Hey, Kathryn, Luisa and I have just released another issue of An Honest Kitchen. It's our 6th! Six issues sounds pretty good to me, and though each has felt quite different, their release never ceases to give me a little thrill. This time we've taken an idea a reader sent us and run with it, rescuing some classic family-favourite meals and updating them. Makeovers is available right now, over here
These basil-wrapped hardboiled Green Eggs are perfect hot-weather picnic food, a simple little recipe inspired by Viana La Place in her latest book My Italian Garden. The recipe was bookmarked at the same time as the order for Lettuce Leaf Basil went in, and though historically a hopeless grower of basil, I live as ever in hope that, come autumn, I can try the recipe out with the correct, large-leafed variety. Know, though, that ordinary basil behaves just fine. La Place genuinely champions basic but beautiful food, and the spine of this illustrated little book sits proudly next to that of her earlier Kitchen Unplugged on the Good Shelf, the one reserved for the books a bored hand like mine reaches for almost automatically when inspiration evaporates. No matter how I try of late, bold but simple flavours are what ends up on the table in a heat-hazed summer. Fun to make, these are, I think, best made in the cool of the early morning summer kitchen.
basil-wrapped green eggs
You'll need: good quality eggs, as many as you like; salt; pepper; a nice, rich olive oil; and 5-6 big basil leaves per egg
Hard-boil eggs. (Slip eggs into a saucepan of cold water, slowly bring up to a boil. Squash a lid on tight, turn the heat off and walk away for 10 minutes.) Cool, then peel - Jules has some excellent thoughts on this process, so I'll send you over to her. Dry peeled eggs on a clean tea towel.
Slice eggs in half, top to bottom. Season each half generously with salt and pepper, then dribble over a little olive oil. Press the halves back together as best you can.
Bring a little pan of salted water to the boil and blanch the basil leaves for 1-2 seconds only. Fish out and carefully arrange them on another clean tea towel. The should be slightly - only slightly - moist.
Tear off a piece of plastic wrap. Gently wrap each egg in enough basil leaves to completely (as possible) cover. Bring the sides of the plastic up and twist at the top, an action that presses the leaves into place as you go. Repeat until done. Refrigerate for at least a few hours before serving with black olives.
Simple.
This morning on 3RRR Bhakthi and I talked about Ian McEwan's Saturday, a book to read for the economy and grace of his language as much as anything else (and yes, there is much else). The promise of a recipe is guaranteed to keep me going in any novel; McEwan's Henry Perowne describes the process of making a bouillabaisse across 4-pages really, really sexy from a cook's point of view. I love it when a fiction writer approaches a recipe, find the freedom of not being tied to conventional home economics can be hugely enjoyable as both a reader and unconventional cook, and McEwan's own - thankfully for cooking purposes - shortened recipe you'll find right here. To make it vegetarian dump the fish and simply quarter waxy potatoes (leave that skin on) and par-boil for 5 minutes. (Oh, and use a good quality veg stock cube or powder in place of all that bone-wrangling). I would, if I had some, add in a couple of trimmed, cored and thickly sliced bulbs of fennel which I'd add just after the onions and garlic have melted. Add the potatoes as you add the wine and simmer until done.
PLUS, a bowl of every good Provencal stew needs a spoonful of rouille stirred into it - a garlicky, cayenne-peppery mayonnaise. 2 cloves-worth crushed to a paste and a teaspoon of the firey stuff should see you right if stirred into 3/4 cup of good quality bought mayo, but go on. Make it yourself from scratch.
This morning Bhakthi and I talked food and children's literature on 3RRR FM, and it was, I have to say, a lot of fun. Roald Dahl (he is ALL about food, Dahl, with a bit of class-busting thrown in for good measure), Kenneth Grahame and Dr Seuss. I want - very much - to share the recipe I gave for the simple, basil-wrapped Seuss-ian Green Eggs (minus, of course, the ham) but there are no photos to share today...not yet. Such is the way things work when one remains devoted to film, so, I promise to share the recipe in the coming days...or week...
(update: Cindy and Michael (guys, thank YOU!) from Where's the Beef have found the broadcast online which you can listen to here.)
Instead, here's what I've been eating (on our own bread, most days) for breakfast over summer: tahini, barley miso and cucumber. WHAT a combo.
I'll be back with Bhakthi on the 21st when we'll be talking about more adult things, so stay tuned.
Happy 2013 peoples! Hope it's working out for you thus far.
You know those people you sometimes meet at parties - confidence exuding through seemingly every pore, inner glow glowing outwardly, shoulders held back with poise and grace? Well, I am not one of those people. At said party, you'll find me in the kitchen, head down, engaged in the mechanics of something that keeps me busily avoiding those people because they scare me witless. Innate confidence is a quality I would wish for any child, but not one I seem to have been born with. Tapping away quietly on the web - building something creative in my own time, under my own steam - is so much better-suited to my personality. Yes, I'm a Leo, but the Taurus Rising and Moon in Scorpio I was born under mean I'm better equipped to deal with things in a detached and observational way. Blog As Confessional isn't my style, but maintaining a blog with a food focus has allowed me to bloom.
Of course, the thing that I've wanted to tackle for, like, ever is that confidence. Over the past few weeks, I've been behaving in an uncharacteristically brave fashion and, of course, the pay-off has been worth every butterfly-induced second. Meditation has played a role in this undoubtedly, banishing negativity, accepting opportunity, but having a print edition of An Honest Kitchen to show people - a tangible, beautiful object - has made me prouder than ever of what Kathryn and Luisa and I do. Yesterday, I took a copy along to show Cath and Chris at Books In Print (best bookshop the country, and my old workplace) and was greeted with delight, coffee, and an order. I very nearly cried.
So, the lesson I've learnt this year is this; trust in yourself, in what you do as much as who you are, and in what you offer. If you don't, who on earth will? A friend told me that 40 was a fascinating year, and it was, but 41? Even better.
All of this is my rambling way of offering gratitude to those of you who read, and, armed with a new-found bravery, to remind you that An Honest Kitchen Seasonal Desserts makes a gorgeous holiday gift, especially the print version. If you'd rather see and touch before you buy, you'll find it here:
Books In Print & Organically Grown (Melbourne)
Food Connect & Coffee1st (Sydney)
and you can, of course, order it from our website, too:
http://anhonestkitchen.com.au/current-issue/
Tell me, how are your holiday plans shaping up? This is my Christmas Day thus far. Sitting on our verandah, just the two of us, dressed in something diaphanous and cool, eating a tonne of smoked salmon, potato pancakes and pickled cucumber. Bliss.
Today, Kathryn and I are incredibly proud to launch a new edition of An Honest Kitchen we know you're going to love.
The new edition addresses one of those things that, for many people (women, I'll venture from personal experience) is their dietary undoing - dessert. Why dessert? Because I asked, but also because I reckon there's no point in kidding oneself that a life lived without sweetness is any more fun (or virtuous) than one lived with it! In Seasonal Desserts - our 5th issue - our emphasis is firmly on fruit, but there are also recipes for the chocolate-fiend, some desserts that are quick to make, and others yet that can be reserved for special occasions. Most importantly of all, throughout the edition you'll find simple, doable strategies for making dessert a healthier part of life. It's been a great challenge for the two of us, and the results, I can say without a trace of modesty, are wonderful.
Our divine designer Luisa has pulled everything together to make it absolutely stunning, and so the look and feel has a breath of fresh air about it. In truth, we simply could not have done it without her.
Take a look at this sneak peek.
Seasonal Desserts A$9.95
Aaaaand, please note: in a couple of weeks we will be releasing a printed copy and an iPad version of the magazine for those of you who like things in a different format.
Stay tuned!
A few things to think on before we head off into the hills for the weekend (those daffodils aren't gonna pick themselves):
Any post that attracts hundreds (perhaps, by now, thousands) of comments is worth reading. Shauna of Gluten-Free Girl wrote about the way in which she's being attacked silently and anonymously from some corners of the web and it broke my heart. It's a long post, so you may want to skip halfway down straight to the relevant bit. Next day, an article in The Guardian Weekly (Jo and refer to it as The Cardigan Weekly for some reason), a piece by Tim Adams titled How the Internet Created an Age of Rage got me thinking. Again, a long-ish read, but the part that spoke volumes arrived, for me, in the final paragraphs.
Arthur Schoepenhauer wrote well on the subject 160 years ago: "Anonymity is the refuge for all literary and journalistic rascality," he suggested. "It is a practice which must be completely stopped. Every article, even in a newspaper, should be accompanied by the name of its author; and the editor should be made strictly responsible for the accuracy of the signature. The freedom of the press should be thus far restricted; so that when a man publicly proclaims through the far-sounding trumpet of the newspaper, he should be answerable for it, at any rate with his honour, if he has any; and if he has none, let his name neutralise the effect of his words. And since even the most insignificant person is known in his own circle, the result of such a measure would be to put an end to two-thirds of the newspaper lies, and to restrain the audacity of many a poisonous tongue."
I like it. Doesn't mean I'll be posting pics of my family online soon, but worth thinking on. (Also, isn't the word "rascality" just fantastic? Hope to work it into my vocab, most especially as spellcheck didn't like it one bit...)
There's a rawness and lovely turn of phrase over at this fledgling blog.
This made me giggle.
Ganga has posted a beautiful Balinese coconut rice recipe I've made twice since I got back. It's a keeper.
AND
Sharon (hi Sharon!) at FlavourCrusader asked me a few questions about how and why I cook. Always good to think on the whys and while you're there, have a look around the website. If you've got an interesting food story to tell, let her know!
Late last year Kodak announced they were discontinuing my favourite film.
Wouldn't you know it?
Just as I was getting the hang of my lightmeter.
Luckily, the film that's replaced it isn't too bad, or so I am told. (Phew)
Pomegranate honey, via Katrina. Delicious, nutritious and medicinal. Can't ask for more than that, 'cos winter's arrived a week early.
Just popping in to let you know that An Honest Kitchen is having 15 minutes of fame over at the Emerging Writers Festival. Head over and see what else is happening, all of it online, naturally.
Right, so, here's the post in which I
a) apologise for not writing about food not nearly enough of late and
b) manage to sneak in a bit of self-promotion while I'm at it.
Until Sunday - Sunday the 28th of March, that is - you can see two of my photos in a group show at St Ali in South Melbourne. The show's open, so I am told, from 10am 'til about 2 pm daily.
12-18 Yarra Place
South Melbourne
In the meantime, Kathryn just explained the fascinating idea of brining red cabbage to me over the telephone. Now I'm keen to get playing 'cos cabbage and I have some major digestive issues and I'm determined that this winter, cabbage and I will work together for some kind of greater good. It's cheap, it's cheerful, it's cancer-fighting, health-on-a-stick reputation is reason enough to learn to love it and rows of them look stunning in a garden.
Normal posting will resume soon.