Slow Cooking Low-Down

Posted on July 23, 2009 by Virgil Evetts

Virgil Evetts

The thought of deep, earthy slow cooked food is so very appealing amidst the miserable chill of winter. Tough but tasty cuts of meat cooked until meltingly soft, swimming in rich complex gravies along with sweet nuggets of onion, carrot, parsnip and mushroom. If there is indeed any sort of upside to the misery of the cold months, it’s food like this.

Trouble is, most of us lead such crazy, hectic lives nowadays that this kind of cooking is either overlooked or roundly dismissed. Long hours every day spent in the bill-paying grind and then for many of us the tedious (and in Auckland often terrifying) trip home.

Thankfully though, the ever resourceful appliance peddlers have more than a few toys for hungry, weary travellers like us. Bench top slow cookers – rather like bread makers- are a modern kitchen phenomenon. Rather than being just another gimmick and object of clutter, they actually make life easier- which is the whole idea of technology after all.

Slow cookers don’t really do anything that can’t be achieved in a casserole or tajine, but- and I think this is their biggest selling point- they have timers- meaning you can do your prep and then set the cooker to have dinner ready for the table when you walk in the door at night. Kind of like a plug-in 1950s housewife but without the gingham and Tupperware.

As I said, you can do all of this with an oven, but personally I’m always anxious about leaving my oven switched on and unattended. Who knows what it might get up to? Most slow cookers are packed with safety feature which help to minimise the risk of coming home to smoking ruins.

Slow cooking- stews- hot-pots, casseroles and myriad others are common to all cuisines and hark back to the days when most home cooking was done in heavy clay or cast iron pots over an open fire or better still in the glowing embers. This softly, softly approach to cooking renders the toughest cut of meat succulent and tender, brings out the natural sweetness in root vegetables and concentrates flavours to a depth and clarity that is quite simply ambrosial

Gravy beef, chuck steak, blade steak and other economy cuts are the only way to go in the world of bovine based slow cooking. Shanks, neck chops and the off-puttingly named flaps are the sheepish equivalents. I can offer little advice when it comes to slow cooked or stewed pork dishes except to recommend you invest in a good extractor fan first. Rendered pig is more than little a wiffy.

The best vegetables for slow cooking are the cool climate classics- carrots, parsnips, potatoes, celeriac, onions and dare I say, it even Swede. Given time and patience, this most odious and odiferous of roots can be transformed into something quite special. Yes, seriously.

As you might have guessed by now, I’m a bit of an Italio-phyle. Being a bit of milkshake of Maori and European ancestory, I was often mistaken for Italian or some other Mediterranean extraction as a child- which suited me just fine. Although I’ve since learned that masquerading as another ethnicity is a bit sad, I do still have a love for all things Latin- specially things of an edible nature. So it’s probably no surprise that one of my all time favourite slow cooked dishes is osso bucco. This recipe, from Italy’s milk-fed north, uses one of the most under-rated of cuts- veal or beef shins. Although initially startlingly tough- (the shin muscles get quite a work out in life) but when cooked down slowly in a stew of tomatoes and wine they become fall-apart tender and yield bucket loads of gorgeous bovine depth. Although not to everyone taste, the built-in fount of luscious, creamy marrow in the centre of the bone is just the icing on the cake for me. I could eat that stuff all day or at least until my arteries gummed-up.

I’m a huge fan of parsnip either mashed, as crispy wafer-thin chips but most especially in rich, beefy stews and casseroles. Always referred to as ‘snarpips’ in my family, their silky, sweetness and delicate herbal flavour is the perfect partner to so many of my favourite dishes. Whether they feature in the recipe or not, parsnips can do no wrong- so don’t hold back.

Lamb is often over looked as a stewing meat, but Irish stew; a restrained but hearty dish of lamb meat- neck chops do particularly well here- potatoes, onions and carrots, is easily among my favourite winter offerings. Served with soda bread or dumplings it’s a dish of the very deepest satisfaction.

Lamb shanks’ are probably the best know cut of the sheep for the slow cooked treatment, and while not as affordable as other stewing meats, they offer gorgeous buttery, flavoursome meat and a wonderfully lamby stock.

Lamb shanks’ work particularly well in a tajine- and can replace the rump specified in this recipe quite admirably. I probably make more tajines in winter than any other kind of slow cooked dish. There are literally hundreds of variations on the tajine- (which is in fact a cooking vessel, but much like the casserole is most often used to describe dish itself), but they all follow a similar pattern. Tajines are usually meat based (lamb, duck, kofta, beef, goat), contain basic vegetables such as carrot and onion and are flavoured with typically North African spices like cinnamon, cloves, turmeric and saffron. The inclusion of dried fruits such as apricots, prunes, fig and quince is a hallmark of tajine cooking as is the addition of various nuts. Many tajine recipes also include honey, which while quite traditional can be a bit alarming to the western palate when added too liberally. On the other hand, I very much appreciate the Moroccan habit of breaking an egg per diner into the tajine shortly before serving (pictured).

And before you’re wooed by the wares of Milly’s et al, no you don’t need an actual tajine (the conical lidded cooking vessel) to make a tajine stew- they work equally well in a casserole or electric slow cooker.

If I was the whiney, pleading type and hell, maybe I am, I’d be pushing you towards tajines more than any other style of cooking this winter. They’re perfect for lazy cooks because you don’t need to brown anything, making them the archetypal one pot wonder and I’ve yet to find a person who doesn’t visibly swoon when the lid comes off.

I’m of the opinion that chicken is usually wasted in stews, casseroles and even tajines. The flesh disintegrates into pappy fibres and I’m often left wondering how I can dispose of the whole mess without the host noticing (Labradors are very useful here). However, there are one or two very passable chicken stews and similar, of which my favourite by far is coq au vin. Not a million miles from Beef Bourguignon (another Grande Dame of the French cooking repertoire) coq au vin – meaning rooster in wine- consists of chicken portions slowly cooked in red wine with onions, mushrooms, bacon and the classic bouquet garni. Older recipe specify an actual rooster for this dish along with its blood. Anyone who’s spent much time in the proximity of a rooster may find this rather appealing.

Once you’re in the habit of making tajines, stews, casseroles and other slow cooked pleasures of the cold months, the style becomes quite addictive. I’ve even been known to stretch out my tajine season well into summer. After all, it gets hot in Morocco, right?

In these rather worrying days of crumbling economies it’s a pleasure and relief to find recipes that are affordable, nutritious and thoroughly delicious. This is certainly true all of the above and most slow cooked dishes for that matter. So if you’re not a slow cooking convert just yet- get thee to the crock pot!

Sweet Slices

Posted on July 15, 2009 by Helen Jackson

Slices are a great favourite of mine, they are generally quick and easy to make and are fairly quick to cook. While most of mine don’t get a chance to make it to the freezer many of them are easily cut and then frozen for later use.

At the peak of the easy to make slices must be the varying combinations of ingredients that have a can of condensed milk poured over them prior to baking. There is no mixing bowl or spoons required but the entire slice is made in the pan. All Saints Slice aka Hello Rosie slice is a perennial favourite. I don’t make it too often as it one of those things that will power simply can’t stand up to. A more fruity variation of the same recipe is Tropical Slice where varying dried fruits are layered on a biscuit base along with chocolate chunks.

Another favourite slice using sweetened condensed milk is Tan square. I like this as much as I did as a child and unfortunately it is one of those sweets that are so popular they disappear in a flash.

Lately in our house the kids have been keen on Chocolate Weetbix Slice, this is great for using up weetbix crumbs in the bottom of the packet and also it is simple enough for them to make themselves.

Ginger crunch is another crowd pleaser – either in the traditional short base or this delicious Takaka Oaty Ginger Crunch. Chunks of crystallised in the icing are lovely or topping the icing with chopped toasted pistachio nuts.

Chocolate lovers will find this Chocolate Fudge Brownie really good – it is just the right level of sticky chewiness combined with a firmer crust….

While I like my mints in a bag this Chocolate Mint Slice is always a hit and particularly good with coffee after dinner.

Caramel and chocolate is a marriage in heaven and this oaty chocolate caramel slice is highly decadent.

For those who like citrus then Sticky lemon slice is heavenly! For a quicker sweet citrus fix try the citrus uncooked biscuit fudge slice .

Anzac slice is a pseudo healthy slice – the oaty component works for me! It is very similar to the English flapjack slice.

A friend of mine at school was often sent packages of Chocolate Rough Slice from her mum that the rest of us were eternally envious of. I have yet to make it for my children but am sure they would like it as much as we did.

Belgian slice is another old fashioned favourite although I think I like the sandwiched biscuits a little more!
My brother is a big fan of Louise Cake and whenever mum goes to stay she makes it for him.

For slices that don’t requre an oven think of coffee fudge slice, coconut and apricot fudge squares, fudge slice and Tammy’s fudge slice,

Do you have any favourite slice recipes that you would like to share?
Helen

Roasting Meat

Posted on July 15, 2009 by Helen Jackson

Sunday Best-Rules of Roasting

By Michal Haines

The classic New Zealand Sunday roast is a tried and true tradition. I recently did a wee poll at work and found, quite to my surprise, the traditional Sunday roast is still going strong.

I would have assumed that in these days of careful healthy eating, huge chunks of roasted meat just weren’t on the menu so much anymore.

The traditional roast didn’t appear often on the kitchen table of my childhood. On the rare occasions it did it was most likely to be chicken, which, to this day remains my favourite roasted meat.
My grandmother on the other hand was a whiz with the roast chicken, wrapping it elegantly in bacon to keep in the moisture, jugs of gravy at the ready to swim those peas in. I remember her chicken so fondly that I am striving constantly to achieve the same taste and tenderness but to no avail. I sometimes wonder if the memory was better than the actuality.

Roasting meats can be a bit haphazard if you don’t stick by some good golden rules. These little things can really be the difference between a dry horrible roast and a fantastic one. Like all cooking it is about learning to achieve the best results. There simply isn’t anything like a good roasted chunk of meat and sure, it is in a different league to a well made curry or an expertly crafted risotto but it still is a thing to rejoice over at the table.

There are a few ways to cook a hunk of meat however.

Low Temperature Roasting

Ranging from 120◦C to 160◦C this ensures less shrinkage of your meat, more even cooking through the meat and certainly more flavour and a more tender result as well as an easier piece of meat to carve. Some chefs even go for a 100◦C for an even longer time making the meat very soft but in no way pink.

High Temperature Roasting

Between 190◦C and 230◦C this is best used to create a crusty exterior and a tender, rare interior.

You can also achieve a crust when low temperature roasting by starting the meat at 200◦C until it has browned and then reducing the temperature back down to the 120-160 range. I am a huge fan of this technique. In theory this sears the meat and holds the moisture in to keep it all nice and juicy in there. It also helps create that fantastic crust that makes the whole enjoyment of a roasted cut of meat just that little bit better. Remember that this initial stage in no way cooks the meat-it just gets thing moving a little quicker.

Tips for Roasting
Take the meat from the fridge half an hour prior to roasting to at least bring it partially back to room temperature. This will help the cooking speed as the heat will move through the flesh quicker.

Cuts are important. Selecting the correct cut for the right job makes all the difference.

For roasting beef look for the following cuts:

Standing Rib Roast -cut from the rib section of the forequarter, this cut is very juicy and should be well marbled. Sometimes this cut can also be referred to as prime rib roast but be warned this does not indicate a superior quality of meat. Trimming will have been done on the ribs themselves to partially expose them as with a lamb rack. The bone will provide you with extra flavour and then you have the choice to serve it with bone on or off. This cut looks impressive at the table and a whole rib roast of 7 ribs will easily feed up to 14 people.

Sirloin Roast-this cut is taken from the lower middle of the animal’s back .Generally cheaper than whole fillet, this is a great cut that can be cooked easily and feed many. Cooked properly it is fantastic. In its traditional form it would come with bone attached but I certainly have never seen this before. Sirloin can very easily be portioned and seared at high heat as a steak cut also.

Whole fillet roast-this is the whole tenderloin of the animal and will require trimming once you get it home unless a butcher has done that for you. It will cost more per kg but the trimming process can loose up to a kg depending on the size of your fillet so it can sometimes be worth the extra cost, particularly if you are not that great at trimming.
From this whole fillet smaller cuts referred to as filet mignon are created.
Tri Tip Roast-has a similar texture to sirloin. Taking its name from the triangular shape of the cut it is a good slow roasting meat with good texture and flavour.
Shoulder Roast-cut from the forequarter and can come boned or not. Roasting is fine for this cut but can be helped with some extra fat to keep things moist.

For Roasting Pork look for:
Centre and Rolled loin of Pork-Centre pork roast will still have its bones attached where as rolled will have all the bones removed and it will be tied to make it easier to carve. This is a very popular roast and the skin can be salted and scored or dried out to encourage perfect crackling.

Belly- My favourite cut for roasting. Don’t be put off by the fat as without it the meat will be dry. Thin cuts will take little time to roast and by drying the skin out in the fridge uncovered for three days or so you will get fantastic crackling.

For Lamb look for:
Rack of Lamb-Number one for many reasons-easy and fast to cook, delicious, great texture and it has its own handle to make eating easy. No tenderloin makes this a small cut but when well cooked a delicious one. You may also see something that is called a Crown Roast and this is the two racks joined together and formed into a circle to make one large roast.

Loin Roast-can be boned and rolled or complete. A very delicate cut that will need fat to help it along. If boned, it can be stuffed and rolled for extra flavour.

Leg Roast-a classic New Zealand cut that can be butterflied, rolled and boned or roasted complete with bone for extra flavour.

Weight, size and shape

All of these factors play a part in how long your meat will take to cook.

There is no shame in a meat thermometer. They are well priced (usually under ten dollars) and can really be the difference between dry or juicy. They do need at least twenty seconds in the meat to get an accurate reading. Push the skewer in to the thickest area of meat so it is as close to the centre as possible. If you are pushing into bone this can skew the reading slightly but it will be close enough.

Experience goes a long way to being able to just look at a cut and know what cooking time you will need but before that comes practice.

For the most part there are golden rules which have always worked really well for me:

Per 500g red meats need 10 minutes for rare, 15 for pink and 20 for well done

Per 500g pork needs 25 minutes per 500g for well done and 25 for very well done.

Ovens
All ovens are a little tricky. They do behave differently so everything you learnt about your old oven you will have to relearn if you move house or renovate. Pop a thermometer in also to see if your oven is actually reaching the temperature it is telling you it is. If it isn’t getting to 200◦C then you are going to have some issues with roasting.

Basting
This keeps the meat nice and tender. Basting can be done using the fat that will appear in the pan as the meat is cooking.
There seems to be two schools of thought here and I tend to agree with the one that feels that the meat already has a covering of fat so basting shouldn’t be needed. The repeated opening and closing of the oven door will slow things down. The only time that I think it is a must is to achieve crispy chicken skin.

Barding utilises bacon or pancetta-or really any fat-and wraps it about the meat in order to give it more moisture in which to cook. Useful when roasting cuts with little or no fat but remember to remove any barding ten minutes prior to the end of roasting in order to brown the area well.

Resting
Resting is essential. At least fifteen minutes is recommended for the meat to relax enough that when you do make that first cut, it will be juicy and succulent through out. It greatly enhances the meat feel and if you have taken the trouble to cook it well, I am sure you are willing to wait that little bit extra. Fifteen minutes gives the moisture enough time to resettle back into the meat through out the cut, not just at the surface.

Rest meat at warm room temperature or a little higher and avoid any draughts as the meat will go cold. I know a few people who feel that leaving the oven door open and the oven off will be ok for this process but I do feel that the temperature remains far too high and the meat just continues to cook.

The Roasting Tray
The roasting tray itself is an important tool in the success of your roast.

Too large a tray will spread the juices too evenly and allow them to burn quickly. Too small and the meat will be lying about in its own juices stewing away. Pouring fat or excess liquids off during the cooking process can be beneficial if the cut itself is very fatty but otherwise, why loose all that flavour!!

Extras
Seasoning is good but use a little oil or butter to make it stick. The oil will help with the initial high heat cooking stage and the end result will be a little more juicy. Herbs and flavour rubs can be applied but make sure they are done so with oil or butter otherwise they will burn badly before the meat has cooked.
There is a lot here to take in but for the most part it all comes back to the cut itself.

Quality here is all important and why not. If you are going to do little more than rub a little salt and oil into the meat it should be all about that wonderful flavour. Roasting is one of the few times where the meat must really speak for itself. Poor quality meat just won’t stand up to that and you will always be disappointed by the taste. I am not dictating by any means that you should run out and spend you entire budget on one cut of meat for the feast but think more about the quality than the quantity.

Good farming practice produces good meat that will look, smell and taste better when it hits your table. In my mind it doesn’t have to be organic but it does need to have been raised by some one who has taken the time and money to raise the beasts appropriately, has feed them what is natural (certainly no other animals would be an excellent start), and it has be killed in a manner that is both humane and has allowed for the meat to be at its best. I am being very simplistic here and I could lead you further into what would be a rather long rant about ethical farming, production and processing of meat but this is not about that issue. It is a simple fact that you get what you pay for and we all know this. We can’t get around it so if you find a cheap roast cut, I suggest walk away from it. On the whole meat is not cheap and the true test will always be in the eating.

Pasta the poverty line

Posted on July 14, 2009 by Virgil Evetts

Virgil Evetts
I’ve been thinking about the term ‘peasant food’ lately. It’s become such a clichéd part of the western food lexicon. We use it to describe anything vaguely rustic and it makes us think of crumbling Tuscan farm houses, wood fired ovens and good-natured, salt of the earth country folk. Can’t you just smell that spit roast lamb? Yes, well it’s also deeply patronising. Describing the culinary traditions of rural Europe as peasant-like is about as flattering as calling African American culture slave-like.
I think the only reason most Europeans don’t noisily object is that they know they’re on to a good thing. Ignorance may breed bigotry, but it also breeds rampant stupidity. The attraction of living in a restored farm house is a complete mystery to most Italians. Why would you want to live in a crumbling old dump that has no indoor plumbing and is full of snakes and scorpions? Who cares, if you’re willing to pay a million Euros for it.

But that’s not to say that there isn’t genuinely humble country cooking in Italy and the rest of Europe. Many of my favourite dishes would be described in Italian as cucina la povero. This literally translates as cuisine of the poor, but is meant to be complementary rather than chin-ticklingly patronising. The logic being that cash-strapped folk can work miracles with very few ingredients. I think this is a truth that extends (or at least, used to) well beyond the borders Italy. We were as poor as particularly down-trodden church mice when I was growing up, but we still ate very, very well every night. But then, I had the good fortune to be to be born into a family that cared deeply about food- more so than each other in some cases. Thanks to the fungoid spread of convenience foods and cheap takeaways, whole generations are now missing out on learning to cook. Jamie Oliver’s School Dinners anyone? I rather fear that that the modern New Zealand equivalent of cucina la povero would either come from a box in the supermarket freezer or via a drive through window.

But I digress; I was talking things Italian…

If you paid too much attention to the advertising campaign of a certain pasta sauce company (the one with the horribly stereotyped puppets) you would think that Italians always smother their pasta (which is the only food Italians eat according to these puppets) in rich tomato, cheese or meat-based sauces. This is hyperbolic at best, and the further south you go in Italy, the more wildly inaccurate it becomes. The harsh climate and poor soil of southern Italy has traditionally made meat, dairy and even tomatoes luxury items. Sure, they still eat plenty of pasta down Napoli way, but it’s often dressed far more frugally than in the relatively affluent north. Gone (or at least less common) here are the Bolognese and Carbonara, replaced instead with simpler but deeply satiating dressings of good quality olive oil, garlic, chillies, perhaps a scattering of salami or pancetta and some seasonal greens. These sorts of dishes are designed to be made in a flash, by anyone – be they a lone shepherd high in the myrtle scrub or an urban mamma with a gang of hungry mouths to feed in a Neapolitan housing project.

Ask a southern Italian what their favourite pasta dish is and they will probably tell you fettuccine al aglio e olio or something very similar. This is just about the simplest recipe imaginable, containing, in its purest form nothing more than garlic (LOTS of garlic), olive oil and seasoning. With deft execution, this is about as good as eating gets. It confounds the taste buds every time. How can something so simple be so damn good?

This, and myriad other oil-based pasta dishes, are classics of Southern Italian cooking. Despite their simplicity they offer some of the best eating of Italy’s vast and varied cuisines. The ingredients of this family of dishes are either fried or steamed quickly before being tossed together with cooked pasta. There are some established classics such as fettuccine al aglio e olio, which save for a few regional variations, are made according to strict tradition. But, as with fried rice in many Asian cuisines, you can add whatever you have at hand. Just use your best judgement and good taste to match flavours and textures.

Oil-based pasta dishes are best made with shells, orecchiette, spirals or in some cases flat noodles such as fettuccine. These shapes snare plenty of delicious little nuggets of garlic, chilli and other tasty things. Avoid macaroni, penne, and other tubular pasta – these are designed for very wet sauces and won’t work so well here. I have an irrational aversion to bow-tie pasta (Farfalle). Perhaps it’s because I once worked for a man who wore actual bow ties everyday as his signature dress thing. How I loathed those bow ties…

Anyway – here are a few recipes that are on a regular turn around at my place. As is typical of this sort of dish, they’re quick and easy to make – being far more about assembly than actual cooking - and are an affordable way to feed a crowd. In my experience all of these recipes go down well with kids too, which is always a bonus.

Fusilli con Broccoletti
(Spiral pasta with broccoli)

1 head of broccoli (chopped into small florets)
6+ cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
Fresh or dried chilli to taste (crushed)
1 cup black olives (preferably Kalamatta)
4 strips free range bacon (roughly chopped)
½ cup slivered almonds (toasted)
3 tomatoes (deseeded and roughly chopped)
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
1 large packet Fusilli (spirals)

In a dry pan sauté the bacon until crisp. Drain on kitchen paper.
In a deep pan/wok heat the olive oil. Add garlic and chilli, stir until fragrant. Remove from heat. Do not allow to brown.
Bring a large pot of well salted water to boil. Before adding the pasta use this water to either steam of blanch the broccoli- it should still be vibrantly green and slightly crunchy.
Cook and drain the pasta. Return the oil to the heat and add the pasta. Fold in all other ingredients, season to taste .
Serve immediately with a little shaved parmesan, pecorino or fried bread crumbs (recipe below)

Fettuccine al aglio e olio
(Fettuccine with garlic and olive oil)

10+ cloves garlic (crushed)
Chilli to taste (crushed)
½ cup olive

Optional:
Black olives
Capers
3+ Anchovies (finely chopped)
Fresh parsley (finely chopped)
1 large packet fettuccine

In a deep pan/wok heat the olive oil. Add garlic and chilli and anchovies, stir until fragrant. Remove from heat- do not allow to brown. Cook and drain the pasta. Return oil to the heat and add pasta. Fold in any other ingredients, season to taste and remove from heat.
Serve immediately with a little shaved parmesan, pecorino or fried bread crumbs (recipe below)

Chorizo, garlic and other good things with spiral pasta

This is a dish entirely of my own creation. It’s a good example of how well this style of pasta lends itself to improvisation.

6+ cloves garlic
250 grams chorizo or similar cured spicy sausage (sliced)
1 cup black olives (preferably Kalamatta)
Fresh or dried chilli to taste (crushed)
3 tomatoes (deseeded and roughly chopped) OR 2 red peppers, char-grilled, deseeded, peeled and roughly chopped.
Big handful of fresh basil OR fresh rocket
¼ cup toasted pine nuts/pistachios/slivered almonds
½ cup olive oil
1 large packet Fusilli (spirals)

In a dry pan sauté the sausage until fragrant and crispy. Drain on kitchen paper.
In a deep pan/wok heat the olive oil. Add garlic and chilli, stir until fragrant. Remove from heat- do not allow to brown.
Cook and drain pasta.
Return oil to the heat and add pasta. Fold in other ingredients, season to taste and remove from heat. Serve immediately with a little shaved parmesan, pecorino or fried bread crumbs (recipe below)

Fried bread crumbs

In the past, few southern Italians could afford expensive hard cheeses such as pecorino and parmesan, so to dress their pasta, they came up with this quite passable alternative. These bread crumbs bring a very pleasing crunch and a deliciously salty, toasty tang to each mouthful of silky pasta. They’re also a doddle to make. Roughly zap a few slices of good quality stale bread in a food processor. Heat a generous amount of olive oil in a pan, add the bread crumbs. Stir until dark golden-brown and super crunchy. Don’t be stingy with the salt, these need plenty- blood pressure, be damned.
Drain on kitchen paper or a tea towel.

So whether you’re poor or flush, why not give these recipes a whirl? If this sort of food is anything to go by (and in reality it probably isn’t) poor Italians must eat a damn site better than your average financially buoyant kiwi, don’t you think?

Desert Island Cook Books

Posted on June 26, 2009 by Virgil Evetts

Virgil Evetts

How many times have you heard it? Usually from the young and fervent, or the bored and vapid: ‘this book changed my life!’ I tend to stop listening at about that point, because what follows is usually a florid description of the latest self-help tome from the Oprah list. You know the sort of thing- three hundred pages of that very American brand of uber-politeness all to state the bleeding obvious: stop whining and pull yourself together. Not a bad title for a book actually.

So I won’t be offended if you decide to quietly back out of the room when I tell you that these books – the ones described below – really have changed my life. This is Foodlovers, so, yes, they’re all food books, and it might sound shallow and trivial when I say these titles have not just informed how I cook, but how I think about food, life and the world in general.

I don’t expect you to agree – nor do I claim that this is any kind of essential reading list. These are just the books that helped shape me into the sad little food-o-phile I am today. These books make me happy, hopeful and hungry.

The Edmonds Cook Book -1970s editions

I was a weird kid by kiwi standards. I didn’t like sports, my wardrobe was heavily influenced by my mother’s hippie-dippy sensibilities (I thought nothing of going to school in cow-skin moccasins, gold silk jeans and a red velveteen sweater), I was forever chasing butterflies – literally – and my idea of recreational bliss was an afternoon spent baking.

The first book that really opened my eyes to flour, butter and a nice hot oven, the one that taught me that the kitchen wasn’t a scary place at all, was Edmonds. Every Friday after school (once Ollie Olsen had signed off) was baking time, and slowly but surely I worked my way through each and every recipe – several times. Of course, I still needed my mother’s hands-on instruction to learn what was involved in creaming butter, folding-in flour and bringing egg whites to stiff peaks (that was assumed knowledge in even the most basic cook books back then), but otherwise it was all straight forward and easy to follow stuff, even as a total kitchen virgin.

Another of my childhood abnormalities was a precocious fondness for flower gardening. Oh, how I longed to visit the Edmonds factory with its garish, twee plantings out-front, but my dreams were dashed, unrealised, when a developer knocked it down back in 1990.

I’m not mad on the updated, slightly la-de dah new version of Edmonds, which features all manner of supposedly modern recipes involving pesto, hummus and other things done better elsewhere. I think I’ll just stick with the copy I learned to bake from – complete with oil stains and a liberal dusting of flour – if you don’t mind.

Elizabeth David- Italian Food

My first copy of this, perhaps my favourite food book of all time, was a rather dog-eared 1960’s edition with charmingly kitsch cover art. I was in my late teens before I found it, long-forgotten at the back of a wardrobe, but was instantly hooked. It taught me that la cucina Italiana is a whole lot more than the ‘spaghetti and sauce’ idea I had in my head, and that glossy photos aren’t necessarily the measure of a good cook book. Save for a few line drawings, Italian Food is all text, cover to cover. Instead, the emphasis here is on the quality of the writing and the authenticity and reliability of the recipes. Although published in 1954, Italian Food is still, in my opinion, the greatest English-language book on the subject ever written – and I’ve read more than I care to recall. Unusually for the time, Elizabeth David writes with a deep respect for the Italian people and their cuisine: patronising pomposity was the usual tone in those days. Her work here is at times laugh-out-loud funny, but unerringly intelligent throughout. I remember being shocked to the very core of my know-it-all teenage being to find recipes for such modern and fashionable delights as pesto, saltimbocca and gelato, in a book that was nearly as old and moth-eaten as my parents.

Jane Grigson- Charcuterie and French Pork Cookery

There is natural progression from Elizabeth David to Jane Grigson. The two often referenced each other in their work, and both had a similarly authoritative, waspish tone and reverence for their subject matter. French Charcuterie and Pork Cookery was the book that first demystified the murky, frankly frightening world of charcuterie for me, and thereby triggered one of my most enduring food passions – home-cured meats.

Again, this book highlighted that all food fashions are really just revivals, featuring as it does recipes for Spanish style hams, pork rillettes, potently seasoned suacisson, and many other a la mode meaty pleasures. This book, more than any other, taught me to be brave in the kitchen, to take risks for good food – after all, the difference between a good ham and a bout of botulism is only a few grams of salt. I can think of no greater virtue for a food book.

Maggie Beer – Maggie’s Farm

This was the first book I found which successfully brought together my biggest extracurricular obsessions – growing good produce and cooking great food. Sure, there are plenty of other books for cooks who garden and gardeners who cook, but most seem to be either soulless affairs aimed at trainspotter types, or overly obsessed with pulses and respect for the Earth Mother. Maggie’s Farm is definitely a food book first and foremost, but it’s written with not just a cook’s love of good food, but a farmer’s love of the land. And although written from a decidedly Australian perspective, with a good measure of German-influenced Barossa cooking, I found a lot of familiarity here. The seasons were around the right way for one thing, so it didn’t make me feel excluded from the cool clique in the way northern hemisphere cook books sometimes do. And apart from just extolling the pleasures of cultivated food, Maggie’s Farm also delves into foraged food, another pet passion of mine. Using Maggie Beer’s instructions I even collected, purged and eventually poached a pot full of fat garden snails (which taught me I do not like poached snails). Forget A Year in Provence: this is the book to make you long for the lifestyle block idyll.

Australian Women’s Weekly Home Library: Chinese Cooking Class Cookbook

In the 1980s this series of books was everywhere. The glossy, magazine-style publication presents mouth-watering, accessible Chinese cooking in an idiot-proof format, and with competent but unintimidating photography. Admittedly many of the recipes are rather tame by today’s standards, but when I was growing up this book was like training wheels for Chinese cooking to me. Mum worked nights throughout my teens, so I had plenty of time to experiment with its many excellent, mostly Cantonese, dishes. While my friends and their families were presumably supping on stew and packet-mix macaroni-cheese, I was home alone, gorging myself on homemade crispy-skin chicken. Those were the days.

The Chicken with Lychee recipe from the Chinese Cooking Class Cookbook is still a much loved part of my family’s food repertoire, and the deep fried toffee apples… oh my God the deep fried toffee apples! This book looks a little sad and dated now, but I’m yet to find a more clearly laid-out beginners guide. Not only are the instructions simple and reliable (with step-by-step photographs), but the dishes taste great too.

Antonio Carluccio- The Carluccio Collection: Antipasti, Vegetables & Salads, Pasta, Mushrooms & Truffles, Fish and Shellfish, Meat, Poultry & Game, Desserts, Baking.

Although actually a serious of small books, I tend to think of these as one title, and it’s a shame they haven’t been released that way. I have a lot of time for Antonio Carluccio; he writes so lovingly of his native Italy, but with none of the patrician haughtiness of writers such as Lorenza de Medici. The phrase ‘salt of the earth’ comes to mind. This might just be the carefully crafted public persona of a shrewd businessman (which he surely is), but I’ll buy it.

Rather than just regurgitating clichés of Italian food, these books present reliable recipes for the sorts of dishes you might find in a small village trattoria, including tofeja del canavese (pork and beans), insalata di neonata (salad of baby anchovies), fichi al forno (baked figs) and many more.

Whereas Elizabeth David made me fall in love with Italian food, Antonio Carluccio, through these books, made me fall in love with the idea of Italy, and over successive visits and successive re-reads, in love with the land itself – maddening, breathtaking, filthy and gorgeous as it is.

And there you have it. My big 5.

And certainly, there are many other food books I have loved and learned from in various ways, but so far only this modest selection have actually changed my point of view. I hope this list will grow.

So have you too been moved by a cook book? Has Delia rocked your world or has Julia shown you the light?

Time to share…

Nuts to you

Posted on June 15, 2009 by Virgil Evetts

Virgil Evetts

I can think of few harsher deals in life than a nut allergy: I eat so many nuts, in so many ways, that the thought of being unable to indulge is enough to make anaphylactic shock seem like a blessed release.

Before I start, as a responsible writer, I should probably point out that most nuts are high in both protein and fat. So theoretically they should be eaten in some sort of moderation; but I don’t recall ever having heard of any cases of nut – induced morbid obesity. Anyway, I like to think that the benefits – aforementioned protein as well as various vitamins, minerals, trace elements and general deliciousness – outweigh any negatives. Although I can report, with a regrettable degree of authority, that consuming 1kg of pistachio nuts in a single sitting can make the following 12 hours rather interesting.

To a botanist, a nut is a seed that cannot grow without its husk or shell. But by that definition, most of the things we call nuts in the culinary world are not true nuts at all. Fortunately we are not bound by biology in the kitchen.

Despite the hard time we give our prehistoric ancestors for being all rough and tumble and lacking in finesse, we owe them a serious pat on the back and a nice thank you note for identifying and eventually cultivating all the various nuts and tasty seeds we enjoy today. Considering that most wild almonds are loaded with cyanide, and cashew trees spurt skin-blistering caustic goo at the lightest touch, there must have been a pretty brutal trial and error process along the way.

Many of the more popular nuts are now grown in New Zealand, and when available offer by far the best eating and value for money. Waikato-grown almonds, for example are some of the best I’ve ever tasted, being at once both sweet and savoury with a delicate almondine fragrance.

Personally, with even the best of intentions, most nuts I have in the house end up being eaten –by me – straight from the bag, but given the opportunity they can enhance, and in many cases make, a dish.

Some of my best friends are nuts

Actually that’s true. I seem to be a magnet for the mentally unhinged, but that’s another and mostly non food-related, story. And when it comes to edible nuts I’m none too fussy either – I’ll eat whatever you’re offering. But I certainly have my favourites, and when I can resist my natural inclination towards nut-gluttony, some favourite ways with them too. With a few notable exceptions, nuts are greatly improved with roasting. This can be done on a dry tray in a low oven or in a little oil in a hot pan. If you go with the latter, work quickly and carefully. Nuts burn with a scary momentum; the difference between a perfectly roasted pine nut and a carbonised one is about 30 seconds.

So without further ado, a roll call of my favourite nuts…

Peanuts

Far more pea than nut, the peanut is the seed of a low-growing legume. Once pollinated, the flowers de-frock (drop their petals), lean over and bury their heads in the sand(y soil). A very back to front way of doing things if you ask me.

The little double barrel pods then discreetly swell subterraneously, and are eventually harvested by giant clattering machines. Peanuts are pretty much your entry-level nut. They’re very cheap, and to be honest can be about as dull as a slow day in Hamilton. But don’t let me put you off. Roasted peanuts, either chopped or whole, are vital ingredients in many classic Asian dishes. They add texture and interest to fried rice, are essential as part of the great Malay breakfast dish nasi lemak (coconut rice with a chicken sambal, crispy deep fried anchovies, boiled eggs and peanuts: Oh. My. God!), and just try serving satay without a rich and spicy peanut sauce.

Cashews

You’re moving up in the world now. The cashew is a definite step up from the pedestrian previous entry, costing a good deal more but tasting a whole lot better. Growing on a tropical tree in the same family as the mango and pistachio, the nut forms almost like an afterthought directly beneath a juicy, fruit-like swollen stem. These cashew ‘apples’ are considered something of a delicacy in their own right, and are used to make a rather beguiling spirit. The steep price of cashew nuts has nothing to do with the tree being difficult to grow and everything to do with the nuts being extremely fiddly to process. Not only is the shell rock-hard, but it spurts forth a highly caustic sap which causes skin blisters and even blindness if you don’t have your wits about you. But you’d have to agree, cashews are worth the effort- especially if it’s not your effort.

The cashew nut is a classic addition to Cantonese style cooking- the mainstay of Chinese takeaway joints and yum char palaces the world over. My favourite use of cashews is in pesto ala Genovese- that classic basil gloop of culinary super stardom. Sure, the recipes invariably stipulate pine nuts, but have you seen the price of pine nuts lately? Not to mention the quality. I guarantee you won’t notice the difference here – if anything cashews improve the texture and bring an extra meatiness to the sauce.

Cashews are also used in a number of Indian dishes – most famously lamb korma - as a thickening agent and to add a sweet, nutty richness.

Pistachios

The true queen of nuts, and just about my greatest food weakness. So pathetically frail is my self control when it comes to pistachios, that I am often forced to plead with my best beloved to take them away. I just can’t break free of that hand-to-mouth rhythm. But I’m really not ashamed. These nuts are about as good as snack foods get. Salty, sweet, and crunchy with a distinctive, almost resinous flavour. And that colour!

Pistachios are grown on a very small commercial scale in New Zealand, but I’m yet to see any of the results. On a (very) amateur scale they are also growing in my garden (pictured). The majority of pistachios sold in New Zealand hail from California, but the best – if you can find them – are grown in Iran. Unfortunately U.S foreign policy has done a very good job of making Iranian produce, including fabulous saffron, halva, sour cherries and pistachio nuts, notably scarce in most of the western world over the last several decades. Thanks to a few enterprising Iranian expats this is starting to change, so shop around.

The characteristic saltiness of pistachios comes from the nuts being washed in a brine solution prior to roasting. It is however possible to find unsalted ‘raw’ pistachio nuts. These are usually pretty pricey but have the added advantage of being shelled- so you’re only paying for pure nutty goodness.

It’s very, very rare that I can control myself long enough to get as far as cooking with pistachios, but when I do, I lean towards luxury. Pistachio gelato is my preferred summertime use: grind about a cup of raw pistachios to a fine powder and soak, overnight in 400mls cream. Use this cream (unstrained) in any standard gelato recipe. The finished product won’t be emerald green or taste of bitter almonds – as is de rigour with most commercial pistachio gelato, but it will totally knock your knickers off.

In winter, when gelato is a bit out of place, try using roasted pistachios in a warm pilaf made with basmati rice, saffron, roast lamb, dried apricots and plenty of sautéed garlic. Serve with a good dollop of garlicky raita and a few extra pistachios.

Walnuts

If autumn had a flavour it would be of walnuts- mellow and warm but with a slight edge of bitterness, and a fragrance like fallen leaves. Walnuts have a devoted following all over Europe and parts of Asia, featuring in both sweet and savoury dishes. The English have a particularly ancient affinity for the walnut, and aged trees of tremendous height and girth grace the gardens of many a stately home. The English, bless them, also coined the following little proverb which manages, with masterful medieval brevity to be offensive to pretty much all living things: ‘A dog, a woman and a walnut tree, the more you beat ‘em the better they be.’ Charming.

Walnuts are almost unique amongst nuts in that they are quite delicious raw – particularly when they’re really fresh. New season walnuts are a true delight and have none of the mustiness or overwhelming bitterness typical of bulk bin offerings. They can be used in any number of sweets, from the classically kitsch afghan to the sublimely sophisticated baklava. But for me the walnut is a dinner nut. Try them lightly roasted and added to a salad of baby spinach leaves, gorgonzola picante and pear – I know it’s a bit last decade but I still love it. Walnuts also work very well in various pestos (pesti) – Rocket pesto made with walnuts and pecorino is particularly pleasing.

If you’re lucky enough to have access to a walnut tree you can make your own pickled walnuts -try these pureed and folded into whipped cream – a show stopping addition to any bread and dip platter. But my favourite use for green walnuts (and the one that has me scouring my neighbourhood every January) is nocino – Italian walnut liqueur. Split about a kilo of green walnuts and cover with vodka. Add the zest of 1 lemon, a quill or two of cinnamon and a couple of cloves. Seal and leave outside in the sunniest corner of your garden until midwinter. Strain the liquid (it will now be blacker than midnight) and add strong sugar syrup to taste. This spicy, chocolaty, almost medicinal elixir is just the drop on a cold winter’s night.

Almonds

It may come as a surprise to you to know that the almond is the seed of a pithy, inedible (except when very young) peach. As I mentioned earlier it must have taken some pretty hardcore experimentation to select the first almond cultivars, as the wild form of the nut usually contains large quantities of cyanide. Curiously, the flavour we think of as almond comes from either the bitter almond (an inedibly bitter and mildly toxic nut banned in many countries) or apricot kernels (a slightly safer and similarly flavoured alternative). One or other of these is used (in very small quantities) in amaretti biscuits, marzipan, amaretto liqueur and pure almond essence. True dessert almonds don’t taste of much at all really; they’re just sweet and nutty.

I use a lot of almonds in biscotti, sprinkled over salads and in some oil-based pasta dishes. The Spanish make a rather exquisite, dazzlingly white almond soup which is served ice-cold.

Macadamias

Native to Queensland, mostly grown in Hawaii (with New Zealand making some admirable inroads), and bloody delicious. Trouble is, I’m yet to find a recipe that does any sort of justice to these delicately-flavoured nuggets. So leave well alone I say and eat them au natural. They also yield the most underwhelming ‘gourmet’ oil known to man.

Pine nuts

Fiendishly expensive, frequently rancid and not nearly as indispensible as they like to think. As far as I’m aware pine nuts are not being grown commercially in New Zealand, but I’d be thrilled if someone could correct me.

Hazelnuts

Delicious? Yes. Can I be bothered with all that fiddly peeling? Hell no. Europeans have an unhealthy obsession with hazelnuts. They will sneak them into anything if you don’t keep a close eye on the kitchen. This is best seen through the almost religious devotion Italians show towards Nutella. Nutella gelato I can handle. Nutella ravioli is a nut too far.

Chestnuts

Make your mind up – are you a nut or are you a rather dry lump of kumara? Because of this ambiguity, I can never quite decide if I like chestnuts or not. They taste great when eaten on a London street corner on a freezing January evening, but when removed from these atmospherics chestnuts can be pretty ho-hum. They do, however, make an outrageously good Italian jam, confettura di castagne, which is really more like soft, earthy fudge. Best eaten as dessert with a healthily slug of cream. Note: Always prick chestnuts before boiling or roasting unless you want to deal with a pot or oven full of small hand grenades. I’ve heard of oven doors being blown off their hinges. Note again: Chestnuts are an enormous pain in the backside to cook and peel. Let me know if you do it more than once.

So that’s my take on nuts, in an um… nut shell. So I’d love to hear what nuts you use regularly, how you use them and gosh, why not? – Some recipes too!

Beans -The Winter Staple

Posted on June 11, 2009 by Helen Jackson

By Michal Haines

Beans have a long history throughout the world. An excellent source of protein and fibre they were great for those of humble means. Poor man’s food, they grew wild in some cases and could be gathered, dried and stored away for those leaner cold months where a bit of comfort food would have gone a long way.

History relates many a story of beans and where they have appeared. Jack was not on his own when it came to magic beans. The Chinese used to throw beans in order to ward off evil spirits, the Romans were also fond of throwing them about in order to decide upon political matters. Maybe due to their ability to cause digestion issues, they were also noted as food of the devil. I can hardly see the devil sitting down to a huge helping of beans-maybe a meaty cassoulet with a bean accompaniment but really-just beans?

The nice thing is that beans appear all over the place. Dhal of India, the cassoulet of France, hummus of the Middle East, even the baked beans of many a New Zealand pantry all play a part in the great story of the bean.

Beans are classified nice and simply by the Food and Agricultural Organisation. A pulse is an annual leguminous crop that from its pod yields one of twelve gains or seeds. They have created a category of 11 primary pulses that cover everything under the simple headings of dry bean, dry, dry broad beans, peas, chickpea, dry cow pea, pigeon pea, lentil……….it isn’t that fascinating so I wont go on but luckily for us someone out there has done all the hard work so we are able to correctly categorise beans.

With three times more protein than rice and twice that of wheat, beans are pretty damn good for you. All pulses are said to reduce mortality from coronary heart disease.

Anything called split, split-lentil or split pea-have had their outer casing or skin removed. Things get a little complex here as dhal is a lentil but not split and the family itself is also called a pulse and includes the black and beluga lentil as well as the rather fashionable French Green Puy lentil. Split pulses tend to cook quicker but do not retain their shape as well. Cooking times vary dramatically.

Lentils are one of the best sources of iron. They have high levels of proteins (even higher if you are brave enough to sprout them and eat them raw) and also contain vitamin B1, minerals and folate.

Soaking is an important part of the cooking process. There is much to say on the subject of soaking and preparing of beans, some of it offering a level of scaremongering. I often am asked if dinner guests will die from eating beans that haven’t been cooked properly. I reassure them that unlike the dreaded fugu puffer fish, beans are fine but need a little care to avoid the indigestible starches being consumed.

Overnight soaking will do the trick and changing the soaking water several times is a good idea also. This is necessary for all the harder beans such as chickpeas, lima, haricot, kidney etc. Mung, black eye and adzuki can be treated more like lentils and soaked for a few hours to help them to cook quicker.

At any rate a good wash prior to soaking and cooking to remove any gritty bits and stones is recommended. Then into clean water in a large container that will allow room for the pulses to swell sufficiently and still be covered in water.

Once the soaking period is over, rinse them off again and then into a large pot for cooking with more fresh water. Bring them to the boil without the addition of salt as this toughens the skins and lengthens the cooking time. Maintain a gentle simmer rather than a rolling boil to avoid breaking them up.

Once cooked, they should be rinsed well again. Some recommend chickpeas to be cooled in their cooking liquid as they do continue to swell quite a bit and then rinsed. Store any cooked pulses and lentils for up to three days in the fridge.

When purchasing pulses look for those that are a good colour and size and don’t have a lot of debris floating about in the packet. A good Indian store is the best place for dhals and lentils as the turnover is high. For all others, try a good deli or health food store. You want nice fresh pulses that you can keep in your pantry for up to six months. Any longer storage results in lengthened cooking times as a slow loss of moisture will eventually result in a very dried and shrunken looking pulse.

The Bean Review

Peas You will find them predominantly in yellow and green but also blue. They are such great carriers of flavour. They are best soaked for a short period (up to an hour) to fast track the cooking time and they are a favourite of the bacon hock for a good old fashioned split pea and ham soup. You generally find them split rather than whole and they need about two hours cooking to break them down.
They are not only wonderful for soups but also make a great dhal.

Don’t discount frozen peas as a useful ingredient either. Fantastic ground up for dips and spreads as well as into risottos and salads, they are bursting with fresh flavour. Although categorised as a vegetable crop and a not a pulse, I am happy to include them as they are just too yummy not to.

Lentils
Coming from the Latin name for lens, the lentil was very popular with the Romans and Greeks. Originating in South Asia, there are known to have been one of the first domesticated crops. Once introduced to the Meditteranean they were much appreciated for their ability to be stored for long periods. Feed to hungry travelling troops, they were the perfect food for feeding massive numbers for little money.

For some reason they are deemed lucky in Rome and appeared on the New Years Eve table to welcome in another year of good fortune. The Italians enjoy them slow cooked with cuts of meat and offal.

The French Puy lentil has been made a fuss of in more recent years, appearing alongside more fashionable ingredients while the more humble yellow and red lentils are still the staple of the many mouths of India in the ubiquitous dhal. The Indians have a huge array of colours and sizes to choose from. All need a good rinse to get rid of dust and debris prior to use and can be cooked from raw or soaked for thirty minutes first. Cooking time can vary from 20 minutes to 1 hour depending on the desired texture you are going for.

Chickpeas
Seen in the most far flung regions of the world, the chickpea appears as a staple of many a table. Thrown into soups and casseroles, ground into pulses and dips, appearing in salads, fried for snacks, ground into flour or just making a statement on their own, they are much loved for their rich, nutty flavour. One of the few beans that is much the same fresh as it is dried or canned, they are a very convenient bean that has been embraced the world over.

Chickpeas need at least overnight soaking for them to fully re-hydrate and then a cooking time than can vary from 40 minutes to two hours. They older they are the slower the cooking time. Bear in mind they double in weight and volume once cooked and I know many who have made the mistake of soaking or cooking chickpeas in a far too small container only to find them escaping across the floor later.

Pea and Chickpea Falafel

I love the combination of fresh peas (or use frozen peas rinsed in cold water to defrost) pureed with chickpeas with a huge heap of mint, fresh coriander, salt and pepper. Add 2 teaspoons each of ground coriander and cumin and a little flour to bind it all together. Make them into balls or small patties and place in a preheated 200 C oven in a well greased oven tray. Allow to brown, turning as needed until they are crispy on the outside.

Serve as a wee finger food with a yoghurt and garlic dipping sauce or stuff them into pita bread with fresh tomatoes, salad and yoghurt.

Great for the kid’s lunch boxes too.

Broad Beans
My favourite of all the pulses. Introduced to the Romans by the Egyptians, fava or broad beans are a favourite throughout Italy.
The best are the young tender beans that you will find frozen. They simply need to be peeled to reveal the beautiful fresh bright green colour and delicious nutty flavour. Once they get older they are canned. To use, simply wash and peel off their jackets. As a dried product they do need overnight soaking to fully re-hydrate and a good two hours of cooking. The Italians enjoy them cooked with speck or chunks of proscuitto and plenty of garlic, served alongside grilled meats.

Egyptian Broad Beans
This is a wonderful summer dish served cold or try it in winter served with grilled meats and fish. Any leftovers are fantastic the next day for lunch or keep any extra and churn it all up with a few glugs of olive oil to make a great spread to go on bruschetta.
Simmer soaked broad beans till soft. Drain well and remove their jackets.
Once cooled, simply sauté 4 cloves of crushed garlic with 1 finely chopped red onion till softened and just beginning to brown. Take off the heat and mix through the cooked and peeled broad beans. Add salt and pepper to taste, 1 teaspoon sumac or the juice of 1-2 lemons depending on your taste, a handful of freshly chopped Italian parsley and olive oil to mix. A good quality walnut oil is very tasty here too.

White Beans

Part of the kidney bean family, the white bean category includes the lima, butter, cannellini and haricot beans.
The Tuscans are their biggest fans and are appropriately named ‘bean eaters’ because of the vast amounts they consume. Visit all sorts of areas of Europe and white beans will appear in all manner of creations from salads to soups, purees and spreads and naturally the classic cassoulet. Cultivated in the Campania region of Italy, they are the most bottled and canned pulse in Italy.
We all also know them as the classic baked bean and when home made, they are fantastic.
Soak overnight again and rinse well before cooking for up to 2 hours.

Winter Mash
A fantastic and totally decadent mash combines cannellini with potatoes.
In a food processor I churn up a whole head of roasted and peeled garlic with one well rinsed can of cannellini beans and a little fresh rosemary, salt and pepper. Add a little olive oil to get it to a nice smooth consistency. Simply boil your potatoes as usual. Drain and tip into a large bowl. Mix through the cannellini beans and add a little more olive oil to achieve the desired consistency. Serve under slow cooked or grilled meats, or just good old quality sausages.

Borlotti Beans
Much loved by the Italians also, the borlotti is easily identifiable with its striking red and white speckled pod.
The most famous dish of Northern Italy, Pasta e Fagioli uses borlotti, half of which are mashed to create a smoother textured, thick soup.
They need to be treated much the same as the white bean family with extensive soaking and a cooking time of about 2 hours. As they have a similar creamy texture to the white bean family they are fantastic in soups, salads and stews.

Poached chicken with Borlotti Beans and Baby Vegetables

A super wintery dish that really needs a little attention to get started but can quietly do its thing while you get on with your Sunday afternoon. Poaching chicken is a lovely way to get the most flavour from it and it is very healthy too.

Start with 1 white onion, finely chopped and 2 cloves garlic, crushed.

Heat a little oil in a large casserole and soften the onion and garlic on a low heat.

Place one whole chicken into the pot and add 1 bay leaf. Cover with water and set the lid on to simmer for 20 minutes.

Add a good handful of baby vegetables at this stage-carrots, turnips, fennel, leeks, and potatoes and place the lid back on for a further 30 -40 minutes.

Remove the chicken and cool enough for you to portion it up.

Add 2 cups of cooked borlotti beans to the vegetables and taste for seasoning.

I like to add the zest of half a lemon at this stage as well as a good handful of freshly chopped seasonal herbs. In winter, tarragon works beautifully but Italian parsley is fantastic, lemon thyme works well, even basil in summer can make this quite a different dish.

Bring the vegetables back up to a simmer.

Place the chicken in large shallow bowls, top with vegetables and ladle over the beans and broth. Serve with crusty bread to mop up the juices.

Many people seem to feel that there is just too much work involved in cooking with beans.

Admittedly it takes a little forethought but the soaking time can be done overnight and cooking time can be done while you are doing other things about the house. They certainly don’t need a watchful eye, just plenty of water and easy simmering.

Once cooked, they can serve so many purposes.

Make this winter a bean winter!!

Tropical Delights

Posted on June 6, 2009 by Virgil Evetts

Virgil Evetts

I’m usually the champion of buying local, seasonal produce, but in the depths of winter, when the choices are pretty slim (there are only so many apples, pears and mandarins a boy can eat) I allow myself to clock up a few extra food miles and stray into the rather beguiling territory of imported tropical fruit.

I know, how unfashionably unethical of me. Well, if I cared to justify my position, I’d reason that it was ok because the food miles are offset by all the fruit, vegetables and eggs I produce in my garden. So what’s your excuse?

Anyway, until recently, fresh (a pretty relative term when applied to imported food) tropical fruit in New Zealand meant mangoes (often of the under-ripe, tasteless Peruvian and Mexican kind); papaya (dependable enough); pineapple (highly variable); and coconuts (good for church fetes). So a bit of a mixed bag really.

However, that was then. Since 2005, thanks to the diplomatic wiles of Labours’ Jim Sutton the-then Trade Negotiations Minister, New Zealand has practised a Closer Economic Partnership – a free-trade agreement of sorts – with Thailand. Now usually my reactionary, liberal leanings compel me to object to free-trade agreements, but in this case, I just couldn’t be happier.

I have no idea what we flog off to Thailand – I dread to think actually – but the most obvious benefit to anyone motivated by food is fabulous tropical fruit. Thailand is, you see, one of the biggest exporters of tropical fruit (exceptionally good tropical fruit) in the world. Unlike the offerings of many of their competitors, such as Hawaii and Australia (where the emphasis is on good looks and long shelf life) Thai fruit is all about the flavour. It just so happens that it looks great too.

The Thai people are famously fussy about their fruit. It’s a big part of the Thai diet (the preferred dessert of most Thais) and they will accept nothing less than perfection. This attitude is certainly reflected, if not amplified, in the produce reaching our shores. Take mangosteen, for example, just about my favourite fruit in the world. I’ve eaten a lot of this fruit overseas and have developed a fair idea about what constitutes a good mangosteen. Well, surprising as it may seem, the imported mangosteen I’ve been buying in Auckland lately are a good deal better than most I’ve eaten abroad (I think of this as akin to our best lamb only reaching the export market). It’s pretty standard that imported fruit looks great, but texture and flavour often disappoint (think imported Californian stone fruit). Not so with these mangosteen. They’re a truly world class fruit.

But mangosteen are just one of the succulent pleasures coming to us from old Siam; lychee, longan, mangoes, fresh durian and young coconut can all be found locally, if you know when and where to look, and they’re at their best during our gloomy southern winter – just when our taste buds desperately need a little excitement.

I’m a bit of fruit geek (yes there such a thing, check out http://www.cloudforest.com/cafe/ )so I’ve gone out of my way over the years to try most of these fruit both in my mouth and in my garden , but to many New Zealanders these will be quite unfamiliar, and in at least one case, rather intimidating territory. So I’d like to take moment to impress upon you the many virtues of my favourite tropical fruit.

Lychee

Most of us at least know these as tinned fruit. They are, along with peaches, one of the few fruits that actually survive the canning process with some of their dignity intact. But as good as they are, canned lychees are but a shadow of their former fresh selves.

Of all the fruits described here, fresh lychees are the most likely to appear in your supermarket. With their gorgeous rosy flavour and juicy, meaty texture, it’s easy to see why they’re a so revered throughout much of Asia and increasingly the rest of the world. They’re dangerously more-ish popped out their crimson leather skins and eaten as is, but also figure into some damn fine savoury dishes. Try a handful thrown into a fiery Thai red curry with prawns or duck. Too good for words.

Rumour has it that lychee trees will fruit outdoors in New Zealand and a few of us local fruit-anoraks are expectantly nurturing seedlings, so why not join the club and give it a whirl. Of course if you manage to get one fruiting before us we’ll have to kill you.

Keep an eye out for the jumbo sized, soft skinned Emperor lychees: by far the best of a very good bunch.

Longan

Looking at a glance a bit like a pale, unshelled macadamia nut, longan are a very juicy, super-sweet relative of the lychee. Like their better-known cousin, they pop put of the skin and into the mouth with the greatest of ease. Although lacking the lovely Turkish Delight notes of lychee, they still have a pleasing muskiness. Dried longans are a popular snack in China but bear little resemblance to the fresh fruit, or food for that matter if you ask me.

Longan are best eaten as is, perhaps as a mystery guest in a fruit salad for friends.

Durian

A fruit that is both revered and reviled, depending on who you ask. Personally I hold to former persuasion – it’s easily among my favourite foods, on par with white truffles, foie gras and well-aged Parmigiano Reggiano. The funny thing is, durian shouldn’t taste good at all. In fact I’d predict that the first time you come anywhere near fresh durian you’ll be almost physically repelled by the pungent, open-sewer like odour. If you happen to find the courage to taste the stuff, you’re bound to be appalled, if not violently ill. It’s sweet but savoury, fragrant but pungent, and warming like whiskey, with an unmistakable undertone of onion. Not a bit like you understand good food to be. But for some unfathomable reason, it draws you back in. Next time you’ll notice some good beyond the horror – the smooth, creamy texture, the undertones of banana, pineapple, maple syrup and … well, durian. From then on in its pure love, obsession, infatuation, lust. Against all odds it’s utterly addictive.

It’s not just humans who enjoy durian either. Orang-utans have a sixth sense for the fruit; they can detect a ripe specimen from kilometres away and will happily cut their finger to ribbons tearing through the viciously spiky rind.

Fresh durian is available in New Zealand (seasonally) but costs a bomb. Frozen segments or whole fruit can be found at most Asian supermarkets year-round and are an affordable alternative. A very good introduction to durian comes by way of ice cream. I use the very easy recipe from Sri Owens’ excellent book Indonesian Food. I defy anyone – who gets past the initial olfactory assault – to resist total addiction to durian.

Mangosteen

Ah, the mangosteen. Known in my house as the oh-my-god fruit, on account of the rather AO sounds made while eating them, and described by other seemingly-rational people as the Queen of Fruits. Hyperbolic and subjective though all this may be, make no mistake: the mangosteen really is something special. Looking a little bit like a dusky purple persimmon, although this resemblance is only superficial, the mangosteen is classic example of not judging a book by its you-know-what. The succulent, pearl-white flesh within the pithy (indelibly staining) rind is exquisitely juicy, heartbreakingly tender, and packs a flavour combining all the best parts of strawberries, grapes, pineapple and citrus with the precision of an expert wine maker.

There is but one way to eat mangosteen: as-is, out of hand and as soon as possible – they’re just too good to leave sitting around.

Traditionally mangosteen and durian are eaten together. Durian heats the body and mangosteen cools it. One is rich and creamy, one is fragrant and refreshing. Yin & yang on a plate.

Thai Mangoes

According to some sources, the mango is the most widely cultivated fruit crop on earth (others say apples), so it’s a crying shame that until very recently the examples that made their way to our shores were such a ho-hum lot. It’s rare to find a truly bad mango. At worst they’re just ‘nice’. But compared to the best Thai mangoes – now thankfully available in New Zealand – even the best of the motley mangoes of Mexico and Peru just don’t rate at all.

The Thais take mangoes very, very seriously. They have developed many of the most revered varieties worldwide (there are hundreds), including the magnificent Nam Doc Mai. This yellow, stretched looking fruit, with its distinctive re-curved ‘body’ (its more than a little reminiscent of the female form) has a rich, musky flavour, a fine, sorbet texture, and a floral, yet alluringly turpentine fragrance, with an almost physical presence. This is the very best mango for eating with Thai sticky rice pudding (Kaow Niaw Mamuang); actually it’s just the very best mango full stop.

Young coconut

I’ve often wondered what all those cannon ball-like coconuts sold in our supermarket are being used for. They obviously have a following because unyieldingly hard and sporadically rancid through they may be, they’re just about the most consistently stocked item in any produce section nationwide. These do however bear little resemblance physically or in terms of flavour and texture to fresh young coconuts. Throughout the tropics just about every market and street corner has a coconut vendor. You place your order, the top of the nut is lopped off with a couple of blows from the ubiquitous machete, and you’re good to go. The flesh of these emerald green, young coconuts is deliciously gelatinous, almost like panna cotta, and the reservoir of water within is gorgeously sweet and nutty. In sweltering tropical heat this is the ultimate thirst quencher – even if you do look like a bit of a tragic tourist cliché in the process.

Until very recently young coconuts were strictly a luxury of the tropical get away. Weighing several kilos each and potentially harbouring all sorts of undesirable entomological stowaways, importation was quite unfeasible. Until that is, some bright spark in Thailand developed a way of lathing the nuts down to a light-weight, hygienic and eminently shippable form; looking oddly like squat, fat candles, these are now available in many supermarket chillers. For me, young coconuts are strictly an au naturale affair, but if you’re feeling extravagant the flesh and water can elevate a humble Thai curry or Malaysian sambal to a dish worthy of a sultan’s palace.

All of these fruit are available – mostly over the winter months – from your nearest Asian supermarket or specialist fruiterer. This might mean a bit of hike to our rural readers, but it’s well worth the effort next time you’re in the big smoke.

Just in case any of you share my enthusiasm for foolishly ambitious food gardening, and fancy trying your hand at growing lychee, mangoes, jack fruit etc, I have included links to my favourite fruit-geek nurseries.

www.subtropica.co.nz

www.nestlebraeexotics.co.nz

www.subtropical.co.nz

Winter Dessert Treats

Posted on June 4, 2009 by Helen Jackson

Michal Haines

I’m not a particularly dessert orientated person. If cheese was to miraculously appear on the table after dinner, I’ll be the first in but chocolate, sweets and puddings I am happy to pass up…unless its winter.

For some reason my body obviously has decided that on top of my already cosy layer of fat that just a little more would be helpful to keep the cold out.

Winter puddings with jugfuls of crème anglaise and scoops of ice-cream are just the thing to add that layer.

My mother whips such things up in a jiffy. One rather odd creation is a part sponge, part crumble creation, at the bottom of which is stewed fruit, all thick and jammy with sugar. I have learned to love these treats as she very rarely made them when I was a child but now seems to like treating my husband to them regularly. I think maybe she is trying to tell me something about good wifely duties. I come home regularly to find yet another trifle or half sponge, half crumble creation pushed through the cat door so far that I am afraid that maybe she has dislocated her shoulder to do so.

I have to go with the English and their pudding repertoire. They seem to have mastered these squishy, baked treats. Whether it is the ingenious bread and butter pudding or the sticky date, they work after a good old roast or casserole.

My range of puddings and desserts is limited I have to admit and I am ok with that. As someone who entertains a lot, I focus on the entrée and main and hope by that the stage we reach dessert people have eaten more than enough to expect yet another course. I think that as I am a “throw a bit of this in and a bit of that” sort of a cook, things generally go badly when it comes to baking. So this means that my tried and true recipes are those that require little measuring and have quite a bit of room for messing about flavour and ingredient wise.

If I am feeling totally in the mood for ginger cake but I have a craving for tamarillos too, then my recipes have to be adaptable enough that I can do both.

I have found over the years that the best bakers and pudding makers are men.

Does this suggest that they are more precise with measuring or is it simply that the men I have conversed with on this fascinating subject just all happen to be that way inclined?
Either way, I have always been happy to leave them to it and allow them a little of the dinner party limelight as they pull fresh from the oven some heavenly wonder that awards them more accolades than the main I have slaved over for three days.

Is it that desserts and puddings appear more magical, more fantastical? Is it that childish sweet yearning in all of us that when pudding arrives, we all decide that we do have room for a little more….. can you make that slice a little bigger….?

No matter. I am secure enough in my talents that I can handle this devastating twist of the proverbial knife and accept that the pudding was delicious and yes I am sure that he will give you the recipe. Oh you don’t want the recipe for the main too? No, ok, I’ll make sure he emails it to you. I feel it would be petty at this stage to point out that it is a rather unsophisticated recipe taken from trashy weekly that someone left at his work.

I do make a pretty good crumble though and enjoy using the best of the seasons produce to do so. This time of year we have an abundance of great things to stew up. Apples, quince, feijoa and classic old rhubarb work so well with new season nuts like walnut, hazelnut and chestnuts. I like to be able to roughly grind the nuts up in the food processor so they act partially to help bind as well as give great texture and taste to the fruit.

The following three are my classics. They are fast and easy but still win the accolades.

Lemon Custard Pudding

Wonderfully old fashioned, this works so well after just about anything due to the tartness. A giant helping of cream is a must.

Serves 6

100g butter
175g soft brown sugar
4 eggs, separated
Juice of 3 lemons and zest of 2
Zest of 1 orange or go crazy and use a lime instead
50g plain flour
500ml milk
1 vanilla pod, split open and seeds removed and placed in the milk to infuse. (keep the pod for another use)

Grease an ovenproof dish of about 2 litre capacity and preheat the oven to 180 C.
Using an electric beater, cream the butter and sugar adding the citrus zest and juice as you go. Gradually beat in the egg yolks one at a time. Don’t worry of it looks as though the butter and sugar curdles a little. Just keep beating.
Beat in the flour and vanilla infused milk on a slow speed just till it has combined.
The end result will look nothing like a pudding or anything that could possibly work.

Clean off your beater attachments and dry them well. Beat the egg whites till they are peaks then fold into the lemon batter.

Pour the whole lot into your greased dish and place in a roasting dish. Fill the roasting dish with cold water so it comes half way up the side of the pudding dish.

Into the oven for 45 minutes or until the sponge has risen and there is a thick custard at the bottom. Serve immediately for ultimate accolades.

Sticky Date and Ginger Pudding

This is actually mine rather than my husband’s. I have been silly enough to add chocolate to tis already ludicrously decadent dessert. If you are brave enough, simply add your favourite chocolate broken up into the mix or add a handful of chocolate buttons.

Makes 8-10 single puddings depending on the size of your muffin trays.

370g dates, pitted
1 ¾ cups water
Freshly grated ginger to taste ( I use fresh rather than powdered to give a really bit hit of ginger. Use powdered if you prefer)
3 teaspoons baking soda

Place all the ingredients, except the baking soda, in a saucepan and bring to the boil. Take off the heat and stir through the baking soda. Allow to sit for 5 minutes.

95g butter
1 cup soft brown sugar
3 eggs
1 cup flour

Cream the butter and sugar. Add the eggs one a time, beating well. Add the date mixture and then gently add the flour, adding a little more or less so the consistency is wet enough to drop off the spoon. If you need to add a little more liquid, add milk, folding gently. Add your chocolate if you like at this stage.
Grease a large sized Texas muffin tray well.
Spoon in the mix and place in a preheated 180 C oven for 15 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the centre of each muffin comes out clean.
Serve with ice cream or custard.

Rhubarb and Feijoa Cake

This is a great recipe as it is so quick and easy and will work with any fruit.
I don’t cook the rhubarb or feijoas at all so they remain quite tart and textural.

125g butter
1 ½ cup caster sugar
1 egg
1 cup sour cream
250g finely sliced rhubarb, skin removed
6 large feijoas, skin removed and diced
2 1/3 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder

Preheat the oven to 180 ◦C.
In a large bowl cream the butter and sugar till pale.
Add the egg and mix well.
Add the sour cream and fruits, mixing together with a spatula.
Sieve in the flour and baking powder, folding gently till just combined.
Tip into a well greased 22cm cake tin and bake for 35-40 minutes or until a skewer inserted in the centre comes out clean.
Serve with yoghurt or ice-cream.

Chocolate Self saucing pudding - as photographed

One Pot Creations

Posted on May 28, 2009 by Helen Jackson

Michal Haines

I wonder if the French hated washing the dishes so much that they created the cassoulet.

I think maybe in Toulouse, the renown “Capital of Cassoulet” a couple’s argument over who would do the dishes went that little bit further than usual and this resulted in a decision to only ever cook in one single pot.

If you make a little investigation of stews or one pots in the world you do find that people everywhere are keen to avoid washing the dishes. Ireland, Germany, Spain, Mexico, Portugal, Poland, England, America, Japan……every corner of the globe has a version that they call their own.

I certainly appreciate the simplicity of the one pot. Wintery and warming, these are comfort dishes rich in flavour and dense in texture. Filled with the wintery goodness that the garden can offer, one pots definitely have that appeal of feeding many with ease, and in these hard times, on a budget. Naturally it doesn’t have to be all cheap sausages and tough meat. Perhaps it is the name of ‘one pot’ that congers up bad memories of childhood. Many people talk of the trauma of boiled cabbage with odd unidentifiable cuts of animal. But the one pot has come a long way from being something to be very suspicious of.

When you think slow cooked, all of a sudden things taken on quite a different feeling. A little more gourmet even. Push that boundary a little further and we are talking about the robust and intriguing flavours of a complex Indian curry, a red wine rich coq au vin, a Chinese poached chicken with medicinal herbs. The one pot certainly doesn’t have to be dull.

The background of the one pot only goes back to the early 18^th century where pounded rice was added to meats and cooked very slowly in a large earthenware dish. The earthenware dish itself became known as a casserole and in turn we have created a type of dish, cooked in the oven.

Different to a stew only in the cooking process (heat that is applied to the bottom of a dish makes it a stew where as a casserole is cooked in the oven), the casserole really took a dive in 1970′s America when things just stared getting out of hand. Tuna casserole is still something you hear in the odd American sitcom and is purely canned soup combined with canned tuna. The thing of potluck dinners, the one pot had lost is glamour and allure.

The stew hasn’t really been doing much better. Since prehistoric times, the stew has been about feeding the masses.

Evidence shows the Amazonian tribes used turtle shells to cook in, and in the Bible we are told that Esau traded his inheritance with his twin brother Jacob for a meal of lentil stew. The Romans were fond of a good stew and we all now about the French and their cassoulet and ragout.

Today we are lucky to be able to source all sorts of great ingredients. This makes for fantastic and interesting one pots to be coming out of your kitchen. Winter is very much the season of the one pot. The ease of cooking means you can remain huddles over the heater that little bit longer, have another glass of red wine while you wait and if you are really organised, either utilis your crock pot or cooked it all the night before for optimum flavour. We all know that a good stew or casserole tastes much better the next day so I try and get organised enough to cook it all the day before and then give it all a further hour of cooking once I get home at night. This will also mean you are not sitting about till ten pm waiting for your one pot.

I am enjoying the fact that more and more you are able to taste great slow cooked creations at restaurants. No longer relegated just to the family table, wonderful versions of classics like Irish Beef Stew, Hungarian Goulash, Ratatouille and Ragout can be seen at high end restaurants created with the extra love and know how of talented chefs.

This certainly does not let you off the hook though. A good stew or casserole is still great family fare.

Here are a few Tips for a great one pot-stew or casserole

Meat
* Use the correct cut. Slow cooking meats are generally cheaper cuts but do need the time and liquid to make them soft and tender rather than stringy and tough.
* Long slow cooking softens connective tissue and converts it from collagen to gelatine.
* Your best bet is to use shanks, shoulder (where two excellent stewing meats, brisket and flank, come from) and rump for slow cooking. The other way to do it is by price. Slow cooking meats will always be considerably cheaper than the other prime, marbled cuts that come from areas of the animal that are worked a lot through exercise. Look for the meats at the best prices for your slow cooking recipes.
* Cut your meat into even pieces so that they will cook at the same time.

Browning
To add flavour and colour, browning your meat first is recommended. You can get away with not browning for chicken, pork and veal but I still like to.

Liquid
Whether you choose to use wine, stock or water, you need a good amount of it. Enough to cover is the best rule of thumb here.

Time
Don’t rush the process. Most recipes will call for an hour at least or more at a lower temperature. I have cooked things for 5 or 6 hours at a really low temperature before but it is all about the time you have to spare. As suggested, you can cook something the night before and finish the cooking the following night to get the best flavour. A slow cooker or crock pot can be very beneficial for this.

Additional Ingredients
It is all up to you but many recipes will call for a carrot, a few sticks of celery and an onion all finely chopped. This is always a good start for your slow cooked one pot. Some recipes may call for the addition of a secondary meat such as bacon for flavour. I like to add this at the start to really get the flavour in. Herbs and other flavourings need to be added at your discretion. I like to add some herbs at the start if they are woody enough to cope with the long cooking process. I then add some fresh right at the end so I still have that oily, bright taste.
I think half the key to a good one pot is being a little bit imaginative so you can bring out the best of whatever ingredients you decide should share the pot.

Classic Beef One Pot

Goulash

The Hungarian Goulash is one of my favourite mid winter one pots. I like to add a few things to make it my own, but like all one pots, the sauce is what it is all about.
Traditionally made using Hungarian paprika, I use smoked Spanish paprika for extra flavour.

Serves 4

500g chuck or any slow cooking beef cut, cubed into 1cm portions
1 white onion, peeled and finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
2 tablespoons smoked Spanish sweet or bitter sweet paprika
2 tablespoons plain flour
250g mushrooms, any variety of your choice, cleaned and sliced
Stock or water
Salt and pepper to taste
250g sour cream
100g black olives

In a large heavy based pot, heat a little oil and brown the onion and garlic. Add the meat and brown well. Add the paprika, pepper and salt and mix well.
Sprinkle over the flour and allow to cook for 1 minute before adding enough stock or water to cover the meat.
Add the mushrooms and cover. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook for 45 minutes.
Remove the lid and check for seasoning.
Add the olives and mix well.
Stir through the sour cream and bring back to a simmer.
Serve with rice or pasta.

Not so Classic One Pot

Chanko-Nabe

The Japanese have quite a repertoire of one pots. One is known as Chanko-Nabe and is eaten by sumo wrestlers. Consisting of broth, meat, and vegetables, the Nabe is very wintery and filling.

The base is miso and dashi, both of which can be easily purchased at some supermarkets or at speciality food stores and the pot can withstand anything you throw into it. There are versions for this dish with fish, chicken, salted vegetables….all sorts.

Traditionally served in one giant pot at the table over a gas burner to keep it hot, this is a great one to share with family and friends.

Serves 4

2 ½ teaspoons instant dashi flakes (bonito flakes)
500g very thinly sliced pork belly
3 tablespoons white miso
3 tablespoons red miso (or use 6 tablespoons or whatever miso you can find)
2 tablespoons mirin (sweet rice wine)
1 large waxy potato, peeled and sliced thinly
1 small daikon (white turnip), sliced finely
1 block firm tofu, cut into small cubes
1 bunch Chinese cabbage-any variety you like, washed and chopped roughly
2 dried shitake mushrooms

In a large pot, heat 10 cups of water with the dashi, miso and mirin.
Add the shitake mushrooms and simmer covered for 20 minutes.
Remove the lid and add the pork, daikon, potato and tofu. Allow to simmer for a further 10-15 minutes.
Once the potato is cooked, add the cabbage and mix well.
Serve at the table with bowls of rice.

The Moroccan One Pot

Lamb and Apple Tagine

The tagine is much the same as the cassoulet. It’s an earthenware dish rather than the name of a meal. The cooking process is the same but the conical shape of the tagine lid allows for moisture to rise and drip back into the dish allow for a rich flavour and moist tender meat. The thing I appreciate the most about the tagine is that through out Morocco they are not scared to go to town with fruit. The hot climate helps that but we can also make the most of the abundant autumn and winter fruits slow cooked with lamb.

Don’t be put of this recipe if you don’t have a tagine. A large heavy based pot with a lid will do the trick just as well.

Serves 4

500g diced lamb shoulder
2 red onions, peeled and finely chopped
5 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped finely
2 preserved lemons, rinsed well, flesh removed and discarded and flesh finely chopped
2 new season apples, chopped roughly
3 teaspoons ground cumin
3 teaspoons ground coriander
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground cloves or add 3 whole cloves
1 teaspoon ground ginger
Salt and pepper
2 tablespoons raisins

In a large heavy based pot or tagine, heat a little oil and brown the onion and garlic.
Place the lamb in the pot and mix well before adding the preserved lemon, apple, all the spices, salt, pepper and raisins.
Place the lid on and reduce the heat to a simmer. Cook for 2 hours.
Remove the lid and check for seasoning and adjust as needed.
Serve with cous cous or rice.

One Pot Bake

Baked Chowder

This is totally untraditional but really wintery and tasty.

Serves 4

250g smoked fish, removed from the bone
12 fresh mussels, chopped roughly (feel free to use smoked here as it gives some good extra flavour)
2 fillets white firm fish such as ling or hapuka, cut into small cubes
150g bacon, chopped
3 sticks celery, finely chopped
2 white onions, peeled and finely chopped
25g butter
4 tablespoons plain flour
250ml milk
1 lemon, juiced and zested
3 boiled eggs, shelled and chopped into chunks
Fresh dill, chopped finely
Fresh Italian parsley, chopped finely

In a large heavy based pot, heat a little oil and add the butter. Allow to melt then add the onions, bacon and celery.
Sprinkle in the plain flour and mix well.
Slowly add the milk, mixing the flour well to form a paste. Keep mixing till all the milk has been added and you have a creamy sauce.
Add the fresh and smoked fish, the mussels, lemon juice and zest. Mix well.
Add the herbs and the egg, mixing all through gently.
Top with potato mash and grated cheese and place in a preheated 180C oven for 45-50 minutes.
Serve with crusty bread.

A Very Special Blossom

Posted on May 28, 2009 by Virgil Evetts

Virgil Evetts

Back in the good old days of the 90′s, when most television was still scripted and mercifully free of Ryan Seacrest, Sharron Osborne and ball-room dancing, the phrase ‘a very special Blossom…’ was tongue-in-cheek industry jargon, used to describe any episodes of your favourite show (most famously Blossom) that had been briefly hijacked by a topical cause- suicide, teen pregnancy, AIDS etc . In other words, brief bouts of socially responsible propaganda.

Although TV has long since lost any sense of social responsibility, it’s pretty much the agenda behind my article this week. Pure unadulterated propaganda for a cause I happen to believe in. Hopefully by the time I’m done, you will too, whether it’s out of guilt, peer pressure or nausea.

So, tonight on a very special Blossom- the Free Range debate

Let me start by saying I LOVE MEAT. I will always enjoy eating the flesh of a wide variety of animals. I have no interest in ethically based vegetarianism and no guilt about my appetites. I happen to have a certain amount of expertise on the subject of Human Evolution, so I could explain to you in hypnotically dull but authoritive detail, how and why our bodies are designed for at least partially predatory behaviour. But I don’t need to- just run your tongue around your teeth. Those pointy ones aren’t for the nonchalant nibbling of leaves, you know.

So yes, I fully advocate the eating of meat, have no quarrel with farming per se and although I’ve not yet done it, I’m prepared to kill an animal for a meal. I believe all of us meat eaters have a moral obligation in this regard- to at least once in our lives endure the full emotional impact of taking an animal’s life for our own pleasure and sustenance. As a group we’re far too willing to abdicate that responsibility to some anonymous third party.

What does concern me, what I passionately care about, is how we manage and maintain the animals we consume, and the chilling ease with which we turn a blind eye to the horrors of industrial farming. The last week or so has seen the country up in arms about the state of the pork industry, or more specifically the conditions many farmed pigs are forced to endure. Yes this is deplorable, sickening, a gross indictment of our species. But so too is our ignorance of the issue. The realities of the intensive pork and poultry industry have been widely publicised for decades. That so many of us were unaware of these horrors is very troubling indeed. It’s my belief that most of us disassociate our favourite cuts of meat with living, breathing animals. We have no interest in knowing how these animals were kept, what they were fed or how they were killed. We prefer not to think about it. Its pork not pig, drum sticks not hen legs.

So shame on you New Zealand: shame on those of you who treat other animals with such callousness and cool detachment in the name of high returns per kilo; shame on you who have eaten pork, chicken and eggs all your lives and never questioned their origins or worse still, have known and carried on regardless; shame on Mike King for attaching his name and dubious celebrity to an industry he apparently knew nothing about; shame on me too for repeatedly supporting much of the above.

The defining characteristic of our species is sentience: I think therefore I am. This unique ability, a veritable super- power, allows us to manipulate our environment and exploit all other species. A well-won spoil of the evolutionary war perhaps, but one that comes with great responsibility. Unlike any other species, we are capable of compassion- so compassionate we must be. We are the very definition of humanity, so humane we must be.

Rationalism and scientific reason (not to mention deep cynicism), are my usual modi operandi. But on the subject of animal husbandry (or wifery) such an approach is insufficient. That we are emotional, empathetic creatures makes us morally accountable for our actions. As it stands right now our 21^st Century treatment of animals could well be viewed by future generations with the same horror and disbelief that we view slavery and apartheid today.

But it’s all very well and simplistic for me to say ‘buy free-range’. The term conjures up scenes of happy hens and pigs, scratching and rooting respectively in wide open paddocks under halcyon skies. But is this the reality? What does free-range really mean in New Zealand and how does it compare to the conventional, dare I say it, norm?

Put simply, and rather alarmingly, the term free-range has no legal definition in New Zealand. It’s little more than PR spin. Rather successful spin too. Although not a legally binding term, it’s a brand that both the pork and poultry industries have a vested interest in protecting and self-regulating. So at the very least you can rest assured that any pork , chicken or eggs labelled as free-range will have been raised in lower densities than the alternative, and with some access to the great outdoors. Playing Chicken

To most of us, the conventional end of the poultry trade equates to torturous battery-farming. But this is only half true. Meat chickens or broilers are never kept in battery cages; these are used exclusively for laying birds. Broilers, even in the worst situations of 45,000 birds per barn, can still move around, scratch and perch – after a fashion. But they are not given this extra ‘freedom’ out of any consideration for their happiness or wellbeing. It comes down to pure economy. Caged hens habitually rub their breasts raw against the bars of the battery cages. In the case of broilers this would mean ruining the most valuable cut of meat. Furthermore, being largely immobile the bird’s muscles atrophy, leading to a rather scrawny roast.

By comparison, free-range broiler birds have a much easier time of it. Paul Jackson, Manager of Heuvels Organic free-range Chicken runs a modest 15,00 birds per barn (as opposed to the 45,000 high-density norm) and the birds have free and unrestricted access to the outdoors. These certainly appear to be happy birds (admittedly a rather difficult thing to measure in a creature of such limited personality). Jackson also makes the very important point that his operation is Organic free-range. This means the farm is subject to ongoing audits by AsureQuality, who have their own guidelines, regulations and definition of free-range.

Probably the best known and some might say suspiciously affordable, free-range chicken in New Zealand supermarkets is Tegal’s Rangitikei brand. These birds are marketed as corn-fed and free-range, but considering the reputation of the parent company involved, I had always wondered what this actually meant. So I swapped a few emails with Brenda Galbraith, a marketing manager with Tegal, who despite a hectic schedule, responded to my questions promptly and with an openness I didn’t expect. Rangitikei birds do, she assures me have free access to the outdoors during daylight hours. They are, as is evident in the yellow tinge to the flesh, fed large quantities of maize. Despite persisent rumours to the contrary the birds are not conditioned to fear going outside, although being food-obsessed like all chickens, they prefer to spend most of their time near the feed-hoppers, which are kept inside. The flock densities are kept at around 15-16 birds per square metre indoors and 4 per square metre outside. This is a long way short of the luxurious open space afforded to the Heuvels birds, but like anything in life, you get what you pay for.

There is of course a bit of a dilemma attached to free-range chicken produced by a company that produces most of its birds under conventional high density conditions. There’s no easy answer here and I suppose it’s a matter of choosing you battles.

Unsurprisingly I was told it was not possible, due to MAF regulations and in the interests of disease prevention, to visit the Rangitikei operation in Taranaki. The caginess- please excuses the pun – of the poultry industry around media enquiries, particularly requests for site visits, is well known. I don’t really blame them either. They have a business to protect and industrial farming is never a very photogenic affair.

Egg-zactly

Unless otherwise stated all eggs in New Zealand come from battery operations which, as is well known, allows each bird an area about the size of an A4 sheet of paper, with usually around 6 birds per cage. Chickens kept in these conditions become bored, often lame and prone to casually cannibalising their neighbours- or bits of them anyway. Around 88 % of all eggs sold in New Zealand are produced under these conditions.

The next level up from battery are barn eggs, a system which does not, as I used to think, mean barns full of battery cages. It’s very similar to the situation described above for high-density broilers, but with provision for egg laying. Although a vast improvement on the former, it lacks the marketing cache of free-range, and the overheads are significantly higher than battery, so frankly- why bother? Apparently all but 1.5% of the egg industry agrees.

Free-range layers are kept in barns very similar to those describe above -in quite varying densities- but also have access to an outdoor space during daylight hours, where they can forage for insects, graze on grass and dust bathe- the high point of any hen’s day. Currently only 9.7% of all laying hens in New Zealand are kept under free-range conditions.

The egg industry is often criticised for the short lives afforded to laying hens [around 18 months] and the swift and seemingly brutal destruction of all male and inferior chicks. I take a fairly practical view point here. Free-range or battery, eggs are still a business. After a year, egg production in hens starts to decline. Unless the farmer is getting an egg per day, the hen is not paying for her feed and thus costing the farmer money. So they are ‘retired’, and fair enough. Male chicks or roosters are completely useless to egg farmers. They are quickly identified as hatchlings and are either gassed or subjected to what is known in the trade as instantaneous fragmentation. This means the chicks are tipped live and cheeping into a machine that bears a striking resemblance to an industrial sized food processor. Sounds utterly repugnant, I know but the process is so quick that it’s unlikely the birds have time to register what is happening, let alone feel anything. Hopefully. A pig in a poke

Despite the wide publicity and endless debate this subject has received in recent days, it’s an altogether more straight forward affair than that of poultry and eggs. We only keep pigs for one reason- meat. Therefore there are only really two approaches to managing them- conventional and free range.

Until relatively recently, the majority of all pigs farmed in New Zealand were kept in high density factory situations. This is the well known barn-based system where breeding sows are kept in tiny stalls for long periods of time, and piglets are fattened in crowded, apparently unsanitary conditions. I have personally witnessed such an operation and it was indeed unforgettably awful.

Where as I can, at an extreme push, accept the barn raised approach to laying hens, I cannot muster the same broadmindedness when it comes to pigs. Unlike the nice but dim chicken, the pig is an intelligent (easily on par with a dog), social animal. They appear to exhibit fear, pleasure and depression. Although I have no qualms about eating pigs, a crowded, stinking bunker is no place for such a creature.

The percentage of local pigs kept under these conditions is thankfully on the decline (currently around 45%), due largely to public pressure. But this will not be an overnight transformation and nor can we reasonably expect it to be. Changing from barn based high-density farming to free-range is a prohibitively expensive and logistically, not to mention bureaucratically, challenging process. This may sound like tacit defence of what is an unquestionably repellent practise, but we must accept that we have supported the pork industry and all that goes with it, either knowingly or otherwise for decades. That we have suddenly grown a collective conscience doesn’t give us the right to almost literally bite the hand that has been feeding us. So I urge a little patience here. Keep objecting, keep being angry, but be realistic and reasonable too. The best way to protest is to shun all but free-range pork. Nothing speaks louder to an industry that sliding profits.

And those of us of a pig-friendly persuasion have obviously made some impression already. As of 2009, around 55% of all pigs farmed in New Zealand are either free-range or free-farmed. The latter usually equates to relatively low numbers of pigs kept under large, often open-sided shelters. Since my own dietry conversion to free-range pork a few years back I’ve been a big fan of Freedom Farms. This South Island-based company has rapidly become a big player in high-end corner of the local pork market. Company co-founder Gregor Fyfe tells me that Freedom Farms uses neither sow stalls nor indoor fattening sheds. Piglets are instead kept with their mothers until they are naturally weaned, in spacious paddocks where they can wallow, root (not what you think) and snuffle around in true piggy fashion. The piglets are then fattened in low-density, open-sided, deep-straw shelters. In both situations the animals get plenty of space, fresh air and company, which is very important for such a social animal as the pig. Certainly the images Gregor supplied are a far cry from the very disturbing shots of a conventional piggery as supplied by SAFE. At 20 weeks the piglets are slaughtered and processed into fabulous bacon, ham and other pork products. Delicious, guilt free eating- unless you happen to be a practicing Jew, Muslim or vegetarian

But this could all read like some middle class conceit. It’s been said before that a social conscience is a luxury of the financially secure. And absolutely, free-range products are more expensive than the alternative, but the consumption of pork, eggs and chicken is not essential to human survival. Beef and lamb, for example are exclusively free-range in New Zealand (the same cannot be said in other countries- for a shocking glimpse of industrial beef farming in the USA, read Michael Pollan’s excellent and sobering book, The Omnivore’s Dilemma) and are a relatively affordable alternative.

So there you have it. Hopefully these last couple of thousand words have helped sway at least few of you from the cheap moral bankruptcy of conventional pork, chicken and eggs. I’ve been there too. If nothing else, you can rest assured that this is probably the only time you’ll catch me evangelising. I’m just not the preachy type.

Choosing free-range pork, chicken and eggs is, in my opinion a responsibility, not a choice. There is no doubt that many of the practises of these industries are barbaric, yet they are only reactions to a demand we as consumers have created. It is time to withdraw that demand.

Special thanks to SAFE, Freedom Farms and Heuvels Chicken for images

http://www.spca.org.nz

Http://www.havocfarm.co.nz

Autumn Eating – Root Vegetables

Posted on May 20, 2009 by Helen Jackson

Autumn Eating – Root Vegetables
Michal Haines

The cold weather brings us an abundance of root vegetables and harvesting them young is a great way to enjoy them.

Root vegetables are somewhat overlooked. Maybe it is their rough exterior or cheap price but they seem to have fallen by the wayside in terms of being rated as highly nutritious store houses available right through the winter months when little else is.

I love to sit down to a plate full of well roasted, ever so slightly crunchy baby carrots along with a perfectly roasted chicken.

Roasting naturally increases the level of sweetness already found in these underground dwellers and in baby carrots and beetroots, the sweetness level is especially high.

Parsnips, swedes (Or as the Americans oddly call them, rutabagas and is in fact an accidental cross between a turnip and a cabbage) beetroot, carrots and turnips are all available in miniature sizes that need no cutting, very little trimming and just a wee bit of oil, salt and pepper to make them delicious.

All high in Vitamin C and low in sodium they are a wonderful addition to any diet.

Look for firm fresh produce and store carrots and beetroot in the fridge for up to a week. Turnips like to be stored with your potatoes somewhere cool and dark.

A few quick cooking tips for perfect roasted vegetables

-trim only the stalks off baby beetroots and cook them unpeeled to minimise their colour leaching. The old trick of boiling beets whole, then peeling off the skin is a good one if you particularly want to get rid of the skin of larger, tougher beetroots.

-just scrub rather than peel your baby vegetables. The larger they are the woodier they become so choose the right size for your needs and peel accordingly.

-don’t crowd your root vegetables when roasting them. Allow them plenty of room to crisp up at the edges

-don’t discard those beautifully coloured leaves from the beetroot and turnip tops. They can be stir-fried with garlic and finished with a squeeze of lemon for delicious winter greens that work well with shredded red cabbage.

At this time of year other underground delights start arriving at the market such as Jerusalem artichokes and new season potatoes. The abundance of other autumn vegetables and produce to mix with your root vegetables is plentiful. Pumpkins and squash, fennel, mushrooms, pears, walnuts, radicchio, apples….. The autumn table is a delightfully flavoured and eye catching place.
One of my absolute favourite autumn recipes is Creamy Roasted Parsnip Soup.Using the finest and freshest parsnips is the key for that wonderful sweetness that works so well with woody spices such as cumin and coriander. If you are short of time or energy, skip the roasting part and place all the ingredients in to a saucepan and simmer gently till softened.

Creamy Roasted Parsnip Soup.

1 kg parsnips, peeled and cut into quarters
2 white onions, peeled and quartered
1 head of garlic, top sliced off to expose the flesh inside
600ml chicken or vegetable stock
4 teaspoon coriander seed, toasted and freshly ground
4 teaspoons cumin seed, toasted and freshly ground
¼ freshly grated whole nutmeg
200ml cream
Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 200 C.
Place the parsnips, onions and garlic head in a large roasting tray with a little oil, salt and pepper.
Roast for 20 minutes or till the parsnip is just beginning to soften. Remove from the oven and allow to cool enough to squeeze the garlic from its skin.
In a large saucepan, heat a little more oil and add the cumin and coriander. Allow to cook for 30 seconds before adding the stock.
Add the parsnip, onion and garlic and bring to a simmer for 15 minutes or until the parsnip has totally softened.
Using a stick blender, blend the parsnip, onion and garlic to a lovely thick consistency. (This could also be done in a food processor and returned to the sauce pan)
Add the cream and blend once again.
Return to a simmer and check seasoning. Adjust as needed.
Serve in large bowls with pita or Turkish bread and piles of homemade hummus.

Search Recipes

Loving Food

Slow Cooking Low-Down

Sweet Slices

Roasting Meat

Pasta the poverty line

Desert Island Cook Books

Nuts to you

Beans -The Winter Staple

Tropical Delights

Lychee

Longan

Durian

Mangosteen

Thai Mangoes

Young coconut

Winter Dessert Treats

One Pot Creations

A Very Special Blossom

Autumn Eating – Root Vegetables

Lychee

Longan

Durian

Mangosteen

Thai Mangoes

Young coconut

Join our newsletter