Quickie: post-holiday dinners for one

I love rice. I’ve eaten it almost everyday for weeks. I’d call myself a rice queen but that has a whole other meaning.

But sometimes I need “meat” (ok, protein) and potatoes. Simple Anglo fare. Here's a quick rundown of my post-Bali cooking this week.

1. A simple 2 egg omelette with a little onion, garlic and loads of mushroom. There’s been a tiny dab of marinated sheep’s cheese (I can tolerate a small amount if I don’t do it too often). But best of all, when just cooked, topped with fresh sorrel and folded over. So addictive and simple I made it twice in a week.

2. “Fish and chips”. Strangely been craving crumbed, fried fish. But with all the eggs recently consumed, wanted a viable alternative. While dipping fish fillets in egg is an effective way of holding lots of breadcrumbs; water, milk, even “alternative” milks do a good job.

Snapper fillets, dunked in rice milk, then tossed in a mix of masa harina (or ordinary fine cornmeal) seasoned with zaatar and salt, fried in olive oil. Perfect! Accompanied by oven roasted kipfler potatoes, carrots and sweet potato. Sensational.

3. Lots of black kale, chard, sorrel and cos lettuce, straight from the garden. Handy to come back from holiday to an empty fridge but have more fresh greens than I could poke a stick at, a mere few paces from my kitchen.

Experimented with adding finely sliced cos lettuce to a stir fry. It works just fine.

Onion, garlic, kale, smoked eel and lemon juice made an excellent pasta source.

What have you been cooking this week?

name the fruit: part two

Papaya, pineapple, mango, green skinned oranges, watermelon, jackfruit, durian, mangosteen, water apple – so many fruits, so little time.

The second mystery fruit came our way in the north of Bali. At a small market in Lovina a stallholder thrust one each into our hands, demonstrating how to remove the skin. For the next week, it became a staple.

Mystery fruit #2 has a thin but robust skin, oddly reptilian in nature. Inside is a pale yellow fruit, segmented into lobes with a seed in the centre of each. The texture is pleasantly crisp. The flavour has a hint of pineapple.

This is the fruit of a palm, one of the many exotic plants we saw growing in a trek through Munduk.

Can you name the fruit?


Taken at Ubud Market (note the piece of palm tree)

Update: As Michelle and Katherine rightly guessed, this is salak. AKA snake (or snakeskin) fruit. The texture of the skin gives the name away. It's quite extraordinary. This species is undoubtedly Salak Bali (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salak).

Salak fans, have you ever cooked with it or just eat it raw, as is?

salt

At Tulamben the sea greeted us. Our first couple of days on the island, spent in a mountain paradise, were sad to leave. But the first glimpse of the ocean calmed any regrets of moving on to the East of Bali. After settling into our room we wandered down to deserted beach. The black sand was dotted with fishing vessels but it turned out that the water produced more than just fish.

A few metres back from the waves sat a row of hollowed out palm trunks. (Is there anything that coconut is not used for on this island?) Though the milky liquid seemed unremarkable, the crystals clustered along the edge belied the treasure within. Salt!



A few days later in Amed, the full story of salt making was revealed. A labour intensive exercise involving carrying many heavy buckets of seawater from the shore to pools dug in the soil, sun drying, filtering the soil with more seawater, then finally drained and dried in palm troughs.



This incredible, arduous process is weather dependent. Rain being the enemy of the process. Something rather hard to avoid in the tropics. Many poor families in Bali’s East coast scrape a subsistence income during the dry season from salt making. How dull our food would be without this miracle flavour enhancer.

I’ll never look at this kitchen staple the same way again.

More on traditional Balinese salt making.

name the fruit: part one

Ah Bali! What's not to love about nasi goreng for breakfast, eating your body weight in gado gado and the wonderful surprises found in nasi campur? Lucy and I spent two weeks grazing our way around the East and North of this wonderful, tropical island. Posts will follow (including the best spot for authenti vegan nasi campur in Ubud) when head, body and mind are reassembled in the correct time zone.

But first. I saw (and sampled) many wondrous fruits and herbs that I've never experienced before. This competition has no prize but feel free to have a stab at naming this mystery fruit.



And on the tree.



1. Name the fruit.
2. Describe the flavour.

Go on, have a go.

If you grew up eating the mystery fruit, can you tell us a little more about what you used it for.

Update: Michelle and Celeste were spot on with "rose apple" and "jambus". The locals in the north of Bali call is "water apple".

The plant is from the Myrtaceae family, of the genus Syzgium. Not sure exactly which one.

The fruit we ate was pale with a rosy blush. The skin thin and waxy.

Tasting notes: This pale variety was crispy and slightly tart. Though it looked like it would be dry, it was slightly juicy and the flavour had a hint of tonic water. If I was a gin drinker I'd say it would be the perfect garnish for a G&T.

Texture wise, I'd imagine it would go well in a salad. A substitute for a crispy pear perhaps?

Have you ever cooked with water apple?

not there yet...

But almost.

Will be offline for a couple of weeks. The mountains, beaches, infinity pools, meditation sessions, massages, sunsets, paddy fields, friendships and, of course, wonderful meals awaiting!

land of the long yellow banana

Family, rather than food, is the focus of my short hops across the Tasman these days. But in the couple of decades I've been doing the commute, Wellington has increasingly embraced a burgeoning food culture. So while, thanks to the recent Masterchef episode, the delights of Logan Brown and Martin Bosley’s are high on visiting food bloggers lists, my dining choices are a tad more humble.

The star of the recent visit however, was not home grown.



Even at the foodie Mecca, Moore Wilsons, this golden import seemed ridiculously cheap to a banana-starved Aussie. We managed to chomp through a kilo or two of the fruit in a couple of days.

Also at Moore Wilsons we picked up a few bottles of the extraordinary Lake Sylvan rhubarb flavoured mineral water. This hard to get non-alcoholic treat is one of the best I’ve ever tasted. It’s worth a trip for this drink alone. The walnut and ginger slice (from Janus Bakery, I think) was another sweet treat we loved. Dare I say it, but I think it may have been better than my mother ever made!

At the Lido café (opposite the visitors centre in the CBD), I sampled one of the best kedgerees to date. Though not entirely traditional with the addition of a tomatoey condiment, it was a stand out. And a huge serve to boot. The Lido has served the test of time, being one of the first in the late ‘80s café resurgence. The coffee is great and the staff friendly.

In recent years, good food has begun to infiltrate the suburbs. With excellent bays and harbour views, waterside residential areas just a short hop from the city have come into their own. Apart from the excellent Maranui café, Lyall Bay is also home to Elements. This is a frequent family lunch spot, though not hugely vegetarian friendly, the food is consistently good. My elderly father drives across town for their lambs fry and bacon, but it’s not stuck in a time warp. The Significant Eater had a spectacular poached coconut chicken salad, while I tend to stick to a vego modified big breakfast.

But the emerging star of the New Zealand food scene has to be the impressive variety of beverages on offer these days. Forget the Sauvignon Blanc (yes please) and the boutique beers, it’s the alcohol-free stuff that continues to impress. While the previously mentioned Lake Sylvan mineral water is hard to get, most cafes still offer a tempting variety of locally made drinks. Hardie Boys dry ginger beer is always my first choice but the Aroha elderflower based Sparkles caught my attention. Great to see wildcrafted herbs on the menu!



Despite it being midwinter, Wellington shone on this trip. The flight into the capital city showed off the snow capped Southern Alps in their full glory and against the odds the sun shone every day.

mushroom identification

When the mist cleared this morning, there were no gorillas.

Only 'shrooms.



With the garden bed rebuilt with a tonne of mushroom compost the odd fungi popping up is inevitable.



Can anyone tell me what they are and whether they are safe to eat?

...and finally a recipe, my ambivalent relationship with pasta meets my love of smoked eel

I groan when I read pasta recipes. And not in a good way.

Pasta is my junk food. It’s the meal of least resistance, code for – I’m tired and I want something to fill me up and in my tummy in 15 minutes.

When I was an accidental vegetarian (I’d stopped eating meat but couldn’t afford fish), too often the unimaginative and nutritionally negligent spaghetti Napoli was the only menu item on offer. I grew resentful of pasta and the arrogant chefs who made it their only vegetarian item.

But I digress. The following dish is neither boring nor vegetarian. It is deliciousness personified and has earned it’s place as one of the few pasta recipes on this blog.


Leek and smoked eel pasta
(Serves 2)

Pasta spirals

Olive oil
1 large leek, sliced in 2-3cm lengths
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1-2 tsp lemon zest
1 tab capers
8 cornichons (that’s mini gherkins to you Bridget Jones), roughly sliced
Large handful parsley, roughly chopped
1/2 a smoked eel, sliced into bite sized chunks
lemon juice
black pepper



In a large pan on low heat, slow cook the leeks in olive oil until soft. Ideally, cover a heavy fry pan and cook on a heat diffuser mat for about 30 minutes. While that gets underway prepare your eel. When the leeks are half cooked, add the garlic. Now put on the pasta (gluten-free of course). In the time it takes to prepare the pasta, turn your attention back to the pan. Add the cornichons, capers, parsley and lemon zest to the leeks. Cook for a couple of minutes and then stir in the eel. Add a squeeze of lemon juice and a few grounds of black pepper, then stir though the cooked pasta.

The leek and eel combination is loose enough to moisten the pasta. Hold your horses with the salt, the smoked eel negates the need to add any. All up, this is a delicious, fragrant pasta dish, that boots the ubiquitous Napoli back into the sea.

calling Time Team: vegetables from the Iron Age

Spied at Vic Market last week.



I know beans are out of season at the moment but this trader's managed to source some from the Iron Age. Hate to imagine the food miles for that.

better late than never: macarons are not macaroons

I spend too many lunchtimes sitting in the window of Sushi Monger gazing out at the French bakery opposite. When I’m not imagining a flash mob breaking into song in an attempt to make the morose sushi man crack a smile (a hot topic on twitter) I’m desperately attempting to resist the urge to march across the laneway to protest at the patisserie. Surely they’d be laughed out of their homeland if they displayed a sign proudly boasting the myriad of flavours their “macaroons” come in.

I thought they only come in one?

The bakery is not alone, it’s a common mistake. Just the other day I was entombed in a waiting room with no phone for amusement and forced to read out of date Women’s Weekly’s. The 2010 edition I glanced at celebrated the “macaroon” and, you guessed it, there wasn’t a skerrick of coconut to be seen.

An artist after my own heart has taken the macaron/macaroon debacle a step further and turned it into an art form. Though published last year, I only found it on a recent expedition to the Sticky Institute, despite multiple visits to the illustrious zine cave in the meantime.



It’s a joyous (and unusually long) collection of memoir, recipes and collage by Becksley Felix celebrating the misrepresented crunchy sweet treat. Proving her stripes as a macaron aficionado, she comes to the conclusion that Duncan is the seminal authority on the subject. Though strangely, he’s not even seen the zine. (Hint @Becksley you might like to send one to him).



At a ridiculously low price of $4 Macarons Are Not Macaroons is a humourous and informative read. There were rumours of a sequel. Anyone seen it?

Not in Melbourne? The zine is still available via the Sticky Institute’s mail department.




While new to me, this zine has received a heap of mentions elsewhere, including:
Eat, Drink, Stagger complete with the ganache debate and comments from the zine’s author.

Happiness is a warm Simon Gray.