Oh, it's such a perfect day....

Three reasons it's such a perfect day.

Reason number one: I went running this morning up near Riverside Church in Harlem and the bells, the church bells started pealing. And I thought to myself, you know that sounds a lot like a Lou Reed song. But from a church bell tower? And it kept going and I kept running and then I was like, man, I have to ask someone. Maybe I'm really losing it.

So I turned around and ran back towards the church until I saw a lady walking her dog. "Excuse me," I asked. "Is that Lou Reed's It's Such A Perfect Day." She was a little older and she said, "I'm not entirely sure what that song is but yesterday it was a song from The Sounds of Music." I needed confirmation, so I saw this guy in the park and asked him. He looked up, smiled and said, "You got it." It was so brilliant - church bells, doing a Lou Reed song. And it wasn't like maybe that's Lou Reed, you know if you half listen and squint your eyes it sounds more like Lou Reed. Nope, there was no mistaking it - Lou Reed - out, loud and proud. Maybe the Church are recruiting, who knows, but whoever was swinging on those bells this morning was a bell ringing genius.

Reason Number 2: My identical twin sister and her husband, my brother in law are coming to New York from Perth, Australia for two whole weeks in June. When the weather was cold and wet a couple of weeks ago and I was feeling all lonely and blue, I said to James, "I'm lonely, don't you see, I've had company since conception." A touch on the dramatic side, ah yes, but that's a genetic thing, but now my conception companion and husband are headed Stateside. And that definitely kicks things into the Perfect Day, hell, Perfect Fourteen Days Category.


Reason Number 3: I've worked out to caramelize white chocolate. A couple of days ago, David Lebovitz on his amazing food website talked about an invite only workshop he attended at Ecole de Grand Chocolat Valrhona in the little town of Tain l'Hermitage, in France. It is an oustanding article/post and well worth checking out, but the thing that got under my skin was the caramelized white chocolate. How did they do it? I woke up during the night and was thinking about this. So I did a little research. They roast it. What I've done, is to make caramelized white chocolate truffles.

These are decadent, debaucherous, sinful, immoral and wicked - and oh so good, but not without peril. I had to have a few attemtps at caramelizing the white chocolate before I got it right. The first came out really grainy, the second, I don't even know how to explain it, way too dry perhaps and the third - pretty good.

Here's what you do:

Preheat oven to 265 F (130 C).

1/2 lb (250 g) white chocolate
1 cup cream
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 oz (30g) butter
cocoa powder as needed

Take this white chocolate and grate it over a tray. I tried it chopped, I tried it shaved, grating it worked the best for me.

Put the tray in the oven, after ten or so minutes, take the tray out and scrape the chocolate back and forth. The cocoa butter solids will have started caramelize, you want to remix these back in, so it becomes molten again.



This process took about forty minutes for me and I took the tray out four times and scraped it with a palette knife really, really well. You want it to look like the color of butterscotch.




Bring 1 cup of cream and the vanilla extract almost to the boil. Take off the heat and allow to cool a little (about ten minutes.) Add caramelized white chocolate. Stir in the one ounce of butter until completely melted and combined.

Put the mixture in the refrigerator so that it firms up. Either pipe small rounds or use a teaspoon and wearing latex gloves with a little cornmeal (cornflour) roll them and then drop them into the cocoa and roll again.



At this stage you will probably need to return these to the refrigerator so that they set.

Enjoy.

Mrs Vera Edwards Quick Tomato Sauce

As the cornbread got a much better response from James than it did from me, I thought I'd post the sauce. When I toasted a slice and put it with the shrimp that I cooked in browned butter, salt, pepper and lemon juice and a simple tomato sauce, it really came together. Butter kind of makes everything come to together in my world.

If you don't like or are allergic to prawns, you could make this with chicken, it would work just as well. I would roast a well seasoned breast of chicken and then shred it.




I found this recipe in a Soul Food Cookbook by Joyce White, the book was published in 1998. It is a collection of recipes from African American churches around the country. In it, she gives all the history behind the dish, who it came from, where they worshipped and what they did at their church. This one is from a Mrs Vera Edwards. A member of the Newman Memorial United Methodist Church in Brooklyn since the 1930's when her parents trying to escape the effects of the Depression left Baltimore and moved to New York. She learned to play piano there and later opened her own studio in Crown Heights Brooklyn where she taught for fifteen years.

I thought it might be a little too salty with the soy sauce and the salt, but it wasn't for my palette. However, if you are not a salt lover, omit the salt and use soy and you can season to taste. I did add a little sugar though and a little lemon juice. This tasted good when made and great a few hours later.

Mrs Vera Edwards Quick Tomato Sauce
2 tablespoons olive oil
5-6 basil leaves
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 teaspoon salt
a couple of good grinds of black pepper
1/8 teaspoon cayenne
1 tablespoon soy sauce
2 cups fresh tomato diced (skin, seeds and all)

(Sugar and lemon juice to taste - optional)
Chop the basil, onion and mince the garlic.
Heat the oil in a medium saucepan. Stir into the pan the herb, onion and garlic. Saute over medium-low heat for about five minutes or until the onions are soft and translucent.

Add the salt, black pepper, cayenne, soy sauce and tomatoes. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat, cover and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes.


(Apologies for those of you, who just had to get up and turn a light on, it's not you, it's me - but with a flash, it just made it all look greasy.)

Serve it over the top of your shrimp with toasted cornbread and extra fresh basil. I also ran out of creme fraiche, so I used natural yoghurt with a squeeze of lemon juice, a little salt and black pepper and that worked just fine as well.

Corn Bread

I rang my mother in law. This was my fourth attempt at cornbread and this was the best yet, but no cigar, not even close. I have actually never met my mother in law, face to face. We talk on the phone often, but she was going through chemotherapy when we got married and couldn't make it to the wedding. The first time I ever spoke to her on the telephone she said, "Well hey angel, how you doing?" She is very, very kind and very funny. When James is on the phone to her, he is always laughing, and I mean howling. How could you not love a woman like that?

So I rang her about five minutes ago and said to her, "Yvonne, what do you do with your cornbread?" "Ooh baby girl, James (her husband), he don't like real corn bread, he like the packet stuff, that Jiffy, me, I like to operate on my cornbread. I put egg, cornmeal, a little flour but I put that with my egg, half a teaspoon of sugar, and then I love salt, so a teaspoon of salt. You mix it up good and keep tasting, when it tastes good you stop. Put the fat or grease in the skillet and put it in the oven. You wanna get it real hot, so you hear the thing popping, then you take it out and stir your batter in, then you put it back in the oven until it's golden brown. Did I tell you baking powder, baking powder you need that, you need it to rise. And milk."

So then I told her about my cornbread recipe, which I've adapted after three failed attempts. It's got a lot more sugar and honey than my mother in laws. And her response - "ooh your father in law would like that one. I don't know why I'm the one with diabetes, that man puts a teaspoon of sugar, a small envelope of fake sugar and a tablespoon of honey in his coffee. I tell that crazy man, all that sugar is going to kill him."

She promises to show me when we go to Chicago in a month to meet all of James' family. I am happy to meet anyone but I am so excited to meet his Mum. Because she never measures anything, I asked her were any of the recipes written down. And she said no, everyone always just tells each other. I promise to share the recipe. But for now, here's an okay, kind of cornbread.

Just quickly for those of you in Australia, cornmeal, is bought as polenta down under or ground maize. Over here in the States, they know polenta only as the dish, not as an ingredient.

Preheat the oven to 400 F.

2 cups cornmeal (polenta)
2 cups all-purpose (plain) flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon salt
2 extra large eggs
2 1/2 cups buttermilk
3 tablespoons honey

Heat a 10 inch cast iron skillet over high heat for about one minute. Add 8 tablespoons of butter (for those of you in the States, that's one stick) and cook for 4 to 5 minutes until the butter browns. You don't want it burnt. It will have a fabulous nutty smell. Take it off the heat.

Combine the cornmeal, flour, sugar, baking powder and baking soda in a bowl. Mix well. Create a hole in the center, like a well and pour in your combined, eggs, buttermilk and honey. Mix it gently, fold in the nut brown butter.


Add another two tablespoons of butter when that foams, add your batter into the pan. Transfer the pan to the oven and cook for 25 to 30 minutes, until golden brown and set.

I served the cornbread with sauteed shrimp (prawns) in butter, pepper and lemon juice with a tomato and basil sauce and a dollop of creme fraiche.

Baked Vanilla Cheesecake With Blueberry Topping

Because I worked for a lot of years as the only chef on board a yacht, sometimes, well, a lot of times, I would need inspiration. It is one of the joys and that's saying something because professional kitchens just like yachts are like the little girl with the curl in the middle of her forehead. When they are good, they are very very good and when they are bad they are horrid. But the thing I loved and missed the most are the ideas or discussions of dishes and shared experiences that get tossed around in a commercial setting. In one kitchen I worked in, we had a photo shoot for a newspaper with an accompanying article every week, so there was always a conversation about what to do for the paper this week. It generated lively debate and you always learned something.

As I didn't have chefs to bounce ideas off or to take inspiration from on a daily basis, I relied on my endless supply of cookbooks. Some of which would have to be among the most well traveled books on the planet. And they're heavy, really heavy. And I loved them, they gave me comfort. I probably shouldn't tell you this, but for whatever reason, I have the favor of the excess luggage gods. I had to pay twenty five dollars once leaving New Zealand for being a good fifteen kilograms over the limit. That's it. In all the years I have traveled.

I did have a close call in Brisbane, Australia a few years ago. I had my Visa card out ready to pay when my father just reached over and took it. He flashed me a "be cool" look and then casually asked the man behind the counter how full was the flight? "Lot of spare seats on this one," came the reply. And Dad gave me a wink and handed back my visa card and I gave him a huge big smile and added another enormous tick in the already overcrowded "Another Reason Why My Dad Is A Legend Box." My record to date and I will no doubt be punished for this blatant showing off was leaving Tahiti with a kite surfer and over sixty kilograms of luggage - didn't pay a penny.

Some cookbooks only got one tour of duty, others were recalled every time, and they became my friends. Granted it was one sided, they didn't and still don't know I exist. But I would sit on the edge of the door to the galley to catch the breeze and think, oh, I wonder if Matt (first name basis, you know, because we're friends) has something, maybe Diana, Shannon, or was it Claire that I read that recipe in for cheesecake the other day.

Then I'd fly down the stairs and into my cabin, throw the book on my bunk and find the needed recipe - see, just like friends. Supportive, comforting and always there in a time of crisis and with the added bonus of that they often made me look very good.

This recipe for Baked Vanilla Cheesecake is from the sublime Head Pastry Chef, Claire Clark at the famous, French Laundry in the Napa Valley, California. It's the kind of recipe I love as she says that she was given it by a friend's mother when she was working in London. Claire and I have become really good friends over the years (she doesn't know this) as hers is a cookbook where everything works - the measurements are correct, the baking times spot on.

Cheesecake Part:
21/4lb (1kg) Philadelphia cream cheese
9 oz (250 g) caster sugar
6 medium eggs, lightly beaten
1 vanilla pod
1 capful of vanilla extract
2 tablespoons icing sugar

The Base:
91/4 oz (260g) digestive biscuits
3 oz (90g) unsalted butter

Topping:
6 fl oz (175ml) creme fraiche
1 oz (25 g) caster sugar
1/4 vanilla pod

Heat your oven to 350 F (180 C/Gas Mark 4). Line the base of a 10 inch (25cm) spring form tin.

Make your base. Put the digestive biscuits in a plastic bag. Loosely hold the end closed and with a rolling bin bash them into a fine crumb (great if you're mad with someone.)


This is halfway through the process, you want them really fine.

Melt your butter and then stir in the crumbs. Pour this into the lined cake tin and press down firmly to make an even base.

Cook this for about 15-18 minutes until lightly colored. This smells wonderful when it's ready, take it out and leave it to cool.

Now, and this is important, reduce your oven down to 300 F (150 C/Gas Mark 2). You do this so that when you put the cheesecake in to bake, it won't rise in the pan. More on that later.

In a large bowl, beat the cream cheese and sugar together until smooth. You can use a wooden spoon or an electric beater.




Take your six lightly beaten eggs and add some a little at a time to the mixture. I would do this by hand, I have found that with an electric beater, you can add too much air into the mixture. But the choice is yours.

Slice the vanilla bean down the middle (longways) and using the tip of a small paring knife, scape the vanilla beans out of both sides and add to the cream cheese mix. Put in your vanilla extract and stir well to combine.

Spoon this mixture over the biscuit base and level off the top with a palette knife or spatula. Bake in the oven, after about thirty minutes, check to see that the cheesecake isn't rising in the tin, if it is, turn your oven down to 275 F (140 C/Gas Mark 1).

Allow it to cook for another thirty to fifty minutes depending on your oven. You'll know it's done when a skewer inserted in the center comes out clean. Let the cheesecake cool for ten minutes.

Make the topping, add the contents of the scraped vanilla bean, the sugar and creme fraiche and combine. Spread this mixture over the cheesecake and level it with a palette knife. Another option is to sprinkle fresh blueberries on to the topping before baking it. They burst in the oven and look and taste great.

Return to the oven for another ten minutes. Leave the cheesecake to cool to room temperature. Transfer it to the refrigerator for two hours to firm up. Be sure to run a small knife around the edge of the cheesecake before opening the spring form tin.




Cut with a knife that you've heated first. Keeps for about three day, covered in the refrigerator.

It's a Pineapple in Cambodia

I went to Cambodia in 1997. In those days you could only fly into Phnom Penn and then exit via their only land border crossing into Vietnam. The trains were prohibited to foreigners but the first three carriages were free to locals as explosives were often placed along the tracks by the Khmer Rouge. So if your economic status was such that you couldn't afford a ticket, you got to be the mine sweeper. It was my first experience of abject poverty - entire families living on a mound of rubbish. I gave money to a beggar in the Russian market and was surrounded in seconds by twenty other beggars, all obvious victims of land mines and missing legs or arms or horrifically disfigured from burns. It was completely overwhelming and very humbling.






I had of course promised my Mum and Dad that I wouldn't go to Cambodia. But when I made that promise I hadn't met the guy who wrote the Lonely Planet Guide to Cambodia and said that I had to see the temples of Angkor Wat. He was so convincing and they are incredible, I was extremely lucky to see them when there was only a handful of tourists at each site. So I rang my best friend Nat and told her I was going and then told her if I hadn't got in contact with her by three weeks to ring the embassy and Mum and Dad. She told me later, understandably, never to do that to her again.

I was so naive. In my guidebook it said that there was a place called Bertie Books with a great selection of books to exchange. I was in need of a new read, so I headed there. When I got there the sign said, "Room with fan, - one hour, five dollars," "Room with fan - eight hours, eight dollars," "Room with fan - twenty four hours, twelve dollars." In a moment of genius, I thought, I'll save some money here - I'll just tell them I only used the fan for one hour. It wasn't until the guy behind the counter did the universal hip thrusting movement for copulation that I twigged - oh, okay, got you, this is a brothel as well as a bookshop (that didn't actually have any books either.)

I had met a couple of German guys in the market and had arranged to go and play cards with them that night. We went for a walk around their hostel when a red sight light (you know the red dot in the movies that means a sniper is going to take you out) rested on us. I didn't even notice, the German guy, Goran, who had just been telling me how he wanted to open up a bar in Ghana saw the light and just screamed "Run." We sprinted down around the corner, and stopped when we heard two little boys convulsing with laughter. They probably did it to every tourist in town. I couldn't help but think that if my brother had been Cambodian he would have been doing exactly the same thing! I did get a postcard from Goran a couple of years later, sent from Ghana - he did open his bar.

It was the next day while walking that a rickshaw stopped and asked me if I needed a ride. I really didn't, but a taxi driver told me that his life had improved so much since driving a car. Before when he was motorbike taxi, no girls were interested. He said the rickshaw drivers didn't stand a chance of getting a girlfriend. Being the hopeless romantic that I am, I made a promise to myself that in the name of love I would only use rickshaws wherever possible. It was a rickshaw driver who stopped at a small stand on the side of the road where they sold pineapple - freshly cut pineapple with chili, salt, sugar and lime juice. It was simple, delicious and perfect.

Here's a relish that is very similar, except the pineapple is cooked. It's delicious with roasted meats or ham. And it will keep for three to four days in the refrigerator.

Pineapple Relish

2 tablespoons peanut oil
1 tablespoon freshly grated ginger
2 cloves of garlic roughly chopped
2 red chilies medium hot, deseeded and finely chopped
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 pineapple
1 lime, juiced

Heat only tablespoon of peanut oil and fry the ginger and garlic until they are golden brown.

Transfer them to a mortar and pestle, grind the ginger, garlic, salt, sugar and chili to a fine paste.




Skin the pineapple and cut into quarter length ways, making sure you remove the hard central core. Then cut into slices.

Heat the remaining oil and fry the pineapple on each side until golden.


Drain on paper towel, then chop into small pieces and place in a bowl where you can mix in the garlic/chili mixture and the lime juice.



Check your seasoning, adjust with sea salt and a good grind of freshly cracked black pepper. It should have a balance of hot, sweet, salty and sour.

It's getting warmer...

From the moment I stepped out the door - the day smacked of, it's going to be a good one. The days are warmer and longer, people are out on the streets chatting, pretty girls in pretty dresses and cherry blossom trees in bloom. Not a heavy coat, scarf or rain boot in sight. The trees that I thought might never again have leaves and flowers even have birds in them again. I walked past one little bird and it started up this really pretty song and I thought right back at you little birdie.

Then I saw the hearse.

Well if you wanted an example of life not being fair, there's a good one. Imagine it, you survive a brutal New York winter only to die early in the spring. If these things are predestined as some believe - then please don't make me endure a New York winter and finish me off in the spring. Knock me off halfway through through the autumn. Please.

This all happened on my downtown to Chinatown. The photo at the top are the rice noodles that I ate for lunch while watching the games of handball. All of those noodles for $1.35. Another reason to love Chinatown. We were having our friends, Sarah and Jay over for what was supposed to be a farewell dinner and I was cooking Thai. Sarah and Jay both play the trombone and Sarah has been chosen to play in an orchestra in Brazil.Bureaucracy unfortunately, has played havoc with their lives and instead of kicking it up with Brazilians this summer and putting the Portuguese language classes to full use - looks like they'll be Stateside a little longer. Which is great for me, but bitterly disappointing for them. They'll go, I know they will, just a little later.

On the menu was Mussaman curry of chicken, - Sarah's favorite and the most complex and delicious of Thai curries. Thai food is one of the most sophisticated and balanced cuisines on the planet. I have been to Thailand many times and taken cooking lessons there on two separate occasions. David Thompson in his outstanding cookbook Thai Food gives a little history to the dish. The original dish used just dried spices, potatoes and onions and found it's origins in Persia. It was brought to the Court of Ayuthyia in the sixteenth century from Sheik Ahmed who was there with the first Persian envoy to Thailand. He obviously liked what he saw as Sheik Ahmed remained in Thailand and established a family called the Bunnark's. Over time this family's power rivalled that of the Royal Family. This recipe is from Jip Bunnark.





I'm not going to lie, it's time consuming, it's a good idea to make double the amount of paste and freeze it for another day, because it is delicious. One last thing, if you haven't got a good Thai Book - I couldn't recommend David Thompson's book more highly, it is the best one on the market and worth every penny.

3 chicken legs
kecap manis (sweet soy sauce)
oil for deep frying
8 small pickling onions or red shallots, peeled
4-5 cups coconut milk
5 green cardamon pods, roasted
1/2 cup roasted peanuts
4 bay leaves roasted
3 cups coconut cream
2 tablespoons - 1 cup palm sugar
3-5 tablespoons fish sauce
2-5 tablespoons tamarind water
1 cup pineapple juice

For the paste
5 dried red chilies, deseeded, soaked and drained
4 tablespoons chopped red shallot
5 tablespoons chopped garlic
2 tablespoons chopped galangal
3 tablespoons chopped lemongrass
1 tablespoon scraped and chopped cilantro (coriander) root
large pinch of salt
2 tablespoons of roasted peanuts
1 tablespoon coriander seeds, roasted and ground
1 teaspoon cumin seeds, roasted and ground
5 cloves, roasted and ground
1/2 nutmeg coarsely pounded and briefly roasted
2 sheaths of mace, roasted and ground
1 inch piece of cassia bark, roasted and ground
4 cardamon pods, roasted and ground.

(I didn't use the mace or cassia bark and I only used one teaspoon of ground nutmeg and it all still worked.)




Cut the chicken into four - it's a good idea to use a cleaver. If you don't have a cleaver, cut through the flesh all the way around the bone so it is exposed and then use the heel of your knife to cut through the bone cleanly. This way you won't get splinters of bone in your curry. Better still, ask the butcher to cut the legs into four for you.)

Pour over enough kecap manis over the chicken to marinate it. You don't have to do this step but the chicken goes a lovely golden color after deep frying when you marinate it first. I marinated mine for about two hours.

Peel and quarter your potatoes and then soak them in water in order to extract any excess starch.

To make the paste, combine the chillies, shallots, garlic, galangal, lemongrass and cilantro (coriander) root, and roast in a wok with a little water until brown and fragrant. Puree these roasted ingredients in a blender and then add the salt and roasted ground spices until smooth.

Dry the chicken off really well, and deep fry until golden. Drain on paper towel and do the same with the potatoes and onions. Transfer the chicken to a large pot or fry pan and cover it with coconut milk. Add the cardamon pods, peanuts and bay leaves. After about ten minutes, check the chicken, if it's almost cooked then add the potatoes and onions.




Now in a wok or frying pan, crack the coconut cream. I did try and take photos of this but unfortunately they didn't turn out. Put the coconut cream in the pan and turn the heat up quite high. What you are doing is separating the oil out to fry the paste in and the solids give that lovely coconut flavor. This takes time, the coconut cream will start to look curdled and then you start seeing the oil separate out.

Add the paste, turn down the heat and simmer for at least ten minutes. Stir this often as it will stick and you don't want it to burn. The paste will become increasingly oily. When it is really sizzling and oily add the palm sugar and allow it to caramelize. This gives the curry a lovely color. You add as much palm sugar as you like, if you like it sweet then add a lot, you know what to do.

The amount of fish sauce and tamarind water that you use will depend on how sweet your dish is. Add the paste to the chicken and potatoes, mixing well and add the pineapple juice - it should taste sweet, sour and salty.




I served the curry with fresh cilantro (coriander), roasted peanuts and deep fried onions.

But I WANTED the Kitchen Aid, I NEEDED it!

So I entered a competition yesterday to win a kitchen aid on this fantastic site www.thepioneerwoman.com I even showed James and said what color will I choose tomorrow when I win. Anything but pink was his reply. And mine, oh, I really liked the pink.... Anyway, all that future planning was in vain, because low and behold I didn't win. And I was shocked. Seriously disappointed.

I couldn't believe it.

I was channeling the winning vibe, I had talked to all the dead people I know (I knew them all alive once, except Janis Joplin), checked the stars, crossed my fingers, knocked on wood and submitted a couple of recipes. When the competition closed last night there were more than fifteen thousand plus entries. Undeterred, that kitchen aid was coming to Harlem. It is this kind of irrational hope that keeps casinos in business, although they normally combine irrational hope with alcohol, I was stone cold sober. Not sure how that reflects on me? I checked the winners and shockingly I ended up with zip, zilch, zero, nothing. Back to my 9.99 go like the clappers electric beaters, I go.

So I thought, okay I'm going to make the dessert part of my "losing" entry when I realized while making it, the recipe didn't even need an electric beater. In fact you only need a knife, a spoon and a fork! No machines at all required, not even my $9.99 go like the clappers electric beaters. I mean I could lie and say serve it with whipped cream but it's so much better with ice cream. I know, I know, I'm a genius.....

So here it is, no Kitchen Aid Needed Spiced Apple Cake with Maple Caramel.
1 tablespoon of butter
4 Granny Smith Apples, peeled, cored and diced
juice of 1 lemon
1 lb (450 g) self raising flour
1 lb (460 g) superfine (caster) sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp pumpkin pie (mixed) spice
1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
a pinch of salt
4 1/2 oz unsalted butter,
3 eggs
1/4 cup light olive oil
2 teaspoons natural vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 350 F (180 C/Gas 4)
Grease and line a 12 inch round tin cake with baking paper.

In a frying pan, heat the butter until it starts to foam. Then put add your apples and lemon juice and cook until the apples begin to soften. Don't worry if they brown a little.

Spread on a baking tray and cool.

Sift the flour, sugar, cinnamon, mixed spice, nutmeg and salt together. Rub in the butter until it looks like breadcrumbs.

Whisk together the eggs, oil and vanilla. Fold into the dry ingredients. Lastly stir through the cooked apples. Pour the mixture into the cake tin and bake for 50-60 minutes.

To check if it is does, insert a skewer into middle and if it comes out clean - it's done!


Let the apple cake cool in the tin before turning out onto a wire rack.



Maple Caramel:
1 cup maple syrup (the real McCoy not the immitation syrup)
1/2 cup whipping cream
2 1/4 oz (60 g) unsalted butter

Bring the maple syrup and cream to the boil in a small pan.


Simmer for 2-3 minutes, remove from the heat and beat in the butter.



Slice the warm apple cake into wedges and serve with vanilla bean ice cream and big delicious spoonful of maple caramel. I LOVE desserts that have hot elements and cold elements together.

No Collard Greens at 125th

I was in the local grocery shop on Sunday getting a couple of things for breakfast when I passed two more mature aged African American women, dressed up, wearing hats, having been to church and chatting about okra.

The thinner older one started:
"Oh, I always ate my okra, I remember Mrs Wilsons from Sunday school, she used to say way back when, you got to eat your okra."

The fuller figured one replied:
"I remember Mrs Wilsons, she still alive, she must be dead, she dead or she alive?"

"Oh no, Lord, she dead. Mrs Wilsons, she been dead a long time. You know, I bet you like collard greens."

"I do, that's true. I do, I love collard greens."

"Me too, I love em."

So I suddenly became obsessed with baby food (it was the closest thing to them) while totally eavesdropping on their conversation. Which is one of my favorite past times of living in New York City having spent a lot of years in countries where I either didn't speak the language or didn't speak it well enough to follow all the details. I was hoping to get a recipe, an anecdote or something for collard greens.

"I tell you something, I went to a store down near 125th and I couldn't even find collard greens. Imagine it, no collard greens."


"They got them here, right over there."


"And I tell you, I tell you what that means. I tell you, I tell you right now, those white people are trying to get all us blacks and Hispanics to move out to, I don't know, cotton picking Brooklyn or the Bronx or something. Did you hear about the Apollo theater, did you - some white man bought that, he did, we was "associated" with some other theater but a white man, owning the Apollo theater."

Then there was a lull in the conversation and the larger lady leaned in and whispered something. To which the petite lady answered:

"I don't care, I'll tell them to their faces, where were all them white folk years ago when no one wanted to live here?"

At this junction in the conversation I decided to exit stage left. Didn't really think a polite, "excuse me, how would you cook these collard greens, would go down very well." But I did get my anecdote and a look into the community. And besides, her frustrations are real and very valid.

As history goes, for many years white people didn't want to live in Harlem for a very, very long time and the continued gentrification must make their blood boil. They weren't granted the same access to other neighborhoods and now they feel that they are being forced out by investors increasing the prices, building condo's and eradicating affordable housing. The stories that the superintendent told me of living here during the crack epidemic are so brutal, it would turn you off your food. Hell, the stories James told me about how this building used to operate even five years ago are disturbing enough.

And besides, I liked the old lady's fire and passion, hope I've got that much fight at her age. I definitely got my anecdote and something really more powerful than a recipe. I like that when something as ubiquitous as collard greens in this lady's world goes missing it is interpreted in such a way - food is powerful like that.

So I grabbed some beets (beetroot) and pickled them and then used them in a salad, and will ask my mother in law what to do with the collard greens. These last forever (I have trouble talking without exaggerating, so translation, a good couple of months) in the refrigerator if you store them in the pickling liquid.

1 cup of rice wine vinegar
75 g sugar
1 clove
1 teaspoon salt
5 black peppercorns
1/2 inch knob ginger, sliced
1/2 long red chili, cut in half length ways
1/2 teaspoon yellow mustard seeds
1/2 teaspoon brown mustard seeds
1 clove garlic, cut in half
2-3 Large Beets (beetroot)

Put everything into a pot, add 2 3/4 cups of water and bring to the boil.

Add the beets (2-3 large ones) and then simmer for 30-40 minutes or until tender.


(ooh steamy!)



Remove from the heat and set aside to cool.


Peel the beets with your fingers if it's Halloween otherwise use gloves.

Cut into dice or leave whole, pour pickling mixture around and store.



You can use them in salads, on sandwiches or on their own.

Claribel - My New Sifter

Last Friday I did go and buy a new sifter, but then I burnt my hand so the news of the new sifter got superseded. After I bought it, I picked up some saffron at a fruit and vegetable store and happened to put it on the counter while I was repacking my bag. The young girl with her name badge reading Claribel behind the counter saw it.

"Oh my God, it's beautiful. Where'd you get it? I want one. It's so cute? What's it for?"

"It's for sifting flour," I said.

"Expensive?"

"Twelve dollars."

"Ooooh good, that's good right?"

"I thought it was alright, they have smaller ones with a handle that you turn, you know with a little wooden knob."

"Oooooh yeah, I want one of them, I'm not gonna do the flour thing with it, I just think it's sooooo cute."

So I know refer to my sifter as Claribel - that much passion has to have an excellent effect on the cooking even if she just wanted to use it as an ornament.

These cookies/biscuits are made with Oatmeal and Raisins because I felt like something sweet and I had all of this in the cupboard and I am yet to find something made with brown sugar that I do not like.

This is what you need:

4 oz (125 g) butter
8 oz (250 g) brown sugar
1 tsp salt
1 extra large egg
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tbsp milk
6 oz (185 g) all purpose (plain) flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 3/4 cups rolled oats
3/4 cup raisins

(If your raisins are really dry, soak them in hot water until soft, then drain them before adding them to the batter.)

Preheat oven to 375 F (190 C).

Cream your butter, brown sugar and salt with electric beater or paddle.
Add egg, vanilla extract and milk and mix in well.
Take your Claribel Sifter or equivalent and sift flour, baking powder and baking soda into the mix. Fold in gently. Throw in your rolled oats and raisins and gently fold in.

Grease your baking sheet or line with parchment paper.

Take a teaspoon and roll balls into similar sizes.



Make sure you remember to leave at least 2 inches (5 cm) between each cookie/biscuit.




Bake for 10 - 12 minutes, depending on your size, (well not your actual size but the size of your cookies/biscuits).They should be going golden around the edges and the bottom, and light on top. Turn one over to check.



If you used a teaspoon size mould - you will get about 36 from the batch.



Eat them warm if it's at all possible or you can or store what's left in a sealed container for a week.

Get Out Of Your Neighborhood

Sometimes when I find something I love be it a dress, a recipe, a song, a worry (I must love it, I do it enough) - I will wear, cook, worry or play it to death. It's not such a bad quality regarding the dress and song, except that I am sure I the male members of the crew that I crossed the Pacific Ocean with now hate Norah Jones. But with food - you're just missing out on so much if don't try something new. You have to branch out, get out of your own culinary neighborhood. Look at the world map and think, "where would I like to dine tonight,"and go there. One thing I love about New York, and there is a lot more to love now the weather is getting warmer, are the purveyors. You can literally get everything and anything.

Around East 28th and Lexington are all the Indian spice shops, some are more expensive than others but they are definitely worth a trip if you live here or are visiting. The great thing about going to these kind of shops other than seeing a whole host of things you're not sure what to do with and finding things you didn't even know that you wanted, are the spices.

Spices bought in supermarkets are often very old, spices bought in Indian or Middle Eastern stores have a much higher turnover rate. I bought ground cinnamon from a store on the corner of I think it was East 29th and Lexington Avenue. It's not a fancy looking store, James thought it was a pet store, but it is the best cinnamon I ever had in my life.

I had a whole chicken that I'd bought a couple of days ago that needed using when I remembered about B'Stilla. I first had these little Moroccan beauties when I worked for a brief stint at Cath Claringbold's Moroccan Restaurant, Meccah Bah in Brisbane. It was a great experience, the food was excellent and the kitchen crew were such a mixed bunch. There was Peter who looked like a young version of Herman Monster, always amazed me he could turn his head without turning his whole body. There was Leonie who had just broken up with her girlfriend and was bereft and would pour her heart out while we rolled the B'stilla's in filo. There was another apprentice, I think his name was Aaron, he didn't last long. He would constantly be saying, "Hey Prue, wanna buy some hubcaps, my mate stole them, real good ones." Or, "car radio - it's a beauty." Despite the fact that I kept saying to him, "Aaron I come here by train."

This is delicious. You can make one big one like I have done here or you can make individual ones. Some versions of this I've found since have preserved lemon or use orange-flower water. This is a sweet savoury dish, an oxymoron but, it works.

I've adapted the recipe from Diana Henry's magical book "Crazy Water, Pickled Lemons." Diana's recipe uses a guinea fowl and traditionally in the Middle East they use pigeon, which I adore, although not the city variety. I did read that a few years ago they tried to cull the pigeon population in New York by introducing hawks. Unfortunately the hawk took off with some one's lap dog while it was frolicking in the park, clearly ignoring the hundreds of pigeons ten foot away. What are the chances?

This is what you will need:

15-30 fl oz (425ml-900ml) chicken stock
2 onions finely diced
1/2 tsp ground ginger
zest of 1/2 an orange
1 cinnamon stick
1/2 tsp saffron soaked in 2 tbsp hot water for 15 minutes
a small bunch of parsley, chopped
salt and pepper
1 whole chicken (medium size)
21/2 oz (70g) sliced almonds, toasted
1 1/2 tbsp confectioners (icing) sugar, plus extra for dusting
2 oz (55g) butter
8 sheets filo pastry
5 egg, beaten
a medium bunch of cilantro (coriander) chopped
3 tbsp lemon juice


My other favorite cooking utensil - my microplane. This was taken on the steps outside the front door of the apartment.

Bring the chicken stock to the boil and add the onions, ginger, orange zest, cinnamon, saffron, half the parsley, and some salt and pepper.


Doesn't that look so good?

Put the whole chicken (make sure you've checked inside and removed it's gizzards, rinsed it with cold water and patted dry with paper towel) into the stock. Turn the heat down and cover and simmer for about an hour.

Take the chicken out of the stock and when it's cool, take the flesh off the bones, leaving the skin behind.

(My chicken was just a touch under done, so before reducing down my stock I re poached the shredded chicken for less than five minutes just to make sure it was cooked through and then strained this off.)

Boil the stock left in the pan until it's reduced to 7fl oz (200ml). Remove the cinnamon.

In a small bowl mix the almonds with the sugar and ground cinnamon. I'm actually using pine nuts as James is allergic to almonds. If you aren't looking to test any one's nut allergy than I would choose almonds but again if pine nuts are what you have in the cupboard, then they still work.

Preheat the oven to 400 F (Gas mark 6, 200 C) and put a metal baking tray in the oven.

Melt the butter and brush a 81/2 inch (22cm) spring form tin with butter and line it with filo. Put in one sheet at a time, turning the tin so that the filo hangs over the sides all the way round. Use five sheets for the bottom brushing with the melted butter between each sheet.

Gently heat the stock, add the eggs and cook until the eggs have scrambled a little.


Leave them looking a little wet, they will cook more in the oven. Stir in the cilantro (coriander), the rest of the parsley and the lemon juice.

Put the shredded chicken on top of the filo in the tour and pour on the egg mixture, followed by the almond or pine nut mixture.



Put the remaining filo on top and, brushing with butter, seal the pie by pulling the overhanging sides on to the top. Brush the surface with butter. Put it onto the preheated baking tray and bake for 20 minutes.

Remove the cake ring and turn the pie upside down onto the baking tray. Brush the top with more butter and return to the oven and cook for a further 15 minutes. Sift confectioners (icing) sugar over the top and make a lattice pattern with ground cinnamon.




P.S.
This post is late as while boiling the stock on Friday afternoon for the B'stilla, I had an altercation with a pressure pot which I had the stock in. I knew it was boiling and turned it off, waited for about ten minutes and then pushed the release button on the handle when the stock exploded out of the pot. I was very, very lucky it did not burn my face. I tore off my jeans and t-shirt and then got my hand under cold water. Realizing it was more serious than I thought and after seeing the kitchen with saffron coloured stock and onion all over it, I too got out of my neighborhood.

I went up to the hospital in northern Harlem and went to Emergency. There were no George Clooney looking doctors, I looked, and I have to say it was much calmer than I anticipated. I must make special mention of the young guy who drove me home in the town car, he was so kind. My hand was still burning despite the pain killers and he said, "I will wait and get your prescription if you want and come and give it to you so you can get your hand cold again." So kind, kind people rock.

In distinct contrast to the pharmacist we went to later that night to get the prescription filled and wouldn't do it until tomorrow even though he was still open for another fifteen minutes. I couldn't help myself, I was in pain, "I'm sorry, I thought you worked in the health CARE industry." The hand is much better today and am giving the pressure pot a wide berth.

Melting Moments Worth Arguing Over

So I was sitting at the computer typing away, a new post about making your own paneer (Indian cottage cheese) when I thought I really want to eat a melting moment. Every cafe in Australia has them, personally I always think they make them too thick because they are super rich, having said that, the thickness has never stopped me finishing one. Anyhow, this is how the conversation, yes it was a conversation, there was dissent before a final resolution, went in my head:

Brain: I really want a melting moment.
Devil child brain: But I want the ones with passion fruit icing in the middle.
Good brain: Remember you did finish all the icecream last night..........
Devil child brain: Who cares, live in the moment, go on have them.
"United Nations" brain: You can't always get what you want.
Devil child brain: Mick Jagger lives here as well?

Good brain: Forget it and go for a run, make a salad.
Devil child brain: A Salad, wow, what's your middle name - FUN?
"United Nations" brain: Go for a run and make them when you get back. That's a win, win.


Upon the advice of the "United Nations" I made the cookie part and then went for a run. Only to discover there were no passionfruits at the shop. So here they are the "melting moments worth aruging over" with vanilla icing instead of passionfruit icing, and after all that!

Melting Moments
7 ounces (200g) of softened butter
3/4 cup confectioners (icing) sugar
1 cup all purpose (plain) flour
1 cup cornstarch (cornflour)
1 tsp vanilla extract

Filling
4 ounces (120g) of softened butter
1 cup confectioners (icing) sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract

Using electric beaters (I bought mine for $9.99 at the shop on the corner and they go like the clappers), cream the butter, icing sugar and vanilla extract in a bowl, until light and thick.

(Pictured is definitely in my top five cooking utensils I own - a made in France, Matfer Spatula. I bought it six years ago and I am still in awe. I get really excited if someone hasn't used one before and I'm like, oooh try this, you're going to love it, and they do. If I ever had a child I'd consider naming them "matfer")

Sift in the flours and gently fold through.
Put the mixture into the refrigerator for an hour or until it hardens again.
Preheat the oven to 350 F.
Roll into little balls.
Flatten, using your first two fingers or the back of a fork.

(Double the amount of space that you see here, I put mine too close together which you'll see at the next photo)

Bake for about 12 -15 minutes depending on your oven.


Take them out just as the edges are starting to go brown and place on a wire rack to cool. Take another baking tray and sprinkle it icing sugar. Put the melting moments onto this tray and sprinkle with icing sugar.


(Despite the recession I am going out today to buy a proper sifter, this "colander sifting" has run it's course.....)

Make the filling:
Add the butter, icing sugar and vanilla extract and cream.
Place on one side of a melting moment and then squish it together with another melting moment so you're making a sandwich.

You should end up with about twenty little melting moment sandwiches.

My Favorite Omelette

There she is, my favorite omelette, sitting proudly on one of the two pans we own. I love omelettes for lunch. I happen to have a great friend Anna who lives in the South of France. She's the kind of friend who after staying with her in her gorgeous house in rural Provence will say, "why don't you just keep that door key, then you can always let yourself in....." and we would often go to the cafe in her village for lunch and I'd order an omelette with frites and salad for lunch with a carafe of rose wine. I have told her that if she moves, the friendship is over. Ah c'mon, I'm only half serious. If she moved to Italy I'd still be her friend. This is simple and delicious. And it's all over in about ten minutes.

Manchego cheese is a whole sheep's milk cheese from La Mancha (same place as Don Quixote), aged in natural caves for about three to six months. If you can't get it, use your favorite cheese - feta would also work well.

Manchego, Tomato, Green Onions Omelette
Serves one

2 eggs
splash of milk
pinch of sea salt
cherry or grape tomatoes cut in half
1/2 green onion cut on the diagonal
2 slices of manchego cheese
Olive oil

Gently whisk eggs, milk and sea salt in a jug. Heat olive oil in a small frypan over high heat. Add the milk and egg mix, turn down to moderate heat.



Let the egg mix set a little, then place the tomatoes down the centre of the pan, green onions and a good grind of black pepper.


Add the cheese.



Fold one third of the omlette into the centre, then fold it again, so it forms something like an envelope. Enjoy!