Veg box orders and disorders

I’ve inherited from my mum and dad an almost self-destructive hatred of food wastage. ‘Use by’ dates were scoffed at in our house and if fuzzy mould appeared on tomato paste, jams or cheese it was never a reason to throw it out. It could always be remedied by a quick scraping with a metal spoon and a declaration of ‘its perfectly fine’. As a result my favourite way of cooking is to create a meal out of the ingredients that I have in the fridge and pantry, especially if it means using up something before it goes limp or mouldy.

This process has become infinitely more interesting and challenging since I’ve been staying with my sister as she has an organic fruit and veg box delivered each week. Its potluck what comes as they provide you with whatever is in season. Sadly, Wednesdays have become the highlight of my week when Chris delivers the box and I see what mystery ingredients I have to work with. Will I be able to rise to the challenge and use all the contents of the veg box before next week's delivery? I have to admit that the kohlrabi and turnip season was a particularly lucrative period for the compost bin.

Anxiety associated with optimum utilisation of organic Veg Boxes is fast becoming a new yuppie syndrome – if you need a support group or suggestions on what to do with challenging vegetables visit the Veg Box Diaries.

For the last few weeks there has been a continuous and slightly monotonous supply of zucchinis (courgettes to the Brits). After barbecuing, steaming, and ratatouilling them I decided it was time to gratinate the little mo fos.

This recipe is inspired by a 70’s-esque dish my mother used to make. Mum’s used grated potato rather than zucchini and was usually made on a night they were going out because it is quick and she could make it ahead of time.

Zucchini Gratin

Ingredients



1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium onion finely diced
70g cubed pancetta
500g or 4 medium sized zucchini, grated
1 tsp fresh rosemary
2 tablespoons fresh mint
¾ cup mature cheddar cheese
1 cup self raising flour
4 eggs
1 cup buttermilk
sea salt and freshly ground pepper
handful of sliced mushrooms or sliced tomato for the top.

Preheat oven to 200C. Line a slice tin with non-stick baking paper so that it overhangs on all sides. Heat oil in frying pan and cook pancetta until lightly brown, then add onion until softened but not coloured. Remove from heat, stir in rosemary and cool.

Squeeze any excess liquid from grated zucchini and add to cooled onion mixture with grated cheese and flour.

In a bowl lightly beat eggs with buttermilk and season with salt and pepper. Stir in chopped mint. Add wet ingredients to dry and mix until just combined. Pour into the tin and arrange mushroom or tomato slices on top. Bake for 40 minutes or until firm in the centre. Allow it to cool and firm little before turning out to slice it.

Serve with a salad and of course…. chutney.

Off your bike

Wanting to take advantage of a rare Sunday off (I’m managing a café on weekends but that’s a story for another day) and an even rarer beautiful sunny day, I decided to cycle to the Sunday markets in Spitalfield. The day did not start well after an altercation in Hyde Park. A man took issue with me cycling in a no cycling section of the park (around 99% of the park) and actually grabbed me and tried to pull me off my bike. The fact that he could grab me shows how slowly and carefully I was riding your Honour. Despite Ken Livingstone's proclamations I haven't found London to be overly bike friendly. The unpleasant exchange ended with him yelling “Piss off back to your own country” and me replying “So you’re uptight, a knob AND a racist”. To which he surprisingly agreed.

By the time I reached the markets I was in desperate need of a coffee and in no mood for a frappuccino. I circled the markets and its surrounds before homing in on Market Coffee House on Brushfield St.


It had all the markings of a good coffee experience: next to a foodie mecca A. Gold, coffee served in small cups rather than mugs, lots of customers and friendly ones too who were happy to share tables, and some antipodean accents behind the counter. Maybe I’m racist when it comes to who I trust to make my coffee.

After a false start (in my still shaken state I ordered a white coffee and was handed a long black with cold milk) my persistence paid off and I was rewarded with a lovely latte.

All was well with the world again.

A country showing

Many a happy memory is held of our annual family outing to the Queensland Royal Agricultural Show - or the Ekka as everyone calls it in my hometown, Brisbane. Eating strawberry icecream, watching the dog shows and the wood chopping competition, catching the chairlift from one end of the showground to the other, spending hours choosing the two show bags we were allowed, and huddling together on the stands in the main ring at night time to watch the fireworks with the crowd chanting ‘red’ 'blue’ ‘green’ as we tried to guess the next colour that would explode in the sky.

Imagine my delight when I discovered that my visit to a friend’s place in Wiltshire coincided with the Gillingham and Shafttesbury Agricultural Show. There were jousting knights, ferret races, large farm machinery and fashion for sale and best of all, a food tent showcasing the region’s finest produce. I will never look at a sausage the same way after sampling more than is healthy in one day- researching suppliers for the café.

Competition standard may not have been world class. Some dubious entries in the craft and home baking categories attracted harsh comments from the public viewing the entries on display...



but there was nothing shameful about the size of their vegetables.




These magnificent buddha-esque onions inspired me to bake a tart – practising for my entry next year in the vegetable tart category.

Goat cheese and caramelised onion tart

40g butter
4 large onions (relatively speaking- they don’t have to be the size of those pictured)
salt pepper
freshly grated nutmeg
120g goats cheese log
2 eggs
250 ml crème fraiche
24cm shortcrust pastry case baked blind (10mins with baking paper on, 10 minutes without)
2 sprigs lemon thyme

Preheat oven to 180 degrees.

Melt butter in large pan. Add onions and a good pinch of salt and cook stirring over medium to high heat until softened (about 5-10 minutes). Turn heat down to low, cover with a lid and leave to soften for about 30 minutes, stirring often. Remove lid and continue to cook until liquid is evaporated and the onions are a golden colour and have a jam like consistency (about another 30 minutes but depends on how much liquid you have to start with). Add salt, pepper and nutmeg to taste. Remove from heat and leave to cool.

Cut the goats cheese into slices about 5mm thick and then into halfmoons. Beat eggs with the crème fraiche until smoothly combined. Stir in the cooled onions and add salt and pepper to taste. Pour mixture into pastry case and arrange goats cheese slices over the top. Scatter over the thyme leaves and some ground pepper. Place tart in the oven and bake until golden and just set (about 25 minutes). Let stand for half an hour before serving.

A different Bill

I don't mind admitting that it was with feelings of trepidation and preemptive envy that I made the trip to Brighton to visit Bill's Produce Store (no connection to the three Bill's cafes in Sydney set up by Bill Grainger). A gaping hole in the UK market is casual cafe dining for foodies - something that Australia has in abundance. From what I'd heard, Bill's in Brighton had a very Australian feel and did great breakfasts, salads and fresh juices. What if they were doing exactly what I'd envisaged for my cafe but better than I ever could?

After getting hopelessly lost (it's 100 North Rd Brighton, not North Street or Brighton Rd) we arrived at 1pm and were seated at the last free table. Literally ten minutes later there was a queue - not bad for a weekday considering Bill's is by no means small (looks like it seats over 60). Its a food store/cafe housed in what feels like a shed with high ceilings, crates of fresh fruit and vegetables in the front, a cafe in the back half and shelves of upmarket pantry items like chutneys, vinegars and oil lining the walls throughout. I don't know how many people actually buy any of this stuff; no-one while we were there. But despite the slightly staged look, it all lends itself to the farm-shop, rustic atmosphere they are trying to create.



They have managed to fit a lot of different offerings in a relatively small space with takeaway sandwiches, salads and cakes, a juice bar, the fresh produce and goods section and the eat in cafe which is clearly what most people come for. The menu marks it as more cafe than restaurant and is weighted towards breakfast which includes all the usual suspects - scrambled eggs, eggs benedict, pancakes, grilled mushrooms, etc. For lunch there are a selection of pizzas (thick based like a focacia and heavily loaded with ingredients) and quiches (English cafes are very fond of quiches) all on display, as well as a couple of daily specials written up on blackboards.

I had the steak sandwich (9 quid) which came as a gristly, though generously sized, piece of steak sandwiched in home made focaccia bread with horseradish mayonnaise and roast vegetables including roast parsnip, zuchini and sweet potato. I'm all in favour of mixing flavours and textures but I also think that if you use really fresh quality ingredients (which given the props and setting you assume they do) its better to keep it simple. I think the roast vegetables were a mistake.

Nothing is minimalist or understated at Bill's - portions are huge, flavours are mixed together with gay abandon, and the presentation is a little overwhelming. I gave up on desert because I couldn't see what any of the cakes looked like underneath the decorative flora and fauna.


And yes, the coffee is served in cups for giants with calcium deficencies.

In contrast to all the chaos and clutter going on in ingredients, presentation and people, the waiters are amazingly calm and efficient. We had excellent attentive service, although I did take issue with the man serving at the fruit and veg counter when he mocked my Aussie accent. Ah a cunning linguist: "You don't hear me making fun of your accent do you?" "Well go on then". So I gave him a rendition of my cockney accent, something I felt I'd honed from working at a jacket potato shop in Holborn 13 years ago: "I'll have a jacket wif beans and cheese and don't be shy wif the beans". Not bad he conceded "but you still sound like an Aussie". I didn't think he'd appreciate a history lesson explaining Australia's convict beginnings so I let it go.

All in all, nothing amazing about Bill's considering the hype - they are still way superior to most cafes I've been to in the UK and are obviously doing something right to be so popular. Maybe I was just unlucky but I was peversely happy to be a bit disappointed.

Coffee trials

Armed with an A-Z and a list of places gathered from reliable sources, I am embarking on a pilgrimage in search of good cafes and, more importantly, decent coffee. Unfortunately due to lifestyle choices (i.e sleep) I'm now a one coffee a day drinker - hence the importance that I place on that coffee- so it will be a slow journey.

Whenever I complained about the coffee in London people would ask "have you been to Bar Italia in Soho"? What better place to begin this pilgrimage than at the godfather of coffee houses.


A classic Italian espresso bar, if I wasn't sitting across the road from Ronnie Scott's I could swear I was in Pellegrini's in Bourke St Melbourne. Same floor bolted vinyl bar stools lining a long mirrored wall (not a bad hair day or large group venue), same nonchalant 'I could think of better things to do than wait on you' waiting staff and same mix of city workers, Italian men and groovy young things drawn in by the retro kitsch...


and the coffee: lovely strong Italian style coffee served in a normal sized cup with nice thickly textured milk; but relatively expensive at 2.50 (ludicrously expensive if you convert to Australian dollars but what's the point).


I just had the coffee but I did see some impressive paninis walking by including a prelude to a heart attack: a chicken schnitzel ciabatta sandwich.

The L word

Location location location keeps ringing in my ears. Every person I've spoken to in the restaurant industry tells me it will make or break your business. It's hard enough trying to find a good location when you know a city but having not lived in London for 12 years first thing I've had to is decide what area we want the cafe to be in. The selection criteria: inner city suburban area populated by high income professionals, ‘yummy mummys’, mobile/home based workers and preferably lots of affluent Australians/antipodeans who are desperately missing Australian style cafes. As for the site itself we want somewhere that gets morning sun, preferably a corner site, in a high visibility location like a retail strip, near or on the way to a train station and in an area where there are some competitors but not saturated with other cafes. Not too much to ask? Well it wouldn't be if the freaking Starbucks and Cafe Neros didn't take every site that meets that criteria. So we may have to compromise on a few things...

Another expression that rings in my ears: if it looks too good to be true, it probably is.

I thought I'd found the perfect site on Fulham Rd. Not on a corner but it seemed to have everything else going for it in terms of location and was surprisingly cheap. Maybe I got a little blinded by the good location and price and didn't see the faults of the property itself. Or maybe I've watched too many shows like Renovation Rescue and have completely unrealistic expectations of what you can do as a low cost makeover. After getting an architect to run his critical eye over it I saw it in a different light- low ceilings, no windows or ventilation, only one entry point and a horrible musty damp smell that suggested bigger plumbing issues.



I also learned that you can't just get a mallet and knock out walls like they do on those home improvement shows when that wall is holding up a block of apartments.

So the search continues but at least I'm not the novice I was before. Now I know that windows and ventilation are important and that when the agent is strongly suggesting you get a building inspection before making an offer, they might be trying to tell you something.

Chutney on

Everything.

Really, what doesn't taste better with a little chutney? Its the most versatile and nondenominational condiment, as happy with a curry as it is on a cheese sandwich.

Homemade chutney is in a league of its own yet few cafes seem to do it here. The punters that frequent the greasy spoons, and even quite upmarket places that do breakfast, prefer to douse their morning fry ups in HP sauce (generically known as brown sauce) tomato ketchup, vinegar and mustard.

Imagine a sausage and fried egg on a ciabatta roll with a nice bit of tomato chutney instead...mmm.

I stocked up on glass jars at the Savers shop on North End Rd (just like the Hot Potato shop on Sydney Rd in Brunswick), and have started honing my chutney making skills.

Peter Gordon, a New Zealand chef who co-owns the Providores and Tapa Room in London, is one of my food heroes. When I first opened his cook book I knew I had found a guru and a kindred spirit. He uses really unusual combinations of flavours, cuisines and textures - an approach which seems very antipodean to me for some reason. This is his recipe for nectarine chutney from his book, "A World in my Kitchen".

Roast nectarine chutney



15 nectarines, stoned and quartered
4 cloves of garlic, roughly chopped
6 red onions, peeled and finely sliced
1 lemon, halved then finely sliced and de-seeded
2 tablespoons rosemary leaves
1 bouquet garni
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
250ml (8fl oz) cider vinegar
500g demerara sugar
3 teaspoons Thai fish sauce

Preheat oven to 200C/400F degrees. Put all ingredients except sugar and fish sauce into a large ceramic roasting dish. Mix well then place on upper shelf of oven and roast 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. Once the mixture begins to reduce and colour, add sugar and fish sauce and cook further 30 minutes, stirring twice during this period. The chutney should be thick and the fruit still discernible in shape. (Continue cooking if too moist).

Spoon into sterile glass jars that you've had filled with hot water to prime, and wiped dry. Leave just 1/2 cm at top of jar. Seal while still hot and leave to cool. Store in fridge at least one week before eating. Refrigerate after opening.

Chutney made, what to eat it with? We were having people over for a barbecue the next night so I had to ignore Peter's instructions about leaving the chutney for a week (it makes a couple of 500ml jars anyway). To find a dish worthy of the chutney I turned to Karen Martini, another food guru for largely the same reasons that Peter Gordon is. She's a Melbourne chef who heads a restaurant called The Melbourne Wine Room. This is her recipe for barbecued quail from her book "Where the heart is". I thought it might be a bit fiddly picking meat off little quails so instead I used chicken marylands (or oyster cuts as they are called here- the thigh and leg portion still joined).

Cardamon, oregano and verjuice marinated quail (Serves 6)


10 cardamon pods, seeds removed from husk
1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper
1 lemon, zested
2 teaspoons salt flakes
3 cloves garlic
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 1/2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons died oregano
6 quails, butterflied, or 6 chicken thigh and leg joints (Marylands)
1 cup verjuice
lemon wedges to serve

To make the marinade, combine cardamon seeds, pepper, lemon zest and salt in a mortar and pestle and grind to a powder. Add garlic and half the oil and pound to form a paste. Stir in mustard, oregano and remaining oil.
Place quails or chicken in large dish, rub in marinade and pour over verjuice. Cover dish and place in fridge for at least 4 hours.

Drain marinade from quails/chicken then season with extra salt if desired. Preheat barbecue or oiled frying pan over medium heat and cook for 8-10 minutes or until cooked through and brown both sides. Serve with lemon wedges.

Continuing the slightly Middle Eastern theme I finished off dinner with a desert from the Moro cookbook which is a bible in my family.

Moro's yoghurt cake with pistachios (serves 6)


3 large eggs separated
70g castor sugar
2 vanilla pods, split in half lengthways
350g yoghurt (greek yoghurt thinned with a little milk)
finely grated zest of 1 lemon and 1.2 orange
juice of 1 lemon
20g plain flour
30g shelled unsalted pistachio nuts roughly chopped

Preheat oven to 180C degrees and put a bain-marie of water in to warm on the middle shelf (Bain marie means a water bath so you just need to fill a deep baking tray with water for the cake to sit in).

Beat the egg yolks with three quarters of the sugar until thick and pale. Scrape out the seeds from the vanilla pod and mix into the egg-sugar mixture. Add the yoghurt, lemon and orange zest lemon juice and the flour and mix well. In a separate bowl whisk up the egg whites with the remaining sugar until soft peaks form. Gently and evenly, fold the whites into the yoghurt mixture. Pour mixture into a 25cm round or square baking dish or a cake tin with a solid bottom, preferably stainless steel, or lined with greased proof paper. place the dish in the bain-marie making sure the boiling water comes halfway up the tin, and cook for 20 minutes. Then add the chopped pistachio nuts, sprinkling them gently on top, and continue cooking for further 20 minutes or until top is lightly brown. Consistency of the cake should be a light sponge with a wet custard below.

I served the cake with some creme fraiche and cherries that had been pitted and marinated for a couple of hours in balsamic vinegar (tablespoon), castor sugar (a sprinkling) and torn mint leaves (tablespoon).