Nutella Blondies

On Monday it was my turn to do morning tea at work. I had decided to make a batch of nutella brownies that I had found online recently. Cooking for colleagues means that I am not familiar enough with everyone’s tastes to feel I can experiment too much. This recipe seemed both safe and impressive.

I had never encountered a “blondie” as a slice before I started blogging. Hitherto the term either referred to a hip post punk band, a silly cartoon or a patronising way to address women. I had had my fair share of Nutella in my childhood – our school canteen was into health food but they did sell little sachets of Nutella. But I have not really had much success baking with it. This slice showed me just how good blondies could be and one of the best ways I have come across to use Nutella in baking.

If you are seeking either blondies or Nutella recipes, I highly recommend this one. I am backed up by my work colleagues who enjoyed them whole heartedly. Just as well morning tea was a success as nothing else seemed to go well that day.

I am sending these nutella blondies to Champa of Versatile Vegetarian Kitchen for her weekly Bake-Off round up. This is an event that I have just discovered. It showcases a whole array of baked goods in the blogosphere, including cakes, casseroles, cookies, quiches, scones or anything else produced in the oven. Lots of great ideas.

Finding out about blog events is always a bit of a challenge. I have some links on my blogroll but they constantly change. So I was pleased when Jacqueline, of Tinned Tomatoes blog, announced that as well as bringing up her gorgeous wee baby, keeping up her blog and co-hosting the No Croutons Required event, she has a new project - the Food Blog Diary that lists blog events and other food events.

Previously on Green Gourmet Giraffe:
This time last year: Sour Skon
This time two years ago: Pumpkin, PC Stories and a Roast
This time three years ago: Sesame and Lemon Bread

Nutella Blondies
From the Cookbook Chronicles

• 250g butter
• 3 eggs
• 2 cups dark brown sugar
• ½ cup castor sugar
• ½ tsp salt
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 2½ cups plain flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• ½ tsp bicarb soda
• 220g jar (about 1 cup) Nutella (or any chocolate hazelnut spread)

Preheat the oven to 170 C (325 F) degrees. Line a (9″ x 13″) lamington tin with baking paper.

Melt butter in a large heat proof bowl in the microwave. Add eggs, brown sugar, castor sugar, salt, vanilla, flour, baking powder and bicarb soda. It will be quite a thick batter.

Spoon batter into the prepared tin and smooth with the back of a spoon. Dollop nutella over the batter. Use a skewer to swirl it through the batter and make lovely designs.

Bake for 25-30 minutes until the batter is puffed and golden but still a little moist in the middle. (The recipe warns not to overcook but my oven is not too powerful so I did 30 minutes without too much cooking however I felt it was quite soft in the middle once it cooled.) They will collapse slightly once out of the oven.

Cool in tin and then slice into squares or bars. (The recipe says to cool for an hour but I cooled mine overnight.)

On the stereo:
Serendipity: an Introduction to John Martyn

NCR Zucchini Bread

Ever since starting this blog I have always recorded more cooking that I ever have time to post about. Some recipes I love but the right time to post them just never seems to arrive. Today my inspiration comes from my archive and this month’s No Croutons Required event rather than Bastille Day! I am excited to be finally posting a recipe that has been lingering in my notes since November last year.

November seems a long time away because so much has changed since then. Back then, I was on maternity leave, we were still planning our trip to Scotland, the weather was getting uncomfortably warm, Sylvia was sitting and smiling, but had not started walking and babbling and pulling her socks off at every opportunity. She was still sleeping in her little white cane cot. I had other pressures then, but I was finding more time then to bake bread than I am now.

Perhaps that is why I thought of breads not yet posted, when Lisa and Jacqueline announced that this month’s No Croutons Required challenge would be to bake a bread that could be served with soup or salad. (I took the below photo of the bread with jam and cream cheese well before I had encountered the idea for this event!)

I love good bread and wish I had more energy to try different flavours. This zucchini bread was great. I made it after a purchase of fresh yeast necessitated some bread baking. The bread was soft with green flecks of zucchini and a golden chewy crust. I was a bit unsure if I had drained the salted zucchini enough because mine was incredibly moist and salty. Next time I think I would reduce the salt a bit but otherwise it was wonderful.

Meanwhile, I have lots more recent recipes to post, as well as quite few from my backlog. I am trying to cook at least one or two new and interesting dishes each week, often inspired by blogging. This week I have made a big pot of this tomato lentil soup. But I sometimes want the comfort and convenience of easy meals I have eaten since I was a child. Recently I just fancied some tinned tomato soup. Either of these tomato soups would be wonderful with this zucchini bread.

The zucchini bread was inspired by YeastSpotting, the weekly bread blogging round up, and I am sending my version back to Susan in gratitude.

Previously on Green Gourmet Giraffe:
This time last year: They Who Dare: Masterchef and Ricki’s Tagine
This time two years ago: Tagged: Top Ten Photos
This time three years ago: Dench bread and Dukkah: simple pleasures

Yeasted Zucchini Bread
makes 1 loaf
Adapted from Cook’s Encyclopedia of Baking via Canela and Comino

350g zucchini (or courgettes)
2 tablespoons salt (I would use less next time)
19g fresh yeast or 2½ teaspoons of dry active yeast
1 tsp honey or other sweetener
3 cups bread flour, plus extra for kneading and the sponge
olive oil to glaze

Grate zucchini into a colander and sprinkle with salt. Leave for at least 30 minutes and then squeeze out as much water as possible.

Combine the yeast and honey then ¼ cup warm water and 1 tablespoon of flour to make the sponge, If using fresh yeast, mix yeast and honey first till the mixture is liquid but if using dried yeast just mix all together. Set aside for 15 minutes until quite bubbly.

Add drained zucchini and remaining flour (about 3 cups) to yeast mixture. Stir in 150-200ml warm water. My dough was very sticky so although the recipe says 200ml I would add a little less and see how it holds together before adding the remainder. It also might be that I didn’t drain my zucchini enough and added more moisture this way.

Tip dough onto a floured surface and knead for about 8 minutes until smooth and elastic. I added a bit of flour as I was kneading because my dough was so soft. Return dough to bowl. I didn’t grease my bowl but you could do if you prefer. Cover with a damp tea towel and leave to rise in a warm place until doubled in size. It took me about 1¼ hours on a warm day.

Punch down the dough. Knead briefly and shape into a cylinder. Place on a lightly greased baking tray or a bread tin (I used the latter) and leave to rise for about 45 minutes or until doubled in size.

During the second rise, preheat oven to 220 C. When bread is risen on baking tray or in tin, brush top with olive oil and bake for about 30-35 minutes or until golden and sounds hollow when tapped. Cool on a rack.

On the stereo:
The BBC sessions: Belle and Sebastian

Rhubarb and apple sponge pudding

I made rhubarb and apple sponge last week. It was a comfort that we needed. It was a week of new life (congratulations Yav and Chris), illness and death. In our house we had nasty colds but more significantly my grandmother died. A warm pudding is just what she would have made to nurture us.

My grandmother was loving and beautiful till the end. She was feisty and so independent that at the age of 91, just a couple of weeks before she died, she was still living on her own and driving her car to get to the shops. In fact, she didn’t die till she had said her goodbyes and was ready to leave us.

She was a wonderful grandmother. Visiting her house as a child meant playing with the best collection of Barbie dolls and eating her lovely home cooking. After all, it was from her that my mum learnt to make roast dinner and puddings. She was lots of fun, buying us fluffy duck drinks even when they looks so sickly sweet that it was no surprise we couldn’t drink them, screaming at spiders with us, and if we were cheeky she would call us a ‘bold hussy’. She had a warm laugh and a wicked sense of humour.

My grandmother loved to be in the kitchen and, like all good cooks, she made it seem effortless. Her Christmas cakes were the moist with a soft white icing. Her chocolate pudding recipe is a family favourite. We often had barbecues in her backyard, which had a sunken grassy area for entertaining or just relaxing. Beyond was the bush with lots of tea trees, reminding us how close we were to the sea. She loved her garden, encouraging birds to visit and her vegetables and flowers to thrive.

When I admired her tomato chutney recently, my grandmother sent me a jar of it. In recent years she was more conscious of her health and was determined to eat well to keep herself in shape. This was a woman who had hit a hole-in-one on the golf course! She loved a good wholesome loaf of bread but would whip up some scones and home made jam when we visited.

On one of my last visits I remember discussing how when we were young so many desserts had apple in them. My mum and my grandmother reminisced about how much cheaper apples used to be. It was a moment that made sense of some of my childhood. I will miss this window into my family history, back through the generations.

One of the apple desserts my mum frequently made was apple sponge (like this dessert). For the uninitiated, it is a warm pudding of stewed apples topped by a buttery sponge and served with cream to every member of the family except me (I was the fussy one). We also had rhubarb a lot as kids. So when I saw Terry Durack’s recipe for Rhubarb and Apple Sponge in the Good Weekend a few weeks back, I loved the idea. It was like a fancy, richer version of my mum’s apple sponge. We all loved it, including Sylvia.

So I bring you this dessert today as a connection to my past. For it is hard to talk about pudding without remembering my grandmother, always mixing up a bowl of batter, stirring something in a saucepan, bending over her oven to check on what was inside it, or just standing in the archway between her kitchen and lounge to give her opinion on any topic of discussion. She will be remembered fondly.

Previously on Green Gourmet Giraffe:
This time last year: AWED Butterscotch pudding
This time two years ago: Pumpkin soup and history
This time three years ago: Full Moon Cupcakes

Rhubarb and apple sponge pudding
adapted from Terry Durack in the Age Good Weekend Magazine 26 June 2010
serves 6

750g rhubarb*
5 apples (3 granny smiths, 2 pink ladies)
½ cup (loosely packed) brown sugar
1 tbsp lemon juice
2 dessertspoons of honey*

* I had a bit more stewed fruit than in the original recipe so I took a bit out to feed Sylvia. I used two bunches of rhubarb due to over sweetening. You could halve the rhubarb and leave out the honey and lemon juice.

Sponge:
125g butter
¼ cup castor sugar
2 eggs
⅔ cup self raising flour
¼ cup milk

I should have followed the recipe and cooked the apples and the rhubarb for 10 minutes but instead I cooked the apples and about 1 cup of water for about 15 minutes, added the rhubarb, sugar and honey and cooked it another 5-10 minutes. It was too sweet so I cooked another bunch of rhubarb in a separate saucepan with a little water for 5-10 minutes till soft and then added it to the cooled stewed apple and rhubarb. Spoon rhubarb and apple into a greased casserole dish.

Cream the butter and sugar. Beat in eggs, and fold in flour and milk. Spoon over the rhubarb and apple mixture and smooth with the back of a spoon. Bake at 180 C till golden brown and cooked inside. I thought it was done after 40 minutes (the time specified in the recipe) – the skewer came out clean but when I put the serving spoon in it was still uncooked. I put it back in the oven for another 40 minutes and then the sponge was fluffy and lovely.

Serve hot as it is or with ice cream, cream or custard.

On the Stereo:
Ommadawn: Mike Oldfield

Pumpkin, Ricotta and Facon Spaghetti Bake

Last week the doctor said that Sylvia was too sick for childcare so I needed some sturdy meals to see me through some days at home with a sick grizzly child. I decided to try Helen’s Sicilian Spaghetti Cake. It was made easier to put together because Sylvia insisted on staying outside playing in her favourite pots of dirt.

Deciding what to include was made easier in an unexpected way. I was thinking about what to include instead of bacon and perusing the comments on Helen’s post. There was my own suggestion of pumpkin that I had forgotten. (So next time you are wondering if you should comment on a post, here is one reason to do so!) I decided to make facon out of tempeh and add some parmesan for some of the intensity that would have been found in the bacon. I was pleased to be able to use a lemon and some baby silverbeet from the garden.

My version was remarkably different to Helen’s. Hers was a round spaghetti cake filled with lemony ricotta, bacon, olives and artichokes. Mine was a roasting pan bake with roasted pumpkin, sun dried tomatoes and facon, which all fused with the ricotta to give it a wonderful flavour. I didn’t find the need for the generosity with olive oil that Helen encouraged, which may be due to the different ingredients I used.

It was only when we ate that I found the taste familiar and identified it as similar to a macaroni cheese that I had posted a few years ago. However, this dish had different flavours and was less heavy. I think the facon was essential in replacing the saltiness in the bacon, even though it made the dish a little more complex. I am yet to find a perfect facon recipe as I just can't work out how to get it as crispy as bacon, but I will keep searching.

The best surprise was that Sylvia loved it. She now rejects a lot of food I make for dinner. But she loves spaghetti and enjoyed shoving the long wriggly strands in her mouth, especially when she grabbed them off my plate. I hoped that some of the vegetables and facon stuck to the pasta but I think that kids are often as sneaky as parents when it comes to food.

The pasta bake lasted for a few nights as well as doing very well for the odd lunch and night time snack. It reheated well but Sylvia got less and less enthused each night we had it. Not to worry. E loved it and I was grateful to have the delicious leftovers at the end of a few tiring days.

I am also sending this to Helen of Fuss Free Flavours for this week’s Presto Pasta Nights (#171), the event coordinated by Ruth of Once Upon a Feast.

Previously on Green Gourmet Giraffe:
This time last year: Breakfast Burritos – My Way!
This time two years ago: Miss Marple’s Tea Room – cosy charm
This time three years ago: Mexicale Pie - an old favourite

Pumpkin, Ricotta and Facon Spaghetti Bake
inspired by Food Stories
serves 8

• 700g pumpkin, trimmed, peeled and cut in chunks
• 1 tbsp olive oil
• pinch salt
• 500g uncooked spaghetti
• 1 tsp olive oil
• 2 medium onion, finely chopped
  
• 4 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
  
• handful baby silverbeet, finely sliced
  
• 250g ricotta cheese
  
• A generous handful of parsley, chopped
  
• juice of one lemon
  
• 2 tbsp olive oil for mixing
  
• 1 bunch basil, roughly chopped
  
• ¾ cup frozen peas
  
• 1 cup finely grated parmesan cheese
  
• 1 batch of facon, as below (or use some fried shop bought facon)
  

Toss pumpkin with olive oil and pinch of salt in a roasting dish and bake at 220 C for 30 minutes or until soft.

Cook the spaghetti til it is a little less cooked than you would like. I simmered mine for about 8-9 minutes in a large stockpot because it is far more pasta than I usually would cook.

Fry onion in 1 tsp olive oil for about 10 minutes till golden brown. Add garlic and silverbeet and fry another 1-2 minutes.

Mix together pumpkin, onion mixture and remaining ingredients then add cooked spaghetti and toss so it is coated evenly with the ricotta mixture. Coating the spaghetti is not easy because there is so much and it loves to clump together but using a spiked spaghetti serving spoon and mixing in my stockpot helped me.

Scrape all the spaghetti mixture into a greased roasting dish – I used the same one that I roasted the pumpkin in (but cleaned it first). Bake at 220 C till crispy and brown on top.

Facon (Tempeh bacon)
adapted from Diet Dessert and Dogs and Vegan Brunch

• 300g tempeh
• 2 cloves garlic, crushed
• 1 tbsp maple syrup
• ½ tsp smoked paprika
• 3 tbsp soy sauce
• 1 tbsp lemon juice quarter lemon
• 1 tbsp olive oil

Slice tempeh into wafer thin slices and place in a large plastic tub. Toss with remaining ingredients and marinate for about 45 minutes (or more if you get organised), giving a good stir every now and again. Arrange slices in a large roasting try and bake until most of the moisture has been absorbed. I baked mine for 15 minutes at 180 C and then for 15 minutes at 220 C. I always live in hope of crispy facon but have only managed to get good flavour but not the right texture.

On the stereo
What I did on my holidays: an introduction to…: Fairport Convention

Falafel for E, Pizza for Sylvia

Last night I got home from work and told E that I had decided we would have falafel for dinner. I had bought some falafel on special and it's best-by date was yesterday. He looked at me in surprise and said, but we had most of them for lunch. Necessity being the mother of invention, dinner morphed into falafel pizza on turkish bread.

I love trying different pizza toppings. Last night it was inspired by the contents of the fridge: mashed pumpkin, ricotta, steamed broccoli, diced tomato, crumbled falafel, and grated mozzarella cheese on top of two halves of a small turkish bread baked in a hot oven for about 10-15 minutes. Delicious.

Most amusing was my help in the kitchen. Sylvia was grizzly so I put her in the high chair by me and placed the turkish bread on the tray in front of her. She was fascinated by the ricotta and kept digging a chubby finger in it. She also enjoyed sprinkling some of the toppings on it. But when it came out of the oven, she turned up her nose and left it to E and me to enjoy it.

Previously on Green Gourmet Giraffe:
This time last year: NCR Quinoa, Cabbage and Corn Soup
This time two years ago: Corn bread, borscht and common sense
This time three years ago: Mexicale Pie - an old favourite

On the Stereo:
Early Morning Hush - Notes from the UK Folk Underground 1969-1976: Various Artists

Pumpkin soup for busy days

I stood in the middle of the kitchen not knowing what to eat for dinner. I was tired after a busy day at work and the night was slipping away. E suggested pasta and pesto but I needed something full of healthy vegetables. I try to eat well but it really is easier when there is plenty of energy and time.

E tries to help but what do you expect from a man who sees “tins toms” on a shopping list and buys two packets of tim tams – an extra one because he expected I would be baking with the chocolate biscuits. Surely everyone know tins toms means tins of tomatoes!I had a packet of soba noodles and decided to turn them into soup. I perused my savoury recipes notebook before finding the recipe that I had in mind. Somen Noodles in Autumn Broth. From The Age Good Weekend Magazine many years ago. It was bursting with vegetables and flavours: pumpkin, mushrooms, yellow squash, 100ml of mirin, fish sauce, kombu, white miso. I used the vegetables I had and eased off on the seasoning. The fish sauce was replaced with tamari and a touch of umeboshi vinegar. I found some leftover brown rice in the fridge that was used instead of the soba noodles.The soup was just what I needed. Delicious, seasonal, packed with vegetables and light enough to leave room for dessert. Which was just as well because I had some leftover rhubarb and quince crumble (recipe soon). My only quibble was that I could have cooked the Brussels sprouts a little less.I was pleased to have leftovers the following night because we had a full day visiting Heide Museum of Modern Art and I could just warm up the soup when we got home. It had been quite an outing because it was our first trip where Sylvia constantly wanted to be out of the stroller and digging her fingers in dirt or climbing any stairs she could find. I enjoyed seeing the house where Sunday and John Reed had lived (Heide I) especially the warm inviting library. I liked Simryn Gill’s exhibit though the corner where the public was invited to rip up old books to make paper boats looked like the cleaners had forgotten to clean up (but it was fun).This was last weekend not yesterday. This weekend we have all been snuffly and miserable. We have missed two of Sylvia’s cousins’ birthdays and I have had Sylvia sleep on my lap for over an hour today. I have made soup that looks like Dickensian gruel but fortunately we have been comforted by a batch of pumpkin scones. As I write, E is playing guitar and Sylvia has run into the lounge room with his plectrums giggling mischievously.

And just to prove E is not the only one to make mistakes (with tins toms) I will tell you about my cinema expedition last Sunday. I raced to the cinema thinking that my free cinema pass expired at the end of June. It was fortunately that I had misread the due date, which was actually the end of July, because I found that I was at the wrong cinema chain. Going to the cinema is a rare treat these days so I paid up and saw Animal Kingdom anyway. I highly recommend this well made Australian film about the demise of a criminal family. On the way home I finally got Sylvia some bookends for the books in her room. I also highly recommend this soup. It is the sort of thing that I make in summer often but don’t often make a winter version that is hearty enough to satisfy but wont weigh me down.

Previously on Green Gourmet Giraffe:This time last year: Slideshows, Nostalgia and Hedgehog
This time two years ago: Curious Chipotles and Bonza Burritos
This time three years ago: Green Refectory Café: cakes galore

Japanese-style Pumpkin, Sprouts and Tofu Soup
Serves 4

• 1 strip of dried kombu (mine was about 10-12cm long)
• 500ml lightly seasoned stock
• 500ml water
• 350g firm tofu 
• 12 slices dried shitake mushrooms, roughly chopped
• 1 tsp dashi powder (about ½ one of my sachets)
• 2 thumb sized knobs of ginger, finely grated
• 1 large carrot, cut into matchsticks
• 800g pumpkin, peeled and chopped
• kernels of one corn cob
• 1 cup cooked brown rice
• about 10 brussels sprouts, trimmed and quartered
• 1 tbsp white miso
• 1 tbsp tamari (or less)
• 3 tbsp mirin
• 1-2 spring onions, finely chopped
• stalk of one bunch of broccoli, peeled and finely chopped

Soak kombu in cold water for about 15 minutes (which can be done while you are preparing veg), then drain and cut into thin strips. (The soaking liquid can be reserved and tipped into the soup)

Place stock, water, tofu, shitake mushrooms, dash, ginger and carrot into a large saucepan or stockpot and bring to the boil. Simmer for about 5 minutes. Add pumpkin, corn kernels, brown rice and kombu and simmer for 5 minutes. Add Brussels sprouts and cook for about 3 minutes.

While the vegetables are cooking, spoon some hot stock into a cup or small bowl and dissolve the white miso into the stock. Stir in tamari and mirin.

Add miso mixture, spring onions and broccoli stalk to the soup. Simmer for about 1-2 minutes. Serve hot.

On the stereo:Calling for Vanished Faces: Current 93

Lemon Slice and some Nostalgia

It has been another of those weeks. Ill health, new speed restrictions on Sydney Road, and an expired parking permit have all been sent to try me. Fortunately I have had lemon slice to cheer me up. This is another of my childhood slices that immerses me in nostalgia.

I am not usually interested in sweet lemon recipes. When my mum made lemon pudding or lemon meringue pie when I was little I went without dessert. When lemon tart is brought to morning tea at work I find it easy to refuse. But when lemon juice meets the magic of condensed milk and marie biscuits in lemon slice, I must have a piece.

Like hedgehog and chocolate caramel slice, lemon slice is a classic Australian slice that every housewife made when I was growing up. I think it was the favourite of my oldest sister. They were often found in cake stalls, church fetes and biscuit bins. It harks back to a time when everyone had a lemon tree in their backyard. It was easy enough for kids to help out with making it. Today you will find lemon slice in cafes but all too often it is cut into monstrously large slabs that have dried out in the display cabinet and don't resemble the slice that I grew up with.

I made a batch of lemon slice last year and intended to blog it but I misread the recipe. Instead of adding half a tin of condensed milk, I added a full tin. I couldn’t for the life of me work out why it was so gooey. I had made it take to meet up with some other mothers and was a bit embarrassed at it. They loved it. After all, you can never have too much condensed milk.

This week I made lemon slice when I was at home with Sylvia because she was too sick to go to child care. We had plenty of lemons on the tree and I thought lemon might be good for our colds. E loved it last time. Sylvia was quite interested in watching me crushing the marie biscuits and helped by sampling a small piece of biscuit or two. I didn’t have much time. By the time I was mixing it together I was racing to get it in the tin because she was so grizzly. So I can tell you it comes together in a flash with no baking.

I found the freshly made slice quite sharp with the lemon juice, perhaps because the last time I had double the condensed milk. This slice goes against a lot of my preferences. Not only does it have a predominant lemon flavour but it needed icing (frosting) and was better for firming up in the fridge. The icing took the edge off the lemon. The contrast of the smooth buttery slightly sour biscuit with the tooth-achingly sweet pastiness of the icing and the slight crunch of the coconut is just right.

For those wondering where the recipe came from, I cannot say. It went into my sweet recipes notebook many years ago when my handwriting was neater and my waistline slimmer. I assume I got the recipe from my mum. After all she has been making it all my life. I have written up what I did for the icing but my mother would never be so precise.

Nostalgia never goes out of fashion but lately it has seemed to be the dish of the day. Here are a few nostalgia trips I have seen recently:

• My personal favourite is the competition at Big M for voting for revisiting past flavours. I never drink flavoured milk like Big M but I have fond memories of my dad jumping on a Big M carton and of how popular blueberry Big M was at primary school, even though personally I though it tasted like dishwashing liquid.

• I can’t mention nostalgia without reference to MasterChef on Wednesday where the teams botched their challenge of baking traditional Australian recipes for the CWA ladies. I felt smug that I can bake the scones and fruitcake, and have made lamingtons with my mum (should blog them someday). As for the Neapolitan cake, I haven’t made one with the coloured layers but I can make a butter cake.

• Some people seem nostalgic for the good old days when apparently everyone was married with kids. Our new Prime Minister is not only female but also childless and living in a de facto relationship. My angriest moments this week were over Bettina Arndt’s rant about this de facto relationship being a bad influence. According to this article, it seems you still aren’t allowed to choose career over children, even when your career takes you into the most powerful position in the country! Betina Arndt needs to spend more time baking scones! (I'll refer you to Myf Warhurst's response if you want to read more.)

• Last night I read a beautifully-written post by Kim at Affairs of Living about her life long love affair with rhubarb that comes from her family’s nurturing of some of the best local rhuabarb plants. She writes “I love knowing that my great-grandparents ate rhubarb pies made from these same plants. … It is almost like great-grandma is right there with me when I'm picking a stalk.”

• Finally we are experiencing the coldest wettest winter for the first time in years.This morning on the radio, Jon Faine was talking about covering up his frangipani tree with a garbage bag to protect it from frost.I so rarely hear anyone preparing for frosts these days but it reminds me of my mother trying to protect her young jacaranda plants from the frost when I was little.

I am sending this post to Anh from A Food Lovers Journey who is hosting this week’s Weekend Herb Blogging (#240). This event highlights uses of fruit, vegetables, herbs and seeds around the blogosphere and it is coordinated by Haalo and was founded by Kalyn.

Previously on Green Gourmet Giraffe:
This time last year: A Tale of Carrot and Feta Dip
This time two years ago: Sparkles the Rabbit Cake
This time three years ago: The Worcestershire Sauce Puzzle

Lemon Slice
from my mum

1 packet (250g) marie biscuits
½ cup (90g) coconut
½ tin (400g tin) of condensed milk
125g butter, melted
juice of 1 lemon

Lemon Icing:1 cup icing sugar
1-2 tsp lemon juice
1 tbsp softened butter
extra coconut for sprinkling

Line a slice tin (about 18 x 28cm) with greaseproof paper. I didn’t worry about greasing the bits untouched by paper because there is so much butter in the slice.

Crush marie biscuits – I used a rolling pin and then the bottom of a drinking glass to bash the biscuits about in a large mixing bowl. You want a few small chunks and a lot of finely crushed crumb. Mix with coconut. Pour in condensed milk, butter and lemon juice and stir until combined. Scrape the mixture into prepared tin and smooth with the back of a spoon.

Make icing by mixing icing sugar, lemon juice and butter with a few dribbles of hot water (between 1-2 tablespoons). Adjust ingredients slightly, if necessary, until you are happy with the taste and spreading consistency. Spread icing over slice and sprinkle generously with extra coconut.

Place slice in fridge to firm up. Cut into squares or bars and store in an airtight container in the fridge.

NOTES: I made this in 2018 and accidentally put the butter with the condensed milk so I melted them together and it was quite hot when I added the liquid to the biscuits and coconut.  This was not ideal - a bit more mushy than usual but edible.  I took some photos and have replaced some of the original ones with my photos of the finger shaped bars.

On the stereo:
Propaganda ‘900: J Orphic and Jorvalla