Over the last year, the St Andrews Bakery was blessed with a gifted baker. His Finnish flaxseed rye sourdough loaf was ‘to die for’. I would buy a few loaves to freeze each week and was surprised how moist they remained once sliced open. He had studied bread making at the San Francisco Baking Institute and worked in that fine town for 12 years, before returning to Melbourne, and then to the famous authentic wood fired bakery of St Andrews. He left around last March, to pursue other fields or bakeries, and now I am left with a gaping need for his flaxseed sourdough bread. Come back here young man!
Enter Celia to the rescue with her excellent tutorials on sourdough bread making. After reading various articles about flaxseed ( linseed) I decided to incorporate it into a basic sourdough loaf with 30% wholemeal and 70% baker’s white flours.
On the morning of baking, add the following to a large bowl:
150g ripe starter
250g water
25 g olive oil
170 g wholemeal flour
330 g baker’s white flour
10 g salt
Mix roughly to combine, then add the soaked ingredients and mix again with your hands.
Proceed with Celia’s instructions re short kneading, proving, shaping, second proving and baking.
Another proving station on the mantelpiece.
Notes. If the dough is a little moist at the first kneading stage, add a bit more flour to the mix. Only your hands can tell.
Verdict. Very tasty, my favourite to date. Still eating well two days after. Next time, the same recipe but with rye flour and more flax seeds. Or maybe I’ll try ground flax seed as well.
A little quote regarding the soaking of flaxseeds – “By soaking, enzyme inhibitors are neutralized, the beneficial enzymes are activated and the vitamin content increases. Soaking makes seeds, nuts and legumes easier to digest and the nutrients more easily absorbed.”
This week, Ailsa from Where’s My Backpack has set horizons as the travel theme. After a quick scroll through the digital files, I was surprised to find that all my big horizons shots were taken in New Zealand earlier this year. It’s not surprising really. Although a small country, New Zealand has 14,000 kilometres of coast. It borders the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean and one is never far away from a spectacular horizon . This also means abundant fish and seafood, but that is another story.
The Tasman and the Pacific oceans converge off the tip of Cape Reinga.
Cape Reinga, Te Rerenga Wairua, is situated at the northwestern tip of the North Island of New Zealand. It is a magical 100 kilometre roller coaster drive to reach the tip, and well worth the effort.
According to Maori legend, the spirits of the dead travel to Cape Reinga on their journey to the afterlife to leap off the headland and climb the roots of the 800 year old pohutukawa tree and descend to the underworld to return to their traditional homeland of Hawaiki, ( Polynesia) using the Te Ara Wairua, the ‘Spirits’ pathway’.
The spirituality of this place can be overwhelming.
Cavolo Nero sounds so much better than Kale, don’t you think? It rolls off the tongue, has romantic connections with Tuscany, where it has been grown forever by the contadini, and it isn’t as trendy as Common Curly Kale with its Commercial Connotations.
Cavolo Nero, Lacinato, Tuscan Kale, Tuscan Black cabbage, is the Principe d’inverno, the prince of winter. In winter it is the star of the vegetable garden: indeed it requires frost to reach its peak of princeliness. In summer, the leaves tend to toughen in the hot sun and even worse, it becomes prone to attack from white cabbage moths. In winter, it grows like a triffid, reaching for the sky, its only enemy being the white cockatoo, the Australian gangster parrot. They are easy to grow. If you don’t have a vegetable patch, consider growing a plant or two in your flower garden to provide height, leafy contrast and architectural drama as well as a source of nutritious green.
My favourite pasta dish is based on Cavolo Nero. It is a five minute wonder dish, requiring only a few pantry staples along with some freshly picked young cavolo nero leaves.
Fettucine con Cavolo Nero ed Amici.
Recipe for two people
180g Egg Fettucine nests
100 g freshly picked young cavolo nero leaves
4 anchovy fillets
2 garlic cloves
a pinch of dried chilli flakes
3 Tb extra virgin olive oil
salt/pepper
a knob of butter
grana padano parmigiana
Prep the ingredients as this is a speedy dish. Strip the leaves from the centre stalk of the cavolo nero. If large, chop them roughly. If small and delicate, leave them whole or tear them. Finely chop the garlic. Roughly chop the anchovies. Grate the cheese.
Cook the pasta in ample salted water until al dente, as per packet instructions. Meanwhile, heat a large frying pan then add generous slug of oil. The oil makes up part of the sauce so don’t be parsimonious here. Add the anchovies, stir to melt them, then add the garlic and chilli, stir about briefly, then add the leaves and toss about.
When the pasta is almost ready, scoop out around half a cup of cooking water. Drain the pasta. No need to drain it thoroughly; the starchy water adds to the sauce.
Add pasta to the pan, along with a little cooking water ( it will disappear into the sauce). Raise the heat to very high, stir about, then add the knob of butter* and a few grindings of pepper.The secret last ingredient, a knob of butter.
Have a hot serving bowl ready, tip the contents into the bowl and serve. Also heat your pasta bowls. Pasta cools too quickly on cold plates.
* About the knob of butter. I once ate a fabulous pasta dish at the famous Melbourne restaurant, Pelligrino’s. As the place was packed, I was seated on a stool out the back alongside the chef’s stove. The Italian Nonna tossed the pasta around with its sauce in a small aluminium pan at high heat, then added a knob of butter before re-tossing briefly. This old trick works so well with many wintery pasta dishes.
Essere Come Prezzemolo is a handy Italian expression. It simply means to be like parsley, and is applied to people who turn up everywhere, or are always there. ( Steven Fry comes to mind ) Thank goodness parsley is always in my garden as it forms the backbone of many a meal. It flavours stock, is the main star in tabbouleh and it is sprinkled over many a dish, like confetti at a wedding, or a last blessing from the kitchen. This little salad always gets eaten first at any family gathering. The young wolves descend on it.It is an economical starter, especially if you grow parsley which is really like a weed. Serve this with another salad, some herbed olives and a tasty bread for lunch.
Mt Zero Biodynamic olives, warmed with oil, garlic and herbs.
The dish employs winter produce at its peak. Avocados, which are cheap in July and August, come from our sunnier northern states. Parsley is always prolific in the garden but more so in winter as it tends to ‘bolt’ in summer. The eggs are free range organic bantam eggs but any small sized organic eggs you can get hold of will go well as they are the star.
Antipasto di Uova, Prezzemolo e Avocado
6 eggs ( small size)
1 large avocado, or more as required.
1 bunch Italian parsley
2-3 garlic cloves
small handful pine nuts
sea salt
Extra Virgin Olive Oil.
Hard boil the eggs. Meanwhile make the parsley pesto in a mortar and pestle. Throw in the peeled garlic and some coarsely ground salt. Begin pounding. Add the pine nuts and continue pounding. ( Think of your least favorite politician). Add the leaves from the parsley bunch, a bit at a time. Continue bashing away until the parsley is broken down but still a little rough in texture. Add the oil, continue pounding, and add enough to make a green sauce, runny enough to drizzle. Arrange the halved eggs and avocado chunks on a platter, drizzle with the parsley pesto, and add another grinding of salt. I usually reserve the term pesto for the classic basil pesto which I only make in Summer. This one is so similar, and the green is so vibrant, I’m allowing it to sneak into the pesto category.
It’s 6 degrees outside and Kevin Bacon springs to mind! An odd thought to start the day, I know. Any plans to garden or gather plants have been shelved in favour of baking. I am experiencing separation anxiety from my lonely sourdough starter waiting for me at the back of the fridge. Time to light the fires and get ‘Celia’ into action.
50% wholemeal sourdough
Last week I made three different loaves using the basic foolproof tutorial provided by FigJam and Lime Cordial. My first loaf was white and gorgeous. Loaf number two was more appealing, made with half baker’s white flour and half wholemeal flour. The third started as pizza dough, but as time ran out in the evening and the dough wasn’t fully risen, it became the next day’s spelt and white sourdough loaf. The latter contained a mixture of 20% spelt flour to 80% white baker’s flour. I am keen to increase the spelt content on this one. The young visiting lads enjoyed the spelt loaf, eating all the crust, a good sign, and asking for more. This is the best compliment a bread can have. It is now two days old and while a little firm, is excellent grilled for bruschetta.
Some spelt added to the mix
Now I am in search of some decent large packets of rye flour in Melbourne. I found a large bag of Rye flour at Bas foods, Brunswick, but it contained added salt, sugar and oil and appeared to be a bread mix. The health food shops tend to pack things in tiny quantities and charge an arm and a leg. Any hints anyone?
I first tried this nourishing soup a few years ago in Brunswick, near Melbourne. A young Turkish woman opened a small lunchtime cafe in the middle of an empty space in the Brunswick Market. She cooked her grandmother’s food from memory; it was cheap, sustaining and delicious. Her little restaurant didn’t survive, given its location inside a dingy arcade. Every now and then I see her around the streets of Brunswick and I feel like running up to tell her how much I loved her soup. She served it in big deep bowls with a small pourer of white vinegar and a separate little saucer of dried chilli flakes on the side, along with fluffy Turkish pide, toasted in a flat sandwich maker. I have been making versions of this soup ever since then, trying to replicate her flavours and texture. It is so cheap and nourishing, you could live on it. The key to the ‘bridal’ quality of this soup is the butter. You could ‘veganise’ the recipe, but it wouldn’t taste as good.
I am indebted to Patricia Solley’s Soupsong for this close version to the real thing, to which I have made slight adjustments.
Turkish Red Lentil Bride soup – Ezo Gelin Çorbasi
4 Tablespoons butter
2 onions, finely chopped
1 teaspoon paprika
1 cup red lentils, washed and picked over
1/2 cup fine bulgur wheat
2 Tablespoons tomato paste, or Biber Salcasi ( red pepper paste)
8 cups vegetable stock, or water and 2 stock cubes ( use chicken stock if you prefer)
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper or dried red chilli flakes
1 Tablespoon dried mint leaves, crumbled
Traditional Garnish: lemon slices, or vinegar and chilli flakes, mint. Inauthentic garnish, yoghurt, mint leaves and chilli flakes.
Heat the butter in a large saucepan and saute the onions over low heat until they are golden, about 15 minutes. Stir in the paprika, then the lentils and bulgur to coat them in the butter. Add the tomato paste or red pepper paste ( or Biber Salcasi), the stock and hot chilli, then bring to a boil. Reduce to very low simmer and cook until soft and creamy, for about an hour. ( You may need a simmer mat for this and check that it doesn’t stick). When ready to serve, tear the fresh mint into the soup or crumble in the dried mint. Stir, remove from heat for 10 minutes, covered, then ladle the soup into large serving bowls, serving with lemon wedges and extra mint on the side. Great with warm or toasted Turkish Pide. It’s a meal!
Turkish Bridal Soup
“The origin of this rich Turkish soup is attributed to an astonishingly beautiful girl born in 1909 in the village of Dokuzyol, located on ancient caravan routes in the Barak plain. Ezo had red cheeks and black hair and was adored by camel riders who stopped by her house for water. Her story ends badly, though–her first marriage to a villager was unhappy and she was permitted to forsake him on grounds of maltreatment. Her second marriage took her to Syria and a mother-in-law who couldn’t be pleased…and for whom, it is said, she haplessly created this soup. Ezo died of tuberculosis in Syria in 1952, but in the interim had become a legend in her native land in both folksong and film. Her name lives on in this very popular, stick-to-the-ribs soup–which is now traditionally fed to new brides, right before their wedding, to sustain them for what lies ahead.”
Patricia Solley, An Exultation of Soups.
The bridal shops of Sydney Road, Brunswick, are notorious. Some specialise in elegance.And others do amazing bridal kitsch.
Cute animals and babies immediately come to mind when considering this week’s travel theme topic, Endearing, nominated by Ailsa, of Where’s My Backpack. How cute and endearing are Pandas!
A visit to the Giant Panda Breeding Research Base (Xiongmao Jidi) in Chengdu, Sichuan Province, China is an enjoyable day out. The pandas have acres of bamboo forest to enjoy, the nursery pandas are kept separately, and there is a birthing section, complete with all the paraphernalia of a maternity hospital.
The park itself is huge, with large promenades of bamboo forests, a large lake and an excellent restaurant where you, like the pandas, can enjoy a plate of bamboo, pickled and steamed. Like everything else in China, the park and facilities are spotlessly clean and a pleasure to visit.
The Giant Panda Breeding Research Base, No.1375 Xiongmao Avenue, Outside Northern Third Ring Road, Chenghua District, Chengdu 610081, China.
It’s winter here in Melbourne and the veggie garden was thriving until last week. A few severe frosty mornings set some vegetables back as the temperatures dropped below zero, and snow was recorded in the nearby hills. The leaves on the lime trees are now burnt but will survive. Old Jack Frost has killed off the remaining chilli plants and the rows of new potatoes. The frosts in the last two years seem to be more severe than I can remember in past years.
frost covered patch of turnips and lettuce.
One sad looking potato crop
Nothing can kill a turnip which has led to a flurry of turnip recipe experiments. I feel like Tess of the d’Urbervilles, grovelling about the turnip rows. Where is my hessian gown and curtained hood? They are mostly added to old fashioned vegetable soups or roasted. I tried some turnip rostis and I cannot recommend this dish, as gorgeous as it looked topped with sour cream and feathery dill. It was just too turnipy!
Turnips anyone?
The cavolo nero ( black kale) has turned into a perennial triffid and needs staking. I don’t mind. I add the leaves to soups and risotto or cook it then add to orecchiette pasta, the latter with garlic, anchovies, EV olive oil, and chilli flakes.
cavolo nero or Tuscan kale.
The lettuces are nice and crisp in winter. The Cos are prolific as are the red and copper leafed varieties which are self-sown.
self seeded lettuce
These broccoli were grown from old seed thrown into a bed in late March. We are slowly working our way through the heads and looking forward to some side shoots. Some years ago, I kept a broccoli plant going for 18 months, eating lovely side shoots the whole time. The trick to semi perennial broccoli? Never let the plants flower. This works well if you don’t get that nasty little white butterfly in summer.
Freshly picked broccoli is nothing like its woody retail counterpart. It only needs two minutes in boiling water, drained, then tossed about in additional chosen flavours. A simple Neil Perry Recipe can be found here. I also love them tossed with a little oil, garlic, soy sauce and a pinch of sugar.
In late May, I moved a whole lot of plants into a perennial bed, artichoke and rhubarb for example. They enjoyed a winter dormant spell and are showing signs of recovering for Spring.
The To Do List is always too long.
Mulch the garlic before the Spring weeds get a hold.
Manure and mulch the perennial bed of rhubarb.
Finish off the third compost bin and begin the fourth.
Prepare spare beds for Spring planting with ready compost covered with mulch.
Espalier the fruit trees in the second chicken run orchard. Urgent Mr T!
Gather more cow manure from the front paddocks to add to the compost bins with dried leaves and green matter.
And on a sad note, here is my favourite Dexter cow, Derry, who gave birth last Sunday to a beautiful shiny black calf. Sadly the calf couldn’t stand to suckle due to a crippled leg. The vet instructed us to take the inevitable course of action. Derry is our lawnmower, pet and keeps us in manure. She has recovered.
In her introduction to this week’s travel theme, Ailsa, from Where’s My Backpackreferred to Henry Thoreau’s ‘Walden’. I was delighted to be reminded of this contemplation on simple living after so many years. I recall reading this many years ago as a student and remember thinking at the time that it was rather self-indulgent and tedious. Even though I am much older now and hopefully wiser, and definitely more opinionated, I still think this is the case.
As for the theme, simplify, this is something that we should all reflect upon from time to time. Time spent at Wilson’s Promontory, Victoria, Australia gives the visitor time to live simply, walk, enjoy native flora and fauna and beautiful rock formations like the one below.
A Rock in Tidal River, Wilson’s Promontory, Australia.
In My Kitchen, I have assembled a few representatives of my Australiana collection, as I still call Australia home when not overcome by the need to leave or travel. Celia, at Fig Jam and Lime Cordial, generously hosts this monthly kitchen event. Sit down, grab a coffee and take a look at other kitchens around the globe.
Temporary residency for the displaced.
Things lurk in kitchen drawers, on benches or in the pantry and are ridiculously retro in style. Tins house biscuits or serve as decor, bowls provide colour, drawers are laden with linen.
Budgerigar tin made by Allens, Melbourne. Much classier than the Budgie Smuggler speedos favored by a certain Prime Minister.
My daughter entered the kitchen brandishing this rolling-pin in a proprietorial manner, teasing me about her wonderful op shop find. She fully intended to give it to me, but wanted to hear me beg. So mean. Revenge is sweet. I find things for her collections, claiming ownership for a time, then hand them over. Collectors need scouts in the field.
Porcelain rolling pin. Date unkown. Weapons of pastry construction.
The teatowel collection is mighty large. All linen, retro and very colourful, they depict Australian birds, outback scenes, 70s beer labels, flora and fauna, and silly poetry. They are cheery and soft to use and are handy in bread making, or useful as gift wrapping, alla Australian-Japanese kind of wrapping. An unused retro teatowel is often the same price as a sparkly piece of paper. Which would you prefer? I must confess to an Italian teatowel collection too! Some of these Aussie Icons don’t get used; they are works of art!
North Queensland Kitsch.
In north Queensland, Chinese workers from the goldfields established banana plantations in the 1880s around Cooktown, Port Douglas, Cairns, Innisfail and Tully.
Italian migrant labour enabled the sugar industry to thrive, after indentured ‘kanaka’ slave labour ceased in 1901.*
Italian migrants to Tully also furthered the Australian banana industry in the 1920s.*
I make pizza and bread quite often and this Wallaby baker’s flour is just right. The flour is super fresh due to high turnover, it is GMO free, strong, and the wheat is grown in South Australia. The company is still owned by the Laucke family who have been milling flour since 1899.
The Laucke family migrated from Germany in the 1890s. What a wonderful contribution they have made to this country.
I am making a shift to Australian grown and owned products. Although I love the taste of Italian tomatoes, I am concerned about the labour exploitation involved in its production. The SPC company in Shepparton, Victoria, has struggled to maintain its operation, due to the dumping of cheap foreign goods. The Australian anti- dumping commission found that
‘56% of tomatoes imported from Italy had been dumped on Australia and two of the major exporters, I.M.C.A and Lodato, had been selling them for about 26% below their value.’
The peanut butter shown is made wholly from Queensland’s peanuts and is produced by an Aussie owned company. Whilst not wishing to sound overly patriotic, I do believe in supporting local industries. It’s good for the environment as well as supporting employment opportunities in regional towns. The detailed information on the packaging is often initially confusing as to country of origin so now I need to take reading glasses shopping with me.
Beans means SPC. Shepparton is home to 3000 Iraqis, 1300 Afghans and 1200 Sudanese, along with long standing Greek and Italian communities. Many are employed by SPC Ardmona.
Next in line are these burnt matchstick bread boards featuring Kookaburras, gum leaves, and that bridge in Sydney. As they are collector items, they are rarely used.
Australian Burnt matchstick bread boards.
I have previously mentioned my passion for Australian pottery basins and bowls on IMK. Here is the full collection. These were made by either Hoffman or Fowler, between the 1930s and 1960s. The Hoffman pottery, located in Brunswick, Victoria, may still be seen today. Although no longer functioning, its kiln and tower have been incorporated into a modern townhouse development.
Collected Australian bowls by Fowler and Hoffman.
But wait, there’s more. The Arnotts biscuit tin collection, once Australian owned, covered in a plethora of parrots, Aussie honey, Tasmanian smoked salmon in the fridge, Maffra cheese, Diana ware jugs, Vegemite ( the latter icon being Australian made but now foreign-owned, is disqualified) as is Uncle Tobys ( now a subsidiary of Nestle`).
This post was brought to you by Op Shops ( thrift shops/charity stores), home of the ‘well- spotted’, and recycling.
ALMOST ITALIAN 