GYO #7 Dipping into the garden

Our garden is small and humble – just a handful of pots in a sea of concrete. Our lemon tree is doing well but our lime tree thinks it lives in Michael Leunig’s Curly Flat. Most of our herbs are doing well, apart from the recalcitrant parsley.

I do use the herbs a little in my cooking – a bit of fresh thyme or chives in this, a bay leaf in that. But they are mostly subtle background notes. They don’t often feature in my cooking because I don’t like to use too much for fear of killing off my young plants altogether.

This week I had the pleasant problem of needing to use up some of the herbs. The mint has flourished (under the garden tap as recommended by my mum) to the extent that I was concerned it would either wilt or be eaten before I got to it. The rosemary is doing well and my mum has told me I need to trim it so it will be bushy. So here was my challenge – mint and rosemary.

In a doctors waiting room recently I saw a recipe for pea and bean dip in an old magazine but never got the details of the recipe. It was all the inspiration I needed. I recently made a pea pesto and was delighted by the taste and colour, so was keen to try peas in a dip again. Peas and mint are a classic combination so I thought I would try this. It worked wonderfully. The colour is a lovely green, the texture is chunky and the taste is fresh and light.

Once I had bought a tin of beans for my pea dip, I decided I only needed half of it, which mean I had leftover beans to use. A dip I have fancied lately is white bean and roasted garlic after my success with roasted garlic in a pea soup. I had also seen a rosemary and white bean dip some time ago that got my attention. But I had bought too many sweet potatoes for my Mexican croustade. The oven was already on for my moist bran muffins that I baked during the week, so I put the garlic and sweet potato in the oven to roast.

The initial version of this dip was a little sweet and bland. E helped with tasting. He recommended Tabasco because he thinks everything tastes better with a bit of Tabasco. I was so impressed with the addition of smoked paprika in my recent cheese, onion and potato bread, that I was keen to try it again. So I put in some chilli paste for E and smoked paprika for me. Now all the flavours melded so that the sum was greater than the individual parts. The end result was a dip that was smooth as velvet with deep smoky flavours and a little bite. I think I liked it better than the pea dip, although both are most pleasing.

I have been enjoying both dips on bread, toast, dry biscuits during the week. They are all the more satisfying for being my own creation and using herbs that I have nurtured in my own garden. I am glad to have used some of the herbs as we have had quite a bit of rain which means the plants will flourish and there will be even more to use.

I am sending these recipes to Andrea for her Grow Your Own event which celebrates cooking with homegrown products.

Pea, Bean and Mint Dip

1 cup frozen peas
½ x 400g tin of canellini beans (or other white beans)
1 handful mint
1 tbsp parmesan, grated
1 tsp lemon juice
Pinch salt
Good grind pepper

Put the peas in the microwave to thaw and heat a little. Drain and rinse the beans. Place all ingredients in food processor and blend to combine – it is fine if it is still just a little chunky. Check seasoning.

Smoky Sweet Potato and Bean Dip

2 small sweet potatoes (approx 200-250g)
½ bulb of garlic
½ x 400g tin of cannellini beans (or other white beans)
1 tsp rosemary, chopped
½ tsp chilli paste
¼ tsp smoked paprika
¼ tsp salt

Prick sweet potatoes with a fork and place in oven at 190 C for about an hour til soft and cooked through. Chop the tips off the garlic bulb and place on a square of foil. Spray with olive oil and bring up corners of foil to twist together to make a little foil bag. Place in oven for about 30 minutes or til garlic is soft. Drain and rinse beans.

Cool both sweet potato and garlic a little. Squeeze sweet potato out of its skin and squeeze garlic cloves out of skin. Place garlic and sweet potato in food processor with remaining ingredients til smooth. Check seasoning.

On the Stereo:
Travels in Constants vol 13: Appendix Out

A croustade to celebrate beans

“Beans are highly nutritious and satisfying, they can also be delicious if and when properly prepared, and they posses over all vegetables the great advantage of being just as good, if not better, when kept waiting, an advantage in the case of people whose disposition or occupation makes it difficult for them to be punctual at mealtime.”
Andre Simon, The Concise Encyclopedia of Gastronomy (1952)

It was National Bean Day on 6 January so The Well Seasoned Cook, Susan, decided to hold an event called My Legume Love Affair to celebrate all manner of beans and lentils.

I am all for celebrating beans. What would the life of a vegetarian be without beans? What would my childhood have been like without baked beans? What cuisine doesn’t have their iconic bean dishes: hummus, falafels, moles, dahl, and minestrone? The world would be a poorer place without beans.

So here is my chance to reflect on beans, on what they mean to me. Beans means brilliant advertising campaigns. Beans means a giant chasing Jack while yelling fe fi fo fum. Beans mean protein. Beans means dodgy digestive systems. Beans means cheap nutritious meals. Beans means gently simmering stews that do not demand punctuality. Beans means filling the cupboard with convenient tins even though I know I should be soaking and simmering (note to self: must buy more dried beans)!

Beans are ancient delights and treasures. They can be traced back 7000 BC. In Mexico, Aztec Kings would receive 5000 tons of beans in yearly tribute. Galen in 184 AD writes about women using bean meal to cleanse superficial blemishes from their faces. Columbus brought them back to Europe from the Americas. European herbalists named New World beans, kidney beans because they were believed to strengthen the kidney – a belief that, oddly enough, was based on the shape of the bean being like a kidney. I was further intrigued by Colin Spencer’s story of 1960s parties where kidney beans were soaked but not cooked, ending in illness. Were the hosts mortified or were they just too busy grooving to notice?

So there is lots to love about beans and legumes. But I find that beans often are lost in humble purees, stews and soups. For Susan’s event I wanted something to showcase beans in a way that I don’t usually cook them. Sarah Brown presented the perfect challenge: Mexican Croustade. I had it years ago when my housemate Yaz made it. But I only remember being impressed that he dared make such a splendid looking dish, rather than remembering the taste.

This is a recipe that has beckoned me every time I browse through her Vegetarian Cookbook. The deep red kidney beans and lime green avocado against the orange sweet potato are cheerful and verging on kitsch. It looks picture perfect like the pretty blonde with the cool sunglasses and the smooth talk in a teen movie. But it was a bit bland and the crust crumbled at the slightest poke of the fork. Unfortunately, like Little Miss Perfect, it is all style and no substance.

Well, maybe I am being a bit harsh. It wasn’t horrible. But it didn’t live up to its picturesque loveliness. The best thing was the texture. The juxtaposition of the smooth beans and vegetables with the crunchy roughage of the crust is interesting. E wasn’t so keen on the latter which he said was a bit too Jethro Tull for him (I am still trying to work this one out). But the flavours weren’t quite right. It might have been my fault. I managed to season the sweet potato well. I think the orange zest was the problem: it overwhelmed the other flavours and made it a bit sweet for my tastes. So I am not sure that I would use all or any of the zest in future but would add garlic and Tabasco, and maybe more seasoning. (And what self-respecting Mexican dish wouldn’t!)

The good news is that it looked almost as good as the photo in the cookbook (but it collapsed when I transferred it to the plate because my crust was a little too crumbly). One of my main concerns about making it was that I made sure the avocado was at the right stage of ripeness. My avocado was beautifully green and buttery. Even after the flan leftovers sat overnight in the fridge the green was still glorious and the colours made me happy. I must say, this is a good dish for bloggers to enjoy (ie look but don’t taste). But if you wish to make it, be wiser than me – go easy on the zest and taste the bean and avocado mixture as you cook.

I find this ironic that my splendidly picturesque bean dish didn’t taste as good as the dull looking buried-in-stew dishes I usually make with beans. A lesson about beans perhaps. That they often don’t look too pretty but they usually taste pretty good.

Mexican Croustade
(adapted from Sarah Brown’s Vegetarian Cookbook)
Serves 4

Crust:
½ cup (50g) fresh breadcrumbs (not dried)
⅓ cup (50g) wholemeal flour
½ cup (50g) wheatgerm
½ cup (50g) rolled oats
100g butter, melted

Filling:
75g kidney beans soaked and cooked or 300g tin kidney beans
275g sweet potatoes (one medium), peeled and diced
Salt and pepper
1 small onion, diced
1 clove garlic, crushed
½ tsp ground cardamom
½ tsp ground cinnamon
1 ripe avocado
Juice of one orange
1 tsp orange zest (or less or more to taste – Sarah suggests zest of one orange but this was too much for me)
Tabasco sauce to taste.

Preheat oven to 190 C.

To make crust, mix all ingredients together in a bowl. Check it will press together ok - I think I needed a bit more butter. Press into a greased (?) 18-20cm flan dish. (I used a 22cm springform cake tin which was fine.) Bake for 15-20 minutes.

Meanwhile boil sweet potatoes for 15-20 minutes til tender. Drain and mash with plenty of seasoning.

Fry onion in oil over medium heat til soft (Sarah suggests 3-4 minutes but I took 10 minutes). Add garlic and spices and fry a couple of minutes. Add kidney beans and avocado. Stir over medium heat about 2-3 minutes. Add orange juice, zest and Tabasco sauce. Check seasoning. Cook another 5 minutes (the juice should have reduced but not quite evaporated).

Spread the sweet potato over the flan base. Spoon the kidney bean and avocado mixture over the sweet potato. Cover loosely with foil and bake for 10-15 minutes. Serve hot or warm.

On the stereo:
Songs from the Wood (subtitled: 'with kitchen prose, gutter rhymes and divers): Jethro Tull

Germy Bran Muffins

‘What sort of muffins have you made?’ asked E as he did the dishes following my baking.

‘Ummm… I put them all in the freezer except one and you are welcome to that one,’ I replied.

He congratulated me on some fine dissembling about my muffins and told me I would make a great interviewee on the John Faine morning radio show – I think he was alluding to politicians who refuse to answer any questions.

But there was a reason I didn’t like to answer. I made Wendy’s moist bran muffins but I had wheat germ I wanted to use up and used it instead of wheat bran. Does that mean I have to say I made moist germ muffins? It just doesn’t have the same ring to it! I would prefer to call them prune muffins but the prunes are really there because Wendy substituted prune puree for butter – inspired by Nigella Lawson! They don’t really taste like prunes but the prunes do seem to make them pleasingly moist.

I wondered what difference it would make to use wheat germ rather than wheat bran. I checked with Sarah Brown and Rose Elliot who both wrote that the wheat germ has most of the nutrients because it is the place where the wheat germinates, but the bran comes from the husk and is full of fibre. My muffins might not be so fibre-packed but apparently they are full of nutrients (unless these die in the baking process which is quite possible).

I had a few other deviations from Wendy’s recipe. The only tin of prunes I could find in the supermarket was sweetened (why why why?). I discovered this as I looked at the amount of sugar required by the recipe. Wendy must have used unsweetened prunes. I halved the sugar and it was still very sweet. I added molasses and forgot the salt. I also used mostly wholemeal flour which worked fine. I liked the caramelly taste that molasses imparts so will do that again. I might also just try pureeing dried prunes rather than the tinned ones next time.

But for now the muffins tasted lovely and sit in the freezer awaiting morning teas and afternoon teas when I need a treat of wholesome goodness. And the name? I am sticking to Wendy’s name because I can’t bear to call them Germ Muffins.

Moist Bran Muffins
(Adapted from A Wee Bit of Cooking)
Makes 30-36 mini-muffins

90g wheat bran or wheat germ (I think about ¾ a cup)
50ml plain yogurt
200ml milk
400g (or thereabouts) tin of prunes - drained, stoned and pureed
2 tblspn vegetable oil, plus extra to rub over muffin tin
1 egg, beaten
1 tblsp molasses (optional)
¼ cup packed (50g) brown sugar (optional)
1 tspn vanilla essence
½ cup wholemeal plain flour
¼ cup white plain flour
½ tsp baking powder
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
½ tsp salt
25g walnuts, chopped (or pecans)
25g sultanas

Mix wheat bran or wheat germ into milk and yoghurt in a small bowl so it soaks up the liquid. Set aside while preparing other ingredients.

In a medium mixing bowl use a whisk or fork to lightly beat the prunes, oil, eggs, molasses, sugar and vanilla essence until combined. Add bran or germ mixture and stir well. Add flour, baking powder, bicarb of soda, salt, nuts and sultanas. Stir until just combined.

Spoon mixture into a greased muffin tin (or ungreased silicone muffin tray). Bake in a 190 C pre-heated oven for 20-25 minutes til golden brown. Cool on a wire rack and store in airtight container or freeze.

On the Stereo:
World Library of Folk and Primitive Music, vol III, Scotland – compiled and edited by Alan Lomax

Perfect Purple Potato Bread

"What I say is that, if a fellow really likes potatoes, he must be a pretty decent sort of fellow."
A. A. Milne (1882-1956)

It is the year of the potato and to celebrate Eating Leeds is holding an event where bloggers cook a potato dish and are encouraged to try a different variety of potato to their usual ones. So I turned to Yann Lovelock and Colin Spencer to find out more about potatoes.

The humble potato is known by many names (Lovelock dedicates two pages to its name): potato, earth apple, pomme de terre, spud, Murphy, tater, tatty, ground truffle, breadroot, prairie turnip, gruntbeer, kartoffel grond peer, krumpli, batatas, bilati aloo, Batavian tuber, foreign yam, Frank’s taro.

It has a fascinating history, originating in Peru where it broke up the soil to make the growing of maize possible. The Spanish explorers then ‘discovered’ potatoes and brought them back to Europe where for years they were shunned as poisonous, inedible and even immoral. In Scotland, Presbyterian ministers opposed eating potatoes because they were not mentioned in the bible. Walter Raleigh is credited with introducing them to Ireland. I am particularly inspired by the story of French military pharmacist, Parmentier who, in his campaign to popularise potatoes, served a dinner in which all courses were based around potatoes.

In Australian history taught in schools, the potato is probably most prominent in the story of the Irish potato famine of the 1840s because it sent migrants heading to our shores. But we are not taught that it saved so many from famine and war. Maybe we didn’t need to be told it was a vegetable of influence and benevolence. While appreciating Shila Hibben’s claim that ‘the potato, like man, was not meant to dwell alone’, none of us could imagine life without it.

The potato features heavily in the Australian diet. What small country town would be without its fish and chip shop (not the one where I grew up). My childhood was full of roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, boiled new potatoes, pomme noisettes, shepherd’s pie, baked potatoes, packets of chips (crisps), hot chips, potato cakes, rosti, and the occasional treat of a chip butty and I am sure there are many more I can’t remember. I think my mum even made boston bun with mashed potato in it. I remember when I started cooking, I made a chocolate mashed potato cake which horrified my brothers and sisters but delighted me.

My recipe books are full of fantastic potato recipes – you will find them on my blog in soups, salads, stews, burgers, roast dinners, festive food, soda bread, cookies, and there are many more to come. Last week I made a delicious potato recipe which I found on Ann and Jack’s blog, Redacted Recipes. I knew the Cheese, Onion and Potato Bread must be good because Jack came back to the recipe after 12 years without disappointment – he described it as ‘small loaf with a rugged exterior and a soft, savoury interior, and it should taste wonderful’. He was right!

I love vegetables in baking and unlike some cookbook authors, I don’t feel it needs to be a sneaky way of hiding vegetables and denying their existence. Rather, vegetables should be celebrated for making cakes and breads lighter, softer, moister and more full of taste.

When Eating Leeds suggested using a different potato, the obvious one for me to try was the delightful purple congo, which Colin Spencer describes as ‘dark violet and distinctly reminiscent of Elizabeth Taylor’s eyes’. I first noticed it last year at the Queen Vic Market. Then I saw Haalo making her wonderful purple gnocchi (and she kindly alerted me to the stall at Prahran Market that sells them). Happily, I found them close to work in the lovely little Lygon St fruit and veg shop in Carlton. (I could even weigh them on my new electronic scales I got for my birthday!)

I admit my excitement was all about colour rather than about different textures. I had visions of a purple loaf of bread. It wasn’t uniformly purple, but it pleased me immensely that the bread was flecked purple and green. What is really interesting about using purple potatoes is that you see them in the bread rather than having white on white.

This bread was one of the nicest quick breads I have ever made (apologies to Jack for a few changes). The potatoes were part of this – they added moisture and taste. But kudos must also go to the sweet softness of the spring onions, the smoked paprika, and the gruyere cheese. It was soft with a deep smoky cheesy taste. I mentioned to E that it almost tasted like bacon and he agreed that if I had told him it had bacon he would have believed it. I feel I finally have used my smoked paprika in a dish where it shines and blends perfectly with the other flavours.

I probably don’t even need to say it, but this recipe is a winner! It was delicious with roast veggies and Muhammara, and took much self-discipline to leave any for breakfast the next morning. But it was delicious at breakfast time with or without jam, eaten over the weekend newspaper (which was promptly delivered unlike last week).

Cheese, Onion and Potato Bread
(from Redacted Recipes)

1½ cups (6 oz s) self-raising flour
1 tsp salt
½ tsp smoked paprika (or cayenne pepper)
1 potato, grated (I used 2 purple congo – about 200g)
100g gruyere (or goats cheese or fetta or cheddar) cut into small cubes
5 spring onions, trimmed and finely sliced
1 heaped tsp fresh thyme
1 egg
2-4 tbsp milk (I used 4)
1 tsp grain mustard

Heat oven to 190 C.

Place flour, salt and smoked paprika into medium mixing bowl. Add grated potato, 2/3 of the cheese, onions and thyme. Mix thoroughly. Lightly beat the egg with 2 tbsp milk and the mustard, add it to the bowl and mix everything together thoroughly until you have a sticky shaggy dough. You may need to add a little extra milk if it is quite dry.

Transfer the dough onto a greased baking tray – use floured hands or just scrape it out with a spoon. Form into a rough round. Push the remaining cubes of cheese into the surface, evenly spaced, dust lightly with flour then bake for 40 - 45 minutes. Cool on a wire rack. NB my cheese had melted the bread onto the tray and I had to use an eggflip (spatula) to loosen it from the tray.

On the stereo:
The best of 1966-1970: Incredible String Band

Polenta and Tomato Comforts

Last night I dug out a recipe I have not made for years. I discovered it and made it frequently when I lived in Edinburgh. This was a time when life was stressful – I was just settling into a new town, our flat was cold and damp, and my job was demanding. So it was great to have a recipe to turn to that was easy and comforting. At the end of a busy day it was reassuring to sit at our little table, eat this warm mushy polenta with tomato sauce and remind ourselves how lucky we were to be able to eat out dinner with a fine view of Edinburgh Castle.

I am sending this to Meeta for her Monthly Mingle which this month is all about comfort. So I thought about what comfort food is – nostalgia, easy and simple are words that come to mind. The polenta mush is so soothing. It demands so little as it effortlessly slips down the throat. The tomato sauce is delicious in its simplicity. And melted cheese is the perfect indulgent topping on any comfort food. The ingredients are pantry staples and readily available at supermarkets. I used fresh basil rather than sundried tomato paste because for once I found the remains of a bunch of basil had not turned to soup in the fridge. I think in the past I just used plain tomato paste. I have also made it with common cheddar rather than gruyere and it works equally well. No fuss. No stress. Just an easy comforting meal.

Although the polenta with tomatoe sauce can be eaten alone, I prefer to serve it with some other vegetables. Again, I turned to what was available rather than rushing out to the shops. Peas are a great standby. I had the remains of a bag in the freezer and cooked them in the microwave like my mum does. I found a recipe for a delectable carrot salad which was serendipitous because I had carrots and spring onions in need of attention in my fridge. (The salad is also brilliant for lunch with cheese on toast.) I also like to just steam some broccoli to serve with the polenta. But when seeking comfort, just go for whatever is easiest!

Soft Polenta with Tomato Sauce
(adapted from 30 Minute Vegetarian by Joanne Farrow)
Serves 4

1½ cups (250g) instant polenta
1 litre water or vegetable stock
3 garlic cloves, crushed
1 tbsp parmesan cheese (or more)
Chopped fresh herbs such as parsley, chives, basil etc (optional)
1 tbsp olive oil
1 onion, chopped
400g can diced tomatoes
½ cup chopped basil (or 3 tbsp sundried tomato paste)
1 tsp raw sugar
80g gruyere cheese (or cheddar), grated
Seasoning

Bring water or stock to boil (if not using stock add 1 tsp salt) in a large saucepan. Add polenta in a steady stream, then garlic. Stir over low heat for 5 minutes until polenta is thick and pulpy. Add parmesan and herbs if using. Check seasoning. Spoon into a greased shallow oven-proof dish.

Heat oil in saucepan and fry onion over medium heat for 5-8 minutes until it is soft. Add tomatoes, basil or tomato paste, and sugar. Season. Pour over the polenta.

Sprinkle with cheese and bake at 200 C for 10 minutes or until cheese is melted and golden.

Carrots with Lime and Mint
(adapted from 30 Minute Vegetarian by Joanne Farrow)
Serves 4 as a side

4 medium carrots
4 spring onions
2 tbsp lime juice (or juice of 1 lime)
2 tsp castor sugar
½ tsp chilli paste
2 tbsp fresh mint, chopped
seasoning
(options suggested that I didn’t fancy – celery sticks and peanuts)

Peel the carrots (this is optional depending on how you feel about peeling). Use a vegetable peeler to peel long ribbons off each carrot. I found it easiest to lie the carrot on the chopping board and push the peeler along the carrot away from my body. I had a small core of carrot leftover from each carrot –a thrifty person might use it for stock. Cut spring onions into 2 inch (5 cm) lengths and shred lengthways. The recipe suggest placing vegetables in ice cold water for 15-20 minutes til they curl but I am not patient or organised enough. Mix remaining ingredients in a small bowl and add to vegetables. Toss to coat and serve.

On the stereo:
Maid of Constant Sorrows: Judy Collins

Muhammara by Moonlight

The Moonlight Cinema in the Royal Botanic Gardens (Gate D, Birdwood Avenue, South Yarra) has become a Melbourne institution. During the summer months, Melbournians can stroll along to the gardens after work laden with hampers and eskies, claim a piece of lawn with their rugs and beanbags, and enjoy a picnic followed by a movie under the stars. We were there last week, enjoying the atmosphere.

If you like to look in other people’s shopping trolleys at the supermarket and check out what the next table is eating in a restaurant, this is the place for you. I love preparing a yummy picnic and watching what others around us are eating. Many do the chip, crudités and dips. Finger food that doesn’t need cutlery and plates is ideal. Others bring takeaway stirfries, sushi, salads, corn on the cob. The pop of a champagne cork is heard and glasses clink somewhere. Pizza, ice-creams and coffee can be purchased from a van. Fizzy drinks or chocolate are given away free. It is hard to escape the feasting frenzy. We enjoyed a lovely spread of Muhammara, Hummus, crudités, dry biscuits, cheese, filo cigars, grubs, apricot slice, grapes.

Then as dusk falls, the trees are silhouetted against the city skyline. The skyscrapers and icons of the city are lit up in the distance – Government House, St Patrick’s Cathedral, the MCG. Dark bats swoop through the sky and cackle in the nearby trees. A screen unfurls and the film begins.

We saw Hunting and Gathering. An enjoyable film with many interesting foods featured - laughing cow cheese soup, buttery crepes and a hog’s head. It was in the film that I saw the most elegant picnic basket of the evening – a wicker hamper complete with Philibert’s family crest on the plates. That is what I call classy!

Now to the recipes. I made the Muhammara dip the night before. I had been dying to try it since I saw Cindy and Clotilde make it. The pomegranate molasses gave it depth of flavour. It was garlicky but a little sweet and I thought it could do with a bit more lemon juice (or seasoning?). E was impressed. It went well with cheesy biscuits or on roast vegetables.

The night before I bought some falafels for dinner in a local café, and as I waited I was attracted to a recipe for Apricot Slice as I browsed the magazines. My falafels cooked a bit too quickly. I only had the chance to memorise the ingredients but didn’t read on through the method before being interrupted by the falafels being ready. But it seemed interesting and portable so I decided to give it a try.

The Apricot Slice was good but not perfect. It had too much butter, unnecessary sugar and not enough apricots. But it was easy to make – no baking involved – and it was very morish. It seemed like a superior version of the ubiquitous lemon slice for someone like me who doesn’t like lemon or icing much and adores dried apricots. I hope sometime I will make this again and tweak the ingredients more but for now, it is a good slice that will last for at least a week and fill the spot!

Finally, I thought it might be useful to write a checklist because there is always something I forget. For us, the must-haves are rug, insect repellent, knife, tea towel for spills, plastic bag for rubbish, serviettes, plastic plates and cups, water, food, dessert, fruit. Did I forget anything? My mum would take a thermos, and if showers are forecast an umbrella might come in handy (yes, we have watched movies above a sea of umbrellas). We hired the beanbags for the first time which was a good decision. And the crudités definitely taste better out of a dalek lunchbox.

Muhammara
(adapted from Chocolate and Zucchini)
Makes 2 cups

- 1 kg red capsicums, about 4 medium-large ones
- 100g (1⅓ cups) walnuts, toasted
- 30g pecans, toasted
- 130g (1 cup) unsalted cashews, toasted
- 2 tsp ground cumin
- ¼ tsp salt
- ¼ tsp smoked paprika
- ¼ tsp chilli powder or chilli paste (or more to taste)
- 2 cloves garlic, crushed
- 2 tsp walnut or olive oil
- 1 tbsp lemon juice (or more to taste)
- 2 tbsp pomegranate molasses (or balsamic vinegar)

Cut red pepper into quarters removing core and seeds. Roast or grill til skins blistered and blackening. Place in plastic bag to sweat for 10-15 minutes and when cool enough peel skins off with your hands. Or roast and peel in your favourite way.

Toast the nuts in a dry frypan – this is optional – I didn’t do it but might try and remember next time. Clotilde suggests putting all ingredients in food processor to blend til smooth. I blended the nuts and red pepper in batches and mixed it all up in a mixing bowl. Adjust seasonings and refridgerate.

Muhammara is best made a day ahead. If you are not going to use all of it, it can be frozen in a container til needed.

Apricot Condensed Milk Slice
(from The Australian Women’s Weekly)

250 (1½ cups) dried apricots
2 x 250g marie biscuits (or 1 pkt biscuits and 2 cups coconut)
250g butter, melted
¾ cup brown sugar (I didn’t use)
395ml tin of sweetened condensed milk
coconut for sprinkling

Place apricots in food processor to finely chop. Place Marie Biscuits in the food processor to mill to fine crumbs. Mix all ingredients together. Press into swiss roll tray (I lined mine with baking paper). Sprinkle with coconut. When cooled, cut into squares and store in the fridge.

On the stereo:
least complicated: indigo girls

A birthday cigar

In my family, a birthday is a day when you have a right to be happy. Growing up in a family of seven kids, it was a treat to be able to choose what to have for dinner. These days I usually choose what we eat each night but on my birthday I can indulge myself in something a little special. And only on my birthday can I eat cake in the sunny backyard following a rendition of happy birthday sung by my nieces and accompanied by E strumming along on his new ukulele.

Often a special meal focuses on a central dish like a nutloaf or a pie. This year I wanted something lighter and decided to spend a bit more energy on salads and less on their accompaniment. The meal required considerable preparation time and was not one that could be whipped up after work. But it was an enjoyable and leisurely day of food when I was only too happy to let my veggies roast in the oven while I relaxed in the backyard dipped into my new collection of food essays edited by Mark Kurlansky.

The first salad I chose was the Macedonian Salad from The Moosewood Cookbook. It features eggplant roasted and marinated in a garlicky herby lemony vinaigrette. When I worked making salads on kibbutz, we used to make an amazing salad of dark deep fried eggplants in just such a sharp vinaigrette and it was one of my favourite salads. But it requires some time to let the eggplant roast and then soak up the flavours.

I drizzled olive oil over the eggplant and put it in the oven to roast for 15 minutes as instructed. At the end of that time it still looked like pale rubbery pieces of sponge. I sprayed it with olive oil and returned it to the oven for another 20 minutes and it still looked the same. I put it back for another twenty minutes but by now my nieces had arrived and we had to inspect Zinckie cat’s sunburnt ears and one thing led to another. By the time I remembered the eggplant it had been in the oven well over an hour and had gone dark and wizened on the outside and meltingly soft inside. I then left it to marinate while I played with the wee girls.

The second dish is a beetroot and haloumi salad that Wendy made some months ago. I liked the simplicity of the lightly seasoned chunks of roasted beetroot with the salty nuggets of haloumi. It took me longer to cook the beetroot than Wendy which I suspect were because my beets were bigger than hers – and this is a situation where bigger is not necessarily better!

While thinking about what might accompany the salads, I came across a recipe for Moroccan filo cigars made by Ariela at Baking and Books . They appealed to me. It seemed easy, and the idea of a cigar on my birthday seemed fitting – makes me think of decadence and luxury, of the Victorian aristocrat in a smoking jacket, of the liberated woman writer in 1920s Paris, of the generous millionaire in the USA.

I don’t use pastry that often so it always makes me a little anxious but this wasn’t too difficult. Ariela gives a choice of two fillings –spinach cheese or potato cheese. It could be done with any filling, and in fact I made quite a few changes to suit what I had on hand (her recipe had choices of other cheeses such as fetta, ricotta, gruyere). I did hope they might be so crisp that I could have fun waving one around like you might a cigar but they were too long and bendy – would shorter ‘cigars’ be better, I wondered. (My answer was found when I reread the method and discovered I'd missed the bit about cutting the filo pastry in half!) Nevertheless, they tasted great and I will make them again – they were light enough not to dominate the meal, the leftovers froze easily and the also made great picnic food.

Happily, my cigars and salads got along famously. It was a pleasant evening, sharing good food and intelligent discussion with E in the backyard. If I had said to E that dinner would centre around eggplant, beetroot and spinach, he would have run a mile, but he was pleasantly surprised by the eggplant and tucked into dinner with delight, as did I. The only improvement would have been a good sauce for the cigars rather than supermarket tomato sauce but hope is in sight – my mum has just made her yearly batch of tomato sauce so a bottle or two will be coming my way soon.

Macedonian Eggplant Salad
(From the Moosewood Cookbook)
Serves 4 as a side

1 large eggplant (approx 7-9 inches long), cut into 1 inch cubes
Olive oil for roasting

Herb dressing:
2 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp red wine vinegar
1 medium clove garlic, crushed
½ tsp salt
Freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup (packed) basil, roughly chopped
¼ cup (packed) parsley, finely chopped
1 tsp fresh thyme leaves
1 tbsp fresh lemon juice

To assemble:
2 spring onions, finely chopped
½ medium red capsicum, finely chopped
½ medium green capsicum, finely chopped
1 tomato diced
Optional garnish – olives, yoghurt or fetta

Place eggplant in a roasting dish. Drizzle with a little olive oil and toss to coat. Roast til dark and soft in a 375 F oven. The time will depend on your oven – Mollie says 15 minutes but it took me over an hour. The success of this recipe depends on the eggplant being well cooked so don’t be afraid to leave it a little longer if you are unsure if it is done. At about 20 minute intervals I took tray out to spray eggplant with olive oil and toss.

Meanwhile combine olive oil, vinegar, garlic, salt, pepper, herbs and lemon juice in a medium sized salad bowl. When eggplant is cooked and still hot, place it in this bowl and toss with the marinade. Let it sit for at least 2 hours – this can be one several days ahead and kept in the fridge.

Add remaining vegetables. Toss and serve. Garnish if you wish. Mollie says to add vegetables within an hour or so of serving but I omitted the garnishes and found it kept very well overnight and made for excellent leftovers the next day.

Roasted Beetroot and Halloumi Salad
(From A Wee Bit of Cooking)
Serves 2 as a side

2 medium beetroot
Olive oil
Balsalmic vinegar
50g halloumi, sliced 1cm thick
Lemon juice
Handful of green leaves (I used rocket and baby spinach), roughly shredded
1 spring onions, chopped
Optional ingredients might be your choice of nuts (such as walnuts) and/or fresh herbs (such as parsley)

Boil the beetroot in their skins for 20 minutes. Cool a little (running some cold water over them helps but in our drought stricken country leaving them for a little while is more environmentally friendly!) Then use your hands rub the skin off (or I guess you could use a vegetable peeler but it never occurred to me at the time). Cut into chunks (of about an inch) and toss in olive oil and seasoning. Roast in 200oC oven 15 mins. Drizzle with balsalmic vinegar, toss gently and roast for 25 mins on top shelf and another 20 mins on lower shelf (I could have done with a bit more time but Wendy had a lot less time so this time is a guide only).

Toss green leaves and spring onions together in a large salad bowl. Add roasted beetroot. Heat a non-stick frypan over medium heat and spray with oil. Add the haloumi and fry for one minute either side until golden brown. Add to the bowl. Squeeze some lemon juice over the salad. Toss.

Sephardic Spinach Filo Cigars
(adapted from from: Olive Trees and Honey: A Treasury of Vegetarian Recipes from Jewish Communities Around the World by Gil Marks via Baking and Books)
Serves 3-4

375g frozen chopped spinach, thawed
½ tsp olive oil
2 spring onions, chopped
¼ cup parsley, finely chopped
½ cup (4 oz) good cheddar cheese, grated
1 tbsp parmesan, grated
100g cottage cheese
pinch of salt (optional)
generous grinding of black pepper
about 1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
8 sheets filo pastry
Olive oil, olive oil spray or melted butter

To make the filling:
Squeeze as much moisture as possible from thawed spinach. Heat oil in a large frypan over medium heat. Cook spring onions in oil for about 1 minute. Add spinach and parsley and stir over medium heat til liquid evaporates – this doesn’t take too long. Add remaining ingredients. This can then be set aside in fridge earlier (or even the night before I think) until you are ready to fill the cigars

To make the cigars:
Preheat oven 200 degrees C. Grease a large baking sheet.

Lay the pile of sheets of filo pastry on the benchtop and cut in half lengthwise. Cover pile with a damp teatowel and take out on at a time to fill.

Grease or spray a baking tray. Place one piece of filo on a flat surface and lightly brush with olive oil or melted butter (or like me you could brush with a little olive oil and then spray all of it with olive oil spray – this was much quicker for me). Spoon filling in a narrow stripe about one inch out from the narrow end and leave a one inch border at the top and bottom of the stripe of filling. Fold the top and bottom inch over and then roll from the end with the filling to create the ‘cigar’. You can keep in the fridge up to a day before baking or freeze. (She says not to defrost before baking but I defrosted in the microwave because I was in a hurry the next night and they were lovely when they were baked!)

Unless you are keeping these for later, place on the baking tray as you prepare them. Brush or spray with oil. Bake for 20 minutes (or 30 minutes if baking frozen cigars) til crisp and brown. Serve warm or at room temperature.

On the stereo:
Follow the Music: a commemorative sampler of Elektra’s pre-rock era: Various Artists