Entertaining with Fritters and Smoothies

A holiday in the country, a new-found love of pomegranate juice, and leftover salad were my sources of inspiration when my sister Francesca and her husband Steve came for brunch on the weekend.

Blogging has made me relish the challenge of making interesting brunches on weekends. So I was delighted when Fran suggested brunch rather than dinner. I decided I would do a modern take on a fry-up. My fry-ups are really just distant cousins to the fatty plate of bacon, sausages and eggs to be found in greasy spoon cafes across the UK. Mine are healthier as I love my vegies but wouldn’t eat meat or fried eggs. Sunday’s ‘fry-up’ had what you might call traditional elements such as toasted bread, an fried eggy fritters, beans and vegetables.

The zucchini fritters have been on my radar ever since we went to Beechworth last year and I found the recipe in a Donna Hay Magazine. I fancied trying a gluten-free version of fritters and these piqued my interest. The only drawback (apart from not having any rice flour) was the egg whites. I had using half an egg and then trying to think what to do with the other half. I managed to use one to glaze the bread but I have three yolks threatening to become smelly monsters in the back of my fridge unless I get some brilliant ideas. Despite the egg whites (or maybe because of), the fritters were wonderful. They were light and fluffy and very tasty with the parmesan.

Ashley’s recent smoothie had put me in a mind to use pomegranate juice in a smoothie. It is only recently that I have found the right jug to make smoothies with my hand held blender and one of my favourites is berry and banana. I have made it before with strawberries and apple juice but found mixed berries and pomegranate juice made it much darker, but still creamy with the banana.

I have been buying pomegranate juice occasionally from our local shops. Last weekend when I sought out some rye flour for my Russian bread, I wished I lived south of the river where the Eastern Europeans settled. But when it comes to buying pomegranate juice, I feel fortunate to live in the north in the midst of many Middle Eastern migrants. I bought 1 litre of pomegranate juice a few weeks back and it cost about $5. I started in horror at the price before remembering that it costs about that for a 250ml bottle of the stuff. Then this weekend I saw a litre being sold for $28. Not in my neighbourhood! I know it was organic but I was still staggered and felt my local deli’s pomegranate juice is a bargain.

The smoothie was a great gap filler. Fran and Steve walked in the door just as I was blending it. I felt like the hostess with the mostess being able to hand out smoothies, rather than having everyone starving while I got the fry up ready. Fran and I enjoyed the smoothie while the guys found a glassful was a bit much. It is a great way to get more fruit in your diet, especially if, like me, you don’t think to eat bananas and berries much by themselves.

We were all full after breakfast and relaxed on the sofa for a bit before Fran and Steve had to go on to lunch with some friends. They expected it would be a light one after that brunch. I was only too glad to stay at home to relax with some blogging, some baking and a bit of sudoku. I wished I still had some smoothie to slurp on but at least if I was hungry there was always plenty of the Oatmeal and Treacle Bread to enjoy.

Berry and Banana Smoothie
Serves 4

Blend:
1½ cups pomegranate juice or apple juice
2 bananas, peeled and in chunks
250g berries (fresh or frozen)

Zucchini and cheese fritters
From Donna Hay Magazine
Serves 4

4 eggs whites
1 cup zucchini grated
1 cup parmesan, grated
2 tbsp soy flour (or rice flour)
Salt and pepper
Oil for frying

Whisk the egg whites til frothy. Fold in zucchini, parmesan and soy flour. Season (I don’t think it needed much salt as the parmesan is quite salty). It is quite a thick mixture. Heat a little oil in a large non stick frypan. Drop and spread a couple of spoonfuls in frypan to create a 10cm diameter fritter and repeat to make another 2 or three. Fry for a couple of minutes each side or until golden brown. Serve hot.

On the stereo:
Legend and Lore: Dark Folklore and European Myths – Various Artists

BBD 10: Oatmeal and Treacle Bread

The weekend started with not a crust of bread to be found in our house and ended with an abundance. It was a rainy weekend that was perfect for baking bread. A weekend to stay in doors by the heater with bread dough rising. The sort of weekend when it is too wet to hang the washing outside, when the cars turn on their headlights in the middle of the day, and when it was inevitable that I couldn’t find the car keys as I stood in the supermarket carpark in the rain.

Yes, I headed out in the car in search of bread for lunch (and groceries) before starting baking. I finally spotted O’Hea’s Bakery in Coburg that Yaz recommended to me many months ago but there were too many roadworks and too few parking spots to make my way there in that rain. Next I headed to Smith Street in Fitzroy and found that one of my favourite bakeries (the one next to Gluttony) had a two for the price of one offer on their bread. When I got home with two loaves and flour for two more, I found that E had gone out. Knowing he would be thinking about lunch, I phoned his mobile and fortunately intercepted him en route to a local bakery.

Back at home I baked a Treacle and Oatmeal Bread from Entertaining with Cranks. This book is from the 1980s but feels older than that – it has pen and ink drawings and a sort of fusty wholesome goodness about it. As did the bread. It had quite a firm crumbly texture which reminded me a bit of the wholemeal loaves my mother makes. The treacle and milk mixture was quite sweet but once mixed with the flour the dough is quite savoury. It was a little moist when fresh (see above photo) but fine when cooled. As with last week’s Russian Vegetable Bread, I have made notes below on how I baked it which varied slightly from the recipe.

It took a bit longer to rise than Cranks thought it might. It literally came out of the oven just as we were leaving for dinner at Will’s. He was delighted with the bread. It paired well with the thick creamy zucchini, potato and ricotta soup. Both bread and soup offered the hearty comfort we needed when coming in from the cold wet night. Will and E kept eating it with his amazing panir steaks which you can see served with my salad.

For sweets we had golden syrup dumplings with a surprise filling of melted chocolate in them – a most excellent addition to the dumplings. One of the most amusing moments of the evening was when Will’s boss rang him for the ingredients of a recipe and it happened she was making the same dessert as him. We did ponder if this was a condition of employment, but he explained that he had borrowed her cookbook and made a dessert that she had impressed him with before.

Will hosts a fine dinner party. I was happy to sit and talk with him about what he was cooking (eagerly eyeing his technique with the panir steaks) while E browsed the CD collection. When Will and I were housemates he could clear the kitchen with his collection of Prog Rock music. Now my dear partner has made me more appreciative of it but I still don’t share the enthusiasm of these two for discussing bands such as Tangerine Dream for hours on end. Unfortunately for them, I had to get home at a reasonable hour so we were up the next morning to enjoy the bread again with brunch.

After baking the bread, I saw that Melissa at A Sweet Life is hosting this month’s Bread Baking Day which is all about breakfast breads (deadline is 1 June). She is interested to hear about what our breakfast bread traditions are. When I was young I would have had vegemite, peanut butter, jam or honey on toasted bread quite like this one, so I am sending it her way.

I have taken a picture of the sorts of spreads we have in our house today (with promite now replacing vegemite in my affections). I did notice later that there is no butter in the picture and reflected that these days I am less likely to butter my bread first but it would have been mandatory when I was young. As you will see when I post about my brunch from this weekend, although I often still have toast (because I like a savoury breakfast), the toppings can be all manner of dips, cheeses, beans and vegetables. But the spreads pictured here still often feature on my toast in a quick weekday breakfast. This bread makes great toast so is very pleasing for breakfast with a scrape of promite or jam.

Oatmeal and Treacle Bread
(from Entertaining with Cranks)
Makes 2 large loaves

- 900ml (1½ pints) milk
- 50g butter or margarine
- 4 tbsp treacle
- 25g (1oz) fresh yeast (I used 11g dried yeast)
- 1 tsp raw sugar
- ¼ cup (60ml) lukewarm water
- 1.4 kg (3lb) wholemeal flour (I used 1kg wholemeal and 400g white flour)
- 175g (6oz) oatmeal
- 1 tbsp salt
- Lightly beaten egg, milk or water to glaze
- Extra oatmeal or poppyseed to sprinkle

Combine the milk, treacle and butter in a medium saucepan over low heat until the butter has melted. Set aside to cool to lukewarm. (Mine took quite a while to cool down.)

Mix the yeast and sugar in a small bowl. Add the lukewarm water and mix. Leave it in a warm place until it becomes frothy. It suggests 10-20 minutes but I left mine 30 minutes because I was waiting for the milk mixture to cool. (The yeast mixture just kept growing which amazed me.)

Place flour, oats and salt in a large bowl. Add the lukewarm milk mixture and the yeast mixture. Stir to combine. (My milk mixture took so long that after about 20 minutes I stirred it through the flour mixture and it cooled down quickly so I could add the yeast without it being threatened by too much heat. The liquid on top of the dry ingredients filled my largest mixing bowl to the top so use a large bowl. I used a knife to stir it through because I think I have seen my mum do this – it doesn’t create so many waves that might spill over the edge.) The recipe suggests that if the dough is a little dry you should add more milk, but I didn’t.

After stirring with a knife, use your hands to mix to a coherent dough and knead on a lightly floured board for a few minutes til it is smooth. Return to an oiled bowl and cover with clingwrap. Rest in a warm place for 10 minutes. (I mean the dough but by all means take this opportunity to read the weekend paper, fit in some blogging or collapse on the couch.)

Knead on a lightly floured board for about 10 minutes or til smooth and elastic. Divide the dough into two halves with a sharp knife. Divide in half again and knead each ball til just smooth. Place two balls each in a greased loaf tin. (The recipe says a 900g tin - I thought my tin was smaller but the dough didn’t reach the top of the tin so am confused about sizes. I placed one of my loaves on a baking tray because I don’t have two largish tins.) Lightly brush tops with oil and cover with clingwrap.

Leave in a warm place to rise til doubled. (The recipe says til dough touches the tops of the tin which is not helpful if your dough is on a tray or you are not sure of the size of the tins. It says it should need about 40 minutes. I let mine rise for 60 minutes because it didn’t seem to have risen enough after 40 minutes.)

Brush the tops with egg, milk or water and sprinkle with oats or poppyseeds. Bake in the oven at 200 C for approximately 40 minutes or til it sounds hollow when tapped. Cool on a wire rack. (Or if you are heading out the door, wrap in a couple of teatowels and don’t be surprised if it is so soft it breaks in half.)

On the stereo:
Epsilon in Malaysian Pale: Edgar Froese

PPN: Story of a pasta sauce

Today I thought I would tell you the story of some vegetables that have journeyed through the weekend with me. These vegetables have been through recreation, resurrection and recycling. When my plans have gone awry they have rescued, revived and redirected me. I just wish I knew what to call them. Is it a salad, it is a brunch fry-up, is it a pasta sauce? I’ll let you to be the judge.

Saturday morning found me in the supermarket raiding the fruit and vegetable section, full of hope. My fridge is still full of vegetables that I have not yet cooked but plan to during the week. I baked bread and decided I would roast some pumpkin while I preheated the oven and baked the bread. While the pumpkin and bread did their thing I prepared other vegetables for what I planned to be a salad. I was inspired by a recipe in my notebook but took ideas for a raspberry vinegar and orange juice vinaigrette from one made recently by Helen.

In my mind I intended to divide the pumpkin into halves. One part for a salad I was taking to a friend’s and one part to add to a brunch dish of tomato, cannellini beans and spinach. In my hurry I put all of the pumpkin into the salad. My friend Will was delighted as he loves pumpkin. He had made some amazing panir cheese steaks which he served with mashed sweet potato and the salad. Great combination but so much salad that I took home oodles of it.

On Sunday morning my sister, Francesca and partner Steve were coming for brunch. I had planned a simple dish of warmed tomatoes, cannellini beans and spinach to go with zucchini fritters. But I had thought it would be nice to add some of my roasted pumpkin. When I ended up with lots of salad over, it seemed as good warmed as cold so I decided to recycle it instead of making another dish.

‘So I’m having fried salad and a smoothie for brunch,’ groaned the Grim Eater, as he vacuumed the rug. He just didn’t appreciate that the salad’s highlight (garlic) and disappointment (not enough vinegar) made it perfect for resurrection as a heated dish and earned gratitude for time-saving. I added some cannellini beans, more tomatoes, more spinach, more garlic and some lemon juice. Warmed up it was delicious.

But at the end of brunch, we still had too much of it to wish away. I looked at E as we cleared the dishes and said, 'pasta sauce for dinner!' Initially I was disappointed not to make the cassoulet I had planned but after baking for morning tea at work tomorrow, I was relieved to have the convenience of my friendly vegetables. I added some more spinach and heated it (again) by which time it was wilting in a very pleasing way that was much more sauce than salad. Stirred through hot pasta with a bit of parmesan cheese, Bob’s your uncle!

I loved it so much I wanted to write it up but it made me think just how artificial recipes are. As you will see by my story, it has been added to and reheated too many times for any simple equation. So here is a recipe below which gives an approximation of what I did all bundled into one dish. It is really just collapses a few moments in time into one rather than being an accurate reflection of any of the reincarnations.

I am sending this dish to Ruth at Ruth of Once Upon a Feast for her weekly Pasta Presto Nights. I am sure she will appreciate the flexibility of a pasta recipe. Meanwhile, stay tuned for more post on my weekend.

Pumpkin, Tomato and Spinach Pasta/Salad
Serves 6

700g pumpkin, trimmed, peeled and diced
500g grape tomatoes, halved
200g green beans, trimmed and chopped
100g baby spinach, torn
400g tin of cannellini beans, drained
1 tbsp raspberry vinegar
1 tbsp orange juice
1 tbsp lemon juice
Zest of half a lemon
2 cloves garlic, crushed
2 tbsp olive oil, plus extra for roasting
Salt and pepper
Parmesan cheese to serve (optional)
Cooked pasta to serve (about 2 small dessert bowls uncooked)

Place pumpkin in a large roasting dish. Drizzle with olive oil and Roast pumpkin in cool oven (150 C) for 1 hour and then at 180 C for 20-30 minutes or until soft.

While pumpkin cooks lightly blanch the green beans. Make vinaigrette by whisking together raspberry vinegar, juices, zest, garlic and olive oil in a small bowl. Season.

When pumpkin is cooked toss in a bowl with tomatoes, green beans, spinach and cannellini beans and dressing. Season. If using as a salad, it is ready to serve with or without the pasta. If using as a pasta sauce, warm in a saucepan until vegetables are warmed and slightly wilting. Toss through cooked pasta and serve with parmesan cheese if desired.

On the stereo:
The Rule of Thirds: Death in June

A crumble that needs company

When my parents moved into their house over 20 years ago, the garden was just some scrubby grass. My parents are gardeners and have spent years nurturing a flourishing rose garden which adds great colour and character to the 1927 white weatherboard Californian Bungalow. (I just searched for a photo but I can’t find any except a nice green one of the back garden which is also a blooming miracle in the drought.) In fact when it was recently listed as a heritage building, the listing mentioned the garden.

I never appreciated gardening much when I was younger. I just wanted to look at the building. But as I have got older I have come to appreciate gardens much more. After all, those fine historic houses of Europe wouldn’t look quite so grand without their amazing gardens. So too, I never used to appreciate a side dish with dinner but these days I realise how important it is.

I was reflecting on side dishes last weekend when I made Lucy’s leek and tomato crumble. I have often treated leeks as always the bridesmaid never the bride. But I was attracted to this leek-centric dish by its promise of creamy comfort to be enriched by tahini.

Instead of simmering a tomato sauce to top the leek mixture, I roasted the tomatoes. Partly because I was avoiding watching another pot, partly inspired by Lucy’s recent stunning photos of roasting tomatoes, and partly because I was so excited by the variety of tomatoes in the supermarket. When you have the vivid glories of yellow roma, cocktail piccolini and grape tomatoes, you don’t want to cook them into an unidentifiable mush. It was a delight to taste the intense juicy flavour brought on by roasting. I would also be interested in Lucy’s other suggested version of the recipe with extra tahini and no milk.

This dish was indeed comforting as if it was dredging up some memories of food of the past. The crisp buttery oaty crumble on top made a pleasing contrast with the creamy leeks and the occasional juicy tomato. Delicious but also rather rich. Excellent in small quantities and desperately in need of company.

The success of the crumble depended on the way it was served. The first night it was lovely but heavy with a great collision of leftovers: some roasted root vegetables left after my rosy bread adventures, tossed with rocket leftover from my lasagne and dressed with raspberry vinegar. The second night the crumble didn’t fare too well when I piled it with roasted tomatoes and Brussels sprouts hoping to maybe lighten it with more tomatoes. Instead it just made the crumble soggy. Finally a small tub of it heated up for lunch the following day was very pleasing.

It is possible to get lots of variety in a one pot wonder as Meeta recently demonstrate in one of her mingles. But I have come to learn that the way to have such rich dishes with so few vegies is to serve them with a good salad or other side dish of bright fresh vegies. Kathryn is posting a informative series at the moment about eating variety of foods. I am sure she would agree that side dishes are an excellent way to increase the diversity in your diet. Like a house with a garden, a main dish with a side dish is usually much more interesting and pleasing to the eye.

Leek and tomato crumble
(adapted from Leith’s Vegetarian Bible via Nourish Me)
Serves 8

600g tomatoes, roughly chopped
1 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 onion, chopped
1 tablespoon of olive oil, plus extra for drizzling
3 leeks, trimmed, washed and thinly sliced
2 tbsp butter or margarine
2 tbsp flour
1 cup rice, almond or cows milk
1 tbsp tahini
1 scant cup flour (wholemeal [whole-wheat] works well)
½ cup rolled oats
2 tablespoons of fresh herbs, finely chopped
85g cold butter, cubed
1 tbsp sesame seeds
sea salt and pepper

Place tomatoes and garlic in a roasting tray. Drizzle with olive oil, season and toss to combine. Roast for 20 minutes at 200 C. When softened, remove from oven. (Or fry onion in a little oil, add tomatoes, season and simmer 20 minutes til thickened and pulpy.)

Heat 1 tbsp oil in a stockpot and fry onions for 5 minutes. Add leeks and cover. Heat on low for 5-8 minutes until soft, stirring occasionally. I needed a little extra liquid and tipped in some liquid from the tomatoes.

Add butter and stir while it melts. Then mix flour into buttery leek mixture and cook for 1-2 minutes, stirring constantly so the mixture doesn’t stick to the bottom of the saucepan. Add the milk and stir til combined. Bring to the boil and simmer for about 2 minutes. Stir in the tahini, season and remove from heat. Set aside.

Mix the flour, oats and herbs together in a large bowl. Rub in the cubed butter with your fingertips until mixed in and forming clusters resembling chunky crumbs.

Spread the leeks in a greased large baking dish (9 x 13 inches). Pour the tomatoes on top. Scatter evenly with crumble. Sprinkle the sesame seeds over the crumble. Bake for 20-30 minutes or until golden.

On the Stereo:
Discography: Pet Shop Boys

Rosy Russian Bread (and Grumpy Baker)

I grew up with my mum baking bread and since I moved out of home I have baked it occasionally. I like to think I know a thing or two about bread making. After kneading and proving enough yeasty loaves to feel comfortable with bread dough, I didn't expect that I would find myself struggling to make sense of what should have been a simple bread recipe.

On the weekend I decided to make Russian Vegetable Bread from New Recipes from the Moosewood Restaurant. I was attracted by the promise of a rosy hue and the opportunity to use up some fresh dill. One of the most helpful guides to bread making is in Mollie Katzen’s Enchanted Broccoli Forest and I would suggest the Moosewood writers take some writing tips from Mollie.

I know, I know, I should read the instructions more carefully. But it seemed odd that there was no sweetener in the ingredients list and yet when I checked the instructions in the appendix which apparently is for ‘wary novices’, I found it is needed. The instructions for adding the flour are vague and I don’t know why I was instructed to beat the dough 300 times.

The suggestion that beginners should go to the back of the book is alienating and patronizing. An ill-advised tactic if you are trying to persuade readers to ‘aspire to that memorable, evocative, appreciative romance with food, which seems to begin with real bread, made by hand’, as is stated at the introduction to the section. Despite my familiarity with bread making, I struggled with this recipe, even with checking the advice in the appendix. I am glad that I don’t consider myself a novice or this experience might convince me that I should never attempt another loaf of bread.

I found that the dough was too soft due to my laxness with adding flour. I kneaded it for 25 minutes and it still didn’t get to the right elasticity. I baked it longer than advised. And, yes, I was a little narky when it finally came out of the oven after 6 hours of kneading, proving, and baking, because it seemed that it wasn’t cooked properly.

As it happens, E has loved this bread. I had expected it to be too strong, too dense, too weirdly coloured for the Grim Eater. But he was full of praise. After commenting that it looked like some alien life form, he happily sampled and told me he couldn’t get enough of the bread. The rosy-hued crust seemed intriguingly unnatural and it was odder still to slice the loaf open and find the inside a warm caramel colour with flecks of crimson beetroot. It was surprisingly and pleasingly soft with subtle flavours of molasses, rye and caraway.

It seems that something went right. In fact, it was good enough and interesting enough that I would recommend trying this bread, despite my anxieties. I hope that I have amended the below recipe enough to make it a little friendlier to novices and experts alike.

Russian Vegetable Bread
(from New Recipes from the Moosewood Restaurant)
Makes 2 loaves

1 tbsp dry yeast (1½ x 7g packages)
½ cup luke warm water
½ -1 tsp sweetener (sugar, honey or agave)
1½ cups hot water
3 tbsp molasses
3 tbsp vegetable oil
1 tbsp salt
3 tbsp fresh dill, chopped
2 tsp caraway seeds
2 cups peeled and grated raw beets, carrot and/or parsnip
2 cups wholemeal flour
3-4 cups unbleached white flour
2 cups rye flour

Mix the hot water, molasses, oil, salt, dill, caraway seeds, and grated vegetables in a large bowl. Set aside to cool to lukewarm.

Mix the yeast, warm water and sweetener in a small bowl. Sit for about 5 minutes until the yeast begins to foam. When the vegetable mixture is lukewarm, add the yeast mixture. Mix in the wholemeal flour and 1 cup of the white flour. Beat for 300 strokes (What this instruction is all about is not explained and I would prefer a little more kneading so next time I don’t think I will bother with the beating but if you enjoy a little beating, go ahead).

Add rye flour and 1-3 cups of the white flour. (In the book it says enough flour to make a stiff dough. I don’t think I added enough and had heartache trying to knead it in so next time I would add 2 cups white flour.) Mix to a stiff dough.

Turn onto a floured board and knead for 10 – 15 minutes until the dough develops an elasticity akin to your ear lobe. I found it a soft sticky dough that constantly needed to be fed flour to stop it sticking to the board, but it may have been because I didn’t put in enough flour initially. It was amazingly pink and after kneading my hands smelt of molasses, but the flavour was more subtle in the end product.

Place dough in an oiled bowl, turn to make sure all sides are oiled and cover with a damp teatowel or plastic clingwrap. Let it rise 1½ hours in a warm place. Punch down the dough and knead briefly. Set aside again, cover and let rise another hour. This is a dough that rose quickly and ballooned over the top of my large mixing bowl.

Preheat the oven to 375 F or 190 C. When dough has risen a second time, punch down the dough and briefly knead. Oil two 12 x 23cm loaf tins. Divide up the dough into 4 or 6 pieces and knead into smooth balls. Divide these balls among the tins to form loaves. (I put one loaf in a tin and one on a baking tray so they look quite different - just use a baking tray if you don't have the right tins.) Cover and leave to rise about 45 minutes.

Bake for 35-60 minutes. (Mine took 60 minutes but the recipe said 35-40 – tap the bread to see if it sounds hollow. If the crust is still too soft it will not sound hollow.) Keeps well for a few days.

On the stereo:
Live at Royal Albert Hall on 2 November 2007: The Cinematic Orchestra

Mum’s Banana Cake

On the weekend my mum was not well and, between looking after her, my dad managed to visit us to help repair our outdoor table. (We don’t have his range of tools.) He also gave us some good ideas about our new compost bin. He had been so busy looking after others that he didn’t seem to have given much thought to food.

Both my mum and my dad are great with their advice, always ready to offer a sympathetic ear, and on our doorsteps to help in moments of need. We are lucky. My dad is a whiz with the power drill but it is my mum who is the head cook and bottlewasher. I grew up with her always stirring, kneading, cooking, roasting, frying, baking. She regularly produced roast dinners, corned beef, lamb cutlets, quince jelly, tomato sauce, wholemeal bread, apple sponge pudding, pavlova, cream filled sponge cakes, ginger biscuits. Good traditional Australian tucker.

We usually had bananas around the house. When they were barely ripe we would slice them up and eat them in soft white bread sandwiches with sugar sprinkled on them and plenty of butter. I'd help my mum mash them up and feed them to my baby brothers and sisters. We would eat them plain, or sometimes in pancakes or on top of caramel tart. And when the bananas in the brass fruit bowl started going soft and black, my mum made banana bread.

I learnt so much about cooking from my mum and continue to do so. When I visit, I often find her in the kitchen. We regularly swap notes about our latest cooking adventures. When my mum is sick, the kitchen is quiet. You might hear the ping of the microwave but it lacks the bustle and warmth that my mum brings to the heart of the house. So I was pleased to be able to offer dad some homemade bread with cheese and a piece of cake. I even sent him away with some for mum. It is nice to be able to return just a little of the comfort and support I have been given over the years.

I almost didn’t make the cake. But I am very grateful to Not Quite Nigella for inspiring me to do so with her banana bread bake-off. She asked for a plain banana bread. We’ve always called it cake but it is simple and honest enough to be called ‘banana bread’ – none of the pretensions that might characterise a cake. I immediately thought of my favourite chocolate banana cake but when I stumbled across my mum’s recipe I didn’t bother looking any further.

This is a cake I ate often as a child and made many times as an adult. It beckoned me with its simplicity. It was no surprise to find it was the first recipe I ever wrote down in my sweet recipe notebook – almost 20 years ago. (The next recipe was mum’s chocolate cake.) Since then I have discovered all sorts of yummy extras - walnuts, sultanas, lemon, blueberries, chocolate, lime, cranberries, and coconut - but sometimes you just want the real thing without distractions. And E was delighted to have me baking plain cake.

Like most banana cakes it has those little black specks that look like ants. In fact once I found a banana cake that I was cooling on the bench was indeed covered in ants. I was most displeased to have to put it straight into the bin. Not easy when it smells so good coming out of the oven.

My dad’s timing was impeccable. He arrived just before my oven timer rang. By the time he had worked his magic with the power drill in the backyard, the cake was ready. It tasted lovely with butter melting into the warm, soft crumb, accompanied by a cuppa tea.

Mum’s Banana Cake

125g butter
¾ cup sugar
3 eggs, lightly beaten
½ tsp vanilla essence
1 ½ cups self raising flour
3 bananas, mashed
1 tsp bicarbonate soda
1 tbsp milk

Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs and vanilla. Beat well. Stir in alternate portions of flour and banana. Dissolve bicarb in milk and stir into mixture until combined. Pour into a greased and lined loaf tin. Bake in moderate oven (180 C, 350 F) approximately one hour (I put mine on the lower shelf for the last 20 minutes as it was getting a bit brown, so it could possibly even do with a little less time). The cake is cooked when a skewer comes out clean. Turn out onto a wire rack to clean.

On the Stereo:
…where tattered clouds are stranding (dedicated to the art of Icelandic sculptor and painter Einar Jonsson, 1874-1954) – Various Artists

Creamy Green Lasagne for Beautiful Bones

I am not keen on milk and cream. I prefer juice on my breakfast cereal, usually take dessert without cream and shudder at the idea of drinking a glass of milk. In the past the most palatable way for me to have milk has been with chocolate – on a bowl of cocoa pops, in a chocolate milkshake or in a hot chocolate drink. But I partake of such foods less and less. These days I am even likely to pass up the glass and half of full cream milk in Cadbury’s milk chocolate in favour of Lindt 70% dark chocolate.

While I don’t like milk and cream I do love cheese and yoghurt. But my preferences mean that I find creamy dishes very rich and don’t make a lot of them. However, one dish that I will usually make with a creamy sauce is lasagne. My standard lasagne is vegies and beans in tomato sauce with a cheese sauce on top. Placing cheese sauce through all the layers is a bit rich for me but I do love the soft white sauce under the crispy cheese on top. This weekend I fancied some lasagne but wanted something a bit different, especially after seeing some inspiring vegetable combinations in baked pasta dishes by other bloggers.

So I turned to my recipe books and found one of the recipes that gave me much pleasure in the past: Mollie Katzen’s pesto lasagne from the Enchanted Broccoli Forest. It was pleasing because it was so full of green pesto, spinach and even lasagne verde. I have had my eye on a broccoli and rocket pesto lately and added this rather than the common basil pesto. It gave the sauce a bit more substance and texture than the usual spinach and cheese combination. But it was still a very rich lasagne that needs a hearty salad such as rocket, tomatoes and beetroot with crimson dressing.

This lasagne is full of cheese – ricotta, parmesan and mozzarella. So I thought it would be ideal for Susan at Food Blogga who is asking bloggers to post a calcium-rich recipe to raise awareness of osteoporosis for her Beautiful Bones event. Of course the cheese is full of calcium but, as someone who can never remember liking milk or cream, I think it is important to be aware that this is not the only source.

When I went vegetarian I read enough to know how important it is to eat a varied diet to get all our nutritional requirements. In this dish, calcium is also found in vegetables (spinach, broccoli, rocket), nuts (walnuts), seeds (sunflower), and herbs (parsley). So even though my intake of dairy foods isn’t always that high, it is reassuring to know there are many other sources of calcium in my diet. If you want to know more about osteoporosis and sources of calcium, then you should head over to Food Blogga where Susan has posted some really helpful information.

Green Lasagne with Broccoli and Rocket Pesto
(adapted from the Enchanted Broccoli Forest)
Serves 6-8

2 tbsp olive oil
2 medium onions, chopped
4 cloves garlic, crushed
350g fresh baby spinach, finely chopped
1 tsp salt (or to taste)
Freshly ground black pepper
1½ cups broccoli and rocket pesto (see below or use basil pesto)
750g (3 cups) light ricotta cheese
¼ cup sunflower seeds, toasted
handful parsley, finely chopped
½ cup parmesan cheese, grated
400g ready cook lasagne
200g mozzarella cheese, grated*
(*or 3 sliced tomatoes and less mozzarella)

Heat oil in large heavy frypan and sauté onions and garlic until soft. I washed and chopped the spinach while I did this so I think it took me about 20 minutes on low heat. If you need to toast the sunflower seeds you could do these while onions cooking but don’t get distracted with other tasks!

Add spinach to onions and stir to combine, then remove from heat. Add salt, pepper, pesto, ricotta, sunflower seeds, parsely and half the parmesan cheese. Stir to combine.

Preheat oven to 350 F. To assemble you need a greased 9 x 13 inch baking dish. I put a smear of filling in the bottom of the dish. Place a layer of lasagne noodles and cover with a third of the filling. Repeat twice. Place final layer of noodle on top and cover with grated mozzarella cheese and the other half of the parmesan. I also gave it a spray of oil but this is optional. If you want to use less cheese you could put a layer of sliced tomatoes on top of the top layer of lasagne noodles and sprinkle some cheese on them as I did in this lasagne.

Bake for 45-60 minutes until the noodles feel cooked when you stick a knife in it. If it is looking too brown on top you could either cover with foil or move to a lower oven shelf. Serve with a tomato and beetroot salad or a tomato sauce.

Broccoli and Rocket Pesto
Makes 1½ cups

250g broccoli (about one head of broccoli)
1 cup rocket leaves (a.k.a. arugula)
1 tbsp fresh oregano (or mint or basil) finely chopped
1 clove garlic, chopped
⅓ cup (40g) walnuts (or pinenuts)
3 tbsp grated parmesan cheese
¼ cup olive oil
¼ cup vegetable oil (optional – I didn’t use)

Steam broccoli til just soft but still green. Place all ingredients except oil in food processor and blend til smooth. Drizzle oil into mixture and process until well combined. Mine was quite a thick paste which would have needed some seasoning if not being used for lasagne.

On the stereo:
Eisiges Licht: apocalyptic folk and pop: Various Artists