds sang, and we all peeped outside, ripped off our woollies and ran down the street in our T shirts.

"Summer's coming! Summer's coming!" people cried, and began swigging cold beers in the outdoor cafes.

Whereupon the skies promptly turned black and bucketed iced water all over them. And now it's back to Even Colder Weather Than Before. And every man and his dog has a terrible cold from being caught in the rain without a coat.

Melbourne pulls this stunt every Spring, without fail. I'm not sure why, but I suspect it's because She has a black sense of humour, to match Her dress code.

So we're all back indoors in our slippers, cooking hot puddings, and feeling very sooky indeed.

And I do believe I've just set up a somewhat laboured segue into an old family favourite sooky pudding recipe.

Now fancy that.

Golden Syrup Dumplings

serves 4 

Dumplings

1 tb butter

1 cup self raising flour

1 beaten egg

2 - 3 tb milk

Syrup

1 1/2 cups water

1/2 cup sugar

1 1/2 tb butter

2/3 cups (approx) golden syrup

juice of 1 lemon

Rub butter into flour until it resembles breadcrumbs

Add beaten egg and sufficient milk to mix into a soft dough. Place dough in greased casserole or deep pie dish in spoonfuls

Place syrup ingredients in saucepan, stir over heat until sugar has dissolved. Bring to boil.

Pour syrup over dumplings.

Bake at 180 celsius (350 farenheit) for 20-30 minutes, or until dumplings are swollen and golden on top. You'll know by the smell. It will send you crazy. I usually cover mine until cooked, and then take the lid off for the last 5 -10 minutes to brown them. Stops too much of the sauce from evaporating.

Serve with cream or ice cream, or bugger it, both.

Not for the faint-hearted, but guaranteed to warm your soul on a miserably cold night. A big hit with the kids and the elderly.

Take it from me.