recipes

Crumble

Apple crumble basics

Each of us carries through life a mental collection of recipes (size of which depends on age, experience or inclination) that can be executed by heart without reference to text or screen. These are the dietary life-lines that we draw upon in times of pantry shortage, time paucity or sheer lack of energy and inspiration. Normally consisting of a handful of basic ingredients, these dishes come together quickly and are reliably enjoyed by all and sundry. When a dessert situation such as this arises in our kitchen, and I need to draw on my cerebral spirax, my only requirements are an apple tree and a passionfruit vine….

Fruit crumbles are the simplest and most cost-effective way of getting a hot caramelised sweet onto the winter table. Throughout the coldest months, the fruit selection pales beside it’s summer sisters, but the offerings are perfect for baked puddings. Apples, pears, rhubarb and frozen berries stew beautifully under the crisp, oaty crumble blankets.

The topping constituents will already be in your pantry and I daresay your fruit bowl or crisper will contain the rest. So toss it all together before dinner and as you sit down to eat, slide it into the oven. By the time you are ready to land for the evening with that well-earned cup of tea, the crumble will have cooled just nicely to scoop and devour.

This apple and passionfruit crumble is a great one to commit to memory, for your next kitchen question mark.

apple and passionfruit crumble

5 – 6 medium apples, peeled, cored and thinly sliced
4-5 passionfruit
1/2 cup white sugar

topping
1/2 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup plain flour
60g chilled butter, chopped

  1. Preheat oven to 180 degrees celsius.
  2. In a mixing bowl combine apples, passionfruit, and white sugar. Spoon this combination into a baking dish.
  3. To make topping, combine topping ingredients in a bowl and rub butter into the mix until it all resembles the consistency of breadcrumbs.
  4. Sprinkle the topping mix over the apple mix and bake for 30-35 minutes or until topping is crisp and browned and the fruit is bubbling.
  5. Serve with cream or vanilla ice-cream.

apple crumble and ice cream

Postscript: passionfruit are at a premium right now, so subtracted, you will enjoy a lovely apple crumble, but added, it will be superb!

gardening · recipes

Caps

Backyard mushrooms

Without prior notice and seemingly from nowhere, a small community of field mushrooms made their recent appearance near the mailbox. When spied by the offspring, topics of discussion ranging from magical creatures (the youngest) to poisonous death (male teen) were triggered. The eldest, who has wisdom (and botanical knowledge) beyond her years, cancelled out both with evidence-based biological explanation and species definition. As the merits of all theories were staunchly argued, my thoughts were galloping in an entirely different direction, one that was leading directly to a beef and mushroom pie.

I’ve never yet met a child who will voluntarily eat a mushroom, and if you know of one this rare phenomenon should be donated to science for DNA cloning, then all further issue would be appreciative of their mother’s cooking. I was one from the genetic masses and could never bear the smell or the taste of the fleshy fungus, yet the mention of a day out ‘mushrooming’ would fill me with excitement. Running along with a bucket or basket and being first to spot a patch was pure delight. Flipping the caps over and waiting for adult confirmation of edibility before cutting and collecting was all part of the process. Sunny days, with a chill in the air, meant coats and red cheeks. Boots of course, as the recent rains responsible for coaxing up those crops had left the paddocks moist and spongy. Happy and weary at the end of it all, but not remotely interested in the catch that some poor individual (my mum) had to clean and slice later that night.

Now I am that cleaning and slicing individual. An individual with an adult palate who adores mushrooms in pies.

A close inspection of your garden or neighbourhood may reveal similar treasures and if they do, here is a wonderful place to stow them:

beef and mushroom pie

2 tbsp olive oil
1kg blade or chuck steak trimmed of fat and cut into 4cm cubes
1 large onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 tbsp plain flour seasoned with salt and pepper
250 ml beef stock
400g can crushed tomatoes
250g mushrooms, trimmed and sliced thickly
2 sheets ready rolled puff pastry
1 lightly beaten egg to glaze

  1. Heat 1 tablespoon of the oil in a large pan over medium to high heat. Brown meat in batches. Transfer cooked meat to a plate and set aside.
  2. Add remaining oil to pan over medium heat and add onion, stirring until softened. Add garlic and cook for 1 minute. Sprinkle flour over and cook for a further minute.
  3. Add the stock and mix in any residue from the base of the pan. Return beef to pan and add tomatoes. Cover and simmer over low heat, stirring occasionally, for 1 hour.
  4. Stir in the mushrooms and simmer, uncovered for 45 minutes until beef is tender and sauce has thickened.
  5. Transfer mixture to ovenproof pie dish(es) and leave to cool for 10 to 15 minutes.
  6. Preheat oven to 200 degrees celsius. Cover the pie(s) with pastry sheets and trim and press edges together. Brush with beaten egg and cut slits in the top to allow steam (and some gravy to escape).
  7. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until pastry is golden. (Depending on the size of your pie dish of course, this recipe will produce up to two family pies)

field mushrooms

Postscript: and should your garden or your botanical confidence be lacking, it’s a quick, even magical, trip to the local supermarket….

recipes

Succor

Chocolate self-saucing pudding

As Winter bares its ugly teeth there is little other recourse than to seek refuge in a huge helping of chocolate self-saucing pudding. Rising from a deep pool of steaming rich sauce, this robust pudding is so densely fortified with chocolate, cocoa and goodwill, it can ward off any biting chill in a single serve.

 To beat wolves from our door, we unleash this devilish dark pudding. As the rain beats against glass and wind buffets the external, all members of the clan dig in (and often two or three times). So, if ever there is a time to unearth the cherished pudding manuals, is doesn’t get any better than this.

And to flood your heavily shrouded home with the smell of baked chocolate, well after darkness has descended, is the very essence of how treasured olfactory memories begin.

If you have similar villainous elements that need to be kept at bay, this pudding is a magnificent way to armour your troops.

50g dark chocolate (I used Lindt 70% cocoa), chopped
50g butter, chopped
2 tbsp cocoa powder
2/3 cup milk
1 cup SR flour
1/2 cup caster sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 egg, beaten

fudge sauce
1 1/2 cups water
50g butter chopped
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup cocoa

icing sugar to dust the top

  1. Preheat oven to 180 degrees celsius and grease a 6 cup capacity oven proof dish.
  2. Combine chocolate, butter, sifted cocoa and milk in a saucepan and stir over low heat until chocolate has melted.
  3. Sift flour into a large bowl and stir in the sugars. Add the chocolate mixture and egg – mix well.
  4. Pour mixture into baking dish.
  5. To make the sauce, combine the water, butter, sugar and sifted cocoa in a saucepan and stir over low heat until combined.
  6. Pour the sauce over the back of a spoon across the surface of the pudding mix.
  7. Bake for approximately 45 minutes or until firm.
  8. Serve dusted with icing sugar and cream or vanilla ice cream on the side.

dusted chocolate pudding

Postscript: and perhaps had the Starks (of Game of Thrones notoriety) been aware of the properties of the humble chocolate pudding,  the threat that ”Winter is Coming” may have been nullified.

recipes

PS

Warm potato salad

If you roamed earth at the same time as Marcia Brady, fondue and teak veneer, then you would not be blamed for recoiling in horror at the mere mention of potato salad. Often appearing as unrecognisable dice submerged in mayonnaise or impossibly white cubes hailing straight from the can, early potato salads loomed large in glass bowls on buffets and at barbeques alike. Thankfully there was always a plethora of buttered bread-stick from which to extract ones ‘carbs’ allowing the menacing PS to be skilfully avoided.

Fortunately as we grew up, so did potato salad. In latter years it has been permitted to appear at the table wearing its skin and now dressed rather than drowned in mayonnaise. It now invites its friend texture along – so the salami crisps herself up for the occasion. And to ensure the two do not become so visually entangled as to merge into one, fresh aunt parsley attends in her contrasting manner as a wonderful chaperone for the dish.

Like us, ps has improved tremendously with age, so this weekend, build a giant bowl and treat everyone to some grown-up fare.

red-skinned potatoes (eg Desiree) – enough to fill a large bowl
a 250g whole pepperoni salami
1/2 a 235g jar of Thomy mayonnaise
juice of a lemon
cracked sea salt and black pepper
1/2 bunch continental parsley, roughly chopped

  1. Put unpeeled potatoes in a large pot of boiling salted water and cook until tender (but not falling apart).
  2. Drain and cut into small chunks and place in large serving bowl.
  3. Thinly slice the salami and cut these slices in half (you may only need half of the salami).
  4. Pan fry the salami until crisp. Drain on paper towel and then add to potatoes.
  5. Mix together mayonnaise, lemon juice and salt and pepper and stir this dressing through the potato and salami mix.
  6. Stir through the parsley and serve warm.

potato salad makings

Postscript: serve your ps with the grill or barbeque of your choice but if you can rid your home of occupants, it’s the perfect solo fork and bowl couch meal.

gardening · recipes

Bay

Bay leaves

An unsung hero from the herb clan that any braise or casserole worth its salt would be lost without. Yet rarely does this leaf receive a sliver of the attention it deserves – while pantries across the globe hoard them in packets and jars. Seldom appearing in the weekly shop, yet always managing to be on hand – the bay leaf, our culinary Winter herb.

It is not uncommon for stock of milk, butter or Milo to exhaust in this household, but bay leaves are forever in ready supply. Other than the fact that two are only ever required for a dish, my mother is the keeper of a bay tree and visits regularly. (We are therefore secure in the knowledge that should we fall on difficult economic times, we shall never be without them). She recently delivered a branch, which has been stripped of its foliage, which now sits drying in an open jar. It is quite lovely to reach in and pluck out a few to pop into the stew du jour.

The law of bay leaf use however, is that prior to ‘plating up’ they must be removed from the dish, as the nature of their flavour enhancing role is of background chorus rather than centre stage. Unfortunately busy cooks will forget laws. So in response to this, under this roof new dinner table lore has evolved –  and is evidenced by the exclamation, “Look, I got the lucky bay leaf!”

For your next ‘stew du jour’ this Moroccan-style Oxtail braise will ensure two of your lucky leaves will be put to good use.

ox tail braise

3kg oxtail pieces trimmed of fat
plain flour for dredging
1 tbsp ground ginger
4 tbsp olive oil
2 onions, chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
3 stalks celery, chopped
1 tsp ground cinnamon
8 cloves
800g can crushed tomatoes
2 bay leaves
zest of 1/2 an orange
2 cups beef stock

  1. Mix together the flour and ginger and coat the oxtail pieces. Dust off excess.
  2. Heat oil in large heavy based pan and add meat in small batches to brown all over. Transfer to slow cooker.
  3. Add onions, garlic, celery, cinnamon and cloves and cook for 1-2 minutes.
  4. Add tomatoes, bay leaves, orange zest and stock. Cook for another couple of minutes.
  5.  Pour this mixture over the ox tail and cook on low for up to 6 hours or until meat is tender.

(This can also be done in a casserole dish in the oven. Simply add 1 1/2 cups of red wine with the stock and cook at 160 degrees celsius for 2 hours or until meat is tender and falling off the bone.)

Dried bay leaves

Postscript: This post is dedicated to Z and her new slow cooker.

recipes

Gourd

IMG_2512

Apart from providing glamorous pre-midnight transportation to royal balls, pumpkins are a wonderful kitchen staple. Restaurants are incredibly inventive with them, delivering burnished coulis, sorbet, and ravioli to their anticipative patrons.  At our place, these orange stalwarts typically convert to soups, scones or roasted accompaniments – and are equally appreciated.

It was the perfect squat shape and the speckled skin, rather than shopping list requirement that ensured this weighty vegetable’s place in the trolley this week. There’s something quite reassuring about the sight of a big pumpkin on the kitchen bench. Perhaps it is the promise of soup and scones to come, or simply the rustic, homely image. Definitely those, but also something quite intangible yet equally significant. With the ever-increasing availability of pre-cut, prepackaged green grocery these days, the uniqueness of bringing home an uncut, unwrapped vegetable is so gratifying. And like a trophy for the wholesome shopper, worthy of proud display.

This week, haul your prize home, position it prominently and allow at least a day or two of solid admiration before applying your sharpest blade to provide your family with the spoils.

2 kg pumpkin cut into wedges with skin on
6 cups chicken stock
2 tbsp honey
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
fresh coriander

  1. Preheat oven to 200 degrees celsius.
  2. Place pumpkin in roasting dish and bake for up to an hour until soft and skin begins to crisp.
  3. Remove flesh from skin and place half in a blender with one cup of the stock. Blend until smooth and repeat with remaining flesh.
  4. Put all of the soup in a large pot with remaining stock, honey and mustard. Simmer for 10 minutes until heated through.
  5. Season with salt and pepper. Pour into bowls and garnish with coriander leaves.

Pumpkin scones

and for the scones….

2 cups SR flour
pinch salt
50g butter, chopped
1/4 cup cooked, mashed pumpkin
1 egg, beaten lightly
milk for brushing

  1. Preheat oven to 220 degrees celsius. Grease baking tray.
  2. Sift the flour and salt into a bowl. Rub in the butter.
  3. Add the pumpkin and egg.
  4. Mix into a dough then turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead briefly. A little extra flour may be required.
  5. Pat out into a round and cut with scone cutter. Place on prepared tray and brush tops with milk.
  6. Bake for 2o minutes or until risen and golden.

Postscript: we all have our ways with pumpkin soup and pumpkin scones. For me, it is to roast the pumpkin off before pureeing into soup, for depth of flavour. For the scones, as they are to be paired with the soup, sugar is deliberately omitted.

recipes

Enid

Cherry Almond cake

Oh for the days when you could pack the children off to a nearby forest with jam sandwiches and ginger beer for sustenance, only for them to return famished at dusk, to scoff drop-scones and cocoa before falling into bed to dream wonderous dreams of their adventure-filled day. How simple the meal plans, grocery shop and cooking would have been, not mention all that independent time to be had whilst they were up the Faraway tree somewhere or other.

I am of course, referring to the fantasy tales created by Enid Blyton – the ones that shaped my childhood from The Enchanted Wood through to The Secret Seven. I always longed to have midnight feasts of homemade chocolate cake and toffees in boarding schools, picnics of orange aid and macaroons in tree-houses or returning home to a ‘tremendous steamed pudding, with lashings of treacle’.

It seems another much respected writer of mine, Angela Mollard, has also been touched by Enid’s writing. Angela is equally fascinated with the food depicted in Blyton’s novels. She states, “It’s all “great slices of cherry cake”, melt-in-your-mouth shortbread and gingerbread described as “dark brown and sticky to eat”. Indeed, it’s a measure of Ms Blyton’s talent that she even makes “potted meat”, “tongue sandwiches” and “lashings of hard-boiled eggs” sound like lovely picnic fare.”

Upon reading that phrase “great slices of cherry cake”, I knew what would be coming out of my oven on the next available baking day….

And just so you know, this Cherry Almond cake really is scrumptious – with or without the lashings of ginger beer.

185g butter, room temperature, chopped
3/4 cup castor sugar
3 eggs
2 cups SR flour
2 tbspn almond meal
1/4 cup milk
200g glace cherries

  1. Preheat oven to 180 degrees celcius and grease a loaf tin.
  2. Place all ingredients, EXCEPT cherries in a mixing bowl and using an electric mixer, beat on low speed until all ingredients are combined.
  3. Increase speed to medium and beat until mixture is smooth and changed in color. Stir in cherries.
  4. Spread mixture into tin and bake for 50-60 minutes.
  5. Cool and dust generously with icing sugar.

cherry cake and Secret Seven

Postscript: and being that this is the 100th post for Plain and Simple Blog, it seemed fitting to reference such a magical and prolific writer as Enid Blyton (some sources quote her published tales were in excess of 7500!) Since October last, this blog has catalogued one hundred examples of the plain and simple elements of living – Enid has certainly set the bar high.

recipes

Medley

Fruit salad

We load our crispers enthusiastically as the week opens with good intention, virtuous feelings of nurturing and nutritional piety – and abundance of fruit. By mid-week, health promises and resolutions lay broken like pie crust and the crispers are still groaning. As you stare down the barrel of the coming week-end, with fruit in quantities far too excessive to clear out into unsuspecting lunchboxes, it’s time for fruit salad.

And this week, we did just that. An assembly of refrigerator pickings gathered on the chopping board. After the halcyon days of summer stone fruit, what now remained was a fairly pedestrian selection. However, once the ‘pedestrians’ were chopped and a few early winter newcomers were included, we had quite a sunny bowl before us. Topped with a delicious orange syrup, helpings disappeared in record time.

As a result, the crispers were cleared, nutritional equilibrium was restored and children retired to their beds on bowls of fruit rather than ice-cream. I’d say some self-righteousness was in order.

But before I topple off the edge of this moral high ground, here is how to produce the lovely, sweet orange syrup that covered it all…..

1 cup sugar
1 cup water
1 tsp vanilla essence
finely grated rind of one orange
juice of one orange

  1. Place all of the ingredients into a medium saucepan, and mix together.
  2. Place over medium heat and stir until sugar has dissolved and the mixture comes to the boil.
  3. Reduce heat and simmer for approximately 15-20 minutes or until the liquid has become syrupy.
  4. Chill well before pouring over large serving bowl of fruit salad.

fruit salad with orange syrup

Postscript: As we prepare to undergo the next season of Masterchef where no doubt we shall be encrusted, caramelised, deglazed and trussed, at least we know that performing the ‘chop, mix and pour’ trilogy will have us savouring fresh produce at its simplest and best.

recipes

Floret

Cauliflower cheese

Autumn gradually segues into Winter, and as it does by 5.00pm kitchens throughout our suburbs begin to emit aromas of succulent roasted cuts. As to what constitutes a ‘roast dinner’ is as unique to each family as the padprints of its members. Raise the topic and prepare for an onslaught from passionate folk who will wax lyrical over their family’s version.

Life is busy and as a consequence, meals are pared down. Let’s not allow our sacred roasts to become casualties of modern times. What was originally a family meal with many accompanying side dishes, is sometimes reduced to meat and basic veg. Coursing through the bloodlines of our particular family roast ancestry, are baking dishes of golden cauliflower cheese. So, when I spied these beauties at our local supermarket this week, a culinary genome was activated.

cauliflowers

That night, positioned beside a crispy golden bird, roasted potatoes and blanched greens sat a piping hot baking dish of Cauliflower Cheese. And as the metal serving spoon broke through the crust to scoop out the  florets nestled in their creamy sauce, I’m sure I heard a collective gasp from the heavens.

1/2 large or 1 small cauliflower
40 g butter
2 tbsp flour
1 cup milk
generous handful of grated cheese
1-2 rashers bacon

  1. Slice cauliflower into manageable florets and steam or microwave until tender. Arrange in baking dish.
  2. Melt the butter over medium heat.
  3. Remove from heat and stir in the flour until lumps disappear. Return to heat and cook for 1 minute.
  4. Add milk and increase heat, stirring constantly until sauce thickens. Add cheese, reduce heat and keep stirring until sauce is smooth and thick (add extra milk if required).
  5. Pour sauce over cauliflower and sprinkle bacon over the top.
  6. Place in a 180 degree celsius oven and cook until sauce begins to brow and bacon crisps – about 15 minutes.

cauliflower cheese with roast potatoes

Postscript: This side dish is but one of many that families across the globe serve with their roasted meats. I wonder what yours is.

recipes

Earl

Earl Grey Chocolate Cake

Certain days call for sophistication. Heels above trainers, straighteners in place of hair ties and tailored rather than swathed. Life may not be taking you anywhere special but sometimes you need to feel as though it is (and you are). When these days are upon us, not a detail should be overlooked, right down to the cuppa. This is the day to politely decline the everyday leaf – an Earl Grey will do very nicely thank you.

Opening a Twinings tea sachet always feels a bit luxurious. It seems to create a sense of occasion as a newly opened selection box of chocolates or a gift tin of biscuits will do. Perhaps this harks back to a long past era when these everyday indulgences were ‘special treats’ and like Pavlov’s dogs, our automated response of pleasure is ignited at the break of the seal. Whatever the precursor, it’s lovely to have a small collection of these packages sequestered in the pantry when the need for a little spoiling arises. On occasions such as these, a fragrant Earl Grey is my (and Nigella’s I believe) sachet of choice.

And as the glamorous assistants on the Chanel counter will advise, for maximum effect,  it is always best to layer your fragrances (ie purchase the entire range). So, in keeping with this prestigious advice, you can ‘layer up’ the Earl experience by baking one of these divine Earl Grey chocolate cakes to accompany your next EG brew. A lovely fudgey chocolate cake with the infusion of tea adding another dimension altogether.

With this powerhouse of an international ingredient list collaboration: (Swiss Lindt chocolate, British Twinings tea, Greek yoghurt, Danish Lurpak butter and Melburnian boiling water), how could this cake possibly fail to deliver anything other than the height of baked sophistication?

6 Earl Grey tea bags
1 cup boiling water
120g butter, softened
3 eggs
2 cups sugar
100 dark chocolate, melted & cooled
2 cups plain flour
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1 tsp baking powder
pinch of salt
1/2 cup plain yogurt
icing sugar for dusting

  1. Preheat oven to 180° C. Grease a bundt tin or large cake pan (this makes a generous cake).
  2. Brew the tea in the water 3 to 5 minutes. Remove the tea bags and set the tea aside.
  3. Cream the butter and sugar until fluffy and beat in the eggs, one at a time.
  4. Blend in the chocolate.
  5. Mix through the flour, bicarbonate of soda, baking powder and salt.
  6. Mix through the yogurt and tea alternately. Your batter will be light and fluffy. Pour into the pan.
  7. Bake for 50 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the cake comes out cleanly.
  8. Cool for  5 minutes, turn out of the pan and dust with icing sugar

a slice of earl grey chocolate cake

Postscript: And with the recent Gatsby mood infiltrating our consciousness, you can also pour a cup, cut a slice and channel your inner Daisy Buchanan.