Gorgonzola, honey and fresh walnuts

In Australia, we have very strict rules about what cheeses we allow into the country. If they are made from raw milk and have not been pasteurised then they will be deemed unfit for Australian consumption. There is so much fuss these days about food and germs. It makes me wonder, how is it that any of us get through a single day still alive, let alone an entire lifetime, with all those germs and bacteria around.  I'm not sure how it is Europeans have been eating unpasteurised cheeses for as long as they have, but at least they get a choice about it.

Nanny states really get up the noses of some people and a few impassioned cheese lovers have lobbied very hard to change these rules. So now we have some exemptions to the conditions of entry such as hard cheeses, like Parmigiano-Reggiano and semi-soft cheeses, like Gruyere and Emmenthal. No exemptions for the soft cheeses though unless they are made with cooked milk. Which is why we still see European soft cheeses for sale here, like this Gorgonzola cheese for example.

I digress. What I really wanted to share with you is the idea of drizzling honey over your blue cheese (wherever it comes from, and I know there are plenty of law-abiding good ones here in Australia), and serving them with fresh walnuts. I reckon the simpler your cheese platter, the better. Be sure to serve the cheese at a risky room-temperature too.

Supper Onion Pie

I like the idea of supper. It makes me think of Noel Coward plays and sophisticated, well-dressed characters swanning about it elegant surroundings, sipping cocktails and engaging in witty repartee. Apart from that, supper is a good excuse for having people over and can be a lot more spontaneous and informal than a dinner party. You can fit in other activities like going to the theatre or after-work drinks. And you only have to prepare one course.

I wrote out this recipe for Supper Onion Pie from a borrowed copy of Nigella Lawson's How to Be a Domestic Goddess. The pie base is a scone dough with the addition of grated Gruyere cheese. There is no rolling or rising involved so it's very easy to prepare.

The instructions say to cook the onions over a medium heat but take care not to brown them. You want them soft and translucent. Gruyere is an excellent cheese for melting although it's a little hard to come by in most supermarkets. There aren't too many substitutes for it though so it's worth trekking down in a deli.

See the flecks of cheese? In fact the pie is prepared like a tarte Tatin in that the onions and some of the grated cheese are placed in the pie dish before laying the pie dough over the top. Once the dough is cooked you invert the dish onto a serving plate so the pie lid now becomes the base. The onions mould into the dish and hold their shape beautifully. Until you cut it. But no matter, the smell of the melted cheese is very distracting.

The pie serves four (for supper, or two-three for a more substantial dinner). Serve with a little green salad and a glass of acidic white wine such as sauvignon blanc or Sancerre.

Supper Onion Pie (from How to Be a Domestic Goddess, by Nigella Lawson)

Serves 4

For the topping

4 red onions

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 heaped tablespoon butter

4 sprigs thyme

150g Gruyere cheese, grated

For the scone dough

250g plain flour

1 scant teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

100ml milk

40g butter, melted

1 scant teaspoon English mustard (I used prepared, but I think it's supposed to be powdered)

1 large egg, beaten

Grease a 24cm ceramic pie dish with some additional melted butter. Preheat the oven to 200 degrees.

Peel the onions, cut in half and then cut each half into four segments. Add the oil and butter to a large pan and cook the onions over medium heat for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. Season well and add the thyme leaves. Turn the onions into the pie dish and scatter over about one third of the grated cheese. Set aside.

Place the flour, baking powder and salt in a bowl with the remaining cheese. 

Pour the milk into a jug, add the melted butter, mustard and beaten egg. Mix well before pouring into the flour mixture. Mix with a fork or your hands. It will be quite sticky. Tip out onto a floured work surface and press into a circle the size of the pie dish. Transfer to the dish, pressing it down to seal the edges.

Cook in the oven for 15 minutes. Reduce the temperature to 180 degrees and continue cooking for another 10 minutes until the crust is golden. Stand for a couple of minutes. Cover with a large plate and invert the pie dish. Remove the dish and serve. 

Menu

Supper Onion Pie

Green salad with hazelnut oil and sherry vinegar dressing

Wine

Sancerre or sauvignon blanc

Two for one deal! Chicken broth and poule au pot

If I were a sporting fan, I may have known about the gem of a cooking show embedded in the Australian telecast of le Tour de France since 2005. As the cyclists pass through various photogenic regions of France, host Gabriel Gate delivers a cooking segment showcasing the culinary specialities of each region. I bought the cookbook because it's cover is so purty and because I love the idea of simple, homestyle French cuisine. The book's title, Taste Le Tour, had me a little puzzled but fortunately the bookseller unintentionally enlightened me. Yeah it was great watching it on the telly. I said.

Poule au pot hails from the Pyrenees region. It's a comforting winter dish despite the fact that butter, oil, cream and starch are largely absent from the ingredient list. In fact, the chicken and vegetables are gently poached in nothing more sinful than herb-infused water. Even the piquant mustard sauce can't diminish its lightness. But trust me, poule au pot is comfort food.

What's really beautiful about this recipe though, is that it produces its own first course. An important fact that Gate leaves out until the final sentence of the recipe. In my books, this makes it an excellent dinner party choice.

You see, the liquid that has been poaching the chicken and the assorted winter vegetables transforms into a tasty chicken broth. Ask for the giblets when you buy the chicken. They are usually discarded before the chicken is sold nowadays but they will add more flavour to your stock. While you keep the chicken and veggies warm on a plate covered with foil, strain the stock into another saucepan, preferably using muslin or a very clean tea towel. Check for seasoning and cook a little pasta in it before serving. Tortellini would work well. I found some scallop dumplings at the market and so they led me down the path of an Asian-inspired broth. I added a star anise and some whole allspice pimentos to infuse the broth. It was very subtle so maybe next time I will try adding some soy sauce and a cinnamon stick.

I also added some strips of stripy red rainbow chard which gave the broth a delightful pink tinge. Not quite sure that was what I was going for, but no matter. Sometimes you have to improvise when it comes to cooking.

Poule au Pot (from Taste Le Tour: Regional French Cuisine, Gabriel Gate)
Serves 4

1 x 1.8kg free-range chicken (plus giblets)
a few sprigs of thyme and parsley
1 bay leaf
1 medium brown onion, peeled
3 cloves
8 black peppercorns
salt
freshly ground black pepper
4 medium carrots, peeled
4 medium turnips, peeled
2 leeks, washed and cut into 10cm lengths
2 sticks celery, cut into 10cm lengths
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
6 gherkins, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons chopped parsley

Put the chicken (and its giblets) in a large pot, cover with water and place it on a medium heat. (I hit my first obstacle right here - no large pot! So I spatchcocked the chicken which means I used kitchen shears to cut out the backbone and spread the chicken out flat.)

Use kitchen string to tie the thyme, parsley and bay leaf together to make a bouquet garni. Stud the onion with the cloves and add to the pot with the bouquet garni and peppercorns. Season (well) with salt and pepper.

Add the vegetables to the pot (I cut the carrots into 10cm lengths as well, and the turnips into large quarters). Bring to the simmer and cook for 50 minutes. Remove surface foam from time to time. (Poaching is a very delicate procedure. Make sure it never goes higher than a simmer.)

In a small bowl, mix the mustard with a little salt and pepper. Whisk in the vinegar, then add the oil, whisking continuously. Stir in the gherkins and parsley. Set aside.

(If using the broth for a starter, remove the chicken and vegetables and strain the broth into another saucepan as described above. While that simmers, remove the skin from the chicken, if you wish, and cut into portions. It is surprisingly easy to debone a chicken once it's been cooked, provided you have a bowl of cold water for your burning fingertips handy. Keep the vegetables and chicken under foil. If you need to reheat, reserve some of the original broth and just before serving, plunge them all in the simmering water again.)

Transfer the chicken and vegetables to a platter and serve with the dressing either poured over the top or in a separate jug.

Sweet fennel and orange biscuits

I don't know for sure that these biscuits are Italian in origin but the fennel, orange and aniseed tells me they probably are. Someone told me once that the colloquial Italian word for a gay man is finocchio which is also Italian for fennel. Why? Well the theory is that the man's mother ate too much fennel while he was in-utero and so her little boy turned out a little too sweet. What's interesting is that the Italians think of fennel as a sweet herb, don't you think? Maybe their palates are a little more refined than the rest of us.

It's not that Italians don't do desserts well (I'm thinking tiramisu, cannoli, gelati), but I wouldn't normally turn to an Italian cookbook when I'm looking for dessert inspiration. They're more inclined to end a meal with fresh fruit and some not-so-sweet biscotti to go with coffee than an over-rich, calorific pudding.

Speaking of coffee, if you're looking for some biscuits to go with, why wouldn't you turn to the coffee aficionados?

Biscotti, teeth-breaking honey biscuits and panforte are perfect accompaniments to an espresso or a Vin Santo. I reckon they could even replace dessert at the end of a big meal. Moreover, one can also indulge one's unrefined habit of dunking biscuits and still feel terribly sophisticated.

Sweet Fennel and Orange Biscuits (from Karen Martini's recipe in Sunday Life)

Makes 40

3 oranges, zested using a potato peeler

3 tsp fennel seeds

2 tsp aniseed (I used anise seed which I'm guessing is the same thing...)

300ml water

150g brown sugar

150g caster sugar

3 eggs

375g plain flour

125g self-raising flour

pinch salt

200g butter, softened

olive oil for your hands

Preheat the oven to 180C (or 200C if conventional oven).

In a small pot, place orange zest, fennel seeds, aniseed and water. Bring to the boil and simmer over a low heat for 15 minutes or until 2 1/2 tablespoons of the liquid is left along with the seeds and zest. Place mixture in a food processor and pulse 3-4 times to chop as finely as possible. Add the sugars and blitz for 2 minutes. Place mixture in a bowl and whisk through 2 of the eggs. (At this stage, it ain't pretty.)

In a large bowl, sift flours and salt, then rub in butter until mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Make a well in the centre and pour in egg and sugar mixture. Bring together to form a firm dough (it was pretty sticky when I made it, so long as it isn't too dry). 

Oil your hands and roll walnut-size portions into balls. Brush the biscuits with the remaining beaten egg and bake for 10-15 minutes until golden. Cool on a wire rack. 

Autumn feast

Just look at these colours. This is the bounty I collected from the farmer’s market this fine autumnal morning. I love autumn. I love the dappled sunlight. I love the falling golden leaves and the crunchy sound they make when you walk in them. I love that I get the taste for red wine again.

Walking past the Aesop shop in Collingwood the other day my breath was taken away by a sight to behold. The shop window, and the entire store no less, were covered in a mass of autumnal leaves. I so wish that idea was mine.

Many a time I’ve bored my friends with complaints about Melbourne’s bad weather. But I concede, it does autumn very well. The light on sunny days (of which there seem to be more than any other time of the year) is life-affirming. And then there’s the produce which is the whole point of the post, right? On the menu tonight are Swiss brown mushrooms, pink lady apples, pink fir apple potatoes, kale and walnuts. 

The occasion this time is dinner with my cousin Patti and her husband Simon. She’s a great cook and by her own admission has a pretty mean sweet tooth. It’s such a pleasure cooking for foodies. 

The evening was cold and rainy - perfect weather for staying in. With drinks we had fresh walnuts and kale chips. Roast the walnuts in the oven to really bring out their flavour (wish I'd thought of this on the actual night). This was followed by Parmesan-Crumbed Mushrooms for entree. I served them on a big plate for everyone to help themselves. The mushrooms were happily consumed by even the non-mushroom fans at the table. Can't go wrong with deep-frying. I replaced the aioli in the original recipe with a rocket pesto. Not a true pesto, more like a dipping sauce. A sauce needs to be big on flavour though, so good quality extra virgin olive oil is key. So is garlic (a lot of it) and a very generous pinch of sea salt. 

The Cider Roasted Chicken recipe also came from Gourmet Traveller. The speck-wrapped, thyme-sprinkled chicken pieces were laid on top of wedges of roasting potatoes, apples and red onion. Cider and chicken stock were added in the later stage of roasting and a splash of cider vinegar finished things off. The chicken took a lot longer to cook than the recipe said but the other ingredients didn't seem to mind a little extra roasting action. 

I also served baby carrots, which were braised in butter, a small amount of water, sugar and salt until the liquid evaporated. I got this recipe from Poh's Kitchen but added the juice of an orange and used mint instead of parsley. Leave the lid off while you simmer, or there will be too much liquid to evaporate. I also served a green salad with a dressing made of hazelnut oil, sherry vinegar, a hint of garlic and sea salt. 

The Chocolate-Caramel Tart was made the night before. It's made with a sweet pastry, and under the chocolate ganache there is a layer of oozing, finger-licking caramel goodness. Pastry is not one of my favourite things to make. I can always smell the whiff of failure lingering around the kitchen but happily, this one turned out okay.

Once the pastry is baked, the fun really begins. Now, I am well and truly of an age where I should know better than to surrender to childish impulses like licking hot caramel from a spoon. But anyway, I did. And I have the tongue scarring to prove it.

(Can you tell I'm besotted by this tart?)

The recipe says it serves 16. Sixteen highly disciplined people who are not prone to gluttonous impulses I would suggest. For the rest of us, it probably serves 6-8.

I don't really like that I rate my own efforts at the end of a dinner party, but I do. Let's see - the carrots were a little overcooked and the chicken was a little undercooked and had to be returned to the oven, and I broke my own rule of not serving too large portions. But still, I enjoyed the process from the crafting of the menu, the gathering of the produce and the execution of each dish. Most of all though, it was great to spend an evening with Patti and Simon, we drank some nice wine and had some fun. So overall: success!

Menu

Kale chips and fresh walnuts

Parmesan-Crumbed Mushrooms with rocket pesto

Cider Roasted Chicken with Speck, Apple and Potato

Green salad with hazelnut oil dressing

Braised orange carrots

Chocolate-Caramel Tart
Wine
SQL 08 Pinot Noir, from the Yarra Valley

Ode to oil and vinegar

I gotta thing for vinegars.

And oils. All kinds of oils and vinegars. In fact, they have their own shelf in my kitchen cupboards.

A salad ain't a salad until oil and vinegar come to the party. A basic green salad with a good quality dressing will find its way onto most of my dinner party menus. The French know a thing or to about how to make a simple salad. They would never send an undressed lettuce leaf to the table. Each leaf will be coated and glistening with its oily dressing.

Walnut and hazelnut oils are intensely flavoured - guests notice when you've used one of these oils in a dressing.  They work really well drizzled over steamed green beans too. Whatever oil or vinegar you use, in a salad dressing the standard ratio between the two is three parts oil to one part vinegar.  Well, I think it is. As a child I used to eat celery from bowls of vinegar so my ratio is skewed towards vinegar.

To raise it to the next level though, take another tip from the French. Cut a clove of garlic in half, and rub the insides of your serving bowl with it. A hint of garlic makes a big difference to salad dressing. Then add the oil and vinegar straight into the bowl and whisk well before adding the lettuce leaves. If you have some fresh dill or basil leaves, add them too. A generous sprinkling of salt flakes completes your salad.

I learnt many things from my brief stint as an apprentice cook many years ago. (1) Split shifts constitute cruel and unusual punishment. (2) $11 an hour is no sort of wage for a 30 year old. (3) It's easier to just get a man to shuck an oyster than try to do it yourself. And (4) How to toss a salad. This is a good insider tip. Dressed leaves get weighed down by the dressing and can make your salad look a little flat. Fluff them up again by 'digging' into the bowl with both hands, scooping up the leaves and then flipping them over for however many times it takes to get them looking light and full of air again.

The aperitif hour - spicy pepitas and baked kale chips

What I like most about dinner parties is that I have the chance (or maybe excuse is more accurate) to eat all night long. To set the pace for the marathon ahead, I like to kick things off with a little nibble to go with the aperitifs. But how to fit in so much food without feeling like someone needs to pull the pin out and deflate you before you can take yourself off to bed? It's all about balance and pace.

Cheeses, breads and dips are a little too filling for me. Endurance is the thing. So here are a couple of light options. They're simple to prepare, inexpensive and heaven forbid, they're even healthy.

Baked kale chips
I'm a big fan of kale. It has such a robust, textured leaf and, unlike silverbeet and spinach, it holds its shape really well in soups, stirfries etc. Kale is also known as 'cavalo nero' or black cabbage, which makes me think, yes, maybe the colour is kind of black. How intriguing.

I first read about baked kale chips here. This recipe takes kale to a whole other level of pleasure I never thought it was capable of. The chips shatter in your mouth and leave an intense salty flavour. Who'd have thunk a dark leafy green could pack such a punch? I like to toast some cumin seeds, and grind them with some rock salt using a mortar and pestle.

Spicy pepitas
And so to the pepitas. Now, I know pepitas don't usually get the saliva juices flowing in the way that some other things do, but like the kale, when they're subjected to roasting and spicing they become something else. They pop. They crunch. They give a little spicy kick. I'm telling you, they are delicious.

Apart from throwing handfuls straight in my mouth, I also love them sprinkled in salads, on muesli or in yogurt. To make them, toss in some extra virgin olive oil and add some herbs and spices (I used ground oregano, ground cumin, chilli powder, sumac and salt). Spread them out on a foil-lined oven tray and bake on a low temperature (150 degrees or so) for around 20 minutes (very similar to the kale chips).

Et voila! That's the pre-first course taken care of. If you want an aperitif to go with them, how about a spritz? It's the Venetian version of an Italian drink.

Spritz
In a champagne or wine glass, add 45ml of Aperol, or another bitter drink such as Campari, and pour in 90ml of prosecco or sparkling wine. Finish with some soda water and a twist of orange. Chin chin.

What's the occasion? It's Friday.

What to cook to celebrate the end of the working week? I can't remember now what led me down the path of boudin blanc. Probably I was thinking minimal effort. Which I more than made up for in the effort it took to buy the goods while relying on public transport in peak hour. Live and learn. I never do.

Boudin blanc or white pudding makes me think of the old fairytale stereotype - good equals white, bad equals black. Because when I think of boudin blanc I automatically think of its evil twin boudin noir or black pudding - aka blood pudding because it's made with, well, blood. Gay Bilson really creeped me out when she wrote an article espousing the virtues of using one's own blood to make the sausage. I took her point (whatever it was) but still. Eww.


In fact I've eaten blood pudding and quite enjoyed the experience but I'd probably steer clear of convincing my dinner guests they could like it too. Boudin blanc, on the other hand, is the safe blonde option yes, but it's silky and voluptuous all the same.

What's the white equivalent of blood I wonder? Pork meat and rice apparently. But in the case of our sausages it was pork, some unspecified spices, mushrooms, brandy and porcini powder. Good stuff.

But first a little cheese. Blue veined sheep's milk cheese. No more to be said.


Blair denies this but whatever I'm preparing for dinner, he will suggest that mashed potato would go well with it. He had to settle for cold potato salad because it makes a good textural contrast to the sausage. After cooking the potatoes, I doused them in red wine vinegar and stirred through the dressing made from mayonnaise and sour cream. A little chopped mint was added for photogenic purposes.


The French theme made me think celeriac remoulade but then I remembered a French grated carrot recipe I'd just read about here. No way was I hunting down a celeriac. In the city. On a Friday night.

Dessert was cake. Iddy biddy cupcakes so I could choose more than one flavour. And if you're wondering why the icing has slipped off one of them, that is to illustrate my mad dash to catch the train home.

Menu

Blue veined sheep's milk cheese

Boudin blanc sausages with potato salad and grated carrot salad

Little cupcakes