If there's one thing Caliban and I do well together, it's the Sydney Morning Herald crossword. If there's another, it's host dinner parties. I do the cooking, Caliban creates the playlist, keeps the wine glasses full and occasionally steps in as my sous chef.
On Saturday night, our friends B and S came over for dinner. They too are excellent at hosting dinner parties - like me, B takes care of the cooking and S is in charge of entertainment and ambience. They're a fantastic match.
We've eaten at B and S's twice now, and both times we experienced super culinary delights. B spent some time in Spain as a spring chicken, so his paella was a dish to be reckoned with (I just ate it, though, and then asked for second and third helpings until my heart could no longer bear the thought of more chorizo sausage). We knew that our meal had to be up to their standards.
I decided to make garlic prawns, mushroom risotto and sticky date pudding for dessert - it's officially winter now, and comfort food is a must. What could be more comforting than a bowl of steaming garlicky tomato stew topped with prawns, hearty, creamy risotto dotted with meaty mushrooms and the ultimate crowd-pleaser, sticky date pudding (for which no adjectives are needed)?
The mixed mushroom risotto is courtesy of Donna Hay, and the sticky date pud is from BBC Good Food, but the garlic prawn recipe is all mine. It's not a traditional garlic prawn recipe - I don't have cast-iron pots, so I didn't use them. It's a bit of a cheat's recipe, really. I don't have a problem with it, because it tasted wonderful - let me know what you think!
Garlic prawns (serves 4)
Ingredients
1kg raw prawns, tails intact
2 400g cans diced/whole/chopped tomatoes*
2 heads garlic
12 cloves garlic
1 brown onion, chopped
Olive oil
1 cup vegetable/chicken stock
Method
1. Preheat oven to 180 degrees.
2. Add onion and a tablespoon of olive oil to a saucepan over medium heat. Cook slowly (for around 5-7 minutes) until onion has browned and softened.
3. Smash garlic cloves (do not chop) and add to onion mixture. Cook for another 5 minutes.
4. Meanwhile, chop the stems off the garlic heads and place on a sheet of foil. Drizzle some olive oil over them and wrap the foil around them tightly. Place on an oven tray and roast for 15 minutes.
5. Add tomatoes and stock to garlic and onion mixture, and bring to the boil. Turn down the heat as low as you can and simmer until the garlic heads are ready.
6. Remove garlic heads from oven and allow to cool slightly. Carefully (they'll be ridiculously hot) use tongs to squeeze the garlic flesh from the skin. Add to the tomato mixture (along with the olive oil in the foil).
7. Add prawns and simmer for another 5 minutes, or until prawns are cooked through.
8. Serve with crusty bread, aioli and lots of good red wine.
*I like using whole canned tomatoes, because I like the chunky texture. But if you'd like a smoother stew, try diced or chopped tomatoes. I used Annalisa Cherry Tomatoes, because I like their sweetness.
Sunday, June 13
Friday, May 28
breakfast at bills
"Lauren is looking forward to ricotta hotcakes and champagne for breakfast!" read my Facebook status update, the day before my 25th birthday.
To celebrate my quarter-century, Caliban took me to bills for breakfast. One of my favourite places to eat, bills is home to the best breakfast in Sydney. As you already know, I'm a huge fan of the morning meal, and bills is the best place to get it. Everything is sublime, but the ricotta hotcakes with honeycomb butter and fresh banana are like manna from heaven.
Caliban ordered scrambled eggs with sourdough and cured ocean trout, and I stuck with the hotcakes. After refreshing ourselves with a latte (me) and a chai (Caliban), we tucked into the meals. Caliban's heaped serving of soft, pillowy scrambled eggs was amazing - just the right texture, with all the creamy richness you want from a dish like this. The cured ocean trout was, according to Caliban, salty and smoky without being too overpowering or oily. It's a great balance - rich, creamy eggs with fresh, salty trout. Yum.
Three plump, delightfully misshapen hotcakes made a tower on my plate, with two slices of honeycomb butter melting over them, and a tiny jug of maple syrup was served on the side. Long slices of fresh banana lay underneath the hotcakes, warming them and infusing them with the honeycomb butter flavour. As breakfasts go, this is possibly one of the naughtiest and least virtuous (hey, it does have banana) but for breakfast on a special occasion, it's unmissable. Honeycomb butter is a stroke of genius and Bill Granger, the chef behind bills, deserves every accolade heaped upon him just for this little wonder, I reckon. Honeycomb is sweet but not sickly so, and whie butter is butter, you only need two half-centimetre discs of it when the full flavour of honeycomb takes part. The maple syrup is good, even though I don't normally love the stuff. And the hotcakes themselves are exactly what they should be: fluffy, light hillocks of just-cooked batter. Lovely.
We finished off the meal with a glass each of Veuve Cliquot. It was 11am by that stage, so we thought it was acceptable to break out the bubbly. The waiter informed us that while the cafe had run out of the house champagne we ordered, they'd serve us Veuve Cliquot at the same price. What a lovely surprise - one we thoroughly enjoyed, to the last drop.
bills
359 Crown St, Surry Hills
+61 2 9360 4762
www.bills.com.au
To celebrate my quarter-century, Caliban took me to bills for breakfast. One of my favourite places to eat, bills is home to the best breakfast in Sydney. As you already know, I'm a huge fan of the morning meal, and bills is the best place to get it. Everything is sublime, but the ricotta hotcakes with honeycomb butter and fresh banana are like manna from heaven.
Caliban ordered scrambled eggs with sourdough and cured ocean trout, and I stuck with the hotcakes. After refreshing ourselves with a latte (me) and a chai (Caliban), we tucked into the meals. Caliban's heaped serving of soft, pillowy scrambled eggs was amazing - just the right texture, with all the creamy richness you want from a dish like this. The cured ocean trout was, according to Caliban, salty and smoky without being too overpowering or oily. It's a great balance - rich, creamy eggs with fresh, salty trout. Yum.
Three plump, delightfully misshapen hotcakes made a tower on my plate, with two slices of honeycomb butter melting over them, and a tiny jug of maple syrup was served on the side. Long slices of fresh banana lay underneath the hotcakes, warming them and infusing them with the honeycomb butter flavour. As breakfasts go, this is possibly one of the naughtiest and least virtuous (hey, it does have banana) but for breakfast on a special occasion, it's unmissable. Honeycomb butter is a stroke of genius and Bill Granger, the chef behind bills, deserves every accolade heaped upon him just for this little wonder, I reckon. Honeycomb is sweet but not sickly so, and whie butter is butter, you only need two half-centimetre discs of it when the full flavour of honeycomb takes part. The maple syrup is good, even though I don't normally love the stuff. And the hotcakes themselves are exactly what they should be: fluffy, light hillocks of just-cooked batter. Lovely.
We finished off the meal with a glass each of Veuve Cliquot. It was 11am by that stage, so we thought it was acceptable to break out the bubbly. The waiter informed us that while the cafe had run out of the house champagne we ordered, they'd serve us Veuve Cliquot at the same price. What a lovely surprise - one we thoroughly enjoyed, to the last drop.
bills
359 Crown St, Surry Hills
+61 2 9360 4762
www.bills.com.au
Tuesday, May 4
david fishman, 13-year-old food critic
David Fishman is in the seventh grade. In the past year, he's been featured in GQ and The New York Times. Why? Because, unlike regular 13-year-olds, who read Sweet Valley High and obsess about having a "perfect size six figure and eyes the colour of the Pacific Ocean"*, David Fishman is a food critic.
I chatted to David last week because I'm writing an article about tweens. He was polite to a fault, interesting, and interested (a key quality in good interviewees, I say). His precocity was pretty amazing...but I'll get back to that.
David's story goes something like this. He walked into a local restaurant alone (he lives in New York with his parents) and made a deal with the waitress to dine there (she wasn't keen on having a kid eat alone...but he promised he'd be out by 8pm). He pulled out a notepad, and proceeded to take notes on the evening's meal, giving decor, service and food a score out of 25 (like the Zagat Guide does). Other customers and even the chef began to take notice. The next day, someone told someone else at The New York Times, and poof! A star was born.
Fishman might be the youngest food critic around, but like other critics, he's both feted and frowned upon. Alan Richman, GQ's food correspondent, profiled David for the magazine, and took a liking to the young foodie. But Eric Ripert, head chef at New York's Le Bernadin, isn't keen on the idea of a kid critiquing his goods. "Let's not glorify kids who are going to break our balls," he told The Telegraph (UK). "This is not fair. Hopefully, when he's 18 and writing officially, I'll be retired."
But when I spoke to David, he was nothing if not humble. He downplayed his food writing experience, saying "I don't pretend I'm a professional. I'm a foodie...I'm just someone who loves food." He says he understands Ripert's frustration, and explains, "I think he disapproved of the publicity [I was getting], which is fair enough." For his part, David overlooks the criticism, and just gets on with the reviews. "I've been reviewing restaurants - just for myself - for a while now. All I want to do is gain knowledge. I did this for me and I'll continue to do it just for me."
If you have some spare time, and room for another bookmark on your blog roll, check out David's blog, FishmanFoodie.com.
* That might have just been me.
I chatted to David last week because I'm writing an article about tweens. He was polite to a fault, interesting, and interested (a key quality in good interviewees, I say). His precocity was pretty amazing...but I'll get back to that.
David's story goes something like this. He walked into a local restaurant alone (he lives in New York with his parents) and made a deal with the waitress to dine there (she wasn't keen on having a kid eat alone...but he promised he'd be out by 8pm). He pulled out a notepad, and proceeded to take notes on the evening's meal, giving decor, service and food a score out of 25 (like the Zagat Guide does). Other customers and even the chef began to take notice. The next day, someone told someone else at The New York Times, and poof! A star was born.
Fishman might be the youngest food critic around, but like other critics, he's both feted and frowned upon. Alan Richman, GQ's food correspondent, profiled David for the magazine, and took a liking to the young foodie. But Eric Ripert, head chef at New York's Le Bernadin, isn't keen on the idea of a kid critiquing his goods. "Let's not glorify kids who are going to break our balls," he told The Telegraph (UK). "This is not fair. Hopefully, when he's 18 and writing officially, I'll be retired."
But when I spoke to David, he was nothing if not humble. He downplayed his food writing experience, saying "I don't pretend I'm a professional. I'm a foodie...I'm just someone who loves food." He says he understands Ripert's frustration, and explains, "I think he disapproved of the publicity [I was getting], which is fair enough." For his part, David overlooks the criticism, and just gets on with the reviews. "I've been reviewing restaurants - just for myself - for a while now. All I want to do is gain knowledge. I did this for me and I'll continue to do it just for me."
If you have some spare time, and room for another bookmark on your blog roll, check out David's blog, FishmanFoodie.com.
* That might have just been me.
Friday, April 9
food tv
In the past few years, a lot has been written about food television, and our fascination with it. It really does seem to defy logic that cooking - an everyday activity that most of us have tried our hand at - has filled so many hours of television in the last 15 years or so. Sure, it takes skill to cook well. Most TV chefs have undeniable charisma that makes them easy and enjoyable to watch. But could anyone have predicted our insatiable appetite for shows solely about cooking, say, 20 years ago? I doubt it.
I watch shows about food for lots of reasons. For techniques and advice, definitely. ("Add creamed corn to your scrambled eggs," says Tetsuya. "Salt is the key to great muffins," says Nigella.) But mainly, I watch for the porn factor. This is nothing new - TV critics have identified the parallels between porn and food TV for years. Frederick Kaufman wrote an article for Harper's magazine about the overlapping of the food TV and porn industries, from which I unabashedly stole the name of this blog. It's a great article, and explains the ways food TV has borrowed its "signature" features from porn, wittingly or not. The close-up "money" shots, the idealised scenes where everything looks perfect and beautiful, the gorgeous presenters who delight in tasting their lovingly prepared meals. And like porn, food TV is as much about the viewer as it is the action on the screen. Porn is produced with the explicit knowledge that the viewer will almost always be doing something else while he or she is watching (if you catch my drift) and so is food TV (although, one hopes it's not the same thing). You take something away from food TV - you want to emulate what's being done on the screen, even though you know you probably can't. And there's another parallel - just as the average Joe watching porn will never have three blonde, pneumatic-breasted women in his bed, the average Jamie-watcher will probably never produce a coq au vin that looks, smells and tastes exactly as wonderful as Jamie's does on screen. It's a strange mix of accessibility and exclusivity that makes food TV - and porn - so inherently watchable.
With that in mind, I wanted to share some of my favourite food TV shows, and why I love to watch them.
Nigella Feasts/Nigella Bites
Love, love, love Nigella. I honestly think she's a bit mad, but I love her just the same. I want to look and cook like her, and I really get a kick out of watching her add "just a bit of butter" to everything she cooks.
Heston's Feasts
If Nigella is the security blanket chef, Heston Blumenthal is the Evil Knievel of the cooking world. This program showcases his creativity and brilliance beautifully. Each week, he challenges himself to recreate recipes from a different age - like ancient Roman times or the Victorian era. If you haven't seen it, you must take a look. It's culinary genius, and I guarantee you'll be inspired.
MasterChef Australia
I truly loved MasterChef. I can't wait til it returns on April 19! Stay tuned for my weekly wrap-ups.
Iron Chef
Who hasn't secretly wanted to stay home of a Saturday night to watch this wacky Japanese cooking competition? If Julia Child sired food TV, Iron Chef is certainly the godfather. The completely unnecessary dubbing, the sporting-style commentary and the ever-present Japanese actress who invariably says something like, "Mmm...the texture...is like...silk...on my tongue. It's...intriguing." Behind country music, this could be my guiltiest pleasure.
The Naked Chef
Vintage Jamie! Totally pukka. And he was much cuter back then, yeah?
The Cook and the Chef
Maggie Beer (the cook) and Simon Bryant (the chef) go head-to-head (in the nicest way possible) each week with a different challenge. They disagree in the most charming ways (rather like Margaret and David of At the Movies) which is just great for us, the viewers. See how the chef does it, and how the cook does it...then do it your own way.
I watch shows about food for lots of reasons. For techniques and advice, definitely. ("Add creamed corn to your scrambled eggs," says Tetsuya. "Salt is the key to great muffins," says Nigella.) But mainly, I watch for the porn factor. This is nothing new - TV critics have identified the parallels between porn and food TV for years. Frederick Kaufman wrote an article for Harper's magazine about the overlapping of the food TV and porn industries, from which I unabashedly stole the name of this blog. It's a great article, and explains the ways food TV has borrowed its "signature" features from porn, wittingly or not. The close-up "money" shots, the idealised scenes where everything looks perfect and beautiful, the gorgeous presenters who delight in tasting their lovingly prepared meals. And like porn, food TV is as much about the viewer as it is the action on the screen. Porn is produced with the explicit knowledge that the viewer will almost always be doing something else while he or she is watching (if you catch my drift) and so is food TV (although, one hopes it's not the same thing). You take something away from food TV - you want to emulate what's being done on the screen, even though you know you probably can't. And there's another parallel - just as the average Joe watching porn will never have three blonde, pneumatic-breasted women in his bed, the average Jamie-watcher will probably never produce a coq au vin that looks, smells and tastes exactly as wonderful as Jamie's does on screen. It's a strange mix of accessibility and exclusivity that makes food TV - and porn - so inherently watchable.
With that in mind, I wanted to share some of my favourite food TV shows, and why I love to watch them.
Nigella Feasts/Nigella Bites
Love, love, love Nigella. I honestly think she's a bit mad, but I love her just the same. I want to look and cook like her, and I really get a kick out of watching her add "just a bit of butter" to everything she cooks.
Heston's Feasts
If Nigella is the security blanket chef, Heston Blumenthal is the Evil Knievel of the cooking world. This program showcases his creativity and brilliance beautifully. Each week, he challenges himself to recreate recipes from a different age - like ancient Roman times or the Victorian era. If you haven't seen it, you must take a look. It's culinary genius, and I guarantee you'll be inspired.
MasterChef Australia
I truly loved MasterChef. I can't wait til it returns on April 19! Stay tuned for my weekly wrap-ups.
Iron Chef
Who hasn't secretly wanted to stay home of a Saturday night to watch this wacky Japanese cooking competition? If Julia Child sired food TV, Iron Chef is certainly the godfather. The completely unnecessary dubbing, the sporting-style commentary and the ever-present Japanese actress who invariably says something like, "Mmm...the texture...is like...silk...on my tongue. It's...intriguing." Behind country music, this could be my guiltiest pleasure.
The Naked Chef
Vintage Jamie! Totally pukka. And he was much cuter back then, yeah?
The Cook and the Chef
Maggie Beer (the cook) and Simon Bryant (the chef) go head-to-head (in the nicest way possible) each week with a different challenge. They disagree in the most charming ways (rather like Margaret and David of At the Movies) which is just great for us, the viewers. See how the chef does it, and how the cook does it...then do it your own way.
comfort brekky
This morning, I sat in bed, re-reading The Road. It's by far the most tragic, unrelenting book I've ever read - as you flick the pages, an overwhelming sense of dread fills you, and you scan the text for bad news. It's a terribly disturbing read, but for all its sadness, it's a wonderful book. I can't recommend it highly enough.
That said, once I was done, I was in desperate need of some comfort food. As I've mentioned before, I do like to keep things relatively healthy in the kitchen, so I decided to whip up some not-so-bad-for-you banana bread. It's baking as I type, filling the apartment with the lovely whiff of freshly baked goods. So perfect for a miserable Saturday morning!
Not-so-bad-for-you Banana Bread
Serves 8
Ingredients
1 1/4 cups wholemeal plain flour
1/2 cup flaxmeal
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 tsp bicarb soda
1 tsp baking powder
2 tsp cinnamon
Handful chopped nuts (I used macadamias, but anything will do - walnuts and almonds would be especially yummy)
1 egg, lightly beaten
1/2 cup milk (I used soy)
2 ripe, mashed bananas
2 tbsp manuka honey (it has a more caramel flavour than regular honey)
16 squares Dairy Milk chocolate, broken into individual squares (well, this part is sort of bad for you...but it does make the bread particularly awesome. Use at your own discretion)
1. Preheat oven to 180 degrees (centigrade).
2. Lightly grease a loaf pan.
3. Mix dry ingredients in a bowl (except chocolate).
4. In a separate bowl, mix wet ingredients. Gently fold wet ingredients into dry, being careful not to overbeat. When the ingredients are combined, you've mixed it enough. Overbeating leads to tough batter.
5. Pour half of mixture into pan. If using chocolate, drop eight squares, evenly placed, over mixture.
6. Add remaining mixture and remaining chocolate squares over the top.
7. Bake for 25-30 minutes.
8. Devour.
I love this banana bread because you can do so much with it. If you don't have nuts, add something else - shredded coconut, perhaps, or even grated apple. If you don't have chocolate, that's fine too. A ribbon of good quality raspberry jam over the top of the bread, just before you place it in the oven, would be divine. If you have blueberries or peaches, add them to the mix, too. There are endless variations, and I'd encourage you to play around til you find the perfect banana bread for you.
What's more, this is relatively healthy. OK, so it's not exactly rabbit food, but it's way better for you than that ghastly banana bread they sell in cafes. It's overpriced, full of trans fats and artificial ingredients and I'd be surprised if there was any banana in it at all. This recipe uses no butter and just one egg. If you wanted to make it vegan, you could substitute the egg for 1/2 cup of rice bran or coconut oil. And yes, the chocolate is a touch naughty, but you can just as easily leave it out. I love recipes like this - so simple, so quick and so easy to adapt to what's left in your fridge.
That said, once I was done, I was in desperate need of some comfort food. As I've mentioned before, I do like to keep things relatively healthy in the kitchen, so I decided to whip up some not-so-bad-for-you banana bread. It's baking as I type, filling the apartment with the lovely whiff of freshly baked goods. So perfect for a miserable Saturday morning!
Not-so-bad-for-you Banana Bread
Serves 8
Ingredients
1 1/4 cups wholemeal plain flour
1/2 cup flaxmeal
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 tsp bicarb soda
1 tsp baking powder
2 tsp cinnamon
Handful chopped nuts (I used macadamias, but anything will do - walnuts and almonds would be especially yummy)
1 egg, lightly beaten
1/2 cup milk (I used soy)
2 ripe, mashed bananas
2 tbsp manuka honey (it has a more caramel flavour than regular honey)
16 squares Dairy Milk chocolate, broken into individual squares (well, this part is sort of bad for you...but it does make the bread particularly awesome. Use at your own discretion)
1. Preheat oven to 180 degrees (centigrade).
2. Lightly grease a loaf pan.
3. Mix dry ingredients in a bowl (except chocolate).
4. In a separate bowl, mix wet ingredients. Gently fold wet ingredients into dry, being careful not to overbeat. When the ingredients are combined, you've mixed it enough. Overbeating leads to tough batter.
5. Pour half of mixture into pan. If using chocolate, drop eight squares, evenly placed, over mixture.
6. Add remaining mixture and remaining chocolate squares over the top.
7. Bake for 25-30 minutes.
8. Devour.
I love this banana bread because you can do so much with it. If you don't have nuts, add something else - shredded coconut, perhaps, or even grated apple. If you don't have chocolate, that's fine too. A ribbon of good quality raspberry jam over the top of the bread, just before you place it in the oven, would be divine. If you have blueberries or peaches, add them to the mix, too. There are endless variations, and I'd encourage you to play around til you find the perfect banana bread for you.
What's more, this is relatively healthy. OK, so it's not exactly rabbit food, but it's way better for you than that ghastly banana bread they sell in cafes. It's overpriced, full of trans fats and artificial ingredients and I'd be surprised if there was any banana in it at all. This recipe uses no butter and just one egg. If you wanted to make it vegan, you could substitute the egg for 1/2 cup of rice bran or coconut oil. And yes, the chocolate is a touch naughty, but you can just as easily leave it out. I love recipes like this - so simple, so quick and so easy to adapt to what's left in your fridge.
Monday, March 22
one morning, two brunches
It's probably unnecessary to tell you that I love brunch. But I do. I know there are some people who just "don't do breakfast" but I am not one of them (and I don't understand people who are: I wake up positively starving).
So brunch gets a thumbs up from me. And today - lucky me - I got to have two brunches, with three lovely ladies.
The first was at The Cove, in Drummoyne. After D and I walked around The Bay, we settled in for coffee and eggs. While the service was pretty poor (a sign instructed us to "Wait to be Seated", which took forever...despite the fact that there were at least ten empty tables; our coffees arrived after our meals did; the staff were blunt and not very helpful) the food was good. I was disappointed that the "crumpets with strawberries, honey and mascarpone" weren't fresh, homemade crumpets. I mean, who wants to pay $12.50 for supermarket crumpets? Not me. I was tempted by the muesli, but after our 8 kilometre walk, bacon and eggs were in order. I settled on the breakfast special - poached egg with avocado salsa, tomato relish, bacon, rocket and house loaf. D ordered house loaf with fried eggs and bacon. Everything was delicious. The house loaf is soft, gorgeous bread that is just perfect with the crispy bacon and gooey poached egg. The avocado salsa and tomato relish added more texture and depth - the tomato was quite sweet, a nice break from the salty bacon. It was just enough to satisfy, too. D reported that her bacon and eggs were similarly fantastic, and we both enjoyed the coffee.
On to Brunch No. 2 at Cafe Pavilion, Abbotsford, with Ed and Nurse Jacquie. Since I'd already eaten quite a bit at the first brunch, I decided to restrain myself, and ordered a cranberry and raspberry Nudie (no fresh juices, which is a shame) and the fruit salad with berry yoghurt. Nurse Jacquie ordered the blueberry pancakes (from the specials) and Ed went for grilled mushroom topped with asparagus, ricotta and dukkah. Not something I'd have chosen, but it was delicious. The blueberry pancakes were just what pancakes should be - fluffy, soft to the touch, buttery and golden. It's funny - pancakes seem such a simple meal, but so often cafes (and yes, me) get it wrong. It's easy to overbeat the mixture, I guess, and to overheat the grill. It's just fantastic when you get really good pancakes, though, so Nurse Jacquie won the ordering competition today. Topped with a handful of plump, fresh blueberries, a dollop of mascarpone and a drizzle of honey (it smelled like manuka), they were amazing. I went back for a second bite.
My fruit salad was just what the doctor ordered - a heaping plate of rockmelon, honeydew, watermelon, passionfruit, blueberries, red grapes and pineapple. The berry yoghurt was very sweet, and there wasn't much of it. I would have preferred a simple Greek yoghurt, but I suspect I'm in the minority there.
Special mention must also go to Nurse Jacquie's banana-nut-shake, which was so, so, so good. Never have a normal milkshake again - always, always, always add a tablespoon of nuts before you blend. Such a great taste.
Until next brunch...
The Cove at Drummoyne
1 Henley Marine Drive, Drummoyne
+61 2 9719 3022
www.thecoveatdrummoyne.com.au
Cafe Pavilion
378 Great North Road, Abbotsford
+61 2 9712 0366
So brunch gets a thumbs up from me. And today - lucky me - I got to have two brunches, with three lovely ladies.
The first was at The Cove, in Drummoyne. After D and I walked around The Bay, we settled in for coffee and eggs. While the service was pretty poor (a sign instructed us to "Wait to be Seated", which took forever...despite the fact that there were at least ten empty tables; our coffees arrived after our meals did; the staff were blunt and not very helpful) the food was good. I was disappointed that the "crumpets with strawberries, honey and mascarpone" weren't fresh, homemade crumpets. I mean, who wants to pay $12.50 for supermarket crumpets? Not me. I was tempted by the muesli, but after our 8 kilometre walk, bacon and eggs were in order. I settled on the breakfast special - poached egg with avocado salsa, tomato relish, bacon, rocket and house loaf. D ordered house loaf with fried eggs and bacon. Everything was delicious. The house loaf is soft, gorgeous bread that is just perfect with the crispy bacon and gooey poached egg. The avocado salsa and tomato relish added more texture and depth - the tomato was quite sweet, a nice break from the salty bacon. It was just enough to satisfy, too. D reported that her bacon and eggs were similarly fantastic, and we both enjoyed the coffee.
On to Brunch No. 2 at Cafe Pavilion, Abbotsford, with Ed and Nurse Jacquie. Since I'd already eaten quite a bit at the first brunch, I decided to restrain myself, and ordered a cranberry and raspberry Nudie (no fresh juices, which is a shame) and the fruit salad with berry yoghurt. Nurse Jacquie ordered the blueberry pancakes (from the specials) and Ed went for grilled mushroom topped with asparagus, ricotta and dukkah. Not something I'd have chosen, but it was delicious. The blueberry pancakes were just what pancakes should be - fluffy, soft to the touch, buttery and golden. It's funny - pancakes seem such a simple meal, but so often cafes (and yes, me) get it wrong. It's easy to overbeat the mixture, I guess, and to overheat the grill. It's just fantastic when you get really good pancakes, though, so Nurse Jacquie won the ordering competition today. Topped with a handful of plump, fresh blueberries, a dollop of mascarpone and a drizzle of honey (it smelled like manuka), they were amazing. I went back for a second bite.
My fruit salad was just what the doctor ordered - a heaping plate of rockmelon, honeydew, watermelon, passionfruit, blueberries, red grapes and pineapple. The berry yoghurt was very sweet, and there wasn't much of it. I would have preferred a simple Greek yoghurt, but I suspect I'm in the minority there.
Special mention must also go to Nurse Jacquie's banana-nut-shake, which was so, so, so good. Never have a normal milkshake again - always, always, always add a tablespoon of nuts before you blend. Such a great taste.
Until next brunch...
The Cove at Drummoyne
1 Henley Marine Drive, Drummoyne
+61 2 9719 3022
www.thecoveatdrummoyne.com.au
Cafe Pavilion
378 Great North Road, Abbotsford
+61 2 9712 0366
Sunday, March 21
australia's 50 most eligible men...
...is an odd blog post title for a blog about food. But last week, Cleo published its annual list of Australia's 50 Most Eligible Bachelors, and not one - not two - but three foodies made the cut. It's official: women love men in the kitchen.
The three foodies awarded Eligible Bachelor status were pastry chef Adriano Zumbo, who came to national prominence when he appeared on MasterChef last year, Curtis Stone, a chef who is experiencing major success in the States, and Luke Burgess, a food photographer and chef, who tells Cleo that his best tip for aspiring chefs is to "read, read, read."
Just a day later, Jill Dupleix wrote about TOYS for Good Living. TOYS is "Taste of Young Sydney", a group of young, spunky chefs (including Zumbo) who are orchestrating a series of foodie events aimed at Sydney's young gourmands. The article was about the young chefs' inventiveness, ambition and nous - three very attractive and laudable qualities, that definitely inspired Zumbo, Stone and Burgess's places on the Bachelors' list.
The three foodies awarded Eligible Bachelor status were pastry chef Adriano Zumbo, who came to national prominence when he appeared on MasterChef last year, Curtis Stone, a chef who is experiencing major success in the States, and Luke Burgess, a food photographer and chef, who tells Cleo that his best tip for aspiring chefs is to "read, read, read."
Just a day later, Jill Dupleix wrote about TOYS for Good Living. TOYS is "Taste of Young Sydney", a group of young, spunky chefs (including Zumbo) who are orchestrating a series of foodie events aimed at Sydney's young gourmands. The article was about the young chefs' inventiveness, ambition and nous - three very attractive and laudable qualities, that definitely inspired Zumbo, Stone and Burgess's places on the Bachelors' list.
Friday, March 19
omg cookies
For those of you who aren't part of the Gossip Girl generation - or have no interest in being part of it - "OMG" means "Oh my God." Variations include "OMFG" ("Oh my fucking God") and "ZOMG" (even I, a relative whippersnapper, don't know what this means).
Anyway, today I created OMG Cookies. I've named them thus because when I tasted them, I thought, "Oh my God, these are GOOD." They are super-quick to make, and require just eight ingredients, most of which you'll already have in your pantry or fridge. Which means, lucky you, you can make them right away.
OMG Cookies
Ingredients
1/2 cup toasted almond slivers and pine nuts*
1 cup coconut
2 cups icing sugar
1/3 cup cocoa/ground chocolate/chocolate chips
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
2 egg whites
1 tablespoon sea salt
1 tablespoon sugar
1. Preheat oven 200 degrees Celcius.
2. Mix all ingredients except salt and regular sugar in a bowl.
2. Using a tablespoon measure, scoop balls of mixture onto lined baking trays.
3. Mix sugar and salt together, and sprinkle over each dough ball.
4. Bake for 10 minutes.
5. Devour.
These cookies are amazing - really crispy on the outside and so chewy and gooey on the inside. They are such a great afternoon snack - and I bet they'd be perfect mashed into or over a few scoops of good-quality vanilla bean icecream.
Anyway, today I created OMG Cookies. I've named them thus because when I tasted them, I thought, "Oh my God, these are GOOD." They are super-quick to make, and require just eight ingredients, most of which you'll already have in your pantry or fridge. Which means, lucky you, you can make them right away.
OMG Cookies
Ingredients
1/2 cup toasted almond slivers and pine nuts*
1 cup coconut
2 cups icing sugar
1/3 cup cocoa/ground chocolate/chocolate chips
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
2 egg whites
1 tablespoon sea salt
1 tablespoon sugar
1. Preheat oven 200 degrees Celcius.
2. Mix all ingredients except salt and regular sugar in a bowl.
2. Using a tablespoon measure, scoop balls of mixture onto lined baking trays.
3. Mix sugar and salt together, and sprinkle over each dough ball.
4. Bake for 10 minutes.
5. Devour.
These cookies are amazing - really crispy on the outside and so chewy and gooey on the inside. They are such a great afternoon snack - and I bet they'd be perfect mashed into or over a few scoops of good-quality vanilla bean icecream.
Monday, March 8
lunch for dad
Last week, my brother and I made lunch to celebrate my Dad's 50th birthday. This was an exercise in frustration for a few reasons...but mostly because my brother, Big Bird, is a wee bit hopeless when it comes to cooking. Oh, and he was dreadfully hungover.
BB is three years younger than me, and while we get along really well, we don't have too much in common. For instance: there was no olive oil in his pantry. This should probably tell you something about the differences in our priorities.
We have cooked together before, but usually at my Mum's house, which is stocked with all sorts of gadgets and foodstuffs that make cooking a breeze. At BB's house, there are two pans, one tray and three sets of cutlery (ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife, in short). But we did succeed in making a three course meal - here's how.
1. Time. We allowed half an hour for shopping and 1.5 hours for preparation.
2. Delegation. BB isn't a kitchen native, so I happily bossed him about, shouting temperatures and times like Nigella on crack.
3. Rage. When BB told me he didn't have any olive oil, I shouted at him. Same for when he didn't answer his phone or the doorbell when we were trying to get into his house. Hey, when it comes to little brothers, sometimes you've gotta be tough.
4. Laughter. When BB lost half the couscous down the sink, we just laughed. I mean, at that point, what can you do?
5. Booze. For the guests, not us. Keep the table wet and you'll be a success, no matter how charred the meat.
We also served an easy entree that looks fancy, is relatively cheap and also provides two servings of vegetables. Even BB, who normally wouldn't consume anything green except Gatorade, finished his serve.
Stuffed roast capsicum
Ingredients
4 red capsicums, sliced in half lengthways, pith and seeds removed
500 gm grape tomatoes (mini Roma would also work well)
1 garlic bulb, peeled and separated into cloves
1 spanish onion, chopped in wedges
1 cup of baby spinach leaves
1/3 cup shaved parmesan
1 cup basil leaves
1/3 cup olive oil
1. Preheat oven to 200 degrees Celcius.
2. Arrange capsicums on oven trays, empty side up. Fill with garlic, tomatoes and onion.
3. Bake for 1 hour.
4. Meanwhile, blitz the spinach, basil, parmesan and oil in a food processor (not too long - you want it to be a bit chunky).
5. Serve capsicums with pesto spread over them. Delicious hot or cold.
BB is three years younger than me, and while we get along really well, we don't have too much in common. For instance: there was no olive oil in his pantry. This should probably tell you something about the differences in our priorities.
We have cooked together before, but usually at my Mum's house, which is stocked with all sorts of gadgets and foodstuffs that make cooking a breeze. At BB's house, there are two pans, one tray and three sets of cutlery (ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife, in short). But we did succeed in making a three course meal - here's how.
1. Time. We allowed half an hour for shopping and 1.5 hours for preparation.
2. Delegation. BB isn't a kitchen native, so I happily bossed him about, shouting temperatures and times like Nigella on crack.
3. Rage. When BB told me he didn't have any olive oil, I shouted at him. Same for when he didn't answer his phone or the doorbell when we were trying to get into his house. Hey, when it comes to little brothers, sometimes you've gotta be tough.
4. Laughter. When BB lost half the couscous down the sink, we just laughed. I mean, at that point, what can you do?
5. Booze. For the guests, not us. Keep the table wet and you'll be a success, no matter how charred the meat.
We also served an easy entree that looks fancy, is relatively cheap and also provides two servings of vegetables. Even BB, who normally wouldn't consume anything green except Gatorade, finished his serve.
Stuffed roast capsicum
Ingredients
4 red capsicums, sliced in half lengthways, pith and seeds removed
500 gm grape tomatoes (mini Roma would also work well)
1 garlic bulb, peeled and separated into cloves
1 spanish onion, chopped in wedges
1 cup of baby spinach leaves
1/3 cup shaved parmesan
1 cup basil leaves
1/3 cup olive oil
1. Preheat oven to 200 degrees Celcius.
2. Arrange capsicums on oven trays, empty side up. Fill with garlic, tomatoes and onion.
3. Bake for 1 hour.
4. Meanwhile, blitz the spinach, basil, parmesan and oil in a food processor (not too long - you want it to be a bit chunky).
5. Serve capsicums with pesto spread over them. Delicious hot or cold.
Saturday, March 6
febfast...over at last
I never knew how many restaurants had alcohol-fuelled titles until I ate in two of them in one week. While I was abstaining from booze. Hmm.
My Mum and I decided, on January 31, that we'd attempt FebFast. No booze for 28 days. It seemed achievable until I realised Caliban and I were going on holidays for six days during Feb. OK, OK - 22 days without alcohol. That's reasonable. We were certain we could do it. And you know what? We did. Hurrah!
But my month off the sauce was definitely made more difficult by eating at the Bavarian Bier Cafe and Sake in the space of five days. OK, beer I can live without. Especially on a Monday night. Alright, a cold beer would have cut through the fatty veal schnitzel and sauteed potatoes nicely, but as I said, I could live without it.
But sake? Mmm. That's a different story. My friend Miss M and I went to Sake very early on a Friday night. Miss M doesn't drink too much, so she wasn't offended when I said I wasn't going to imbibe. (Honestly, you should see the looks on some people's faces! It's as if I've told them I'm taking away their booze as well as my own.) We feasted on Sake's excellent menu - grilled chicken and zucchini skewers, assorted sashimi (including some of the freshest, tastiest tuna sashimi I've ever eaten), spicy miso chips with salmon and tuna sashimi (a big hit; if only there were more than four on the plate!!), the crispiest and best salt and pepper tofu I've ever had, butterfish lettuce cups (a must), green salad, and a Philadelphia handroll (skip this one: cream cheese in sushi??? Not for me). The food was all excellent, the cute waiter deserved every penny of his tip...but I couldn't help but think there was something missing. That's right: hooch. Every time someone else received their sake or wine or beer or champagne, I felt a little twinge, the way diabetics must feel when their awful friend orders the profiteroles for dessert.
But never mind, because the following week, I went back to Sake with my considerably more booze-friendly friend D, who happily joined me in a glass of Pinot Noir. It was a soggy mess of a Sydney night, so we holed up cosily at Sake with dynamite and spider maki rolls, chicken ka-arage with assorted salsas (not to be missed - it will make you rethink fried chicken) and some disappointingly bland prawn and lotus skewers. But in all, Sake is a delight. The service is excellent, the food even better and the drinks menu extensive. Next time, I must try the chocolate fondant...even if I'm dining with a diabetic.
Sake
12 Argyle Street
The Rocks
Sydney
+61 2 9259 5656
www.sakerestaurant.com.au
My Mum and I decided, on January 31, that we'd attempt FebFast. No booze for 28 days. It seemed achievable until I realised Caliban and I were going on holidays for six days during Feb. OK, OK - 22 days without alcohol. That's reasonable. We were certain we could do it. And you know what? We did. Hurrah!
But my month off the sauce was definitely made more difficult by eating at the Bavarian Bier Cafe and Sake in the space of five days. OK, beer I can live without. Especially on a Monday night. Alright, a cold beer would have cut through the fatty veal schnitzel and sauteed potatoes nicely, but as I said, I could live without it.
But sake? Mmm. That's a different story. My friend Miss M and I went to Sake very early on a Friday night. Miss M doesn't drink too much, so she wasn't offended when I said I wasn't going to imbibe. (Honestly, you should see the looks on some people's faces! It's as if I've told them I'm taking away their booze as well as my own.) We feasted on Sake's excellent menu - grilled chicken and zucchini skewers, assorted sashimi (including some of the freshest, tastiest tuna sashimi I've ever eaten), spicy miso chips with salmon and tuna sashimi (a big hit; if only there were more than four on the plate!!), the crispiest and best salt and pepper tofu I've ever had, butterfish lettuce cups (a must), green salad, and a Philadelphia handroll (skip this one: cream cheese in sushi??? Not for me). The food was all excellent, the cute waiter deserved every penny of his tip...but I couldn't help but think there was something missing. That's right: hooch. Every time someone else received their sake or wine or beer or champagne, I felt a little twinge, the way diabetics must feel when their awful friend orders the profiteroles for dessert.
But never mind, because the following week, I went back to Sake with my considerably more booze-friendly friend D, who happily joined me in a glass of Pinot Noir. It was a soggy mess of a Sydney night, so we holed up cosily at Sake with dynamite and spider maki rolls, chicken ka-arage with assorted salsas (not to be missed - it will make you rethink fried chicken) and some disappointingly bland prawn and lotus skewers. But in all, Sake is a delight. The service is excellent, the food even better and the drinks menu extensive. Next time, I must try the chocolate fondant...even if I'm dining with a diabetic.
Sake
12 Argyle Street
The Rocks
Sydney
+61 2 9259 5656
www.sakerestaurant.com.au
Saturday, February 13
the little snail
In preparation for our European honeymoon, I'm learning French. Here are some of the words I know: "Bonjour!"; "Merci!"; "Mon dieu!"; "Au revoir!"; "Croissant!". Are you impressed yet? I thought so.
Last week, Caliban took me to The Little Snail (the French, if you're wondering, would refer to this as "Le Petit Escargot"...that's just a little something I picked up) in Pyrmont. He'd been before, but I hadn't. I was incredibly excited, as I love French food and I've heard good things about the restaurant. Also, I love escargots.
The restaurant was near empty when we arrived at 7pm, yet the waiter sat us right next to the piano...where the jazz singer was about to set up shop. Not a great sign. We asked to be moved, and the waiter whisked us upstairs. Much better.
We ordered a bottle of chardonnay and our entrees - escargots for me and salmon terrine for Caliban. Less than five minutes later, we had our first dishes. Again, not a great sign. The escargots were lovely - properly buttery and packed with herbs and garlic. My white dress didn't agree so much...so I took to wearing my napkin as a bib after the first splatter of butter hit the silk. Caliban's salmon terrine wasn't as good - slices of smoked salmon forged together with generous smears of cream cheese didn't quite live up to the lofty expectations of salmon terrine.
For our mains, Caliban ordered the seafood plate and I the kangaroo fillet. Again, they were at our table just minutes after we finished our entrees. I really love eating out, and so I want it to be an enjoyable, relaxing, even languid experience. I don't want to feel as though I'm being rushed...but that's exactly what this felt like. We took our time with our main dishes, though. Mine was superb. The kangaroo was served rare (as it should be) with a beautifully soft, flavoursome honey demi-glaze. The sweetness of the honey tempered the gamey bite of the kangaroo. Caliban, unfortunately, got the raw prawn again. Or should I say, the fried prawn. Almost everything on his seafood plate was fried, except the mussels. Quelle disappointment! I'm always puzzled why seafood plates are so often comprised of fried calamari, crab and prawns. Seafood in Australia - in Sydney, no less - is so fresh and tasty that you really don't need to do much to it. It's such a shame to deep-fry such gorgeous produce.
We requested a break between our mains and dessert, but again, our dishes were served within minutes of each other. My fresh, homemade profiteroles were great - beautifully light choux pastry filled with silky custard. Poor Caliban - his "Tasmanian brie with raisin puree and spiced carrot salad" just wasn't any good. And that's being kind. The "brie" was clearly from a supermarket and wasn't served at room temperature. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's cheese served incorrectly. I mean, how hard is it to take the cheese out of the fridge before serving? Sheesh. Feeling bad for poor Caliban, I gave him one of my profiteroles, which he loved.
At over $170 for the two of us, The Little Snail was overpriced and underwhelming. Je ne suis pas impressed.
The Little Snail
50 Murray St, Pyrmont
+61 2 9212 7512
www.thelittlesnail.com.au
Last week, Caliban took me to The Little Snail (the French, if you're wondering, would refer to this as "Le Petit Escargot"...that's just a little something I picked up) in Pyrmont. He'd been before, but I hadn't. I was incredibly excited, as I love French food and I've heard good things about the restaurant. Also, I love escargots.
The restaurant was near empty when we arrived at 7pm, yet the waiter sat us right next to the piano...where the jazz singer was about to set up shop. Not a great sign. We asked to be moved, and the waiter whisked us upstairs. Much better.
We ordered a bottle of chardonnay and our entrees - escargots for me and salmon terrine for Caliban. Less than five minutes later, we had our first dishes. Again, not a great sign. The escargots were lovely - properly buttery and packed with herbs and garlic. My white dress didn't agree so much...so I took to wearing my napkin as a bib after the first splatter of butter hit the silk. Caliban's salmon terrine wasn't as good - slices of smoked salmon forged together with generous smears of cream cheese didn't quite live up to the lofty expectations of salmon terrine.
For our mains, Caliban ordered the seafood plate and I the kangaroo fillet. Again, they were at our table just minutes after we finished our entrees. I really love eating out, and so I want it to be an enjoyable, relaxing, even languid experience. I don't want to feel as though I'm being rushed...but that's exactly what this felt like. We took our time with our main dishes, though. Mine was superb. The kangaroo was served rare (as it should be) with a beautifully soft, flavoursome honey demi-glaze. The sweetness of the honey tempered the gamey bite of the kangaroo. Caliban, unfortunately, got the raw prawn again. Or should I say, the fried prawn. Almost everything on his seafood plate was fried, except the mussels. Quelle disappointment! I'm always puzzled why seafood plates are so often comprised of fried calamari, crab and prawns. Seafood in Australia - in Sydney, no less - is so fresh and tasty that you really don't need to do much to it. It's such a shame to deep-fry such gorgeous produce.
We requested a break between our mains and dessert, but again, our dishes were served within minutes of each other. My fresh, homemade profiteroles were great - beautifully light choux pastry filled with silky custard. Poor Caliban - his "Tasmanian brie with raisin puree and spiced carrot salad" just wasn't any good. And that's being kind. The "brie" was clearly from a supermarket and wasn't served at room temperature. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's cheese served incorrectly. I mean, how hard is it to take the cheese out of the fridge before serving? Sheesh. Feeling bad for poor Caliban, I gave him one of my profiteroles, which he loved.
At over $170 for the two of us, The Little Snail was overpriced and underwhelming. Je ne suis pas impressed.
The Little Snail
50 Murray St, Pyrmont
+61 2 9212 7512
www.thelittlesnail.com.au
Thursday, February 11
bills: a sydney institution
Bills, in Surry Hills, is one of my favourite places to eat. You always know you're going to get great food at Bills. Owned by celebrity chef Bill Granger, by day it's an amazing cafe, and at night, it moonlights as a great bistro-style restaurant. The waitstaff are friendly and chatty (but not creepy), and never, ever pretentious. The food isn't the most inventive or creative, but it's always made and presented beautifully. And at an average of $25 for a dinner main, it represents great value.
My friend Miss C and I went to Bills last night after an unsuccessful attempt to secure a table (sans reservation, admittedly) at The Winery. Neither of us was drinking (I'm doing FebFast, C had to drive) so sticking around without food wasn't so appealing. We walked up the road to Bills, found a table immediately and got stuck into some mineral water. It was a pretty crazy Friday night.
We ordered a mozzarella and saffron risotto ball each to begin with. I don't know about you, but I've never met a risotto ball I didn't like (except for my own, I can never get the crunchy texture quite right). These were no exception - crunchy on the outside, gooey, creamy risotto inside and chunk of mozzarella smack-bang in the middle. A side of homemade tomato sauce added a kick. Yum. The only question: why did we only order two??
We both ordered the lamb kofta for our main, and neither was disappointed. Three juicy, spicy kofta kebabs served with grilled flatbread, tomato and mint salad and a capsicum-almond relish: delightful. It was such a great example of how Bill cooks. Fresh, locally sourced ingredients served without too much fuss. You know how great dancers make dancing look really easy? Bill makes cooking look really easy, because he's so damned good at it.
Miss C was full to the brim, but I felt I deserved dessert as I wasn't drinking. I ordered the ginger biscuit icecream sandwich with butterscotch sauce...and it was ah-mah-zing. At first, though, I assumed they'd mistakenly given us two servings, as there were two sandwiches on the plate. Not so - two sandwiches is one serving, meant for one person. Personally, I think that's way too big, but if you're really into desserts, you'll enjoy. The ginger biscuits were fabulous: clearly fresh and homemade, and with that great spicy kick of ginger. Yum. Vanilla bean icecream held the biscuits together, and a wildly delicious butterscotch sauce was poured over the top. Pinch me, I'm in dessert heaven.
Bills
359 Crown St, Surry Hills (also Woollahra and Darlinghurst)
www.bills.com.au
+61 2 9360 4762
My friend Miss C and I went to Bills last night after an unsuccessful attempt to secure a table (sans reservation, admittedly) at The Winery. Neither of us was drinking (I'm doing FebFast, C had to drive) so sticking around without food wasn't so appealing. We walked up the road to Bills, found a table immediately and got stuck into some mineral water. It was a pretty crazy Friday night.
We ordered a mozzarella and saffron risotto ball each to begin with. I don't know about you, but I've never met a risotto ball I didn't like (except for my own, I can never get the crunchy texture quite right). These were no exception - crunchy on the outside, gooey, creamy risotto inside and chunk of mozzarella smack-bang in the middle. A side of homemade tomato sauce added a kick. Yum. The only question: why did we only order two??
We both ordered the lamb kofta for our main, and neither was disappointed. Three juicy, spicy kofta kebabs served with grilled flatbread, tomato and mint salad and a capsicum-almond relish: delightful. It was such a great example of how Bill cooks. Fresh, locally sourced ingredients served without too much fuss. You know how great dancers make dancing look really easy? Bill makes cooking look really easy, because he's so damned good at it.
Miss C was full to the brim, but I felt I deserved dessert as I wasn't drinking. I ordered the ginger biscuit icecream sandwich with butterscotch sauce...and it was ah-mah-zing. At first, though, I assumed they'd mistakenly given us two servings, as there were two sandwiches on the plate. Not so - two sandwiches is one serving, meant for one person. Personally, I think that's way too big, but if you're really into desserts, you'll enjoy. The ginger biscuits were fabulous: clearly fresh and homemade, and with that great spicy kick of ginger. Yum. Vanilla bean icecream held the biscuits together, and a wildly delicious butterscotch sauce was poured over the top. Pinch me, I'm in dessert heaven.
Bills
359 Crown St, Surry Hills (also Woollahra and Darlinghurst)
www.bills.com.au
+61 2 9360 4762
Tuesday, February 9
sydney diet
New York magazine's food blog, Grub Street, has a weekly column called N.Y Diet. It's a glimpse into the fridges, takeout containers and restaurant visits of New Yorkers - a week on their plates.
I'd love for readers to get involved with DDS and send me their Sydney Diets. If you'd like to get involved, send me an email at lms2805@gmail.com.
I'd love for readers to get involved with DDS and send me their Sydney Diets. If you'd like to get involved, send me an email at lms2805@gmail.com.
Friday, February 5
was this the worst lunch ever?
Possibly. I'll keep this short, because I don't enjoy talking about bad food experiences. But this completely lacklustre meal must be talked about...so here goes.
In my humble opinion, tourist trap restaurants ought to be good. Really good. They charge exorbitant amounts of cash for lattes and biscotti, so they'd better be serving something out of this world. More to the point, tourist traps serve tourists - people who spend enormous amounts of money in this country of ours. Let's keep them happy, OK?
Unfortunately, the food in tourist trap restaurants, like those in Sydney's Darling Harbour or Queen Victoria Building, is somewhere between "this banana bread is like every other piece of banana bread I've ever eaten" (that's the better end of the spectrum, mind you) or "this banana bread is two weeks old." Yesterday, I dined at a two-week-old banana bread cafe.
Queen's Cafe does not live up to its name. Not by a long shot. The menu is small (usually a good thing: I think huge menus are scary...how can a chef possibly know how to cook 23 main meals expertly...and how fresh are all the ingredients he needs for them?) and frankly, boring. Ham and cheese sandwich, anyone? Pumpkin soup? Ham is big at the Queen's Cafe - it features in all three of its main food genres: sandwiches, salads and tarts. I'm not big on ham, so I order a Smoked Salmon Salad, which, at $13.90, is definitely the worst food investment I've ever made.
I really wish I'd taken a photo, because my description just doesn't do my poor, tiny, overpriced salad justice. But close your eyes, dear reader, and picture something like this: a bed of wet iceberg lettuce. Three slices of tomato. Four slices of cucumber. One slice of pink, not-so-fresh looking smoked salmon. An inordinate squeeze of storebought creamy dressing. It was, in other words, gross. I mean, it's summer, people! Fresh vegetables are everywhere, and pretty cheap, too. It's so disappointing to get a bad salad, when there are so many amazing salads around. One of my regular lunchtime haunts is Speed Bar, on Park St in the city. Their $9 tuna salad is to die for. Baby spinach and rocket, fetta, tuna, sundried and regular tomato, cucumber, avocado, capsicum, a poached egg and rye bread to serve - now that is a salad.
Queen's Cafe
Queen Victoria Building
Sydney
Speed Bar
Shop 1, 27 Park St
Sydney
In my humble opinion, tourist trap restaurants ought to be good. Really good. They charge exorbitant amounts of cash for lattes and biscotti, so they'd better be serving something out of this world. More to the point, tourist traps serve tourists - people who spend enormous amounts of money in this country of ours. Let's keep them happy, OK?
Unfortunately, the food in tourist trap restaurants, like those in Sydney's Darling Harbour or Queen Victoria Building, is somewhere between "this banana bread is like every other piece of banana bread I've ever eaten" (that's the better end of the spectrum, mind you) or "this banana bread is two weeks old." Yesterday, I dined at a two-week-old banana bread cafe.
Queen's Cafe does not live up to its name. Not by a long shot. The menu is small (usually a good thing: I think huge menus are scary...how can a chef possibly know how to cook 23 main meals expertly...and how fresh are all the ingredients he needs for them?) and frankly, boring. Ham and cheese sandwich, anyone? Pumpkin soup? Ham is big at the Queen's Cafe - it features in all three of its main food genres: sandwiches, salads and tarts. I'm not big on ham, so I order a Smoked Salmon Salad, which, at $13.90, is definitely the worst food investment I've ever made.
I really wish I'd taken a photo, because my description just doesn't do my poor, tiny, overpriced salad justice. But close your eyes, dear reader, and picture something like this: a bed of wet iceberg lettuce. Three slices of tomato. Four slices of cucumber. One slice of pink, not-so-fresh looking smoked salmon. An inordinate squeeze of storebought creamy dressing. It was, in other words, gross. I mean, it's summer, people! Fresh vegetables are everywhere, and pretty cheap, too. It's so disappointing to get a bad salad, when there are so many amazing salads around. One of my regular lunchtime haunts is Speed Bar, on Park St in the city. Their $9 tuna salad is to die for. Baby spinach and rocket, fetta, tuna, sundried and regular tomato, cucumber, avocado, capsicum, a poached egg and rye bread to serve - now that is a salad.
Queen's Cafe
Queen Victoria Building
Sydney
Speed Bar
Shop 1, 27 Park St
Sydney
Wednesday, January 20
crossroads bar and restaurant, swissotel
Continuing our quest to eat as many Fast Festival Feasts as possible this month, Caliban and I went to Crossroads at the Swissotel before seeing David Sedaris at the State Theatre (sidenote: David Sedaris is just the coolest person ever).
Seated at 6.45, we had our meals (grilled Atlantic salmon on bean and citrus salad) by 6.55. To some, this might seem worrying, but we had to haul butt to the Theatre in less than an hour, so we took it as a welcome development.
The Stoneleigh sav blanc worked so well with the salmon, which was perfectly pink. The crispy skin lacked the flavour we saw at the Garden Court earlier in the week, but it was still good. I loved the bean and citrus salad - segments of grapefruit, orange and even lime were mixed with fresh, crunchy green beans and tossed in a basil and shallot dressing. Great summer fare.
Like all good customers, we also ordered a side of roast potatoes with garlic and rosemary. I love potatoes, and these were among the best I've ever had. Scratch that - they were the best. Tiny new potatoes that were fondant-like on the inside and crispy on the outside. So damn good. Luckily for Caliban, the meal was so filling that I had to forgo some of my little nuggets of starchy bliss. He ate them willingly.
We got the bill quickly and expected our Ferrero Rocher chocolates to come with it. We pointed this out to the waitress.
"Oh, we don't have any left. I can see if the chef will make you come petit fours. Would you like that?"
We agree that yes, we'd like the dessert we're entitled to, and I notice other people around us getting bread before their meals. You know my drill - treat every customer with the same respect. Don't get me wrong, it was a beautiful meal, and one we thoroughly enjoyed, but it would have been nice to be treated like the other customers at the restaurant. Add to that the fact that the waitress had just forgotten about our chocolates...and, well, I was less than pleased with the service.
I do realise that I've spent the better half of the last two posts complaining about service - which possibly makes me look spoiled and ungrateful. Sorry. I do intend for this blog to be a place to rave about food I love, so I promise this will be the exception, not the rule. Apologies in spades.
Crossroads Bar and Restaurant
Level 8, Swissôtel Sydney,
68 Market St, Sydney
02 9238 7082
Seated at 6.45, we had our meals (grilled Atlantic salmon on bean and citrus salad) by 6.55. To some, this might seem worrying, but we had to haul butt to the Theatre in less than an hour, so we took it as a welcome development.
The Stoneleigh sav blanc worked so well with the salmon, which was perfectly pink. The crispy skin lacked the flavour we saw at the Garden Court earlier in the week, but it was still good. I loved the bean and citrus salad - segments of grapefruit, orange and even lime were mixed with fresh, crunchy green beans and tossed in a basil and shallot dressing. Great summer fare.
Like all good customers, we also ordered a side of roast potatoes with garlic and rosemary. I love potatoes, and these were among the best I've ever had. Scratch that - they were the best. Tiny new potatoes that were fondant-like on the inside and crispy on the outside. So damn good. Luckily for Caliban, the meal was so filling that I had to forgo some of my little nuggets of starchy bliss. He ate them willingly.
We got the bill quickly and expected our Ferrero Rocher chocolates to come with it. We pointed this out to the waitress.
"Oh, we don't have any left. I can see if the chef will make you come petit fours. Would you like that?"
We agree that yes, we'd like the dessert we're entitled to, and I notice other people around us getting bread before their meals. You know my drill - treat every customer with the same respect. Don't get me wrong, it was a beautiful meal, and one we thoroughly enjoyed, but it would have been nice to be treated like the other customers at the restaurant. Add to that the fact that the waitress had just forgotten about our chocolates...and, well, I was less than pleased with the service.
I do realise that I've spent the better half of the last two posts complaining about service - which possibly makes me look spoiled and ungrateful. Sorry. I do intend for this blog to be a place to rave about food I love, so I promise this will be the exception, not the rule. Apologies in spades.
Crossroads Bar and Restaurant
Level 8, Swissôtel Sydney,
68 Market St, Sydney
02 9238 7082
Monday, January 18
subsolo
I have been looking forward to eating at Subsolo since a work colleague raved about being invited to its opening night. She went on and on about the cocktails and tapas at this inner city, underground Spanish restaurant. As I've established, I do love cocktails and tapas, so it seemed like Subsolo and I were meant to be.
I was wrong.
Ready to try another Fast Festival Feast, my friend D and I went to Subsolo on a rainy Wednesday night. We're excited by the meal we're about to receive: a selection of Subsolo's signature tapas. Excellent, we think. A chance to try all the amazing things we've been hearing about this place.
When we arrive, I tell the waiter that our reservation is under "Lauren." He scans the reservations and can't find it.
"Sorry, there's nothing here for Lauren for 6.30."
"But I booked! Yesterday. I know I booked. Maybe they took my name down incorrectly," I plead.
"Mmm," he says, glancing at the book. "Is your last name Moan?"
"No," I say, before realising that I am Moan. I must have enunciation problems, because a lot of people think my name is Maureen if we've met over the phone. "Oh, actually...I think that's me. The waitress must have thought I said Moan."
By this stage, D is laughing so hard she might need stitches. "Moan? That's a good one." I feel like reminding her of her not-so-normal Indian name that people mispronounce all the time, but being benevolent and in need of tapas, I don't.
So here we are, Moan and D, ready for tasty Spanish morsels. We're seated and the waiter asks us which of the FFF drinks we'd like, the beer or wine. We both order the pinot noir. Moments later, another waiter arrives and asks us the same thing. We tell him we've already ordered our drinks, and he looks a little miffed. As if to say, "Well, excuse me for daring to give you girls some service! Next time, I'll just waltz on by." Which, of course, he does, for the next two and half hours of our meal.
Our drinks arrive. D gets her pinot noir...and I'm given the sav blanc. I didn't ask for it, but in the interests of keeping the peace (and also because I do quite enjoy a sav blanc) I don't say anything.
About 45 minutes later, our tapas boxes arrive. Oh, goody! Obviously I want to hear what each piece of tapas actually is, so I can report back to you, dear reader. But with a flourish of napkin, the waiter is gone and D and I are left to investigate our meals alone.
We decide we love the patatas bravas. The potatoes are roasted to crispy perfection, and the tomato sauce is infused with enough chilli to warrant the extra bottle of wine we order (too bad it takes 35 minutes to show up). The salt cod croquette with aioli is good, too. The chorizo is a little too oliy for D, but I love it. The texture is great and it's good and spicy. The meatballs filled with manchego cheese should, by rights, be the standout. They're on a bed of tomato sauce (which is great), but the meatballs have obviously been made and cooked hours ahead of time. The cheese doesn't ooze from them as it should - it's a hard little rock in the centre of cold, tough mince. The Portuguese chicken in peri-peri sauce is good, but again, it's cold and tough.
We decide it's time for Subsolo to redeem itself, so we order dessert (we're nice like that). While waiting for our bottle of temperanillo (did I mention it took 35 minutes to get from the bar to our table?) I settle on Spanish churros filled with dulce de leche with Spanish chocolate sauce and honey nougat icecream, and D orders the hot chocolate pudding with melting chocolate centre, chocolate sauce and vanilla bean icecream.
About 40 minutes whizzes by until finally, we're given our dessert. To be honest, it was worth the wait - the dessert was definitely the highlight and if we ever visit Subsolo again, it'll be the sole reason. My churros were fresh from the deep-fryer, and filled with the most decadently rich caramel sauce ever. It was thick, not overly sweet and just plain amazing. The chocolate sauce was a little too much with it, but the icecream worked well. D's chocolate pudding was similarly indulgent. The centre was a puddle of thick, oozing sauce and the edges were slightly crispy.
But dessert isn't enough to save a meal - especially one where the service was so ridiculously bad. Come to think of it, it's quite ironic that they misheard my name as Moan, if you catch my drift.
Subsolo
161 King St, Sydney NSW 2000
Corner Castlereagh St
9223 7000
I was wrong.
Ready to try another Fast Festival Feast, my friend D and I went to Subsolo on a rainy Wednesday night. We're excited by the meal we're about to receive: a selection of Subsolo's signature tapas. Excellent, we think. A chance to try all the amazing things we've been hearing about this place.
When we arrive, I tell the waiter that our reservation is under "Lauren." He scans the reservations and can't find it.
"Sorry, there's nothing here for Lauren for 6.30."
"But I booked! Yesterday. I know I booked. Maybe they took my name down incorrectly," I plead.
"Mmm," he says, glancing at the book. "Is your last name Moan?"
"No," I say, before realising that I am Moan. I must have enunciation problems, because a lot of people think my name is Maureen if we've met over the phone. "Oh, actually...I think that's me. The waitress must have thought I said Moan."
By this stage, D is laughing so hard she might need stitches. "Moan? That's a good one." I feel like reminding her of her not-so-normal Indian name that people mispronounce all the time, but being benevolent and in need of tapas, I don't.
So here we are, Moan and D, ready for tasty Spanish morsels. We're seated and the waiter asks us which of the FFF drinks we'd like, the beer or wine. We both order the pinot noir. Moments later, another waiter arrives and asks us the same thing. We tell him we've already ordered our drinks, and he looks a little miffed. As if to say, "Well, excuse me for daring to give you girls some service! Next time, I'll just waltz on by." Which, of course, he does, for the next two and half hours of our meal.
Our drinks arrive. D gets her pinot noir...and I'm given the sav blanc. I didn't ask for it, but in the interests of keeping the peace (and also because I do quite enjoy a sav blanc) I don't say anything.
About 45 minutes later, our tapas boxes arrive. Oh, goody! Obviously I want to hear what each piece of tapas actually is, so I can report back to you, dear reader. But with a flourish of napkin, the waiter is gone and D and I are left to investigate our meals alone.
We decide we love the patatas bravas. The potatoes are roasted to crispy perfection, and the tomato sauce is infused with enough chilli to warrant the extra bottle of wine we order (too bad it takes 35 minutes to show up). The salt cod croquette with aioli is good, too. The chorizo is a little too oliy for D, but I love it. The texture is great and it's good and spicy. The meatballs filled with manchego cheese should, by rights, be the standout. They're on a bed of tomato sauce (which is great), but the meatballs have obviously been made and cooked hours ahead of time. The cheese doesn't ooze from them as it should - it's a hard little rock in the centre of cold, tough mince. The Portuguese chicken in peri-peri sauce is good, but again, it's cold and tough.
We decide it's time for Subsolo to redeem itself, so we order dessert (we're nice like that). While waiting for our bottle of temperanillo (did I mention it took 35 minutes to get from the bar to our table?) I settle on Spanish churros filled with dulce de leche with Spanish chocolate sauce and honey nougat icecream, and D orders the hot chocolate pudding with melting chocolate centre, chocolate sauce and vanilla bean icecream.
About 40 minutes whizzes by until finally, we're given our dessert. To be honest, it was worth the wait - the dessert was definitely the highlight and if we ever visit Subsolo again, it'll be the sole reason. My churros were fresh from the deep-fryer, and filled with the most decadently rich caramel sauce ever. It was thick, not overly sweet and just plain amazing. The chocolate sauce was a little too much with it, but the icecream worked well. D's chocolate pudding was similarly indulgent. The centre was a puddle of thick, oozing sauce and the edges were slightly crispy.
But dessert isn't enough to save a meal - especially one where the service was so ridiculously bad. Come to think of it, it's quite ironic that they misheard my name as Moan, if you catch my drift.
Subsolo
161 King St, Sydney NSW 2000
Corner Castlereagh St
9223 7000
Saturday, January 16
garden court, sofitel
January means a lot of things to people. In Australia, it might mean music festivals, days spent in cossies and thongs, barbecues and beer. In the Northern Hemisphere, it means pretty much the opposite. And in mine and Caliban's little world, it means the Sydney Festival is here.
This is our third Sydney Festival together, and while we're not seeing as many shows this year, we're definitely putting our money where our mouths are with the Fast Festival Feasts. In short: fancy restaurants offer $30 main meals between 12-1pm and 6-7pm during the festival. Your $30 also scores you a glass of Stoneleigh wine or a Little Creatures beer, and a Ferrero at the end of the meal.
On Monday, we visited the Garden Court at the Sofitel Hotel to try their FFF. We took friends Jake and Jess along - and I have to say that it was amazing.
The meal on offer was pan-fried ocea trout with pommes puree, zucchini flower and asparagus, but before this showed up, we were treated like actual guests of the hotel and served bread, oil and butter. You might think bread is a fairly cheap commodity (along with butter and to a lesser extent, oil) and therefore one that should be served no matter where you are, but a lot of FFF restaurants simply serve you the meal, without affording you the niceties they would to a patron who's paying upwards of $40 for their main. My problem with this is that FFFs attract people who wouldn't normally go to these restaurants. With that in mind, the restaurants should be doing everything they can to make the meal special and memorable - both so the customers love it, and so they come back. Simple, no?
So we ate the bread (we even got a choice - sourdough, multigrain, olive or rye). And then we ate the complimentary amuse bouche of watercress soup, which was amazing and nothing like what I'd imagine supermodels must eat all day (rumour has it Liz Hurley scoffs watercress soup when she needs to squeeze into safety pin dresses). It was creamy, rich and peppered with a little olive oil. Amazing.
Next, of course, came the main meal. The trout was gorgeous. Bright pink flesh that fell apart with the touch of a fork was soft in texture but big on flavour. So yummy. The crispy skin was a great touch, and I loved the pommes puree. We'd ordered chunky fries as a side, and these were almost the highlight. More huge than chunky, more chips than fries, they weren't oily at all, and had a generous smattering of salt and rosemary. Yum.
Garden Court
Sofitel Wentworth
5/61-101 Phillip St
Sydney NSW 2000
(02) 9228 9157
This is our third Sydney Festival together, and while we're not seeing as many shows this year, we're definitely putting our money where our mouths are with the Fast Festival Feasts. In short: fancy restaurants offer $30 main meals between 12-1pm and 6-7pm during the festival. Your $30 also scores you a glass of Stoneleigh wine or a Little Creatures beer, and a Ferrero at the end of the meal.
On Monday, we visited the Garden Court at the Sofitel Hotel to try their FFF. We took friends Jake and Jess along - and I have to say that it was amazing.
The meal on offer was pan-fried ocea trout with pommes puree, zucchini flower and asparagus, but before this showed up, we were treated like actual guests of the hotel and served bread, oil and butter. You might think bread is a fairly cheap commodity (along with butter and to a lesser extent, oil) and therefore one that should be served no matter where you are, but a lot of FFF restaurants simply serve you the meal, without affording you the niceties they would to a patron who's paying upwards of $40 for their main. My problem with this is that FFFs attract people who wouldn't normally go to these restaurants. With that in mind, the restaurants should be doing everything they can to make the meal special and memorable - both so the customers love it, and so they come back. Simple, no?
So we ate the bread (we even got a choice - sourdough, multigrain, olive or rye). And then we ate the complimentary amuse bouche of watercress soup, which was amazing and nothing like what I'd imagine supermodels must eat all day (rumour has it Liz Hurley scoffs watercress soup when she needs to squeeze into safety pin dresses). It was creamy, rich and peppered with a little olive oil. Amazing.
Next, of course, came the main meal. The trout was gorgeous. Bright pink flesh that fell apart with the touch of a fork was soft in texture but big on flavour. So yummy. The crispy skin was a great touch, and I loved the pommes puree. We'd ordered chunky fries as a side, and these were almost the highlight. More huge than chunky, more chips than fries, they weren't oily at all, and had a generous smattering of salt and rosemary. Yum.
Garden Court
Sofitel Wentworth
5/61-101 Phillip St
Sydney NSW 2000
(02) 9228 9157
Wednesday, January 6
vive la bouillabaise!
Last week, our friend John made bouillabaise for everyone at his New Year's Eve party. Paired with generous hunks of Vienna loaf and equally generous amounts of champagne, it was a hit.
It inspired me to make my own bouillabaise. I searched the net for some recipes, and then adapted these to my own needs. I wanted a quick recipe (for a weeknight dinner) and I didn't want to use mussels, as I wasn't going to the seafood markets (and I don't really trust the mussels from Woolworth's!). Here is my recipe:
Easy-peasy bouillabaisse
Serves 4
Ingredients
800g tinned diced tomatoes
1 cup dry white wine
2 cups fish stock
300g raw prawns
300g white fish fillets
Bunch of thyme
Fresh chilli, chopped (as much as you like – depending on how hot you like your dishes)
Fresh garlic, chopped (see above!)
Tablespoon of smoked paprika (or more, depending on your tastes)
1 cup chopped leek
1 onion, chopped
Add onion, leek, garlic and chilli to saucepan over medium heat with two tablespoons of olive oil. Stir until onion and leek are browned.
Add tomatoes, fish stock and white wine. Simmer for 15 minutes, adding paprika and thyme.
Add fish and prawns, and cook for a further 4-6 minutes, or until fish and prawns are cooked through.
Serve with crusty white bread and a glass of white wine. Voila!
It inspired me to make my own bouillabaise. I searched the net for some recipes, and then adapted these to my own needs. I wanted a quick recipe (for a weeknight dinner) and I didn't want to use mussels, as I wasn't going to the seafood markets (and I don't really trust the mussels from Woolworth's!). Here is my recipe:
Easy-peasy bouillabaisse
Serves 4
Ingredients
800g tinned diced tomatoes
1 cup dry white wine
2 cups fish stock
300g raw prawns
300g white fish fillets
Bunch of thyme
Fresh chilli, chopped (as much as you like – depending on how hot you like your dishes)
Fresh garlic, chopped (see above!)
Tablespoon of smoked paprika (or more, depending on your tastes)
1 cup chopped leek
1 onion, chopped
Add onion, leek, garlic and chilli to saucepan over medium heat with two tablespoons of olive oil. Stir until onion and leek are browned.
Add tomatoes, fish stock and white wine. Simmer for 15 minutes, adding paprika and thyme.
Add fish and prawns, and cook for a further 4-6 minutes, or until fish and prawns are cooked through.
Serve with crusty white bread and a glass of white wine. Voila!
Monday, January 4
we all scream for icecream
Over at Good Living today, it's all about summer - and what says "summer" more than icecream? Matt Preston offers a lesson in "popsicology", explaining the history of icecream. (Who knew George Washington spent $200 on icecream in 1790? Not I.) Stephanie Clifford-Smith reckons she knows where to find the top ten gelato scoops in Sydney (my pick: Gelatomassi in Newtown, or just about anywhere on Norton St, Leichhardt). And Preston pops up again, showing us how to pick our kulfi from our kachang, our semifreddo from our sorbet. I always find it interesting that despite huge cultural divides and geographic differences, many cultures have similar recipes (burritos are to the Mexican what pancakes are to the Chinese; noodles for Japanese and pasta for Italians, etc) and icecream and its various cousins is no exception. Sign me up for some spoom!
One of my favourite food blogs, Stone Soup, is also riding the icecream wave, with a post on five ways to make icecream without an icecream maker. Useful stuff. I also love the look of Julie Goodwin's ricotta icecream in this month's issue of The Australian Women's Weekly. The recipe isn't online, so you'll have to check it out for yourself!
And speaking of icecream, Caliban and I took a trip to lovely lakeside Toronto (not the Canadian city, the quiet NSW town) after Christmas, where we indulged in a LOT of icecream. After a long day in the car (snaps to Caliban, who drove the entire way) we treated ourselves to lunch at Anacapri, an Italian restaurant on Brighton St. Lots of wine, a pizza, some bread and a delicious serving of chilli prawns later, we tottered over to the icecreamery and gorged on Norgen-Vasz icecream. Caliban was delighted with the country-style servings (read: the two scoops icecream were basically as big as his head) and promptly fell asleep after devouring the whole thing. Rather like a baby who only needs a bottle of milk to go under, you know?
Got any hot (or, er, cool) icecream hints from your kitchen or neighbourhood? Share them here.
And happy new year!
Lauren x
One of my favourite food blogs, Stone Soup, is also riding the icecream wave, with a post on five ways to make icecream without an icecream maker. Useful stuff. I also love the look of Julie Goodwin's ricotta icecream in this month's issue of The Australian Women's Weekly. The recipe isn't online, so you'll have to check it out for yourself!
And speaking of icecream, Caliban and I took a trip to lovely lakeside Toronto (not the Canadian city, the quiet NSW town) after Christmas, where we indulged in a LOT of icecream. After a long day in the car (snaps to Caliban, who drove the entire way) we treated ourselves to lunch at Anacapri, an Italian restaurant on Brighton St. Lots of wine, a pizza, some bread and a delicious serving of chilli prawns later, we tottered over to the icecreamery and gorged on Norgen-Vasz icecream. Caliban was delighted with the country-style servings (read: the two scoops icecream were basically as big as his head) and promptly fell asleep after devouring the whole thing. Rather like a baby who only needs a bottle of milk to go under, you know?
Got any hot (or, er, cool) icecream hints from your kitchen or neighbourhood? Share them here.
And happy new year!
Lauren x
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