Must remember to blog!!

I will. Soon. I promise!

Flipping Out

I recently read a review of a book I really wish I'd written - Pancake: A Global History would have been really bloody delicious to research.  I picture author Ken Albala travelling the world making Homer Simpson 'ah-wrow ah-wrow ah-wrow' noises as he chomped his way through the finest, most scrumptious flat-pieces-of-fried-carb heaven the pans of the globe had to offer.  Yum.

Pancakes are something to get out of bed for.  They are especially good late morning, while wearing pyjamas and slippers, reading the paper and with some winter sunlight trickling across the table like maple syrup on to a stack of pancakes trickled with maple syrup...  

Tomorrow's public holiday is the perfect excuse to flip out.   There's a great pancake recipe on the side of buttermilk containers which have good 'b' things in them like buttermilk (well, obviously) and blueberries.  And there is also this recipe which is so easy that you'll be chowing down Homer style within 20 minutes.  ah-wrow, ah-wrow, ah-wrow...

Nigella's American Breakfast Pancakes 

from my favourite How to be a Domestic Goddess. 

225g plain flour

1 tablespoon baking powder (sounds like a lot but makes 'em so fluffy!)

pinch of salt

2 large eggs

30 g butter, melted and cooled

300ml milk

butter for frying

Put all ingredients in a food processor and blitz it baby!  Nigella says to leave the batter for 20 mins before frying but I was too hungry/greedy and didn't wait and they were still delicious.

Remember to cook pancake on one side until bubbles form and pop in the uncooked surface, then flip.  Don't be tempted to pump the heat too high though - the butter will get all burny and not nice.

Serve with lemon and sugar, or maple syrup or if you've got some blueberries (frozen ones are fine too) sprinkle them onto the uncooked side of the pancake straight after you pour it into the pan then cook and flip as usual.  Mmmmmm.  Make nice coffee and find that sunny spot...

Grumpy Old Lady.

I am officially old and grumpy. I went into the city today (or 'into town' as my mother says) and was so irritated by the crowds and the noise and the general kerfuffle...! And this is Melbourne - pop. 4 million (and most of them way out east) - not a seething, pulsating, hubbub of a place like Manhattan or New Delhi or Shanghai. But I got so righteous and annoyed!

There were teenagers mooching about holding hands and getting in my way (bloody school holidays) and an insufferable 'new age' busker on Bourke St playing some amplified home-made thingee-me-bob which sounded like a cat being strangled only more creepy and depressing and tourists stopping dead in the middle of a moving line of human traffic and exclaiming 'is this Collins St?' when in the middle of Chinatown. ('Yeah, it's the Chinese bit of the Paris-end of Collins street Mister' I felt like snapping in my moody, 'I'm a local get out of my way' cross voice.)

Grumble, grumble, grumble. So, yeah, I'm old. And grouchy and not very helpful. So I came home and had a cup of tea and a 'Nutty Crunch' - the delightfully simple and traditional oat-based slice my mother has been baking for as long as I can remember. (I just realised that they don't actually have any nuts in them so the name's a furphy but let's not get bogged down in semantics - that might just get me grumbling again.) This is a recipe that is an oldie but a goodie.... and much sweeter than me today.

Nutty Crunches a la` Jenny L for ever and ever

2 cups rolled oats
1 cup dessicated coconut
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup plain flour
250g butter, melted

and if you're feeling a bit racy: a large handful of currants or sultanas or even dried apricots, chopped, oh la la.

Mix dry ingredients (and dried fruit if using) in a mixing bowl. Pour in melted butter and combine well. Press into a greased, flat slice or lamington tin. Bake at 200C for about 25 minutes or until golden.

Enjoy with a cup of tea and a nice sit down.

P.S. If you're getting sick of the same song playing when you look at this blog, check out the little button on the left side of the 'window' on the tape graphic up there to the right.... you can jump through to other tracks! Voila!

technology and the human interface

OMG!  I managed to put music on my blog!  Very exciting for me because HTML code usually makes me feel queasy with its 'insider knowledge' and its squiggly, non-English look.  I get intimidated by it.  (Janeane Garofalo dedicated a chunk of her stand-up routine on Friday night to her "compu-tard" status; she has given up all communication technology bar telephones and feels happier for it.  It was lovely to see her carrying around a scruffy notebook covered in stickers and doodles. But more on her soon - my love and fangirldom demand their own post!)

I am about to set out for my first face-to-face counselling session with me in the 'professional' chair so hopefully my success with technology wrangling is repeated in the human-to-human context. No facebooking, no tweeting, no rich text (but maybe some rich sub-text?), no emoticons or space to disengage and redraft... Dr Melfi, please be with me! 

And IOU a recipe....

Shagging and Cooking

I've just had the weirdest realisation: Russell Brand and Nigella Lawson look uncannily alike. He's very funny and has been awarded 'Shagger of The Year' three times in a row. She's sexy as hell AND a brilliant cook... They may actually be higher beings of some sort. Just a thought for your Sunday evening contemplation.

However, in the spirit of keeping this blog more useful than simply the outpouring of my random brain activity, here is one of my very favourite Goddess Nigella recipes for you. I am going to make this for friends who are coming to dinner tomorrow night. Served with a crisp small-leaf salad, some wine and perhaps something chocolatey for dessert, it will make the perfect Monday evening easy meal. Oh Nigella, I do adore you.

Courgette (Nigella-posh for zucchini) & Chick Pea Filo Pie
from the modern classic How to be a Domestic Goddess

1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 small onion
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon ground coriander
3 plump courgettes/zucchinis
125g basmati rice
500ml vegetable stock
2 x 425g can chick peas, drained
100g melted butter
200g filo pastry sheets

22cm springform tin

Preheat oven to 200C.

Gently fry the cumin seeds and onion in the olive oil until the onion's soft. Add the turmeric and coriander. Dice the courgettes (unpeeled), add them to the onion mixture, and cook on a fairly high heat to prevent them becoming watery. When they are soft but still holding their shape, add the rice and stir well, letting the rice become well coated in oil. Add the stock 100ml at a time, stirring while you do so. When all the liquid has been absorbed the rice should be cooked, so take it off the heat, stir in the chick peas and check the seasoning.

Brush the insides of the springform tin with some of the melted butter. Line the bottom and sides of the tin with 3/4 of the filo sheets, lightly buttering each piece as you layer. Leave a little filo overlapping the sides, and keep 3-4 layers for the top. Carefully put in your slightly cooled filling, and then fold in the overlaps. Butter the last layers of filo and scrunch on top of the pie as covering. Put in the oven for about 20 minutes, or until the filo is golden and the middle hot. Check this by inserting a slim, sharp-bladed knife (or skewer). If, when you remove it, it feels hot when you press it against your wrist, the pie's ready. Serves 6 - 8.

Actual Men vs. Gingerbread Men

I'm waiting for something. I don't want blog about it but it means a lot to me. And the waiting is making my heart race and my toes tense. I should go and distract myself with something fun and comforting. Makes me think of being a kid and making gingerbread with my Mum. We made a gingerbread house for Christmas once, and we had cutters in the shape of (among other things) a giraffe, an elephant, a star, a four-leaf clover and, of course, a heart... *sigh*

We also had one that looked like Alfred Hitchcock (I thought so, anyway) and, of course, the regulation Boy shape and Girl shape. I remember being miffed that the Girl shape was defined by her skirt and I insisted that, actually, the one wearing trousers could be a boy OR a girl. I didn't quite get to conceptualising boys in skirts but I guess that's something even the most avant-garde of fashion designers can't seem to make into a workable trend. I could start a boys-wearing-skirts-revolution with my gingerbread baking and decorating! And then eat them all up! *evil laugh*

Okay, I distracted myself.

Gingerbread (in any anti-heteronormative shape you desire)
from The Rose Bakery cookbook (that lovely bright green one from Paris).

125g unsalted butter, softened
90g brown sugar
3 tablespoons molasses
1 egg, beaten
370g plain flour, sifted
1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground mixed spice

Beat the butter with the sugar and molasses until light and well mixed.

Add the egg, then fold in the flour and the other dry ingredients. sifted together. The mixture should come together easily. If it is too wet, add a little more flour; if it is too dry, add one more egg.

Put the dough in the fridge for 30 minutes to chill.
(I think I should do this also.)

Preheat oven to 180 degrees celsius. Line a tray with baking paper. Roll out dough on a floured surface until about 5mm thick. Cut into desired shapes and place on prepared tray.

This is where I add decorations like currents for eyes, buttons etc; glace cherries for mouths and garish jewellery; hundreds-and-thousands for decorative, non-gender specific clothing etc.

Bake 10 - 15minutes until slightly firm and then cool on tray. Then you can add piped icing if you wish...

Lovely dinner.

Today it is nine years since my father died.  Year after year I find that the simple fact of the repeated date has the disconcerting effect of snapping me back in time.  The intervening years seem to compress and fade and I am back in the day, the moment, the shock, the grief.

I guess we are programmed by date from a very early age - birthdays, Christmas, Friday the 13th.  I heard a terrible story recently of someone who found out at 16 that his parents had got the date wrong all these years and he had been celebrating his birthday a day late.  It makes a mockery of the whole thing if you do all the rituals on the wrong day, doesn't it? 

Today was sad but it was also a chance to stop and remember without shying away from the pain and some dear friends remembered too and made an effort to tell us they were thinking of us.  That helps.  It's nice not having to explain why today, particularly, I feel sad.  Such anniversaries are public license for emotion and faltering a little as you 'get on' with the stuff of life that fills all the other days.  

And my Mum and I made a small but rich celebration of it.  Linguine marinara for me, 'coin' pasta (large, round discs, homemade) with a rich, red sauce for her, rucola and parmesan salad in the middle and some sharp, clean pinot grigio.  Then coffee and a shared pistachio tart with pear poached in rose`.  It went perfectly with the 'remember when?' and  'remember how?' and the love for a very good man.  It was sad, but lovely.