Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Broccoli, Aglio, olio et peperonchino

The last thing you want to do when you get home from work is cook up a meal that's going to leave you slaving away in the kitchen for hours when you'd rather be relaxing. Or, in some cases, shooting complete strangers online. Which is why this one's such a regular dish in my repertoire. I picked it up off a cooking show years ago and it's been a keeper ever since.

The important thing here is fresh ingredients. You can get away with dried chillis or slightly wilted broccoli, but you'll be doing yourself and the dish a dis-service. Good olive oil is also a plus, otherwise, this one's dead easy.

Broccoli, Aglio, olio et peperonchino
In other words, it's a broccoli pasta with garlic and chilli in olive oil. It's pretty much as simple as it sounds, and the name is pretty much also the ingredients list!

ingredients
Rotini (or spiral) pasta
Two heads of broccoli
Two or three cloves of garlic
Two or three hot birdseye chillies
Parsley
Oil
Pepper
Parmesan

IPre-pasta.

A much easier proposition than my last effort!

Get a pot of salted water boiling away, and while you're waiting for a good rolling boil, chop up the broccoli, basically separating each branch without leaving too much stalk - maybe an inch at most. Toss the broccoli into the boiling water, leave for a couple of minutes or until it starts to simmer again and remove broccoli, but keep the water.

This is blanching - it brightens the colour of the brocolli, and heightens the flavour, but the trick is to be quick. You don't want boiled broccoli mush! It should still be very firm. You keep the water because you want that subtle broccoli flavour for the pasta.

When the water's boiled again add your pasta. Spiral's the best choice, because it'll really work with the sauce and looks great alongside the broccoli. Those who make their perception tests might notice I've mixed spirals and penne - that's more a case of lack of foresight than anything else, as we had less pasta in the pantry than I realised.

While the pasta's coming along, chop everything else up very finely - garlic, chilli and parsley. generously oil a frying pan and add the chopped ingredients, then add heat. You don't want to fry the herbs, but warm them as the oil warms. Add the drained broccoli, and toss through the oil. If you've timed things right, you can drain the pasta and add it straight to the pan, otherwise remove the pan from the heat to make sure you don't end up with crunchy garlic.

With everything in the pan, stir it all through vigorously. You want everything nice and shiny with the oil, and you'll note a lot of garlic and tastiness sticking in the spirals of the pasta - that's why we want spirals!

Remove from heat, plate up in a bowl, grate or shave some Parmesan over the top and add freshly cracked pepper.

Broccoli, Aglio, olio et peperonchino

This is a brilliant dish on so many fronts. It's super-tasty, and the brightness of good hot chillies goes really well with the smooth broccoli flavour. It's also really healthy, with a huge hit of vitamins C, K and A. The speed of the dish is a plus, and with a crisp white wine it's a real palate-pleaser.

Without the broccoli, it's also a classic pasta dish in its own right.

Monday, May 10, 2010

The importance of prep, plus Scotch Fillet with spinach, mash and stuffed zucchini flowers

In the Le Halle Cookbook, Anthony Bourdain really stresses how necessary it is to have your shit together. Of course, even he isn't so gauche as to say that - the fancy name for it is mis en place, but whatever you call it, he's really spot on.

It's even more important when you're cooking a dish with about five or so parts that need to be plated more or less together. A sensitive smoke alarm really doesn't help, but doesn't seem to have hurt proceedings (other than stressing me out, and thus stressing my partner out).

And speaking of partners, this is also one of those rare occasions where I simply had to have help. Normally, I like to fly solo in the kitchen, but this was beyond me. If you're doing something like this, another set of hands is just as important as good prep. Remember: this is why kitchens have so many stations!

Scotch Fillet with spinach, mash and stuffed zucchini flowers
Woolies is starting to do a really lovely range of home-brand meats, and the scotch fillet they're doing is no exception. Vacuum-packed in clear and black plastic, it's well marbled and coloured, and cooks up a treat. Not too expensive, either.

The rest of the ingredients are pretty basic, with the possible exception of the zucchini flowers. The joy of our produce co-op arrangement is you're never quite sure what you're going to get, and will sometimes get stuff you'd never think of getting yourself in a million years. So I was determined to do these justice, and found a good basic recipe to start with.

ingredients
One scotch fillet (our was big enough to halve)
Two dutch cream potatos
One yam
Handful of baby spinach
Chicken stock
Two Swiss brown mushrooms
One Shitake mushroom
Four zucchini flowers (we had female ones, with the added tiny zucchini)
Ricotta
Shallot
Continental parsley
25ogm flour
450ml mineral water (preferably cold)
Vegetable oil
Parmesan cheese
Salt & pepper (is here in effect)

Crikey, that's a lot more ingredients than I usually cook with!

The makin's of the aforementioned steak!

I really can't stress enough that with something like this you need to carefully work out what needs to be cooked when. Which, to be honest, I'm not sure I did - this is definitely a keeper, but it needs some serious streamlining work. However, if you want to follow this recipe slavishly, here's what to do.

Stand around looking at your pile of stuff, wishing you had the wherewithal to buy some wine while shopping. Not for the meal, but for the cook. Then work on some more prep - pour enough vegetable oil into a small pot to cover the zucchini flowers, get a pot of salted water going for the potato and yams, and get a non-stick pan ready for the steak.

Clean the tubers (it IS a tuber!), peel the yam, then chop it all up - reasonably smallish to get it to cook faster. While waiting for the water to boil (which you may want to stare at suspiciously at this point), get the flower stuffing ready.

Add a few healthy Imperial dollops of ricotta to a mixing bowl, then add finely chopped parsley and shallot. Mix well, then spoon into a kitchen bag (and chop the corner off once full to create a DIY piping bag). Realise water is finally boiling, and toss in the tubers.

Stand back, with the immense feeling that you must be missing something, and turn on the heat under the steak pan. Realise you still need to make the batter for the flowers, and call in your girlfriend.

She should mix up the flower and mineral water (this makes a really light batter), while you realise that flower stuffing, while sounding vaguely rude, is actually merely fiddly. Oh, and you should also carefully remove the stamen from the flowers - this too is fiddly. The flowers themselves are already partially split, and it's very easy to widen this as you mess about with stamen and stuffing. Just take your time; fill up each flower with the stuffing to the level of split in the petals themselves, then twist closed. Pass the finished flowers to your girlfriend (a boyfriend may suffice), and then get startled by how much your supposedly clean non-stick pan is smoking.

Toss the halved fillet into the pan after seasoning it with salt and pepper, and then squeal in rage when the smoke alarms go off in your apartment. Remove pan from heat, run around like headless chicken removing batteries from potentially lifesaving devices.

Return to steak, fuss over possibly ruining the meat (which you haven't), and get on with the job. Cook the steak a touch over a minute each side, and remove to rest. If it's a good pan and good meat, no oil is necessary at all - you'll end up with enough pan juices from the meat itself. Deglaze the pan with a bit of chicken stock, and then add the finely sliced mushrooms and some more sliced shallots.

Meanwhile, your girlfriend, other or cat should be frying the flowers. Just dip them carefully in the batter (they're pretty fragile), leave for about thirty seconds, and the remove and repeat. We wanted a slightly heavier battering, so repeated the entire process of batter and fry. Leave the flowers on a tea towel or paper towel to drain the oil.

At this time, you should have forgotten your potatoes, so remove them from the heat, drain them, and make a really rough and ready mash. Just add some milk, though to be accurate you should not have nearly enough, and you should forget to add butter. But there's some of that ricotta left, so that's worth experimenting with. Mash til... mashed.

Dash back to the mushrooms, remove from heat, and arrange around the rim of two dinner plates. Add more stock to the pan, and quickly wilt the spinach leaves. Add dollop of mash to the center of each plate, then layer the spinach on top, then add the fillet on top of that. Carefully arrange the zucchini flowers on either side of the tasty mound, and then great some parmesan onto the flowers.

Done (thank fuck).

Steak with spinach, mash & zucchini flowers.

It all turned out pretty well, with the exception of my nerves - but that's fire alarms for you. The mash has a lovely sweet flavour from the yam, and this goes nicely with the earthy taste of the mushrooms and spinach. The zucchini flowers are great - nice and crunchy because of the batter, brilliantly rich and soft from the ricotta, and fresh and snappy from the small zucchini itself.

The steak itself is simple but hard to beat. In future I think the dish could really serve from adding something with more bite to it to cut through all the creaminess. Something with balsamic seems like a good idea, or perhaps a tartly sweet berry sauce. So, more experimentation necessary on that front. I'd also like to try sharper flavours for the flower stuffing - I've read that anchovies work well on that front.

But all in all pretty good, if I do say so myself.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Welcome, plus pumpkin soup!

Ever cooked up something really tasty, on the fly, and then kind of forgotten the exact recipe? It's really annoying. You try and try to get it 'right' again, but it never seems to work... bollocks to that I say!

So, partly, that's one of the things I'm hoping to achieve with this blog - a regular account of meals cooked, and what went into them. I also want to talk about food in general - good ingredients, awesome places to shop in the inner city of Sydney, and even the odd restaurant review.

By way of a quick bit of background, I'm not in any way trained - but I love food, enjoy cooking, and really like making my food as presentable as possible. A well-plated dish is a joy even before you start tucking in. So without further ado...

Rustic Pumpkin Soup
My partner and I are part of a food co-op, which is a fancy way of saying that once a fortnight, a group of the twenty-odd people in it wake up at stupid o'clock and head out to Flemington markets to get a mess of food. It's a great way to shop - you get very fresh produce (often still muddy-fresh!) that lasts a lot longer than store-bought goods. And it's a deal cheaper, too.

But you can sometimes end up with a lot more of something than you really know what to do with. A couple of boxes ago we ended up with a large pumpkin - I think it was Japanese (or not - see comments), but it's pretty much all nommed now so don't quote me. We roasted it, put it in thai curries, but still had a fucktonne of the stuff. So cue the classic pumpkin soup, especially as it's now getting cold enough to really enjoy something this hearty.

Ingredients
Roughly a third of a pumpkin
Three dutch cream potatoes
Head of garlic
Two brown onions
Ground nutmeg
Ground cumin
Fetta
Goose fat
Chicken stock
Salt & pepper to taste

Remove the seeds and soft stuff from the pumpkin, cut into relatively small chunks, and remove skin. Wash potatoes and chop up; I leave the skin on, but you can remove if you want. Slice the top off the head of garlic, and place all ingredients in a baking dish, along with a generous spoonful of goose fat (oil will do just fine, but I loves me some goose fat!).

Bake at a high temp until it's all just starting to soften, and then remove from oven.

Roughly chop the onions and add to a large soup pot, then add the roasted ingredients; remove the garlic cloves from the skin by squeezing out with a fork on your chopping board, and add them too. Cover with a litre of chicken stock (I cheated and used bought stuff, but like all dishes, this would really benefit from a proper stock prepared yourself). Add a generous dash each of the cumin and nutmeg - though you might not want to add quite as much nutmeg as I did, given I somehow unscrewed the entire top and dumped in something like three teaspoons! Season with salt and pepper to taste, but remember the stock will add a lot of salt itself.

Then just cover it up and let it boil away. Once everything's starting to fall apart, get a masher and move the job along - no need to get it smooth, as the rougher texture is what this is all about. Let it simmer along for another few minutes, repeat the mashing, and take off the heat.

Ladle the steaming orange goo into bowls. Crumble some fetta off a fresh block with a fork and sprinkle on top; add some freshly ground black pepper, and then a garnish of continental parsley and coriander.

Rustic Pumpkin Soup

Turned out pretty well if I do say so. This was the first time I'd added nutmeg, and let me tell you it really lifts the dish, making for a much more complex flavour. The fetta adds a sharp contrast to the richness of the soup (the partly caramelised pumpkin is seriously flavoursome), and the touch of fresh green herbs cleanses the palette as well as looking damn good.

It also cooks up quite a lot. One bowl along with some crusty bread is more than filling, so you can freeze the leftovers and get at least one other meal out of it.

I'd also recommend checking for random hairs before photographing... ah, the perils of being one of the last long-haired men in Sydney!