eating, not writing

 Or shopping, cooking, eating, drinking and dining…and not blogging, to be exact.

There have been some amazing nights. A lovely sojourn with a kiwi friend (from primary school no less, who’d have thought all those years ago in suburban Wellington we’d be sharing a balmy May night out together in Melbourne?) Unplanned the itinerary evolved – cocktails at Cookie, a cider at rooftop bar with a Manhattan-like skyline, secret after-hours access to the Manchester Unity building to take in the magnificent architectural flourishes, detours for laneway art, a drink at the GoGo Bar and finally a perfect, fiery meal at Chin Chins. A quintessential Melbourne experience, in the space of a few city blocks.

My recent weekend in Sydney on retelling sounds ludicrously expansive. Breakfast at The Grounds (unexpected green loveliness in the heart of industrial Alexandria, with excellent coffee for espresso drinkers but a lot of cut and pasting for the vegan to eat well), dinner at Two Peas (delightfully locavore and organic, the small menu makes it a necessity to warn of dietary restrictions in advance if you veer from the omni norm but excellent wine from Mudgee), drinks at the brand spanking new Newtown Social Club (farewell to the Sando, hello a bit of Northcote cool in Inner West Sydney), cocktails at Bloodwood (and a nibble on their addictive cripy rice balls), dinner at the cheap and quirky vego Vietnamese Vina (a more enjoyable experience than Nourishing Quarter), breakfast at Gather on the Green (love the neighbourhood cat that comes in for a smooch before the staff can evict him) and lunch at Mamak (good old Mamak, no queue at lunchtime). There was housewarming drinks with the neighbours, a movie and coffee with friends, a few refreshing alcohol-free drinks and lots of walking as well.

At home there’s been some great ad hoc meals. An attempt to make a healthier version of Ottolenghi’s oil laden medjara, a quick piscatarian variation on my favourite tofu in a gingery tomato sauce (spices and onion blended in the whizzer, a couple of tomatoes, kecap manis and soy sauce and simmered in the wok with the last of the of the Japanese eggplants from the garden and a few other veg plus chunks of fresh trumpeter) and some stellar sorrel omelettes.

I’ve been soaking beans overnight and pressure cooking them before going to work the next morning. Making chilli beans without the chilli, served with olives and tuna.

In the brief dip between warm fronts I managed to consume a pot of my favourite nutty pumpkin soup.

I’ve continued to worship at the organic stalls at Vic Market, discovered a great cookware and food store in Camperdown Sydney, reconnected with old friends and visually gobbled up Nobu's Vegetarian Cookbook.

Then there has been some totally un-amazeball kind of days. Alone nights. Average meals cooked or eaten on the run. Dinner in front of telly kinds of nights.

But on the upside, feijoas are back in season, however briefly. 

I'm hoping my upcoming odyssey in San Francisco and New York with find me back to the kitchen on my return, tapping away on the keyboard with dirty fingers between chopping and stirring.

Enough about me! What have you been eating, cooking and reading?

collard greens

Rarely do I suffer from buyers remorse. But two weeks ago I was struck with the regret that comes from forgoing a purchase.

I looked at the collard greens in all their splendour and hesitated. With a head of savoy cabbage begging to be eaten in the fridge at home, as well as the small acreage of silverbeet in the garden, I really didn’t need more greens.

At home, collard greens-less I suffered remorse. What would those fleshy leaves taste like? How would I cook them? Were there any recipes for collard greens that didn’t feature pig in some form?

But all was not lost. Seven days later, a fresh bunch stood ready and waiting at my favourite organic stall and this time I didn’t hesitate.

How do they taste?

Cabbage-y, a definite brassica.

The leaves were more tender than they looked and didn’t need to cook as long as expected.

The perfect dish for collard greens?

The winner, hands down, has to be colcannon. The slow cooked greens work well against the softness of mashed potatoes spiked with onions, garlic and anchovies.

Have you cooked with collard greens? What do you make with them?

Is there an American peasant food revolution going on here in Australia that I don't know about? What next, Poke salad Annie?

abundance: a report from the trenches

The barbecue’s been ignored for the last year of so since the Significant Eater became vegan. However the other day I got the urge.

But there was a bit of an access problem.

Parts of the garden have been abundant this year.

It has been a stellar year for grapes and tomatoes.

The eggplants weren’t so happy and got a nasty case of sunburn, while the strawberries totally gave up the ghost in the heat.

Some herbs thrived. The chives, chilli and Vietnamese mint got hidden under the sprawling tentacles of Tommy Toes. Providing perfect shelter on blistering days. Should I admit now, I barely watered my garden this summer?

Once more the let ‘em spread approach to tomato growing has come up trumps. While still young I stake the plants and that’s it. I let them free range. By not pinching out alternate laterals the greenery provides inbuilt sunshade. Early in summer I threw an old sheet over them on the worst of the hot days. Towards the end of the season I’ve given up.

It’s now late March and I’ve been harvesting tomatoes for a couple of months.

And those grapes, oh the grapes are dandy!

pina colada iceblocks

The long heatwave has not been conducive to cooking or writing. Though it did appear to be the perfect time to moan about the weather.

But long hot spells are an appropriate time to do a bit of a pantry cleaning and make ice blocks.

Not just any kind of iceblock (icy pole, Popsicle – call it what you will) but pina colada ice blocks. 

Inspired by this recipe (which was altogether too fiddly, boozy and you know what I think about agave), the pantry haul included a can of coconut water (that had added sugar so never drunk), a tin of pineapple in juice bought for my father’s recent visit (his habitual morning repast of tinned fruit and cornflakes) and a dash of Malibu from a long, long time ago in lieu of coconut essence. I would have added the cornflakes if I could.

Combined in a large jug, whirled together with the stick blender, this made more liquid than could fill the 10 moulds I own. The leftover large glassful was equally delightful and the dash of grog had little or no effect but added perfectly to the flavour.

Frozen, these beauties have been a dream on these 30c nights. Providing the perfect after work reviver or post salad treat. And while I feel dirty even mentioning the word 'kilojoule' on this blog, they would have to be significantly less calorific than the original recipe. 

So you can have two!

Glad I’ve got a few left, as despite the wintry change there’s promise of almost hitting 30c again this week.

vegetarian fine dining: an oxymoron

Last year after my vegan summer I lamented  just how disappointing the vegetarian dinning experience can be. For those who eschew meat and fish there’s an increasing array of vegetarian/vegan (let's just simplify that with veg*n) eating establishments but almost without exception it’s a trade off between culinary choice and a good night out.

What makes a good night out? Company and ambience are a large part of it but if investing in a decent meal I want one I can linger over, enjoy the food and a glass of wine, soak up the atmosphere and receive good service. If you don’t know what exactly to order or sharing a meal in an unfamiliar restaurant, a waiter comes into his/her own. They can steer you away from ending up with a table of same-y dishes and create a feast of balanced flavours, matched with appropriate beverages. A great waiter knows how to pace the meal, allowing time to digest between courses and never clears away the dishes until all at the table have finished. They know when and what to top your glass up with. A good waiter knows how to tempt you with dessert, even when you’re full.

While having a glass (or bottle) of wine with a meal isn’t mandatory, one of the oddities of veg*n dining is that alcohol is often absent or only they offer generic choices that lack the skill of a sommelier. Beyond religiously influenced restaurants, when did choosing to be veg*n become synonymous with being teetotal?

Austerity is a recurrent theme in these places. In fact it’s almost a choice between hippy grunge and austerity. But both have bad service. And when did rudeness become the perfect sauce for tofu? I don’t get it.

While I’ve not eaten at every veg*n eatery in this city, I’m familiar with most. Follow me on the  grumpy guide* to some of the best known exclusively veg*n eateries in Melbourne (and a few familiar haunts in Sydney).

Melbourne

Madame K’s: Brunswick St. Relative newcomer that's neither hippy nor austere, it’s the closest thing to the average omni restaurant but still far from fine dining. I love the lush interior. It’s licensed and has better (though not expert) service than most, though can be very slow when busy. You’ll be happy if you’re a fan of mock meat and Asian food, though it's under-seasoned for those who like the real deal.

The Vegie Bar: Brunswick St. Hippy. A noisy, busy barn. Often have to queue for a table, even at 6pm on a weeknight. Food is largely what I’d call “shared house vego” with a few stellar raw dishes. Licensed. Service with a scowl. Food rarely arrives at the same time as your dining mates.

Trippy Taco: Gertrude St. Hippy grunge. Casual, line up and order. Service almost non-existent. Cheapo Mexican food that can be veganised. Licensed with the dreaded “house” wine but also margaritas, tequila and imported beer.

Yong Green: Brunswick St. Hippy meets Asian austerity. Good, cheap Korean influenced vegan food, including excellent raw food choices and homemade kimchi. Though doubled in size last year, often need to queue and they still don't take bookings. Most of the waiting staff are inexperienced and sometimes mute. Not licensed.

The Moroccan Soup Bar: Brunswick St. Hippy. Cheerful, though not necessarily skilful service. Good cheap Middle Eastern food that tends to be tasty but sloppy. Definitely not fine dining. The mismatched chairs make comfort a lucky dip. Only tables of 6 or more can book, so queuing is common. Not licensed (but in keeping with it’s Muslim origins it gets a free pass for that).

Mr Natural Pizza: Brunswick St. Mostly takeaway but gets honourable mention for the worst vegan pizza I’ve ever eaten.

Shakahari: Faraday St. Pan-Asian austerity. I’ve been eating here for 25 years. Twice I’ve been in a group that management have threatened to kick out for enjoying ourselves too much. Not really a feel good place. Hard wooden chairs. The service is too quick, the last time we ate here we were seated, ate two courses and out in thirty minutes. The food is better than most and it serves alcohol but it’s ambience, like it’s sense of humour, remains sadly lacking.

Bear Café: Brunswick St. Neo-hippy. A newcomer daytime café that serves coffee, cup cakes, vegan toasties and a few other dishes. Run by a lovely couple but succumbs to the usual chaotic service. They seemed slammed when two people order coffee at the same time.

Lord of the Fries: Brunswick St. Diner. While Lord gets a tick for being neither austere nor hippy mock diners, like mock meat, gets a bit boring. It’s yet another line up and order place with minimal service. While being vegetarian doesn’t mean giving up junk food, after eating their oily food I feel awful, not exactly a date night experience (ditto the vegan fried food at The Gasometer Hotel). Unlicensed.

Sydney

Badde Manors: Glebe  Hippy through and through and been around for eons. Eclectic fit out. Traditional café menu. This is what Brunswick St in Melbourne used to be like 25 years ago. Service depends on the individual serving you, from cool to chatty. It's so authentic to it's roots that I'd forgive it, if the food was a bit more exciting. Unlicensed.

Yulli’s: Crown St, Surrey Hills. Modern cool. Is it a bar, is it a restaurant? We had a delightful, quiet lunch here last year. Though I remember the table seemed very small for the large tasting plates. Night time reviews are varied, not so much about the food but poor service. Though a totally different type of restaurant to Madame K, it will also confuse omnivores who won’t pick it as a vego haunt. Full beer and wine menu.

Bodhi in the Park: Sydney CBD. Austere modern Asian. A grown-up restaurant with more professional, though often aloof, service. The food is good but the price reflects it. But why oh why, do the seats need to be so darn uncomfortable? They’re not keen for you to linger too long. Licensed.

Green Gourmet: King St, Newtown. Asian hippy. Most customers line up at the bain marie and order at the counter, though there is also an a la carte menu and nominal service. Unlicensed. An Asian cheapie, with lots of mock meat. Like the food, the entire experience isn’t memorable.

Apt Café  O'Connell St, Newtown (at the back of Berkelow books, not the café upstairs) Hippy. 100% vegan. Order and pay at the counter. Regular breakfast menu and Vietnamese lunch options. Once again, run by lovely people but the tiny kitchen was slammed early into the weekend breakfast service, ensuing a long wait on food and drinks. Unlicensed.

Nourishing Quarter: Cleveland St, Redfern. Hippy. From the outside this eclectic café looks like it could provide a quirky but delightful dining experience. But how wrong could we be? Adhering to a strict two sittings a night policy the inexperienced, almost mute, staff get you in and out as fast as possible, piling plate after plate on the small tables. The menu looks interesting, gluten-free and vegan with a Vietnamese influence but in the end there’s quinoa and tofu in almost every dish.All the entrees tasted the same. One of the most disappointing vegan dining experiences ever and considering the competition, that’s saying something. BYO.

Am I being too harsh? While some omni restaurants do veg*n food and the entire dining experience well, why do vego restaurants treat their customers like second class citizens.

Or is it just me who thinks so?

*For objective reviews on all these eateries, check out Michael and Cindy's blog.

ice blocks three ways

Icy poles, Popsicles, ice lollies, iceblocks…call them what you like. But as the thermometer rises through the 30’s and tips over into 40plusridiculousdegresscelcius, something cooling and delicious is much appreciated.

The top three icy treats in my freezer this summer have been:

1. The coolest kid on the block 

Uber-healthy and refreshingly savoury.

3 apples (or 2 cups pure apple juice)

1 large Lebanese cucumber

1 lemon, skin and pith removed (or the juice of 1 lemon)

Handful of fresh mint

Depending on your equipment, there are two easy ways to make these ice blocks. Either put all ingredients through a juicer, or substitute fresh apples for apple juice and combine the ingredients in a food processor or blender. The blended ones have more texture than the pure juice.

Juice or whiz ingredients together, pour into moulds and freeze.

2. Minty-mango

Heaven on a stick.

1 mango, flesh

1 orange, juice

1 lime, juice

Handful of fresh mint, chopped

Mash the mango and combine with the citrus juice and mint.

Pour into moulds and freeze.

1. Queensland special

Where both pineapple and sugar are a natural part of life.

Half a large pineapple, juiced

Equal quantity of simple sugar syrup (1 part sugar: 1 part water)

Juice of 1 lemon or lime.

Combine, mould, freeze.

The mango is my favourite and I can’t get enough of them on these warm evenings. If food-related guilt is your thing, these ice blocks have none of it.

Surprisingly the Significant Eater, Mr Health Himself and Born Again Vegan, disliked the healthiest ones and named the Queensland special his favourite.

But I’m sticking to the pure fruit variety, for as long as the cheap mangoes last.   

polenta three ways

Nineteen years ago I lived in a little art deco apartment, complete with original electric wiring and gas cooker. I managed to convince the real estate agent that if the dodgy wiring blew up my precious laptop my insurance company would sue them, heralding three weeks of a young electrician turning up every morning at 7.30 and disappearing again at 8 am, returning sometime after I’d gone to work, to make calls on my phone and do goodness knows what with my underwear drawer (I kid you not). I was not so lucky in my request to replace the stove. The kitchen featured a Stone Age burner built into the wall at shoulder height and a small square box of an oven perched beside it.

Strangely under such ergonomically unfriendly conditions I fell in love with polenta. Transforming the gritty cornmeal into smooth, creamy yellow goodness required up to 45 minutes of stirring, in a kitchen sized for a giant rather than a person of hobbit-like proportions.

After a year of whipping up polenta-based marvels, with a move to a modern and entirely more appropriately sized kitchen I promptly forgot about it. Eighteen years passed until I cooked it again. And now everything has changed. Instant polenta, with a mere 3 minutes of stirring, is my new best friend. Perhaps it’s a matter of time dimming my memory but there’s no discernable difference in taste or texture. This has been the Summer of Polenta. I hope it will be yours as well, as it’s dairy-free, vegan and fructose malabsorption-friendly.

 To cook polenta 

This recipe is for firm polenta that can be used as flan base or an alternative for bready nibbles. Soft polenta is cooked in a more water or stock to stop it becoming firm.

1 part instant polenta

3 parts salted water or vegetable stock

Bring salted water or stock to the boil in a large pot. Pour in the instant polenta in a steady stream and stir for three minutes over a low heat until thick. Be careful, if the heat is too high the lava-like mixture will splash and burn. Once cooked quickly transfer to an oiled baking tray or dish to set. If you’re tardy the mixture becomes too firm to wrangle.

Leave the polenta to set in the fridge or cool place for at least an hour. Overnight is fine if you want to prepare a meal in advance.

Quantities

To use as a base for a flan 1 cup of polenta to 3 cups of salted water is perfect.

For squares, add a 500 gm packet of instant polenta to 1.5 litres of vegetable stock for more flavour.

Extras

It's fine to leave the base simple for a flan, so it doesn't compete with the topping.

For squares, it’s all about the polenta, so take your pick of fresh basil leaves (whole or shredded), sundries tomatoes, olives, marinated mushrooms or whatever tickles your fancy. Quickly stir in your extras when the polenta is cooked, before pouring into the pan to set.

Polenta flan

I never know what to call this, so apologies to flan aficionados for misusing the term. This is simply a thick polenta base served with a substantial topping.

Set the polenta in an oiled flan/quiche dish, smooth out the surface with a knife or spatula and allow to set for at least an hour. I make a base that’s usually around 3cm high but it can be thicker or thinner depending on what you prefer.

Prepare your favourite vegetable topping. I make a variation on ratatouille, sans capsicum because of my aversion, with lashings of garlic and onion, eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes and olives.

To serve heat the polenta in a medium oven for about 15 minutes. Warm the ratatouille on the stove. Pour topping over the base to serve and cut into wedges.

For those wanting something less juicy and more pizza-ish, try topping the base with roasted vegetables, olives and cheese (regular, soft sheep’s milk or dairy-free alternative) and bake in a hot oven for 15 – 20 minutes.

Barbecued polenta squares

Cook polenta in salted water. Once cooked take off the heat and quickly stir through an extra with a robust flavour, like chopped sun dried tomatoes. Set in a large oiled baking dish.

Cut into squares, rectangles, diamonds or triangles and barbecue on a hot grill until crispy on both sides. Serve hot.

Basil polenta with tapenade

Cook a 500 gm packet of instant polenta in 1.5 litres of good quality vegetable stock. Once cooked, take off the heat and stir in a bunch of shredded fresh basil. Pour into a large oiled baking dish and leave to set for an hour or more.

To grill – this slightly unorthodox method works well. Crank oven up to the highest setting. Make sure your oven rack is as clean as possible. Cut the polenta while still in the baking dish into squares (or desired shape). Place the rack on top of the dish and carefully flip it over so the polenta squares fall neatly onto the rack. Place in hot oven for 10 - 15 minutes. My oven tends to make them crisper on the bottom, which I like.

When cool, top with tapenade or your favourite dip.

Tapenade

I combine about 12 Kalamata olives (buy whole olives but remove stones first), add a similar amount of raw walnuts, 1 – 2 cloves of garlic and a little olive oil in a mini-blender. If you have fresh thyme on hand add a small sprig or reserve a leaf or two of basil when preparing the base. Add a grind or two of black pepper if you like it but it doesn’t need any more salt. Blend 'til smooth but slightly chunky.

Polenta cooked any of these ways makes great leftovers for lunch the next day. It can be made a day in advance for a big gatherings and transports well to picnics.

What a (mostly) vegan Christmas and festive feast look like

Marieke blogged recently about what a vegan Christmas looks like, so I thought I’d add ours to the blogosphere as well.

This year we had nine at the table – this included two vegans, two pescaterians and two who only ate meat (and vegetables didn’t grace their plates). Quite a challenge when it came to writing a menu. The omni end of the table was (literally) fleshed out with a roast chook, barbecued turkey sausages, ham and prawns.

Now onto the good stuff.

Vegan Christmas lunch

Eggplant rolls, via my Russian odyssey earlier in the year 

Tofu/vegetable kebabs (barbecued)

Quinoa tabouleh 

Potato salad

Garden salad

Chocolate

Fruit platter

Tony Chiodo’s carrot, cardamom and coconut cake (ours looked so much better than the one in this photo. The SE’s mum came up trumps with this surprise dessert).

There was polenta with sundried tomatoes set and ready to go on the barbecue if we needed more but the table was full, with enough leftovers to feed a couple of friends who turned up for dinner.

A couple of days later, friends put on a thoughtful and utterly luxurious vegan feast, cooking all day from Jerusalem. What a treat. I wish I’d taken photos and annotated the whole thing but the conversation and Compari got the better of me. Who’d have thought I’d finally become grown up enough to enjoy Campari and soda, and effectively kid myself that the bitterness of the aperitif meant that it was indeed good for my health and so I should have two, if not three, before dinner.

Everything they cooked was fabulous but a couple of stunners stood out and are already earmarked for the vegan festivities later in the year.

Medjara - who knew that rice and lentils could taste this good? Also the visual treat of orange roasted sweet potatoes plated with purple figs. 

What rocked your table this festive season?