Monday, March 12, 2012

Slow Food: A Potted History


Well I've given you a 13 month reprieve between posts. Quite long enough to brace yourself for another I think. To get back into it I thought I might take a little look at the Slow Food movement...

On the whole, I wouldn’t describe myself as a fast person. To borrow from my Pop’s endearing vernacular, I’m a ‘start steady and slow down’ kind of girl. More of a dreamer I guess. Or a dawdler. Whatever. Right from the beginning I’ve taken things easy. I was two weeks overdue at birth, and even then I only arrived because my Mum’s obstetrician thought the whole thing was getting out of hand.
And basically I’ve continued on that slowpoke trajectory ever since. About the only thing I do fast, is talk.
But sometimes in life a little bit of slow is ideal, particularly when it comes to food. Hello Slow Food movement! It’s kind of a big deal in Melbourne and well, everywhere really. Yeah we’ve all heard of it, but what’s it all about?
Well the year was 1986 and the place was Rome. The corporate food monster that is McDonald’s opened a new outlet at the Spanish Steps. Now unless they start doing a McPanini or McCarbonara, there is no way I can see that McDonald’s fits with the Italian food ethos. Actually, I don’t even want to imagine a McCarbonara or I might McSpew.
This wasn’t the first set of Golden Arches in Italy, but the Spanish Steps!? Come on! It was an affront to Italian culture and the many beautiful food traditions built over hundreds of years.
So thought Signor Carlo Petrini, and in a bid to counteract the wave of fast food sweeping the globe, he established the Slow Food movement.
According to the Slow Food Australia website, when the big McD opened at the Spanish Steps, Petrini and his fellow Italiano food soldiers protested in Rome armed with bowls of penne. I like it.
The Slow Food organisation was officially launched three years later in Paris with delegates from 15 countries in attendance. The snail, or escargot, was chosen as the mascot. Cute.
Slow Food is not just about casseroles and braises and fancy pants slow-poached eggs (what is the DEAL with those anyway??). It’s about sustainability, supporting local producers, eating seasonally, preserving food traditions and reviving old varieties of fruit, vegetables and animals. About getting back to our roots, so to speak. The tag line for the organisation is ‘good, clean, fair’. Nowadays words like traditional, seasonal, artisanal, are thrown around like no-ones business, but back in 1986 it probably wasn’t so.
Fast-forward 26 years and the Slow Food movement now has 1,300 chapters (or ‘conviviums’) scattered across the globe.
Here in Australia we have 31 Slow Food chapters, and yep there’s one in Melbourne. The organisation works with artisan food producers, helping them to market their wares. They also engage with schools to help establish kitchen gardens, organise food and gardening workshops, and all kinds of other things designed to promote Slow Food values. Our local chapter co-ordinates the Slow Food Market at the Abbotsford Convent where you can get your hands on some fab fruit, veg, cheese, olive oil etc. All the good things really. The market happens on the fourth Saturday of every month. Head along and be prepared to be swallowed up by feel-good vibes and a longing to release your inner green thumb.
The whole Slow Food thing is pretty hip in Melbourne right now. I mean even people south of the river have embraced the idea. Not long ago when I was working in a café that was indeed south of the river, this tall, brown, waif-like creature draped in odd pieces of fabric and wearing sunglasses bigger than her head breezed in and asked “do you have any slow food?” I gazed at her somewhat quizzically and pointed to a couple of things I thought might fit the bill. Clearly unimpressed, she sighed, turned her eyes to the ceiling, declared “life is sooo hard” and breezed right back out the door.  That totally actually did happen.
I don’t think she really understood the Slow Food concept, and to be truthful I didn’t either. I do now. There is good reason for it becoming so cool. The values it espouses are pretty darn great and the movement will lead you on a path to some pretty delicious nosh. And with the insane supermarket duopoly showing no sign of going down down and staying down, we could probably all do with a bit of Slow Food in our lives.
Want to know more? Here’s where you can get amongst it:



Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Bittersweet holidays... sweet jelly.

Somehow, I have to push through yet another year of uni in 2011. It’s late February and the dark force of wretched academia is looming. Standing strong in its inevitability. The knowledge of what lies around the corner is hounding me. An inescapable shadow.
The feeling of dread is twofold this summer. Not only does the beginning of March signal the end of my lazy hazy summer freedom as usual, but this March – La Trobe School of Law willing – marks the beginning of the end of my student life altogether. No longer will I stroll the hallowed halls or batten down in the library. I never did those things much in the first place, but I think I shall miss them as though I had.
I know for sure I will miss the jam doughnuts after class with Angus, the coffees and smokes with dear Phoebe, and the unity found between us all in times of utter academic madness.
For some reason, the connections I’ve made this second time around at uni as a graduate entry student have been with a bunch of people a couple of years younger than me. I’m a youth magnet. I’ll be done and dusted in three years, but it isn’t so for my younger undergraduate friends with still a couple of years to go. Quite frankly the thought of finishing uni and leaving my comrades behind to keep bonding sans Kate, gets me decidedly melancholy. I get the awful feeling that I’ll be missing out on stuff. I guess I should be really excited about the future, but I’ve always been extremely resistant to change. When I was little I thought it was sad that society was abandoning the VHS for the DVD. I just couldn’t see the need for a flashy new DVD player when we already had perfectly mediocre video technology at our disposal. The warbling worn out soundtrack on our Young Einstein video was just fine thanks very much. I came around eventually but I’m experiencing similar feelings of reluctance about the switch to blu-ray that everyone seems so keen on.
And so it is with uni. Why venture into the rest of my life when I could just fail a subject or two and maintain the status quo?
What gets me even more melancholy is the horrid thought that in a few short months the world will be made a wakeup to my dirty little secret – that I’m not at all smart enough to be a real life lawyer - and I will thus find myself still riding the Gillard greenback, only without the ‘Youth Allowance’ title to make it socially acceptable.

As always, I am finding the best approach is to completely ignore this problem. I’m sure that any day now a genie will jump out of one of the myriad bottles in my kitchen and grant me my wish for a ridiculously high paying job where I get to hang out with fully sick people and leave everyday at 2pm to go home and make cakes. In the meantime it’s away with the pile of pre-semester reading and into the kitchen to while away the holiday hours and cook my way back to happiness.

There is so much beautiful fruit around in summer and while it’s so good fresh, there are heaps of beautiful desserts you can make. Enter jelly. It is summer in a bowl. So pretty, and refreshingly cool.

It’s difficult to give specific quantities for making jelly, as everything depends on the size of your mould and the strength of the gelatine leaves you’re using. There will be instructions on the packet of gelatine leaves about how many are required for how much liquid.

Nectarine Jelly

Nectarines
Water
Sugar
Vanilla bean
Gelatine leaves
A jelly mould or pretty heatproof bowl.

Put a little knick in the base of five or six nectarines (or more, depending on the size of your mould) and sit them in a heatproof bowl. Pour over boiling water and blanch for 15-20 seconds. The skins should now slip off easily. If you’re using white nectarines, reserve the skins.

Place 3 cups water, 1 ½ cups sugar and a vanilla bean in a saucepan and bring to the boil. For a bit of piquancy you can replace some of the water with verjuice. I went for half and half.
This is a basic poaching liquid recipe. Just increase it or decrease it depending on the amount of fruit to hand and on the size of your mould. You can also add different flavours depending on the fruit. A cinnamon quill or star anise would match well with pears.

Add the nectarines and their skins to the poaching liquid to add that gorgeous pinky hue (for some reason my photo came out more orange than pink). Simmer the fruit for a few minutes till tender when tested with a skewer. Remove with a slotted spoon and leave to cool for a few minutes. Either halve the fruit or slice it, and arrange in the base of your mould. Bearing in mind that the fruit may float or move a bit once the liquid is added.

Prepare the gelatine leaves according to packet instructions. Remove the vanilla bean from the poaching liquid and add the gelatine as instructed.
Pour very gently over the fruit in the mould and deliver your pretty pink jewel to the fridge to set.

To present, sit the base of the mould in some hot water for a few seconds and invert on a plate. Serve with a drizzle of cream.

As you will see, making jelly is a fairly basic process of setting your chosen liquid. There are endless combinations to be made with different fruit and flavourings.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

A political quandary


And so another round of uni holidays begins with another broken down car.  And a broken down Labor party. Woe is me. And woe is the Brumby clan on this windy spring eve I imagine.
Tomorrow I will trudge off to work, deep in Liberal heartland. Bravely I will forge a left wing path into a sea of Baillieu mania, hawking my small ‘l’ liberal views to a hostile crowd.
I might even wear a red shirt just to really agitate things. “Don’t you know this man wants to abolish suspended sentences and build more prisons??” I will holler. “It’s a blue blooded OUTRAGE!”.

I’m lying, not about my concerns over this new government’s policies on law and order, but certainly about the forging and hawking. The reality is I will smile and be super friendly as always as I make lattes and take orders for $55 organic Christmas chickens for Melbourne’s elite. I’ll have a laugh about the kids as the lady with a diamond the size of a five cent piece drops $50 on after-school snacks for the rug rats then bundles them all into the Range Rover for the ride home through the urban jungle.

Is it wrong when you don’t quite live the way you vote? I mean thus far, I haven’t really lived the Labor dream. Sure, I’m a struggling uni student working in a café, freaking out about where I will find the money to fix my busted radiator, but at the same time I have private health insurance courtesy of my mum, I went to boarding school, and I live in one of the toffiest suburbs in Melbourne, albeit in a shoebox of an apartment.

But it’s pretty around here you see, and I’ve become comfortable in the land of the Lexus. My street has really nice big trees and people have cute golden retrievers.  I don’t think twice anymore when a customer at work spends hundreds of dollars buying Christmas food they could make themselves.

But hey, I’m a massive wrap for unions, and I still thought it was unbelievably outrageous when a hoity toity Armadale lady complained about only getting the fish at a charity lunch at Rockpool. Yeah… a charity lunch… at Rockpool.

Is it ok to vote like you live in Fitzroy, when really you swan about south of the river? I’m not sure. But what I do know is my allegiance to the left goes beyond my big fat crush on John Brumby (come on, he’s hot), I promise I'll stay loyal even if Daniel Andrews takes the lead (shudder).  Regardless of my post code, I just can’t see myself putting pen to paper for the Libs anytime soon. Call me hypocritical, it’s the way I roll. And as a Gen Y, I guess I’m just being selfishly true to type. I want to have my union and eat my private hospital food too.



Thursday, September 16, 2010

The niceness of being wrong, and Zabaglione Ice Cream.

I am wrong about stuff all the time. A little more than I would like to be, but it is what it is. 
Example, for a while I thought I could get away with having long hair. Wrong.
At one stage in my youth I thought purple corduroys were a good way to spend my hard earned dosh from the local fish and chip shop. Wrong again. 
There was also that brief moment in 2008 when I thought Bill Shorten was a nice guy. Definitely wrong. 
Then there was that day last semester when I thought I was grown up enough to manage an unlidded coffee in the computer area at the library. Yeah… wrong.

Being wrong can be bad. It often makes me look like an idiot. But sometimes discovering you are wrong turns out to be a good thing.
Like when an initial reading of someone turns out to be off and they’re actually a lovely person who you look forward to spending time with.
Or like how I used to think whiskey wasn’t the drink for me. It’s actually heaven in a tumbler. I see that now.
I also used to think I didn’t really like ice cream. Wrong again. I’ve discovered it’s actually pretty great. And it has restorative powers for those times you’re wallowing in your own wrongness.
I created this recipe using Maggie Beer and Stephanie Alexander’s recipe for zabaglione from their Tuscan cookbook as a base.  The brandy comes through quite intensely. I made it to have with Maggie’s Walnut and Fig Tart, a recipe for which you can find here. The overall effect was quite Christmas Pudding-y.
I’d say this recipe would fit quite nicely on a low calorie eating plan. Joke.

Zabaglione Ice Cream

6 egg yolks
1/3 cup caster sugar
1/2 cup brandy

400ml cream
Heaped tablespoon brown sugar

First, in a fairly decent sized bowl whip the cream to soft peaks then mix through the brown sugar. Pop in the fridge while you make the zabaglione.

To make the zabaglione, whisk the egg yolks, caster sugar and brandy in a bowl over a saucepan of simmering water until thick. Remove from the heat and continue to whisk till cool. To speed this up, I sit the bowl in a sink of cool water as I whisk.

Then just fold the cooled zabaglione through the cream and freeze. I did mine in a loaf pan lined with plastic wrap.

When frozen, go mental and eat as much as you want. 


Saturday, September 4, 2010

A meandering on youth and a nice lemon cake.

Brace yourself, I’m headed down a slightly self-indulgent path with this one. Though I like to think I represent the reality of my generational peers and not just me.
At the risk of sounding whiney, precocious and pissing off everyone older than me, I think our mid-twenties can be a tricky time.
It seems like yesterday we were all babes in the woods together at uni. Writing ourselves off on an altogether too regular basis, writing assignments on an altogether too irregular basis, meeting incredible new people, getting our feelings hurt and hurting feelings in return, discovering our personal strengths and playing at being adults.
Now we really are adults and that time in our late teens and early twenties is a brief snapshot in our past where once it seemed to stretch forever in front of us.
Save for a small handful of us (including me, perpetual student), most of the people around me now have proper jobs with the associated responsibility, rent and bills to pay, and possibly relationships to maintain. An air of routine has descended and the years seem to gain momentum. Days, weeks and months pass in an increasingly speedy blur. But there is an undercurrent of discontent amongst a few of us, and possibly a longing for the vivacity of our early days in the big confusing city. It’s a hum that steadily increases in volume till we can’t escape it anymore.
I wouldn’t call it a crisis (though I now understand the sports cars and young lovers associated with the so-called mid-life crisis), more a questioning wrapped up in nostalgia and served with a sense of urgency. What to do? Where to work? Where to live? When to travel? Who to love? How to love? We have realised our routine may need a shakeup so we aren’t eaten alive by the potential drudgery of a nine to five law abiding existence.
I can see us reaching out to some old ties and simultaneously rejecting others.
I think it’s about seeking the truth of who we are. A daunting life-long process, but an extremely valuable one. The changes I’m watching in some people’s lives are drastic. Onset or acknowledgment of depression, breakdown of long term live-in relationships, returning to study, embarking on huge overseas adventures, coming out, moving in, becoming engaged, getting married etc.
In others it’s a quieter shift. Opening up the careers section of the paper to see what’s around, picking up an old musical instrument, spending more time with family and friends, resolving to wash the sheets more often just like mum, that kind of thing.
Me? I’ve joined a gospel choir, started a blog, and hopefully soon will be volunteering in the prison system. I’ve sat back and had a think about where my study can take me, and where I want it to take me. I’ve also had a think about all the things and people in my life (good and bad) who make it so brilliantly colourful. I’m endeavouring to surround myself with more of the good and less of the bad. I’ve developed the odd habit of smiling to myself about the smallest of things – a clear morning on my pretty street, my collection of recipe books, an everyday conversation with my brother, an average day spent at my café job. For me at the moment, my world is filled with promise. Which is not to say everything around me is good all the time.
I’m currently bearing witness to a devastating manifestation of this introspective phase in a dear and special friend. Our friendship is unravelling, and it hurts to be so disconnected from someone I’ve known since school when I thought our lives would be intertwined forever.
I’ve done a bit of self-reflection over the past few months, and tried to face honestly some things in my life I wish I’d done differently. Never a pleasant task.
I’ve also encountered a bit of sadness about the fact that my grandparents won’t live forever though I desperately wish they would. As we age, milestone birthdays bring celebration with a hint of melancholy.
But far from tainting everything with negativity, these experiences serve only to accentuate the beauty in the clear mornings and the recipe books.
This thing we call life is ultimately a very individual pursuit and when all is said and done we only have ourselves to reckon with.  For some of us youngsters, I think that is becoming clear for the first time.
So here’s to us. I can’t wait to see where we all end up.

And now to a somewhat tenuous link to food. In some ways, I think the aforementioned tricky phase of life can be well analogised through a study of the seasons. Mid twenties kind of equates to spring. Spring is a bit complex. Up and down, hot and cold. But the promise of happiness and long summer days is right around the corner. Sometimes it's hard to know what to eat in this in between weather. Salad or stodge? There you have it, that’s my questionable segue to a recipe for cake.
Right now I am blessed with an abundance of meyer lemons courtesy of my aunt and uncle. I think lemon syrup cake bridges the gap between winter and summer rather deliciously. It has spring written all over it. The subtle tang of the lemon and the pretty yellow of the cake foreshadow the days of hats, sunscreen and picknicking lurking around the corner, while the addition of syrup keeps the memory of cold weather puddings alive.
I stole this recipe from Matthew Evans, he of Gourmet Farmer fame. Make it, its pretty nice.

Yoghurt Cake with Lemon Syrup
(serves 8-10)

125g butter, softened
200g (1 cup) caster sugar
3 eggs
zest and strained juice of half a lemon
200g (1 1/2 cups) self-raising flour
200g (3/4 cup) natural yoghurt
1/3 cup water
150g (3/4 cup) sugar
thickened cream for serving
Cooking time: Allow over an hour until it comes from the oven, but eat the cake cool
You’ll also need: a 20cm cake tin

Preheat the oven to 180C.
Cream the butter and sugar until pale and light. Beat in the eggs, one at a time. It may look a bit curdled but don’t worry, we’ll fix that. Fold in the lemon zest and flour gently and then fold in the yoghurt too. Use a spatula to scrape into a lined 20cm cake tin, making the centre a little lower compared to the edges. Bake for about 30-40 mins or until a skewer comes out clean.
While the cake cooks, heat the water, sugar and lemon juice in a small saucepan and simmer for 5 minutes. When the cake is cooked, leave it in the tin, poke a fine skewer into the cake all over about 30 times and spoon the hot lemon syrup over the top. Try to spoon it so it soaks into the holes evenly rather than all soaking into the edges around the tin. Allow to cool and serve with lightly whipped cream, coffee and a grin.






Sunday, August 1, 2010

Apple and Cinnamon Cake for when you’re broke.

Mid year uni holidays. I had such grand plans for you. Days I was going to spend reading the classics (or at least a classic), cleaning out my pantry, sleeping, having coffee out, and most of all…cooking.
Instead the weeks were lost in a haze of work, clerkship applications, broken down cars, and more work. I object. Retrospectively. But however vehement my objection, it seems I can’t do a thing about it at this late stage.
Given the fact that I’ve been working over the break, I’m disappointed that I’ve ended up with an acute lack of funds.
Perhaps the holiday upgrade from You’ll Love Coles handwash (Fiona, Soft Hands) to Palmolive Antibacterial handwash wasn’t such a wise choice.  Likewise the temporary switch from Homebrand Tasty cheese to Cracker Barrel.
And I guess it wasn’t all work and no play. I think a fair bit of cash was dropped on vino.
Last night I was confronted with the fallout from my reckless spending. What to make when my budget had hit rock bottom? Had to be something for which I already had all the ingredients. Bless you Stephanie Alexander for providing the answer.

APPLE & CINNAMON CAKE
Serves 8

60g butter, plus extra for greasing
4 Granny Smith apples, peeled, quartered and very finely sliced
2 teaspoons white sugar
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ cup fresh breadcrumbs
2 free-range eggs
150g caster sugar
1 cup plain flour

Preheat oven to 180°C.
Melt butter in a large frying pan. Tip sliced apples into the melted butter and cook over medium-high heat, stirring and shaking, for 3 minutes. Tip apple into large bowl and leave to cool.
Mix sugar and cinnamon and set aside until needed.
Thoroughly grease a 20cm springform cake tin with extra butter. Tip in breadcrumbs, then turn and shake the tin until its base and side are well coated.  
Beat eggs and caster sugar in an electric mixer until pale and thick. Sift flour over egg mixture and fold in lightly but thoroughly using a large metal spoon. Tip in apple and quickly fold in. It doesn’t matter if the apple is not thoroughly mixed – speed is more essential so as not to deflate the batter.
Tip batter into the prepared tin. Smooth the top and scatter over cinnamon sugar mixture. Bake for 30 minutes or until the cake tests clean when tested with a fine skewer. Leave to cool in tin a little before serving warm, or cool completely in tin and then serve. 



Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Easy orange muffins to make when you should be doing Other Important Things.

Here follows a list of Really Useful Things I Could Have Done Tonight:

  1. Got the washing off the line, which has been there for three days enduring intermittent showers.
  2. Folded the other washing that is hanging on a clothes horse in the loungeroom.
  3. Changed my sheets and put my new doona cover on my bed.
  4. Written a letter to Kevin Rudd outlining my detailed plan to reinvigorate support for the ALP following the recent opinion polls.
  5. Nutted out above mentioned detailed plan.
  6. Called my grandmother to let her know I still love her and haven’t forgotten about her.
  7. Opened my case book for Contracts and started reading the long list of cases I should have started reading in week one.
  8. Opened my evidence book and started some preparation for my moot.
  9. Done some reading for my tute in the morning.


Were I to place these in order of importance, the last three really should go in positions one, two and three. You know, seeing as how, at week 12, I’d say we’re at the pointy end of the semester.

Here follows a list of Things I Actually Did Tonight/Look At All The Faffing I Can Do:

  1. Checked Facebook.
  2. Watched Bold and the Beautiful
  3. Watched Mash
  4. Checked emails
  5. Checked Facebook
  6. Ate
  7. Watched Home and Away
  8. Mulled over when would be an appropriate time to mention to the customer at work - who happens to be a cast member of a particularly brilliant Australian comedy sketch show from the 1980s/90s - that I think she is like…way funny and its an honour to make her weak skinny latte on a semi-regular basis.
  9. Made orange muffins. See below.


ORANGE MUFFINS
1 orange
2/3 cup sugar
1 large egg
1/2 cup orange juice
100g butter, melted
1 ½ cups plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp bi-carb soda (don’t ask me the difference between the two, I can offer no insight)

Cut off the thick top and bottom of the orange and remove the pips. Chop roughly and put in a food processor. Blitz until fine. Add the sugar and blitz again. Add the egg, juice and melted butter and blitz some more until combined. By now you should have a regular Blitzkrieg happening. 
Sift dry ingredients into a large mixing bowl.
Tip in orange mixture and fold together until just combined. Note - don't blitz, just fold.
Spoon mixture into greased or lined 12 hole muffin pan. Bake at 200 degrees Celsius for 15mins or till golden.
Dust with icing sugar when cool.