photo credit: I love chocolate pudding
I do have to admit, I'm not usually fond of microwave recipes.
The microwave bewilders me; it places a plastic barrier between the food and my senses, blocking out changing smells and textures and rendering me useless. I can only gaze at the steady spinning, whirring and hoping that the 'ding' will come at the right time.
My grandmother was always equally hopeless with the microwave. I recall her wrapping butter in aluminium foil and putting it in the microwave because someone had told her she could do that to soften it. I also recall the zapping noises and the sparks.
This recipe is however so enticingly easy and delicious that even I and my microwave manage to call the truce long enough to make this one.
I'd be surprised if you didn't have all of the ingredients in your fridge and pantry right now and you'll be delighted to know that this pudding is prepared, cooked and served in just one dish!
Photo credt: 365:339 Microwaved
You will need to consider your own microwave's power rating and adjust the time accordingly; the time is set based on the older 800 watt microwaves. It is probably wise to drop the power down to medium-high if your microwave isn't similarly ancient.
Ingredients
- 60g butter
- 1 1/2 cups self-raising flour
- 220g caster sugar (about 1 cup)
- 25g cocoa (1/4 cup)
- 180ml milk (I use low-fat milk and it works fine)
- 2 tsp vanilla
- 1 cup brown sugar, lightly packed
- 35g (1/3 cup) cocoa, extra
- 2 cups boiling water
Method
Place butter in a large microwave-proof dish and heat on high for 60 seconds to melt. (Note: I still can't bring myself to do this and melt the butter in a pan on the stove then add to the dish)
Stir in sifted flour, caster sugar, and cocoa. Add the milk and vanilla and beat with a wooden spoon until smooth.
Sprinkle with combined brown sugar and extra cocoa.
Carefully pour the boiling water slowly over the back of a large metal spoon and over the pudding mixture.
Cook on high for 12 minutes (Note: Eep! Try 8 minutes on medium-high in a modern microwave and see how you go) until springy-soft and just cooked in the centre.
Allow to cool for 5 minutes if you can, then serve with ice-cream or cream.
photo credit: the last bit of pudding
I promise it will be magic.
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photo credit: Photoportunity
Each week I like to add some new dishes to the menu.
We do have our favourites that pop up on the meal plan on a regular basis (particularly mid-week) but I enjoy discovering new favourites too.
Here are some great recipes from the blogosphere and beyond that I'll be trying in the next week.
photo credit: Darwin Bell
Emma Knowles' Vietnamese Prawn Salad (Gourmet Traveller): This recipe looks light, fresh and well balanced. As a bonus, you'll find a short, simple ingredients list and minimal preperation and cooking time.
We'll be eating this one outside. Asian food and wine pairing can be tricky, however I think a young grassy sauvignon blanc or perhaps a riesling could work. I expect though that we'll be cracking open a few bottles of Hoegaarden (or Hoegaarden Grand Cru if we're feeling indulgent) instead.
Tips: I've previously successfully substituted brown sugar for palm sugar and if you have good pans I'm sure you can get away with less oil.
Heather Carlucci-Rodriguez's Chana Punjabi (as shared by The Wednesday Chef): Warm, luxurious and enticing, without offending the budget. Store cupboard basics and a few fresh bits and pieces easily picked up on your way home never looked so good!
No you won't be eating this in 15 minutes, but pour yourself and your partner a glass or two of wine while you stir and allow yourself to slow down and relax. There's no complicated prep or advanced cookery magic here. All you need is a bit of time and basic ingredients.
Note: Cilantro is also known as coriander.
photo credit: sea turtle
crispy chewy chocolate chip cookies by Smitten Kitchen: Speaks for itself really, doesn't it? A classic recipe that I'm sure will please everyone.
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]]>Ok, so we don't have an elegant matching decoration theme (unless you count half-chewed-by-cats tinsel strewn across the floorboards with baubles and other christmas tree decorations flicked behind the furniture) or an elaborate menu. We do however have plenty of alcohol. And that's important if you've ever met my family.
We're having a cruisy Christmas brunch with none of the trimmings. The menu? Bubbly and freshly squeezed juices, plenty of plump oysters, smoked salmon, bagels, croissants, home-made jams, buttermilk pancakes with lashings of maple syrup, fresh fruit, mince pies, biscuits and jam doughnuts. We'll keep it going with plenty of beer and a barbecue later for those who can be bothered to stick around.
All I need to do tomorrow is chop up the fruit and make and flip a few million pancakes. My long-suffering husband will be in charge of the juice, topping up wine glasses and will then be stuck behind the espresso machine. The rest of the food will be not-so-artfully arranged on the table for everyone to help themselves. There's something beautiful about a non-stressful Christmas.
No matter what you're doing this festive season, I hope it is wonderful and safe and happy. Best wishes to you and yours and here's to a fabulous 2009.
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]]>Oops...
Case in point: in an act of complete stupidity last week I fell over and landed entirely (and heavily) on one knee. It goes without saying that I am incredibly uncoordinated. (It won't be a surprise to anyone who knows me that I somehow, unconsciously, protected my capacious handbag/briefcase in the fall which suffered not a scratch.)
As a result of my stupidity I have been forced to become acquainted with a pair of rather boring looking crutches and my footwear is restricted to my rather meagre collection of flat shoes.
photo credit: Patience
My doctor has also told me to do the unthinkable - rest - and stay downstairs for the foreseeable future. This is all very well but I live in a 2-storey house and my kitchen is upstairs.
The situation is dire indeed. Not long after I met my husband, he offered to cook me dinner. When he pulled the bright yellow Old El Paso box out of the pantry I knew that I was in trouble.
Things have moved on from there slightly. 5 years later I can confirm that he is fabulous at tidying up and putting things away.
However not much has improved in his cooking. Luckily there are no yellow boxes in my pantry!
Keep some pre-cooked meals in the freezer
photo credit: my freezer
While as a general rule I am not friends with my freezer (freezer burn is friend to no-one) I do have an emergency stash of pre-prepared and pre-cooked (by me) meals in the freezer, vying for room with the huge top tier of my wedding cake that has been in there for nearly 3 years and counting.
While I was stuck downstairs, lame and miserable, my husband was quite able to defrost some chicken schnitzels that I had previously crumbed and cooked.
As per my instructions he smeared the schnitzels with some tomato paste and sprinkled them with fresh rosemary from the garden and some grated cheese.
He chucked them under the grill to warm through and melt the cheese.
They would have been quite perfect if he had put them on the grill tray rather than in a baking tin, but served with some spaghetti tossed in some fresh and lively organic olive oil and lots of cracked pepper and some steamed vegetables, it was a satisfying dinner. (The baking tin warped in the high heat but was able to be restored to its previous shape.)
To make the schnitzels
Slice trimmed chicken breasts in half width-wise.
Bash the chicken with a meat mallet or you can use your fists and roll over the chicken with your knuckles.
Dust them in well seasoned flour (I often add paprika to this), then swoosh them into an egg wash (about a tablespoon of milk to each large egg) and into a mix of fresh and dried breadcrumbs, finely grated parmesan, herbs or whatever takes your fancy.
Shallow fry in hot oil until golden (don't overcook or the chicken will be dry and awful), drain well, cool, then wrap individually and pop them into a labeled freezer safe container or bag.
To reheat, warm through in the oven or make parmigana as directed above. Please don't use the microwave to do this, unless you have one of the fancy convection ones.
Buy it pre-prepared
photo credit: Whole Foods deli counter
Many butchers and delis now stock a great range of pre-prepared and easy to cook meals that are surprisingly budget friendly and tasty when added to some fresh ingredients.
My local butcher sells lovely little handmade meatballs which can be easily browned and then cooked through in a sauce of tinned crushed tomatoes, garlic, onion, fresh herbs, a good glug of wine, a small dash of balsamic vinegar and served over pasta with a generous amount of freshly grated parmesan.
You could even use a good quality basic store-bought pasta sauce or passata instead.
A tray of meatballs is less than $6 at my butcher and will serve 2 very hearty eaters for dinner with leftovers for lunch.
So despite all predictions we're eating well during my exile from the kitchen and thanks to some generous offers from friends and family that is likely to continue.
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]]>The power and beauty in a healthy understanding of where food comes from and how it sustains our bodies and hearts cannot be underestimated.
My childhood memories seem to almost invariably revolve around food.
Photo credit: Delicacies by Marcus Vegas
In one of the first that comes to mind I'm lying on my belly in my grandparents' backyard, the scent of mint and lemons and grass swirling on the gentle wind.
I'm about 7, tanned brown and skinny, the sun warming my face and the grass tickles my legs.
One hand holds a book, the other is reaching for strawberries just picked from the garden, sweet, ruby red, all different shapes and textures, some firmer and some almost jammy from the sun, dribbling their juices.
Time stands still until the strawberries are gone and the spell is broken.
My grandfather has hidden some berries from my ever-reaching grasp and he sneaks them into the house with some herbs and lemons.
A row of sterilised jars, saved from peanut butter and tomato paste, are lined up on the kitchen bench. My grandmother works magic and the jars are filled with spoonfuls of deliciously lumpy, sweet yet tart, rich jam. I could eat it straight from the spoon and I do.
Photo credit: Erdbeermarmelade- Strawberry jam
Later, my grandmother and I make doughnuts, all hands in as we talk as if we are old friends with 50 years between visits, instead of grandmother and granddaughter who talk to each other every day.
There's an index card with my grandmother's handwriting, not perfectly formed slightly forced letters as in my grandfather's hand, written with a ruler underneath to keep it neat, but letters tumbling over each other in their rush to hit the page. Rough quantities and shorthand instructions. It is there in front of us but we work from memory and our senses.
The dough rests and rises, rests and rises, rests and rises.
We chat, slower now, my grandmother has tea in a pretty china cup and I have a tall glass of cadbury drinking chocolate, way too much chocolate powder for the milk, thick bumpy chocolate floats on top. My mother would be horrified to see the amount of chocolate, my grandmother doesn't agree with the instructions on the back of the box, adding more and more and when she turns I add another spoonful still. My grandfather comes in from the garden and laughs at the chocolate on the end of my nose. He gently teases my grandmother and tells her that I'm going to be spoiled rotten.
The jam is injected into the doughnuts and they land in the hot oil, sizzling and turning golden. I have to stand back for this part. My grandmother is scared I will be spattered by the oil and she is wearing a flowered apron. She scoops them out and drains the doughnuts on thick paper towel, dusts them generously in cinnamon and sugar and they're left to cool.
The air smells warm and sweet and we can barely wait. My grandfather tells us to be careful. He suggests that we wait until after dinner to eat them. My grandmother and I wait till he goes back outside and we bite into the golden fluffy softness, bubbly hot jam squirting out, running like lava down our chins. The rest are arranged with pride onto delicately patterned china and are shared, warm with the rest of the family and friends. They taste wonderful but none so perfect as the very first one, stolen and hot with anticipation.
My grandparents' backyard is not huge but the bounty that comes from it, changing with the seasons, is massive. My grandfather tends to it with pride, long ears of corn in green silk, cherry tomatoes heavy with sweetness on vines running up plastic ladders, peas that are popped into the mouth straight from their shells, purple garlic, lemons, chillis, the fragrant green of parsley, chives, mint, basil and coriander, strawberries and more besides.
I taste everything, fresh and light. I love the zing of the chilli and the sweetness of the peas. At my grandparents' house it is my job to shell the peas and they are popped straight into my mouth, they never make it into the bowl.
I'm reminded not to be greedy and to save some for everybody else.
Photo credit: stevendepolo
The peas I'm served at my friends' houses come to the plate from boxes in the freezer, via the microwave and they are hard and wrinkled and almost grey.
The flavour is muddy, I can't tell the difference between the taste of the peas and the overcooked limp broccoli that must have been picked before I was born.
I follow my friend's lead and move the vegetables around on the plate and drop peas off my fork onto the floor.
Her mother sighs and implores us to eat at least 10 peas each or there's no icecream.
I wonder how these peas relate to the ones I eat with joy.
It is now 20 years later and my husband and I fight over who gets the last spoonful of the jam my grandmother still makes with love for the whole family. It is spread thickly on the bread we make at home and split to share with my grandparents.
My grandfather has Alzheimer's disease now and time is slipping away, but he never forgets to give me little red netted bags of fragrant fresh purple garlic and handfuls of tomatoes from the garden.
The memories and lessons I learned in my grandmother's kitchen will stay with me for ever. We use our sense of smell and touch and taste to cook and tell when something is done. Our hands are soiled with flour or cocoa or egg wash and the timer has no place here. I learn how the texture changes as food cooks and how a change in the food's fragrance will signal that it is ready. I learn how to cook and eat with my heart and all of my senses, not for sustenance alone but for pleasure.
To my grandparents I owe everything - my love of food and pleasure and the extra few kilos on my hips. Thank you from the bottom of my heart and the pit of my stomach.
my grandmother and I, 1981
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]]>I'm making it for dinner tonight because it is easy (and I like easy) and it tastes pretty good too! (This does not purport to be an authentic Thai style salad.)
Ingredients (to serve 4):
- 250g rice stick noodles
- 4 150-200g pieces sirloin steak
- 1 1/2 tbs peanut oil, plus extra to brush
- 1/2 cup soy sauce
- 1/4 cup rice vinegar
- 1 red chilli, seeds removed (or not), finely sliced
- 1 1/2 tbs caster sugar
- small piece of ginger
- 2 lebanese cucumbers, cut into strips
- 1 small red (spanish) onion, thinly sliced
- 2 tomatoes, quartered
- 1/4 cup fresh mint leaves
- lime wedges, to serve
Method:
- Place noodles in a bowl and cover with boiling water. Soak for 6-7 minutes until softened or follow packet instructions. Drain thoroughly and refresh if you like.
- Preheat a frypan or bbq until hot.
- Brush steaks with oil, then sear for 2 minutes on each side, if you like rare beef. (ed: If you don't, just keep cooking until the meat is all dried out and awful. )
- Transfer steaks to a warmed plate and rest for 5 minutes, then slice.
- Combine soy sauce, vinegar, chilli, sugar, peanut oil and ginger in a bowl until sugar is dissolved. Add noodles, beef, cucumber, red onion and tomato. Toss well.
- Top with mint and serve with lime wedges
While we're on the Thai style thing, there's a fabulous recipe for Thai Coconut Soup at The Food in my Beard that I think you may enjoy.
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]]>I have no idea how this happens when I dutifully write a meal plan and shopping list every week, but I digress. So we had risotto cakes all wrapped up in prosciutto and served with sweet balsamicky tomatoes and rocket.
This recipe is an easy one, and very quick if you happen to have some left-over plainish risotto in the fridge. I never seem to, we're both far too fat and far too fond of risotto.
photo credit: Metano
At any rate this makes a nice dinner party entree with a little "here's some I prepared earlier" magic. On a weeknight it is far more important to make sure your husband knows exactly how long you've been standing in front of the stove.
You'll need a couple of cups of cooked risotto to serve 4 as an entree or 2 as a main. If you're starting from scratch now, you want a basic risotto base. Anything too complicated will get lost when you turn the risotto into cakes and fry them.
Basic risotto
photo credit: Glorious risotto
My basic risotto starts with a cup of arborio rice (carnaroli is better, but I always only seem to have arborio in the pantry), a small brown onion, a couple of cloves of garlic, butter and olive oil, white wine and chicken or vegetarian stock. Homemade stock has a far superior flavour but if you've got some tetra packs of stock in the pantry then use them, I do.
Simmer the stock (about 5 cups should do it) and keep warm on the stove over a low heat.
Heat the butter and olive oil in a large pan with the chopped garlic and then add the onion, finely chopped, to soften. Don't brown it.
Add the rice at lowish heat and toast it, stirring, until covered in the oil and butter and you can hear the rice start to crack.
Add about 1/4 cup of white wine now, stirring until mostly absorbed. Add another 1/4 cup of wine for the pot and a glass for you.
Now gradually add the stock to the rice, about 1/2 cup at a time, stirring as you go.
Add more stock as it gets absorbed and continue until the rice gets fat and swollen and lovely. You want the risotto to be al dente and creamy.
Add a few good handfuls of freshly grated parmesan (the powder in the green tin is not parmesan, it is dirty sock scrapings) and season well.
Stir through some fresh breadcrumbs and put the risotto in the fridge to cool while you prepare the other bits and pieces to go with it. (If you use dried breadcrumbs the roof probably won't cave in and I won't tell on you.)
Photo credit: Homegrown roma tomatoes
Sweet Balsamic Tomatoes
I'm pretty sure the tomatoes are originally from a Delicious magazine recipe.
You'll need a couple of roma tomatoes, quartered.
Seal them on each cut side in a frypan over high heat, then add 1 TB of brown sugar, 2 TB balsamic vinegar, a tsp of Worcestershire sauce and a TB of water.
Drop the heat to low, pop the lid on and cook for a few minutes.
Make the Risotto Cakes
While that's happening, mix an egg into the risotto mixture and divide into 4 or 6 cakes, depending on how much risotto you have.
You don't want arancini size for this, but you don't want them to be so big and cumbersome that they will fall apart when you put them into the pan.
Wrap each cake in a few pieces of proscuitto. A few sage leaves can work nicely with this too.
Shallow fry the cakes in a bit of oil for a few minutes either side in a frypan over medium heat, until the cakes are golden and the proscuitto is crisping.
Serve the cakes over some nice peppery rocket and top with the tomatoes and some shaved parmesan and pretend that it was hard work.
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]]>So for those of us who aren't socks, life is about priorities. To juggle your priorities successfully you're going to have to do something hideously awful, something so terrible that all of us, even those with rather pronounced OCD tendencies (not me, no never), have nightmares about.
You're going to have to write a budget. No, accountants are not an exception to this. Most accountants I know derive devious pleasure from analysing someone else's accounts, but when it comes to their own they have receipts stuffed in the bottom drawer, in the fridge crisper and stuck behind their horn-rims.
The only good budget is an honest budget. You know you do it - the almost subconscious rounding down when it comes to adding up all the fun little optional extras we spend our money on. "I usually buy 3 magazines a month at $8 each .. but last month they were all rubbish so I only bought one, so therefore on average I spend about erm... yes, thats um.. $5 a month". If your budget comes out with heaps of surplus then you're either extraordinarily rich or a big fat liar. A quick check in the bank account, garage and wardrobe will soon sort that one out.
A handy tip for you - nothing is essential, you can cut down almost anything. If you swap the family's second car for a bus pass and a Hermes croc Kelly then way to go you! You're saving the environment and probably saving some kid from certain snip snappy death in a dam in Darwin at the same time!
Once you've got your budget together, the hard bit is sticking to it. To make it easier, pay yourself (into a savings account that accrues interest or offsets your mortgage) first. Then buy shoes and caviar. If you have anything left then you might want to consider opening some of those bills.
UPDATE: For practical tips on writing a budget, take a look at the Winning the War on Debt series over at Improve the Quality.
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