Slice of heaven

My family's first stop at the Royal Melbourne Show is always at the Country Women's Association stand for Devonshire tea. Textbook perfect scones, baked fresh that morning by one of the CWA's army of talented bakers, accompanied by a small pot of thick cream and some strawberry jam, is one of life's wonderful little indulgences.

This year, I explored the sale stall at the back of the room, with knitted tea cosies, printed tea towels and recipe books all jumbled together. When I picked up The A to Z of Cooked and Uncooked Slices, I knew this was one purchase I had to make. It was impossible to resist seventy pages of good old-fashioned slices, most made with plain ingredients found in any self-respecting country larder, and designed to feed hungry mouths in search of a sweet treat, whether hard-working farmers or children after school.

Chocolate, caramel, apricots, cherries, ginger, walnuts, coconut, coffee, dates, hazelnuts, lemon and passionfruit are just some of the stars of this book. The beauty of slices, particularly old-fashioned ones, is that they turn simple ingredients into something special with a minimum of fuss and effort.

It was difficult to choose which slice to bake first but I narrowed down my list to those with ingredients I already had in my larder: cherry nut slice and coffee streusel slice. I love the short no-nonsense tone of the recipes, which assumes a large degree of knowledge by the cook (but one that was perfectly in tune with the times - any self-respecting home cook would have known this information). These slices are suitable for a morning tea at home or they can be dressed up and taken out for company - in my case, these slices went perfectly with coffee during half-time at a friend's AFL Grand Final party.

Cherry nut slice
Recipe from Isobel Green, Member of Honour, CWA Victoria branch

Base
1 cup plain flour
1/2 cup icing sugar
125g butter

Rub butter into flour and sugar and knead well. Press into 18cm x 28cm greased tin.

Topping
Combine 2 eggs and 1/2 cup sugar into a bowl and beat well. Add 1 cup coconut, 30g chopped walnuts or pecan nuts and 30g chopped glace cherries. Add 1/2 cup sifted self-raising flour and mix well. Pour over prepared base and bake in a moderate oven (160 to 180 degrees, not fan-forced) for 25-30 minutes. Ice with pale pink icing (made with 2 cups icing sugar mixed with enough boiling water to be spreadable) and sprinkle with chopped walnuts,

Spring bounty

The weather has been wintry but our gardens know that spring is here, with buds and blossom shooting out from trees and spring vegetables appearing in the markets.

On a visit to the Victoria Market, I was rugged up in a winter coat and scarf to keep the icy wind at bay, but my trolley was full of spring freshness: sweet corn, asparagus, leeks, baby potatoes, peas, pineapple, strawberries and melons. Normally I rush around the market, my mind racing with ideas, and buy far too much produce that I won't have the time to prepare, or the crowds to devour.

But this time I was restrained and concentrated just on dinner, which had all the freshness of spring, even if the gale outside my kitchen window was suggesting a thick soup or stew would be more appropriate. From the meat hall, I found a perfect little spring lamb roast, with a macadamia and sun-dried tomato stuffing, for $12. It roasted in the oven while I steamed baby potatoes and tossed them with some Warrnambool butter and home-grown parsley. The final touch was some lightly steamed asparagus and dinner was served - minimum effort and maximum flavour.

A simple little salad

After the feast that was Christmas, simple meals are on the menu for us now. Given the hot weather we've been having, salads are just the ticket. While there's always a place on my table for a basic little green salad, I also like salads with some more interesting ingredients, or those that could double as a light meal with some bread or grilled fish or chicken on the side.

Fortunately, the December 2009 issue of Gourmet Traveller, which is the magazine that Suzie from Munch+Nibble and I are focusing on in our We Made It challenge this month (where we select a current food magazine and try to cook as much as we can from that one issue) has come to my rescue, with a whole feature, "Dressed for Success", on salads.

From the delicious spread available, I chose to make the carrot and barley salad with dates and raisins. The beauty of this salad is that most of the ingredients are readily to hand (or easily obtainable, although it's always nice to be able to throw something together without having to make a special trip to the shops). As well as being an interesting mix of sweet and savoury, this salad is a cinch to put together and can be served as either a light meal or a side dish. It would also be a good addition to a salad buffet.

Although the recipe specifies that the coriander and cumin seeds should be dry-roasted and then pounded in a mortar and pestle, I took the lazy option and just used ground spices for this salad. Although the flavour is not as intense, it did cut down on cooking tasks and time.

Carrot and barley salad with dates and raisins

Recipe from Gourmet Traveller, December 2009

300gm pearl barley

1 tsp each coriander and cumin seeds, dry-roasted and coarsely pounded in a mortar and pestle

3 carrots, coarsely grated

40gm pine nuts, toasted

40gm golden raisins, soaked in warm water for 5 minutes, drained

3 dates, pitted, cut into slivers

1/2 tsp sweet paprika

1/4 tsp turmeric

1 bunch coriander, coarsely chopped

1/4 cup (firmly packed) flat-leaf parsley, coarsely chopped

1 tsp red wine vinegar

2 Tb extra-virgin olive oil

Cook barley in boiling salted water until tender (20-30 minutes). Drain, transfer to a bowl and set aside to cool.

Meanwhile, combine spices with remaining ingredients in a bowl, toss to combine. Add barley, season to taste, toss to combine, serve.

A Christmas Day lunch

There's nothing more satisfying - or necessary - than sitting down with a soothing cup of peppermint tea and putting up your feet after hosting a successful Christmas Day lunch. The food has been devoured, the dishes washed and put away, the wrapping paper tidied up and presents sorted. In my case, I have a lovely stack of glossy new cookbooks to add to my pile. I can't wait to start cooking from them.


We hosted 16 people at our Christmas Day lunch but it was nowhere near as daunting as that sounds. Everyone was delegated to bring something: drinks, nibblies, a salad or two, dessert etc. As hostess, I was providing the ham and the turkey and lots of salad bowls and white platters for presentation.

My family likes a traditional Christmas lunch (by that, I mean the Anglo traditional lunch, with ham, turkey and plum pudding) but we are happy to add our own twists and interpretations. None of us are huge fans of a whole cooked turkey and I didn't want to spend Christmas morning trapped in the kitchen with a hot stove. So I ordered a turkey breast roll from my excellent local butcher (much faster to cook, with lots less angsty) and found a recipe for roast herbed turkey roll in the December 2009 issue of Gourmet Traveller (a magazine that Suzie from Munch+Nibble and I are focusing on this month in the We Made This challenge, where we aim to cook as much as we can from a selected magazine each month).

This is a lovely recipe - very stress-free for Christmas Day, with an excellent end result that belies the minimal effort involved. Combined with ham, roast chicken, a vast array of salads (including seafood, sweet potato, green salad, roast potatoes and a beetroot, walnut and feta salad) and several bottles of Seppelts Sparkling Shiraz, this dish was part of our stunning Christmas feast that satisfied all and meant groaning stomachs could barely accommodate dessert, let alone tea that night.






Roast herbed turkey roll with Meyer lemon mayonnaise

Recipe from the December 2009 issue of Gourmet Traveller

1 turkey breast (about 1.4kg), skin on (note - my turkey breast was 2kg and I did not adjust the recipe but this portion was adequate)
1 cup (loosely packed) each basil, flat-leaf parsley and mint, coarsely chopped
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
Finely grated rind of 1 Meyer lemon (Meyer lemons are slightly sweeter than regular lemons, but it is fine to substitute if you can't find Meyers)
60ml extra-virgin olive oil

Meyer lemon mayonnaise
1 egg yolk
25ml Meyer lemon juice
2 tsp Dijon mustard
150ml light olive oil
Finely grated rind of 2 Meyer lemons

Preheat oven to 180 degrees. Place turkey breast skin-side down on a work surface and make an incision lengthways along the thickest part of the breast to butterfly. Open flat and season to taste.

Combine herbs, garlic, rind and half the olive oil in a small bowl, season to taste and spread evenly over turkey. Roll into a long cylinder, tucking ends under, then tie securely at intervals with kitchen twine./

Place turkey on a wire rack in a roasting tray, drizzle with remaining oil, season to taste and roast, basting occasionally, until golden and juices run clear when pierced with a skewer (1 hour 10 minutes to 1 hour 15 minutes - longer if your turkey breast is larger). Remove from oven, cover loosely with foil and rest for 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, for Meyer lemon mayonnaise, combine yolk, juice and mustard in a small bowl, whisk to combine, then add oil in a thin, continuous stream, whisking continuously until incorporated. Add rind, season to taste and set aside.

Serve sliced turkey with mayonnaise to the side.

We made it: Gourmet Traveller

Addict: devote, apply habitually or compulsively (to a practice); person addicted to a habit.

My name is Melinda and I'm addicted to food porn. My books are pushed aside to make way for more glossy cookbooks, out-of-season food magazines are stored in boxes in the cupboard until their seasonal time arrives, and I have storage boxes stuffed full of recipes clipped from magazines and newspapers. I want to organise them and file them but every time I pull out the box to do so, I get side-tracked by hypothetically conjuring up the dishes until I've run out of time. The clippings are piled back into the box and put away until the next time.

Thankfully, I'm not alone in my addiction. My friend and fellow blogger Suzie from Munch+Nibble is a fellow food porn addict - and possibly even more addicted than me! Whenever Suzie has spare time on her hands, she dives into a newsagent for another hit.

Several months ago, I surprised myself by cooking at least 10 dishes out of that month's issue of Gourmet Traveller. Suzie was suitably impressed, as we both tend to drool over each issue, bookmark dozens of recipes, and then file away the magazine without actually making anything. We have now set ourselves the challenge of picking a different magazine each month and try to cook, review and post as much as possible from that magazine in that month. Hopefully our pristine copies will soon be covered with the splotches and splatters of use in the kitchen.

If anyone else would like to join in with our "We made it" project, you are more than welcome - just drop a comment to either Suzie or me.

So, for our inaugural "We made it", we have chosen the December 2009 issue of Gourmet Traveller. This magazine is a favourite of mine: it is beautifully written, photographed and edited. I believe that Australian food magazines are among the best in the world, especially in the way the food is photographed and presented.

Gourmet Traveller has several regular columns that I really enjoy: Fare Exchange, where readers can write in and seek recipes of favourite dishes from chefs around Australia; Classic Dish, where a classic dish is featured, including its history and a recipe to try; Perfect Match, a wine and food match dish, and In Season.

A stunning trifle, glossy dark berries perched on top of a custard and sponge base, is the enticing cover photo of this month's issue. Inside is lots of inspiration for Christmas, with some old favourites given a modern twist, and Sydney star pastry chef Adrian Zumbo providing some zany Christmas dishes to make.

If you would like to join in the fun of cooking from Gourmet Traveller this month, leave me a comment, and make sure you go and visit Suzie at Munch+Nibble to see what amazing dishes she is whipping up. Check back regularly this month, as we plan to post throughout December about the different dishes we're trying.

If you are unable to buy Gourmet Traveller, you will find many of the recipes from each month's issue featured on its excellent website: http://www.gourmettraveller.com.au/

Magazine month

I eagerly anticipate the publication of new food magazines each month. Our small market in Australia is quite spoiled for choice, with several excellent local food magazines to choose from, with a wide range of recipes and wonderful photography. The Internet has also made it easy to access recipes from food magazines and writers around the world and my bulging shoebox file is testament to the fact that you can never have too many recipes!

Too often, though, I find myself eagerly marking up a new issue with recipes to try and then never finding the time to make my choices before the next issue arrives. So I recently made a concerted effort with Gourmet Traveller's June issue, which featured a decadent triple chocolate praline tart on the front cover (sadly, one recipe I haven't yet made from the list).

Flicking through, I found myself marking recipe after recipe to try: white bean veloute, chocolate sour cherry cake, braised lamb neck moussaka and tarka dal, from the "Fare Exchange" section (which features readers' requests for recipes from restaurants around the country). The "quick meals" section yielded scotch fillet with mash and rosemary butter, prawns with tomato, preserved lemon and couscous, char-grilled chicken with warm cabbage and celeriac salad (tick, tick and tick - all to be made again). There was a whole feature on pumpkin dishes (the pumpkin with speck and apple was particularly delicious with smoky cheese kranskys) and the "Nice as Pie" article featured both sweet and savoury pies. The brisket and Cheddar pie with sour cream pastry might have taken nearly a whole day to make but it was the best damn pie I've ever eaten in my life and worth every second of the preparation time. To top it all off, there were seven of the richest, decadent chocolate recipes I've ever seen and all will be made in the next few months.

Not only were all the dishes that I made from this issue worthy of a repeat, there was also a satisfying feeling to finally making good use of an issue, rather than just reading it and filing it away for future drooling sessions.

Is cooking just about following a recipe?

"If you can read, you can cook."

I smiled when I heard this comment on talkback radio last week. At its most basic, this is a true statement. If you can read, you can follow a recipe. "Heat oil in a heavy-based saucepan, then add onion and garlic..." might be the start of a soup recipe and surely any literate person would understand those instructions?

But there is so much more to cooking than just following a recipe. There is jargon in cooking, or at least terms that are taken to be commonly understood and not require explanation (particularly in old-fashioned cookbooks, where recipes are rarely more than two or three sentences long). Terms such as "saute", "sweat", "al dente" and "cream" have a specific meaning that novices may not understand. I find that most cake recipes now ask the cook to beat the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy, whereas all my old recipes simply state to "cream butter and sugar " before moving onto the next step.

In terms of cookware, sandwich tins, lamington tins and slice tins have special, standard measurements that also don't need explanation.. I was reminded of this when I posted a recipe for a slice that stated that the mixture should be cooked in a slice tin and a friend asked me what exactly was a slice tin. Sandwich tins are commonly referred to in old-fashioned recipes; do most modern cooks know that they are used, not to make or carry sandwiches, but to bake sponges?

But more than specialist terms and jargon, cooking is about passion and the soul. Yes, anyone who can read should be able to cook but will they enjoy it? Will they be inspired to seek out new ingredients? Will they enjoy spending hours to concoct a dish that may be polished off in minutes? If you don't enjoy cooking, or see it as a boring chore to be completed as quickly as possible, then you can make meals as fuel but you are not a true cook.

Dishes cooked with love, whether it's for family, friends, neighbours or a new lover, no matter how plain or simple, taste better because they have that secret ingredient of love mixed in. I think that's why sometimes old family recipes don't taste the same, regardless of how faithfully the recipe is followed, because they are missing that ingredient. Mum's roast chook or hedgehog slice doesn't taste the same if mum doesn't cook it.

A food quest

One of the lovely things about being passionate about food is the little adventures and knowledge quests this passion takes me on. Sometimes just a word, a phrase, or an image is enough to spark interest and further research.

The Age's restaurant critic, Larissa Dubecki, recently reviewed Embrasse in Carlton and this sentence caught my eye: "... a truly memorable side dish called aligot, a cheesy potato mash from the south of France so voluptuously gooey that it needs to undergo a double-spooned twirly ritual at the table to transport it from the copper pot to the plate. It's the comfort food that dreams are made of."

I've never tasted aligot before but the thought of a rich, cheesy potato mash was irresistible. I immediately started searching the Internet for recipes. Coincidentally, I'm going through a French cooking phase at the moment (as I have finally, after many years of wanting to, started French classes, so I'm immersing myself in all things French) and had several French cookery books from the library in the house. Voila! Here, in The Food of France, was a recipe for aligot. It is an unbelievably easy dish but oh, so decadent! It has been so hard to return to plain mashed potatoes after this feast for the palate.

Aligot

This cheesy, potato puree is a specialty of the Auvergne region.

800g floury potatoes, cut into even-sized pieces
70g butter
2 garlic cloves, crushed
3 tablespoons milk
300g Cantal (or substitute mild Cheddar cheese), grated

Cook the potatoes in boiling, salted water until tender. Meanwhile, melt the butter over low heat in a small saucepan and add the garlic. Mash the potatoes and use a food ricer, potato mill or push through a sieve to give a really smooth puree.

Return the potato puree to the saucepan and set over a gentle heat. Add the garlic butter and milk. Mix together well and add the cheese in handfuls, beating to mix in the cheese, which will melt and make the mixture stretchy. Season with salt and pepper and serve immediately.

Recipe from The Food of France: a journey for food lovers, Murdoch Books, 2000.

Happy birthday!

Today my little boy Daniel turned three. I can't believe how quickly the months have flown since he was born. Everyone warns you to treasure every moment because it goes so quickly but it's hard to believe this until it's happening to you.

We had a family party to celebrate and once again the trusty Australian Women's Weekly birthday cake cookbook provided the inspiration for the cake. The cakes look impressive but are surprisingly easy to put together: a butter cake, some butter cream tinted with bright colours and some lollies for strategic decoration and you have a masterpiece! As tigers are one of Daniel's favourite animals, it was a given that I would make the tiger cake for him.

In the months leading up to his birthday, Daniel enjoyed flicking through the book and looking at all the cakes. The only problem was that, each time he looked, he chose a different cake that he wanted! I decided to ignore his whims and stick with the tiger but I was a little worried that when I brought out the cake, he might wail "But I didn't want that one!"

In the end, we had the opposite problem: Daniel loved the tiger cake so much that he was distraught when I produced a knife to cut the cake. In fact, he burst into tears and I had to give him a cuddle while Nanna quickly patched the cake back together!

Luckily, fellow playmates, lollies and balloons distracted him and we were able to serve the cake with no more tears; he happily ate two pieces and told everyone how much he loved the tiger and that tomorrow he was going to have a lion cake. Guess that's next year's cake sorted then ....

Which cookbook did I exploit?

April was "cookbook exploitation month", as explained by Dan from Casual Kitchen. His theory is that we cook 80 per cent of the time from 20 per cent of our cookbook collection, so he nominated April as the month to dig out an old cookbook and exploit it by cooking recipes from it.

After perusing my many cookbooks, and sadly concluding that Dan's 80:20 rule was correct, I chose to exploit The Food I Love by Neil Perry. This was a wedding present from a good friend and I remember excitedly flicking through the pages and planning all the meals I was going to make. But after I marked it up with post-it notes, back it went, unused, on the shelf.

Neil Perry is one of Australia's best-known chefs. He has three restaurants in Sydney, Rockpool Bar & Grill at Crown Casino in Melbourne, appears on the food channel on Foxtel and coordinates the in-flight catering for Qantas. I've been lucky enough to dine several times at Rockpool in Melbourne, including one magical meal in the private dining room. Everything I've eaten at Rockpool has been sublime but it was the side dishes, normally an afterthought to the star of the meal, that blew me away. Velvety creamed corn, sexy broccoli (yes, it can be done), decadent macaroni cheese - each of these dishes was a gem and a highlight in its own right. I thought no more of these dishes until I opened The Food I Love - and there were the recipes for these very dishes! Tres excitement! Of course, my heart nearly stopped at the amount of cream in the macaroni cheese dish, and I need to get a juicer in order to make the creamed corn as velvety as Neil's, but no matter - now I know how to do it!

As I flicked through the book, my list of dishes to try grew longer. There were breakfast recipes, pasta dishes, seafood main courses, plenty of steak and chicken options and a few desserts. I found the dessert chapter disappointing; although the classic dishes featured, such as creme caramel, bread and butter pudding, summer pudding and hot chocolate souffle, were all beautifully executed, there was no sexy new dish that took my fancy or inspired me to rush into the kitchen. However, there was plenty of inspiration in the savoury chapters, so this is only a
minor quibble.

Despite my long list, I made only a handful of dishes from the book and, unfortunately, I don't think I exploited it enough. However, several of the dishes I made were so good that they've entered my "repeat repertoire" and I'll definitely be making them again. The Spanish-style chicken casserole, with a rich tomatoey paprika-scented braise sauce, was full of flavour and a great dish on a cool night. It takes an hour to cook with chicken legs, but the time can be considerably cut down by using chicken breasts.

The gnocchi with braised veal shanks and parmesan was also a winner, although I substituted lamb shanks for the veal. This was ridiculously easy to put together and it was then left to simmer for a few hours on the stove, reducing to a rich, thick braise with meltingly tender lamb shank meat flaked through it. I even made my own gnocchi, as per Neil's recipe, to accompany the lamb braise, and this is another dish I'll be making again.

Barbecued chicken, its smoky flavours beautifully offset by a sauce of velvety pureed zucchini and garlic, will also go into my repertoire. It's amazing how something so easy to cook can look and taste so impressive once plated. I loved learning Neil's cheffy tricks to help impress the family.

Other dishes we enjoyed this month were zucchini and parmesan soup, pea and pumpkin risotto, braised lamb shoulder with gremolata, cauliflower with saffron, pine nuts and raisins (a good match with the Spanish-style chicken casserole) and parsnip puree. Those at the top of the list to try soon include the Moroccan eggplant salad, flathead with beer batter, the many different BBQ beef dishes with different sauces, the Persian-style lamb stew and more of the magical side dishes. It's great to see vegetable accompaniments treated with the same respect and imagination as main courses.

I won't be leaving this cookbook to languish unloved on my bookshelf again but will be referring to it much more often. Now I just need to rescue some more of my cookbooks from the same dusty fate. Thanks to Dan for coming up with such a great concept - look forward to participating again!

Honey, why does the kitchen smell like a brewery?

The moment I laid eyes on the recipe called "Whisky-soaked dark chocolate bundt cake" on my new favourite food blog, Orangette, I knew I had to make it. The combination of whisky, chocolate and coffee was a siren call to my soul. I have a million chocolate cake recipes and a good number of those also include the combination of chocolate and coffee. But to find a recipe that combines the seductiveness of dark chocolate, the gentle jolt from caffeine and a sly nudge and wink from the alcohol ... well, it was begging to be baked.

But what's this? A cup of whisky? This was a serious, grown-up cake, not like the namby-pamby versions I've made before, with a tablespoon or two of alcohol to give a gentle kick in the aftertaste.

So I baked it. And we loved it. (In fact, the toddlers from my mothers' group would have cheerfully polished off slices if we let them!)

The smell of whisky permeated the kitchen when I was mixing the cake; the alcoholic fumes smelt stronger as the cake baked, making the house smell like a brewery. I was surprised at just how intense the whisky smell was but perhaps that's because I used Jack Daniels, which was all we had in the cupboard. Molly from Orangette suggests that you use something that you like to drink on its own, as the alcoholic flavour is the focus of the cake. I don't think I would attempt to drink Jack Daniels straight, but it nevertheless baked into a flavoursome cake. It is best to bake the cake the day before you plan to eat it, as the intense alcohol flavour softens and mellows, producing a dense, fudgy cake that doesn't punch you in the face with its intensity.

As an aside, how gloriously sexy are Bundt tins? They are the little black dress of the cake world, making even the plainest butter cake look impossibly glamorous. Although Bundt tins are more suited to a rich, intense coffee or walnut cake than a butter cake, the fluted ridges and gentle curves from a Bundt tin make cakes look extra special, far more than if they're baked in a round, or even a ring, tin.

Here is Molly's recipe, which she adapted from The New York Times, and which I've "Australianised".

Whisky-soaked dark chocolate bundt cake
(adapted from Orangette)

250g (8 oz) unsalted butter, softened, plus more for the pan
2 cups plain flour, plus more for the pan
150g (5 oz) bitter dark chocolate
¼ cup instant coffee powder
2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
1 cup bourbon, rye, or other whisky, plus more for sprinkling
½ teaspoon salt
2 cups sugar
3 large eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon baking powder
Icing sugar, for garnish (optional)

Preheat oven to 170°C. Grease and flour a 10-cup-capacity Bundt pan (or two 8- or 9-inch loaf pans).

Melt the chocolate (either in a heatproof bowl set over a saucepan of simmering water, or in the microwave oven) and let cool.

Put instant coffee and cocoa powders in a 2-cup (or larger) glass measuring cup. Add enough boiling water to come up to the 1 cup measuring line. Stir until the powders dissolve. Add the whisky and salt. Let cool.

Using an electric mixer, cream the butter until fluffy and pale. Add the sugar slowly, and beat until well combined. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the vanilla extract, baking powder and melted chocolate, scraping down the sides of the bowl as you go.

With the mixer on low speed, beat in a third of the whisky mixture. When liquid is absorbed, beat in 1 cup flour. Repeat additions, ending with the whisky mixture. It may seem like there is too much liquid, but don’t worry; it’s okay. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan, and smooth the top. Bake about 1 hour and 10 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the cake comes out clean (loaf tins will take less time; start checking them after about 55 minutes).

Transfer the cake, still in its pan, to a rack. Unmould after 15 minutes and sprinkle the warm cake with more whisky. The easiest way to do this is to pour some whisky into a spoon and shake it over the cake.

Cool completely before serving, garnished with icing sugar, if you like.

The best-ever recipes

The Observer Food Monthly recently celebrated the joy of the recipe by compiling a list of favourite and cherished recipes. As editor Nigel Slater observed, recipes "are there to whet our appetite, inspire the regular cook, spread the word of something we want others to know about, to instil confidence in the inexperienced, to remind the reader of a forgotten and much-loved dish, and to preserve the classic dishes in an instantly recognisable form."

Inspired by Nigel, my favourite food writer Jill Dupleix started compiling her own list on her Sydney Morning Herald blog: "I love recipes. I love reading them, cooking from them, and writing them. Every time I cook from a new recipe, I can tell so much about the person who put it together - how much they know, how much they care, whether they are trying to be helpful, or clever." she wrote.

"Some recipes are mystifying in their simplicity, others in their complexity. And I know I am not alone in hating recipes that list as ingredients other recipes, with a note to ‘see page 25’ for something you can’t proceed without making from scratch."

I found it a hugely difficult task to compile my own list. There's many meals I cook that I don't use a recipe for, such as roast chicken (or beef or lamb), spaghetti bolognaise, lasagna, or a basic risotto. Or the dishes made from recipes that my grandmother and mother have handed down to me: beef casserole with parsley dumplings, chocolate pudding, golden syrup dumplings, shortbread, Christmas fruit mince tarts.

Although it was difficult, it was also an interesting task to consider what makes a recipe cross over from the "must try" pile to become part of the treasured repertoire of repeats. Is it that the pairing of the ingredients made my tastebuds swoon? Is it that the elegance of the final product belies the simplicity of the technique?

Jill offered a clue: "The very best recipes are those that leave you with something, that introduce you to a new little tip or technique or ingredient that you can use time and time again."

When I put together my list, it was no surprise that my favourite cooks, Jill Dupleix, Bill Granger and Donna Hay, dominated. I love the simplicity and freshness of their cooking and many of their recipes do instantly enter my repertoire.

Here's my initial list, in alphabetical order. There would be so many more but these are the ones that spring to mind.

Abruzzo lentil soup (Jill Dupleix) - on the menu at least once a week in winter
Beef stroganoff with buttered noodles (Bill Granger) - this replaced by previous favourite by Margaret Fulton - the addition of Dijon mustard gives it an extra flavour boost
Buttermilk pancakes (Stephanie Alexander) - the only recipe to use for Shrove Tuesday (or a special breakfast)
Caramel salmon (Bill Granger) - on the menu at least once a week
Chicken bastilla (adapted from a Jill Dupleix recipe) - great dinner party stand-by, especially served with a Moroccan carrot salad
Corn chowder (Beverley Sutherland Smith) - rich and thick, this is a perfect winter soup
Italian walnut and coffee cake (from Gourmet Traveller) - an excellent cake to serve for afternoon tea or dessert
Garlic beef with spiced couscous (Donna Hay) - a great weeknight meal
Lemon cake (Beverley Sutherland Smith) - I've been making this one since I first discovered it in Epicure about 15 years ago. Light and moist, this has a sugary lemon syrup poured over the top
Lemon cake (Donna Hay magazine, issue 5, published 2002) - when I want a tangy, buttery cake, this is the one I go for, as it's topped off with lemon butter icing
Lemon delicious (Stephanie Alexander) - Adam would eat this every day if he could!
Meatloaf (adapted from a Jill Dupleix recipe) - great comfort food in winter
One-pot chocolate cake (Allan Campion and Michele Curtis) - the latest addition to my repertoire - this recipe was worth the price of the cookbook alone!
Parmesan-crusted chicken (Donna Hay) - perfect weeknight meal
Perfect scrambled eggs (Bill Granger) - no more needs to be said - these are simply the best
Salt and five-spice chicken (Donna Hay) - addictively salty and on the table in 20 minutes
Soy chicken with pickled ginger soba noodles (Delicious magazine, June 2005) - a really light, healthy delicious meal
The ultimate chocolate chip cookie (from a Nestle advertisement) The name is justified, with the addition of a secret ingredient that means no-one can ever stop at just one
Tortellini with tuna and peas (adapted from a Jill Dupleix recipe) - perfect weeknight meal that I've adapted and refined over the years. Can be put together in 12 minutes - the time it takes the tortellini to cook

Look what the postman brought

A pleasant surprise awaited me when I went to the letterbox today: the latest issue of Delicious magazine. I wasn't expecting any of my food magazine subscriptions to arrive until next week but I'm definitely not going to complain about an early arrival.

I find nothing more relaxing and inspiring than flicking through the latest issue of a food magazine, particularly if the seasons are turning. These glossy magazines are called food porn for a reason and nothing must disturb my hit. The phone is off, the children are asleep, the house is quiet, my cafe latte is hot and fresh from the coffee machine ... and so I can sit and plan new menus for hours.

I read food magazines as if they're novels, carefully reading each recipe and its ingredients, noting whether I've got everything in the cupboard or need to add items to the shopping list. As I read, I run through the recipe steps in my head and decide whether the recipe is going to be a cinch to pull together or whether it will require time and effort. Some recipes are put into the "easy weeknight meal" category, while others are put aside for special occasions or for when I feel like baking on a rainy day.

So autumn is here and fresh salads and cold desserts are giving way to steaming bowls of soup or stew and luscious hot puddings. Much as I love warm weather, I don't find summer an inspiring season for cooking or baking. All I feel like eating in summer is a crisp salad, thrown together with a minimum of fuss, or a juicy peach or fresh raspberries for dessert. The cooler weather is so much more conducive to spending time in the kitchen. And there's plenty of dishes from the latest Delicious magazine that are already on my list to try, including a gorgeous-looking hot cross tea cake, a warm mushroom tart and blue cheese and pecan scones. I can't wait to get back into the kitchen.

A sweet pleasure

One of the best ways to learn about fruit and vegetables is to grow your own. Each season, I enjoy choosing what to grow, nurturing the seedlings and eagerly anticipating when the first crop will be ready for picking and tasting. There's something so satisfying about wandering out to the vegetable patch and being able to pluck some parsley for a garnish, snip off a few lettuce leaves to make a fresh salad, or using your own passionfruit to flavour a sponge.

Growing your own also allows you to enjoy fresh produce at the height of its season, which is one of life's great pleasures. I'd love to be able to eat my favourite fruit and vegetables year-round but most of the enjoyment comes from the fact that the joy of fresh, seasonal produce is so fleeting. The range of produce stocked in supermarkets could fool you into thinking that there's no such thing as seasons anymore, although the watery, joyless taste of out-of-season or imported produce will convince you that it's best to wait until the local season is underway. Understanding and working with the seasons is a good lesson for life in general; I don't think I would enjoy raspberries quite so much if I could eat them every day.

As children, my sisters and I were allowed to choose something to grow ourselves. I always chose sweetcorn and radishes. I loved watching the corn climb against the trellis and the little ears of corn swell into plump cobs. And I loved pulling out clumps of bright red radishes, washing them under the tap and then eating them, although I also loved the little radish flowers that mum made to garnish our salads.

Our little herb and vegetable garden has suffered terribly during this summer's scorching weather. But thankfully my local greengrocer has a great range of fabulous fresh fruit and vegetables and this has come to our rescue. Even though I'm no longer growing my own sweetcorn, it remains one of my favourite things to eat: I can't think of anything more delicious than a cob of sweet and juicy corn, freshly picked, lightly cooked and smothered in melting butter.

Home-grown corn is the best you can have, as sweetcorn begins to deteriorate from the moment it's picked. But my local greengrocer has a good fresh range and it's an acceptable substitute. I've always eaten my corn fairly simply - either lightly boiled and smothered in butter, in a rich corn chowder soup, or perhaps mixed with bacon to make simple fritters. But now, thanks to Molly from Orangette., I've discovered a wonderful, sublimely simple way to enjoy corn and I've been cooking it non-stop since I first tasted it.

Molly has been blogging at Orangette for quite a few years now (and actually has just released a book) but I've only just discovered her wonderful blog, which is very inspiring and impressive in both her descriptions and photos of food. Molly featured this burnt butter corn recipe in 2007, which is based on a recipe from The New York Times. It's barely a recipe, however, but more of an idea: corns kernels, freshly shaved from a cob, are cooked in nutty melted butter with some lemon thyme and salt, and then scattered with fresh parsley. The corn is sweet and nutty and the herbs and salt add an extra dimension of flavour. I've adapted this recipe to Australian tastes.

Brown Buttered Corn

Adapted from a recipe featured on Orangette, 17 September 2007

3 cobs of corn, shucked
3 tablespoons butter, preferably unsalted
4 sprigs thyme, preferably lemon thyme
Salt
Finely chopped parsley, for serving

Stand each corn cob vertically on a chopping board and run a large knife down to remove the kernels (or use a shallow wooden or plastic bowl, as the kernels are likely to spray all over the bench, and this will help contain them). Use the back of the knife to scrape the bare cob and release the juices. Set kernels and juices aside.

Melt the butter in a frypan over medium heat. Add the thyme sprigs and cook, stirring frequently, under the butter turns a deep amber shade and smells nutty. Add the kernels, juices and a large pinch of salt and stir well. Cover, reduce heat to medium-low and cook for about five minutes, or until the corn is tender. Remove and discard the thyme sprigs, season to taste with salt, scatter over parsley and serve.

Food in times of need

Food is often associated with major milestones in our lives. Sometimes it takes centre stage - for example, at a birthday party or a celebratory afternoon tea - and other times it is a side event, although still extremely important, such as gathering for a cuppa after a funeral. Lots of thought may go into planning for the event, such as choosing the birthday cake and accompanying menu or baking pink-iced cupcakes for a baby shower, and others may be as simple as everyone bringing a plate of something, whether a packet of Tim-Tams or a home-baked cake, to share. It is the ritual, the passing around of plates, the making of tea and coffee, the informality that comes with chatting while nibbling, that is important.

The offering of food is also an important source of comfort for those in time of need; to ease the burden of cooking from sleep-deprived new mums or friends grieving serious illnesses or deaths in the family. We need to fuel ourselves to keep going but sometimes the thought of grocery shopping and cooking is the last thing we want to do, particularly if time is in short supply. A dish of food, whether a soup or casserole or even a sweet treat like chocolate biscuits, is always appreciated.

Lately I've been baking many dishes of lasagna, which has somehow become my signature dish for friends in times of need. Two of my friends have recently given birth to their second child, while some family friends are grieving a very serious illness in their family that means most of their time is spent at the hospital. I have no Italian heritage and my lasagna is not a fancy or special recipe but it is a hearty dish that lasts for several meals, tastes even better the next day, and is easy to make and transport. When I was growing up, friends and neighbours were always quick to rally around anyone who needed help and mountains of food would be prepared and dropped off. It is such a simple act of kindness but it helps foster goodwill and a sense of community

MY LASAGNA

To make the meat sauce, finely chop two onions and several cloves of garlic and saute in oil in a heated saucepan. Crumble in 500g mince beef and brown. Add one tub of tomato paste and one 400g tin of chopped tomatoes, mix well and simmer for about 20 minutes

To make the cheese sauce, melt two tablespoons of butter in a saucepan. Stir in two to three tablespoons of plain flour to make a roux. Slowly add two cups of milk and cook over low to medium heat until the mixture thickens. Remove from heat and stir through 250g grated mozzarella cheese and some salt and pepper.

To assemble the lasagna, spread some meat sauce over the base of a baking dish. Layer with lasagna sheets, then cheese sauce. Repeat layers until the meat and cheese sauces are used up, finishing with cheese sauce. Sprinkle a generous amount of grated parmesan over the top and bake in a 180 degree oven for about 35 minutes.

This mixture can be doubled or even tripled and can be frozen.

Menu for a cold winter's night

The weather forecast was for a top of 11 degrees, with rain and possible hail and thunderstorms. It's the sort of day that makes you want to stay indoors and dream of stew. I find stew and casseroles such comforting winter food. At the first sign of frost, I start thinking of chunks of beef or lamb, slowly simmered in a sauce of stock, red wine and tomatoes and flavoured with roast vegetables, served with a big mound of mash or polenta, or thick vegetable and lentil stews, or soups, or puddings - the sort of comfort food that warms you up from the inside out.

A perennial favourite in our household is my grandmother's beef casserole with parsley dumplings. Adam loves this dish so much that he requests it every year for his birthday, despite the fact that it falls in February and stew is often the last thing I feel like on a hot summer day! This casserole is easy to make and fills the house with warm, comforting aromas while it cooks. The parsley dumplings add a homey touch and elevate the casserole to a higher level. I serve this with greens on the side, as there's no need to have potatoes, rice or polenta as well as the dumplings.

Issue 32 of Donna Hay magazine featured maple pear tarte tatin on the front cover, the caramelised pear slices glistening on a bed of puff pastry. I've never been a huge fan of pears but this recipe looked delicious and easy to make, so I decided to give it a go. I'm now a pear convert! The pear slices are softly caramelised and contrast beautifully with the crunch of the pastry. It's a soft and sweet, but not overpowering, finish to a meal.

BEEF CASSEROLE WITH PARSLEY DUMPLINGS

750g stewing steak (such as gravy beef)
3 tablespoons plain flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
black pepper
1 teaspoon dry mustard
2 tablespoons butter
1 large onion, sliced
3 medium carrots, peeled and diced
1 1/4 cups beef stock
1 dessertspoon worcestershire sauce

DUMPLINGS

1 cup SR flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
30g butter
1 egg
1/4 cup milk
2 tablespoons chopped parsley

Cut meat into cubes. Mix flour in a freezer bag with mustard, salt and pepper. Add the meat cubes and shake to coat. Melt the butter in a large, ovenproof casserole. Brown the meat in batches and remove (you may need to add more butter). Saute the onion until translucent, then add the carrot and cook a little longer. Stir in any remaining flour (if you don't have any left over, stir in 1 or 2 tablespoons) and cook for 1-2 minutes. Add the stock and worcestershire sauce, and stir until it thickens and boils. Return the meat to the casserole dish. Cover and cook in a moderate oven (180 degrees) for 1 1/2 hours. (Check every half hour, as you may need to add some extra water or stock if it's drying out). Place the dumplings on top, cover and cook for 15 minutes.

To make dumplings, sift the flour and salt into a bowl. Rub in the butter with your fingertips until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Beat the egg in a separate bowl and add the milk and the parsley. Make a well in the flour and stir in the liquid to make a soft dough. Scoop out and drop on top of the bubbling casserole.

You can substitute lamb for the beef and make dumplings with two teaspoons of chopped mint instead of the parsley.

MAPLE PEAR TARTE TATIN

30g butter
1/4 cup maple syrup
1 pear, sliced
1 sheet of puff pastry

Preheat the oven to 180 degrees. Melt the butter in a non-stick ovenproof pan (should not have plastic handles). Add the sliced pear and cook for 5-6 minutes, or until the pear is soft. Take off heat and fit the pastry sheet snugly over the pears. Bake in the oven for 30-35 minutes, or until the pastry is puffed and golden. Stand for 1 minute, then tip out onto a plate and serve with cream or ice-cream.

Based on a recipe in issue 32 of Donna Hay magazine

Hearty seafood chowder

The thought of Irish food brings forth the cliches of potatoes, beef and Guinness pie, potatoes and potatoes. While it's true that we ate a lot of potatoes in Ireland (including being served chips as a side dish to my fish pie topped with a generous serve of mashed potato), we also found a lot of other interesting and flavoursome dishes. A dozen oysters were perfectly offset by a pint of Guinness (much to my surprise). And, although it was June and meant to be summer, the 17 degree days meant thick bean and vegetable soup or seafood chowder always went down well.

County Donegal, in the northwest corner of Ireland, is rugged and barren but breathtakingly beautiful with huge mountains and long green valleys. It feels isolated and I can imagine how bleak it would be in winter, with storms roaring across the seas and through the mountain ranges. We stopped at the town of Rossnowlaugh to have lunch at Smugglers Creek, an award-winning restaurant and pub that is perched high on a cliff overlooking Donegal Bay and the long curl of a white sandy beach. Pinned near the front door was a restaurant review that recommended the "toe-curlingly good" Atlantic seafood chowder. As we settled ourselves into the window table overlooking the sea, there was no question of us ordering anything else, except for one unfortunate travelling companion who was pregnant at the time and had to content herself with the tomato and bacon soup. She said it was delicious but she looked mournfully at our bowls as we raved and raved and raved about the chowder, which was thick and creamy, loaded with plump seafood, and with a lovely lingering aftertaste of dill.

Of course the recipe is a well-guarded secret, so I set about trying to replicate it when we returned home. Although chowder should have a generous helping of mixed seafood - perhaps chunks of white fish or salmon, mussels, prawns and scallops, I cheat and use my favourite marinara mix from the Queen Victoria Market. While this is not strictly authentic, it cuts down considerably on the preparation and cooking time. Sometimes I include dill in the chowder and sometimes, inspired by a recipe in Irish Soups and Breads by Nuala Cullen, I add a pinch of saffron. Either way, this is a hearty soup for a cold winter's night.

SEAFOOD CHOWDER

500 - 750g marinara mix (or make up your own combination of seafood)
6 rashers bacon, sliced into strips
1 carrot, peeled and chopped
1 leek, sliced
1 onion, peeled and diced
1 celery stick, diced
2 large potatoes, peeled and diced
900ml water or fish stock
300ml cream
150g butter
1-2 tablespoons flour
1 tablespoon chopped dill or 1 pinch of saffron
salt and pepper
a small handful of chopped parsley

Melt the butter in a saucepan and cook the bacon until crisp. Add the vegetables and fry for a minute or two. Stir in the flour, then gradually add the water or stock, stirring until smooth. Cover and cook gently until the vegetables are tender (about 10-15 minutes). Add the cream and the seafood and cook for a few minutes, until the seafood is cooked. Add the dill/saffon and the salt and pepper. Serve in soup bowls and scatter with the bacon and parsley.

Energising breakfasts

I can't function if I don't eat breakfast. If I miss it, there's a large hole in my stomach that can't be filled, even if I stuff myself for the rest of the day.

Aside from the emptiness factor, and from the health and nutritional benefits of breaking your overnight fast, breakfast - and brunch - are fun. Whether it's a bowl of bircher muesli, a platter of fresh fruit drizzled with yoghurt, or a weekend indulgence of eggs or pancakes, it starts the day off on a good note and it never feels sinful to indulge at breakfast because you know you've got the rest of the day to work it off.

My mum has a delicious, healthy muesli recipe that we've been mixing up for years, chock-full of dried fruit and nuts. My weekend indulgence is buttermilk pancakes with bacon or sinfully creamy scrambled eggs. I always make Adam a Valentine's Day breakfast of scrambled eggs on sourdough toast, complete with crispy bacon rolls, roasted tomatoes and garlicky mushrooms on the side. I quite often mix up bircher muesli on Sunday night to see us through the week, or I make Bill Granger's justifiably famous coconut bread that can be frozen and reheated for a quick breakfast.

In Bill's latest cookbook, Every Day, he featured an apple, dried cherry and almond loaf as an energising breakfast idea. Not having all the specified ingredients on hand, I adapted the recipe to suit my needs. The dried fruit studded throughout the loaf gives it a pretty jewel-like appearance. It freezes well and can be thawed and lightly toasted for a great start to the day.

BREAKFAST LOAF

50g rolled oats
300ml milk
240g self-raising flour (white or wholemeal)
1 teaspoon baking powder
125g craisins (or dried cherries)
60g dried apricots, chopped (or use 50g chopped and diced dried apples)
75g brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
3 tablespoons honey
1 egg, lightly beaten
3 tablespoons roughly chopped almonds, plus 2 tablespoons extra

Put the oats in a bowl, pour over the milk and leave to soak for 30 minutes. Preheat the oven to 180 degrees. Line a 1kg loaf tin with non-stick baking paper.

Sift the flour and baking powder into a bowl and stir in the rolled oats, dried fruit, sugar, cinnamon, honey, egg and almonds. Mix well.

Spoon the mixture into the tin, level the top and sprinkle with extra almonds. Bake for 45 minutes or until golden brown on top and cooked through. Leave to cool a little in the tin before turning out onto a wire rack to cool completely.

Adapted from a recipe in Every Day by Bill Granger

Hot pudding for a cold night

As the days have turned colder and darker, I've started dreaming of puddings: hot steamed puddings, studded with dried fruit, flavoured with chocolate or ginger or topped with hot jam, treacle or golden syrup, and served smothered in custard or chocolate sauce or dolloped with thick cream.

I have two classic recipes from my grandmother, one for golden syrup dumplings and one for a self-saucing chocolate pudding, both of which have been eaten on many a winter's night in my family. The chocolate pudding is always a hit, whether it is dressed up with whipped cream for a dinner party or served with a scoop of ice-cream after a casual Sunday night meal of soup. It tastes good hot or cold and reheats well.

Despite my love of chocolate, I've had golden syrup steamed pudding on my mind recently. But when Adam called at 6pm to say he was on his way home from work and would pick up some cream to have with dessert (hint hint...), there was no time to make a steamed pudding, which requires at least an hour-and-a-half steaming time, or even my grandmother's chocolate self-saucing pudding, which needs 45 minutes in the oven. There wasn't even time to consult my recipe books and drool over potential options.

Fortunately I've recently reorganised my large collection of food magazines into seasons, rather than by calendar month, so I went to the winter section and pulled out a copy of Delicious magazine that had hot brownie puddings on the front cover. Amazingly, there was a block of dark chocolate in the pantry that Adam hadn't found and devoured, and the puddings took only 25 minutes to cook. It was a winner!

Delicious magazine food writer Valli Little served these puddings with chocolate leaves and a sauce made from white chocolate and cream. Although I think they add a lovely touch, especially for the photos, I didn't have the ingredients or the time to make these and served the puddings with just a dollop of whipped cream, which worked well. The combination of melted chocolate and cocoa gives these puddings a rich, fudgy flavour that is even better when reheated the next night.

CHOCOLATE BROWNIE PUDDINGS

120g dark chocolate
125g butter
4 eggs
1 cup caster sugar
1 tablespoon liqueur (such as frangelico or amaretto, although brandy also works well)
1/2 cup plain flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 cup cocoa

Preheat oven to 180 degrees.

Place the chocolate and butter in a heat-proof bowl and place over a saucepan of simmering water. Stir until melted, then take off heat and set aside.

Beat the eggs until creamy, then beat in the sugar until the mixture is thick. Beat in the chocolate mixture and the liqueur. Sift the flour, baking powder and cocoa together and fold into the mixture.

Grease four large ramekins and divide the mixture between the ramekins. Bake for about 25 minutes (be careful not to overlook, as there should be a slight squidginess in the centre). Run a knife around the edge and tip out into a bowl. Serve with cream, ice-cream or thick chocolate sauce.

Adapted from a recipe by Valli Little in Delicious magazine, August 2005

Friday morning tea - heavenly jelly slice

There were many great cooks in the district where I grew up, but Mrs Schulze was the best. At birthday parties or suppers after the school concert, we all eagerly looked for a plate of her jelly slice or hedgehog. The jelly slice had a crunchy biscuit base, a soft tangy cheesecake-like centre and was topped with a slab of gloriously red wobbly jelly, while the hedgehog was deliciously chocolatey and studded with nuts and chunks of marie biscuit.

Mrs Schulze was the person who supervised and assessed us when we went for our cooking badge for Brownies. It was a little intimidating stepping into her kitchen but she was a generous teacher and we all proudly received our badge to sew onto our Brownie uniforms. But alas! we did not save the recipes.

After finishing high school, I moved to Melbourne to study at university so it's been more than a decade since I've sampled Mrs Schulze's cooking but I can still picture and taste her slices - the memories grow more fond as the years pass. So I was thrilled when Mum recently obtained the famous jelly slice recipe and passed it onto me. We tested the recipe by making a plate for my son's first birthday party and it quickly disappeared, so it appears there are many jelly slice fans out there. One note regarding the jelly topping: you may need to use less water than specified, as you want the jelly to set quite firm so that it doesn't slide off as you eat it.

MRS SCHULZE'S JELLY SLICE

Base
1 packet marie biscuits
180g melted butter

Lemon layer
400g can condensed milk
juice of 2 lemons
2 teaspoons gelatine, dissolved in 3/4 cup boiling water

Topping
1 packet jelly crystals, made up with 1 1/2 cups water

To make base, mix together the crushed biscuits and melted butter. Press into the base of a slice tray.

Blend the condensed milk with the lemon juice and dissolved gelatine. Spread over the base and refrigerate until set.

Make up the jelly, cool before pouring over the slice. Chill until set.