Where am I?

It as been a long time between drinks for this, my creative outlet (I am an accountant by trade so creativity is not seen as a good trait in a reputable organisation). So in lieu of making up numbers, this is where I flex the right hemisphere of my brain. Unfortunately I have let the left side take over my life of late and I have been ignoring my true calling, wasteful online blogging while drinking coffee at inner city cafes in Brisbane. So here it is again, my renewed efforts to share with the world more things they don't need (and mostly don't want) to know - but hey, that's what the internet is for, isn't it?

Being process driven by virtue of my job (or am I am in the job because I am process driven? There's something to keep the philosophers busy), I have some notes from some of our Sunday night cooking adventures from months ago that I need to get out there. Sit back with a cup of tea to read about a meal that would be considered homicide in April . . .

Roger the Rabbit Pie (17 October 2010)

Yes, we did it again and named our protein. When I bought it from my local friendly butcher, there was nothing available fresh, so a frozen rabbit in a perfect running (or hopping) stance, sans head and feet, was selected from the freezer. There was some shame in using a frozen rabbit, but the excitement of cooking rabbit was the stronger feeling. There was also no suet at the butcher but Jamie Oliver's followers to the rescue with a suggestion of frozen butter in the forums.

The rabbit was to be a pie, and we were making the pastry and all. Risky as that it, it was all about the experience, and really, a rabbit pie without good pastry is still going to taste spectacular (although Simple on Masterchef this week suggests otherwise).

We hopped into it (sorry, I had to). The meat was to braise for, well, a very long time. Maybe we should have started a little earlier. Unfortunately there was also one of those "in the meantime" moments in the recipe where Carla (or her pie cooking alter ego, Ma Peters) read that the pie filling has to be left overnight in the fridge to cool and tasty up before it is baked. Ma Peters to the rescue, with the genius move to prepare the filling, layer it on baking trays and throw it in the freezer for a while to cool it. Crisis averted (Carla would be a serene pool on Masterchef).

Now a am a huge Jamie Oliver fan but I once heard him say don't make pastry for a pie, it is too hard and the store bought stuff is a worthy substitute. This may be fine for the average home cook, but we are here to get our hands dirty. It is not just the taste that is important as we spend inordinately more time cooking than eating and that is because of the fund of the journey. So, sleeves rolled and flour out - pasty cooking was going on the CV.

The rabbit pie filling was a long braise with a number of ingredients that 7 months after the event I cannot remember, but something tells me there was cider in it, and not all of it went into the pie . . .

The pastry was not nearly as hard as we thought it would be. We also had the pie bird to direct the steam out of the cooking masterpiece and here is Ma Peters demonstrating its use.

We also decided it needed to be correctly decorated, and so there was no confusion about what it's contents were, we added a little art in pasty.

It was about midnight when we ate but it was well worth it. The pie included prunes so the rich meat and the prunes just worked and it was all held together with the secret ingredient.

Being pie night, we finished off with a pumpkin pie that I had made earlier that day. It was heaps of fun to do and I did it with baked real pumpkin, not tinned pumpkins that many recipes required. It was pretty good, but not as good as the pumpkin pie I had in the US (maybe they used tinned pumpkins).

It was a great success, with two pies and new experiences. The bonus was the food tasted spectacular.

Seafood Extravaganza

The final menu for tonight is: Oysters Kilpatrick followed by mud crab with freshly baked focaccia bread and home made lime mayonnaise. Yes, it is over the top and a giant reach, but it was sooooo worth it. I was planning to cook fresh seafood a few weeks earlier but could not find where to get it. Uncle Mark to the rescue suggesting Samies which is found on the way to the airport.

Sunday morning I made my way to Samies to check out the seafood action. Walking in, it was nothing all that special to the eye but the seafood on offer was excellent. I would love to walk in there every Sunday morning and design a menu for the evening based on what inspired me there (with the help of mobile internet - I am nowhere near creating recipes).

The muddies were there, kept in plastic crates and covered in wet hessian bags. I felt like I was doing the good work that Bob Brown was neglecting for bigger, more sexy causes like old growth forests (trees grow back)** and climate change (calm down, they're called seasons people)**. I was liberating one of these wretched, imprisoned creatures who had been mandatorily detained for no other reason than being incredibly succulent and tasty.

** These do no necessarily represent the views of the author and may have been expressed for entertainment value only. Many of the author's best friends are trees from old growth forest and carbon emissions.

I also picked up some oysters still in their shells. I wanted them unshucked just for the experience of opening them (I had bought a new oyster knife) and now that I have cooked fresh oysters, it is the only way to go as the juices are retained and make for a tastier dish. I am not sure if I can get myself to the point of eating them raw but there is still time.

So I had the muddie on the passenger seat in the car and I was on the way home. I was VERY excited that I had found a live mudcrab so called Carla. She unfortunately asked if I had named the crab which seemed like a bad idea considering I was about to euthanase it (that is fancy talk for cook and eat it). One thought led to another and our mudcrab was henceforth known as Sammy. We did no bother naming the oysters- all oysters look the same, not like our Sammy who was personality plus (And apparently oysters are nearly as close to pants as animals- or that is what vegetarian ethicists say to justify eating them).

I went home and developed a project plan (I really did). I was making 2 courses with four distinct dishes (including the bread and mayo) and they all needed to be started at different times to get them out in the right sequence. I am not naturally good at estimating times so I knew I was out of my depth with the complexity of my menu. I did make the mayo in advance and set that aside (and it was really easy - not much more than whisking oil and egg yokes).

Carla arrived and was excited by the menu, but very disturbed by the project plan. This was definitely a two person job so it was all hands on deck this week. The first order of business was bread making. Carla is the dough queen so made the dough with dazzling skill (girl job) and I was on kneading duty (boy job). We left it to rest for half ah hour. It was now time to shuck.

Armed with the oyster knife and research on how to shuck an oyster, we and channelled our inner Masterchef (but not whingy Joanne- we totally shucked better then her) and went for it.

The first one was a challenge but after that, we had the technique down and it ended up being fun. There is satisfaction in being able to pry open nature's equivalent of a mini-safe. I added the bacon and Worcestershire sauce and grilled away. They were absolutely divine. It may have helped that they were served with a chilled bottle of Verve.

It was on to the main attraction now - Sammy's time to shine. It was pretty easy to prepare - boil the whole crab and serve. The hardest part was going to be cutting it up after it was cooked and I was really worried about over cooking it. I threw Sammy in (who had been euthanased under RSPCA guidelines) and it was quite cool - crab changes colour from dark green / brown to red as soon as it goes in the boiling water. He only just fit into the pot - which was a good sign - and his claws were each the size of a car door- which was a great sign.

While Sammy was enjoying his hot bath, we prepared the focaccia. To get the authentic focaccia look, I punched knuckle imprints into the top and then we sprinkled rock salt onto it. This was all coming together nicely.

So the crab was removed from the pot and immersed in cold water to stop the cooking process. I followed a video on youtube to work out how to actually cut it up- I would have had no idea otherwise. It was much easier than I expected. The top of the crab came right off, I removed the gills and other unpleasant bits and cut it into 4 pieces. It was served on a bed of ice and with fresh baked bread and French butter (salted of course). Just as we were about to start, I remembered the finger bowl so ran back into the kitchen to get it - big mistake. I ended up slipping on some water and slid across the floor. I still have a burn scar below my knee. Carla was very compassionate . . . after she stopped laughing.

Armed with our nut crackers and insatiable appetite for mudcrab, we dived in. So how did it taste - AMAZING. We ate with our hands like barbarians and loved every second. We left the claws until last and raced to find that bit of the crab claw that lets you open and close it. The bread was great because it was freshly made (and the French butter helped as well) but it needed more salt in the dough (something for next time). There was crab shell all over the table and floor and we did not care (well, Carla didn't because apparently cleaning is a boy job).

Overall - It was so much fun to actually cook and even more fun to eat. It was a great night and I can't wait until I get to write about next week's dinner - Rabbit Pie.

This post is dedicated to the memory of Sammy who gave his life for the enjoyment of others (mostly Carla and mine).

Jamie Oliver eat your heart out

Tonight was the night where Carla took a step into the world of Jamie Oliver. Armed with a cookbook by the one and only naked chef and some fresh scallops (although she was not 100% convinced they were fresh when she bought them from a road side vendor) Carla was ready to set taste buds on fire. The dish was Scallops on a bean mash, with bacon.

Jamie Oliver is an inspiring and compelling person. Not only does he cook what seem like achievable dishes, but he does it with an enthusiasm and energy that catches you in his whirlwind. Seeing someone so passionate just can't help but inspire something in you (be that cooking or making you want to search for that inspiration for yourself).

I still remember seeing one of his TV shows years ago set in a London theatre. He set himself a challenge to cook a pizza from scratch in the same amount of time it takes to order and get a pizza delivered. He did just that, making all of the elements (base, sauce . . ). While cooking, he had a pizza delivered to the stage door and the unwitting delivery boy ended up on stage not really knowing what was going on. And not that I am biased, but Jamie's pizza did look way better.

Anyway, back to reality. On to the scallops which turned out to be fresh and tasty (and Carla was informed by Ma Peters that the vendor was well known and decent). The dish was not too complicated but because it was scallops, the magic was all in cooking them perfectly and not overshadowing their flavour.

Carla was her superhero best in the kitchen. I've identified cooking as one of her superpowers - everyone has them. Somehow she picked up a wooden spoon one day and shazam, she was an incredible cook just like when teenage Clark Kent realised he could run faster than a speeding bullet. She was roasting the tomatoes and preparing the sauce. My role revolved around the man jobs (getting stuff out of the oven, juicing lemons, mashing the bean mix and of course cleaning the kitchen- although I am sceptical that this last one is a man job, I think my good nature is being used against me).

The scallops were divine, the mash was an excellent base to the meal with subtle flavours that allowed the scallops to shine and it looked and smelled fantastic. Jamie Oliver would be proud.

We finished it off with some barbecued mangos which were a perfect match to the scallop dish. All in all, another successful night of cookery and fun.

I am a little behind on the blogging, but next time will be the amazing seafood adventure with Sammy the mudcrab and his merry band of oysters kilpatrick.

Sausages made with real meat

It was time to get out of the kitchen for a while and into a kitchen shop. I was itching for a shiny, chrome purchase which would let me make more elaborate and smug creations. I had most recently invested in pizza trays, aprons, and a pasta maker and like a supervillain who had just taken over a country, I now wanted the world.

I tried the world's largest kitchen shop (I have no proof to back up that wildly presumptive statement) in Logan just past the hyperdome. Unfortunately they had a mincer but no sausage attachments. Mince meat without the ability to get it into sausage casings was really just a rissole machine so not really as exciting. I could not leave empty handed so I picked up 2 nut crackers that came in handy a few weeks later. More to that story in a couple of posts (I'm a little behind at the moment).

I tried my new favourite store in Brisbane, Wheel and Barrow, James Street but to no avail (they were out- sad face). So I then had to creep back to my nemesis, Taste in The Valley. They have everything but are not nearly as helpful and are more expensive. They get you hypnotised with all of the teflon and stainless steel and double the price while you are in a kitchenware induced stupor. So here is my new favourite kitchen appliance. I chose the cast iron because apparently that was the better option (but because it was Taste, they could not really explain why).

I of course was giddy with excitement (much like how a primary school teen feels about seeing Justin Bieber in person. I was the second one from the right).

Now I was equipped, it was time to get the ingredients. There is an old style butcher very close to me in New Farm who always has signs for eclectic cuts of meat like rabbit (that will be for a post very soon), duck and a number of other, more obscure animals. I thought I was in for sure here. I was asked by one of the butcher staff what I was after and here is where the fun started.

Me: "Do you sell sausage casing?"

Vacant butcher guy (insert quizzical face here) "Sausage casings?"

Me: "Yes, do you sell sausage casings?"

Vacant butcher guy "Um, let me see"

So he turned around and spoke to the owner of the shop (I have no basis to say he was the owner but there was a vibe). The vacant butcher turned back to me and said "they are really expensive".

Me: "So, do you sell them to the public?"

Vacant butcher "um, yes, but it is $40 a kilo".

Me: "Can I buy it in less than one kilo lots?"

Vacant butcher: "Um, so you don't need much?"

Me still smiling at this point, mostly out of amusement at this conversation "Yeah, just enough for a small batch of sausages"

Vacant butcher: "so, like, about this much" (he made a gesture with his hands that made no real sense to me so I just said "Yes").

With that over, I bought $2.45 worth of intestines (oh yeah, the real stuff). I also picked up some good quality diced lamb. I then made my way to James Street Markets for the rest of the ingredients. I had chosen an American recipe for Aussie Lamb sausages.

While I was at James Street, I decided I did not have enough lamb. All I could see at the butchers here was lamb kebabs. I think this turned out to be a bad decision but I bought 4 of those to bolster my sausage plans.

When it was time to make the sausages, we donned our latex gloves (it may sound a little weak to wear gloves, but it was one of our best decisions . . . ever. It seemed simple enough, Carla on feeding and grinding and me on sausage casings (mostly because the sausage casings were quite disgusting and it was clearly a boy job).

It was going well for a while, that is until the meat started to come back out the top. This confused us as it did not seem like a hard machine to use. Insert meat at top, crank the handle, minced meat comes out the end. So we pulled it apart and found the connective tissues in the meat were building up on the grate that the meat goes through at the end of the mincer. This was not good news. We decided to remove the grate and rely on the passage of the lamb through the body of the mincer and hope the end grate was just there for show. It was at this point I wished I did not buy the back up kebab meat.

This largely worked, although a few chunky bits did get through. It made our sausages special. It was heaps of fun to do and I think as much minced meat made it into the sausages as made it on the floor. We served it with vegies and mash (mashed the old fashioned Young way, which involves mashing so vigorously that you nearly get lift off. I did not realise this, but it was an inherited trait as I know that is how Mum mashes and I recently had dinner with Mum and Aunty Win and Win also mashes like a madman. In this instance, I was so committed that I ended up with a mash induced blister on my mashing hand but my word was it creamy!!

The sausages were very tasty, but a little dry. The fat was feta cheese but it was not quite enough. Also, next time, I think I am going to do a gravy, and not from a box (which is what I thought authentic gravy was for my first 15 years of existence). As for the mincer clogging, Ma Peters spoke to her butcher (she looks out for us) and he said the connective tissue will block the mincer but try for smaller chunks of meat.

We finished the night off with chocolate dipped strawberries not in a toffee basket (I have tried 3 times to make a toffee basket and failure each time). There were milk, white and dark chocolate ones (and some double and triple dipped). I also made enough cream to insulate a house - still having problems with serving sizes.

For my next purchase, I really want to get an old school looking coffee machine for the kitchen for both the aesthetics and the smell it would offer to my apartment but I really don't like coffee made at home and I enjoy going to coffee shops. I am really torn because I do like to buy stuff for the kitchen. I also an considering a food processor as most most recipes seem to call for it. This is starting to get serious.

And I will leave you with a photo of one of the sausages cooked during the following week that exploded in the frying pan. If you ask me, it is the sign of a fresh sausage (again, I have nothing to back that up with).

What's next?

Just to whet your appetite, the up coming posts are going to be on a Jamie Olivier inspired scallops, a seafood feast of unimaginable mess and taste (made from a muddie called Sammy) and rabbit pie (made from a whole rabbit named Roger). Stay tuned folks.

PIZZA NIGHT!!!!

For the Glee season 2 première, Carla and I decided it would be pizza night. Because we love to create food as much as we love to eat it, we of course had to make the dough and the pizza sauce, as well as top them. Overall, it was successful (with the exception of the pizza sauce which proved the internet is not always right - gasp).

I stopped in at Coles to get the ingredients. I was most concerned that Coles New Farm would not stock yeast because, well, it is Coles and it is Coles New Farm. I was pleasantly surprised, even with those two facts working against it, there was the yeast. I had researched the pizza sauce and the dough recipes but had left the pizza toppings to my inspiration. Walking around, the only thing I knew was going to be on them was mozzarella. I ended up also getting Hungarian Salami (which looked and was excellent), olives, smoked salmon, oregano and another herb who's identity escapes me. I am going to make it up and say chives (it wasn't but you were not there so I dare you to challenge me).

We were running a little late because I am a terrible estimator of time (I tend to assume I will magically get from one place to another without any travel time- not sure why I have not moved past this in the last 30 years). We jumped straight into action and this was a night when the new cooking aprons moved from being a fun purchase (and maybe slightly over the top) to a necessary cooking implement. There was flour everywhere!!

I was blending tomatoes as Carla was creating the dough. We did have fun trying to convert ounces of flour to measurements we can use in our metric world. Google came in handy (as it always does).

The dough was perfect. It was that consistency you see in movies and on TV, being sticky and stretchable. It was a team effort with Carla on making the dough and rolling it out and me in charge of kneading. The only thing that did not work on the night was the pizza sauce and that was all me. I picked a dodgy recipe for the sauce on the net that did not call for it to be simmered down at all. The outcome was tomato juice with a hint of garlic. We ran with it.

I think the main reason we wanted to make pizzas was so we could spin the dough into a pizza base like they do in the cartoons and of course we gave it a go. Here are some action shots - it was heaps of fun.

Each pizza was actually really good in its own way. The base on each was crispy and the bottom was browned (not Cajun) and the toppings worked well together and were not overpowering. Even the lack of a real pizza sauce did not take away from them as the salami pizza had enough flavour to make it work and the smoked salmon pizza did not need a strong tomato sauce under it. We were a little lucky this time.

In the following few days, I made my way to Wheel & Barrow and picked up a couple of pizza trays and a book of pizza recipes (which has a reputable recipe for pizza sauce). I had also just picked up a pizza slicer (the wheel one). All of this was the start of Wednesday pizza night. The following week (Wednesday just gone) was the first attempt from the new book and it was a resounding success - using the thin and crispy pizza base, the new pizza sauce recipe (which rightly involved simmering) and the Greek pizza topping recipe. The base was even better than the first time and who would of thought a pizza without mozzarella could be good?

And so there is no doubt, evidence now exists that Carla can clean. This photo has been sent to NASA who confirm it was not altered, photoshopped or staged in any way. They were quite excited by this development as a manned missions to Mars was thought to be less chance than Miss Peters with a cloth in her hand. They are now very excited about the prospect of exploring the next plant in our solar system. I hear the US congress is allocating funds to the project on the basis of this new evidence.

One night in Mexico (well, Texas)

This post comes from the future . . . in that it has taken me three weeks to write it but I can still taste the pure flavours of home made fajitas without a packet of Old El Paso in sight.

It was authentic Tex-Mex night on Sunday 3 weeks ago. Being new to the creative cooking game, I had never considered making them without a packet of Old El Paso where the hardest part was deciding mild, medium or hot (its almost like making gravy without gravox- which apparently is possible). It was Carla's night to cook and she was up to the task.

Armed with our new cooking aprons (oh yes I did) we set about making a Tex-Mex feast of fajitas with home made guacamole and sizzling onion/capsicum. What more could you ask for than a meal eaten with your hands and topped with cheese and avocado?

I was on citrus juicing duty that night which was my punishment for not owning a citrus juicer. There were 5 limes and a lemon to extract the juice from and it was sooooo much fun to do by hand.

Carla was concentrating on the guacamole which involved 5 avocados (we are not great a serving sizes for two yet). Now we all know what guacamole is, but not all of us know what good guacamole is. I can tell you this one was amazing. Being made fresh with the taste of lime (but of course no coriander / cilantro which is the devil's herb) just gives it such a sharp and simple taste.

The meat was marinated using Carla's secret recipe known only by her, her Mother . . . and anyone else with access to the internet. The recipe calls for a couple of hours of marinating, but who has that kind of time nowadays? We did 20 minutes of concentrated marinating (which is very similar to normal marinating but while the meat is marinating, you hope to hell it is in there for long enough).

The rookie error that we all fall for with fajitas is the overfilling of the first fajita. This is where you forget the laws of physics and assume that a 2mm thick flour tortilla can hold your own body weight in fillings. What can I say, it was that damn good that I wanted it all.

We had our glorious fill of fajitas and then we usually we just crack out a couple of Maxibons (God's favourite ice-cream) but tonight we prepared barbecued mangoes with vanilla ice cream. All it took was cutting the cheeks off the mangos, scoring them, sprinkling on a bit of sugar and then BBQ them for around 4 minutes. They were exceptional Bowen mangos and it was a simply great dessert. Thanks for the tip Adrian.

Since this week, I have invested in pizza utensils and a sausage maker so watch out for more Sunday night cooking adventures which are now proudly brought to you by Children's Materchef on Sunday nights, Channel 10.

Thrice cooked duck

Aiming high was the theme of Sunday night this week with the menu being Duck a'la Orange with roasted kipfler potatoes and wilted spinach. It is a mouthful to say and it was a mouthful to eat . . . when it was finally served.

So as I mentioned in the intro, cooking on Sunday night is just part of the whole adventure. I end up dedicating a good portion of the day to preparing. This is partly because I want it to be perfect and partly because I have the planning skills of a 5 year old child with ADD who is smacked out on red cordial mixed with red bull.

Sunday mornings usually consist of me cooking breakfast and watching the multitude of morning political new shows but today was a little underwhelming with only bread and eggs in the fridge (I had been away for a few weeks and had not shopped). I soldiered through eggs on toast and worked out a plan as best I could. I had a recipe and knew where to get French wine so all I needed was everything else (including a duck). James St markets seemed the go here - I am sure the pretentious love duck.

Off I went and decided to pop into Campos coffee for a hit of the good stuff. Too busy for me on a Sunday morning so postpone the caffeine injection for the moment. I was right and the overly cultured James St crowd love the duck. While I was there, I picked up the kipfler potatoes, spinach and white wine vinegar. I really wanted to get Maggie Beer white wine vinegar but alas, I was let down. I would have to add more of my secret ingredient to make up for this omission (and we know what that is).

So, without showing you a GPS display with my route, let's just say there was doubling back, useless trips to the city and driving backwards with my handbrake on involved in getting the remaining ingredients. Luckily I saw an open coffee shop as I was returning home for the eighth time and while I was in there saw two mini orange and pistachio cakes with my name on it - perfect for the (newly discovered) theme. They would go very well with the ice cream Damien and Caroline left at my place a month ago.

I started preping the ingredients as any good TV chef's assistant would do and got a message from Miss Peters saying she was on her way. No time to lose, there was preheating, peeling, basting and mixing to be done- and that was just me getting ready.

A part of my 8 trips across Brisbane today included getting a meat thermometer from my new favourite kitchen shop. This was my secret weapon and my only defence against the indecipherable cooking time in the recipe.

When Carla arrived, I put her in charge of the wilted spinach as I was honest in my self-assessment and knew I would be too stressed at the end of the duck's cooking time to be able to concentrate on the spinach. As I was already in focused, single minded mode that all men revert to in a time of stress, my instructions were "the recipe is on the internet". But in my defence I had already loaded the page.

It was all going smoothly and the duck was cooking (although Carla had noticed that its neck had come to attention in the oven as it was cooking - it was a little freaky, like it was looking for a way out). I was on to the sauce and cooking the duck for a second time (now with a stock mixture in the baking pan) and Carla was on the spinach prep. Sauce was reasonably easy but I had to read the recipe 18 times because I retain knowledge as well as I plan shopping trips.

The sauce was made, Carla was on the spinach and I was about the take out the duck. The trusty meat thermometer inserted in the thigh, (but, of course, not on the bone), was telling me it was time- like the lunch bell in an episode of Little House on the Prairie. Here we were - the moment of truth. The carving knife was poised, freshly sharpened using my new steel (trip 7 if 8 from today).

The disappointment in this moment was I really had no idea how to carve a duck. So I hacked into it and most of its bones for far too long before an edible portion was extricated. The further disappointment was with the duck thigh came far too much blood. Damn you meat thermometer and your false sense of security (insert fist shake here). So I pieced the duck back together and sentenced it to another 10 minutes in the oven (5 minutes of Carla trying to start her iPhone countdown timer and 5 minutes of countdown timer). Unfortunately this left the roasted potatoes and wilted spinach lonely on the plate:

But they survived, Carla lit the candle on my balcony (I have no light out there so this is the only way we can see the food we are eating), I poured us a glass of French wine and we sat down to a delightful Duck a'la Orange with roasted kipfler potatoes and wilted spinach with a side of KT Tunstall and it did not disappoint. The duck was not amazing in flavour and the sauce was a little shallow but the combination of it all and the work that went into it made it fantastic. I will say, the spinach (which was deftly cooked in butter and garlic) with the roasted kipfler potatoes were amazing together and I can see a future for those two.

Another sensational Sunday night dinner. I cannot wait to see what in in store for next week!!!

PS leftovers on Monday were AMAZING

Sunday night is a time for cooking

I thought it was about time to find an excuse to start up a blog again. I enjoyed blogging my time through the US but did not have the same kind of inspiration back at home . . . until now.

As I grow up, some things change. I now clean my house every week, I don't like crowded clubs on Saturday nights and I see young girls dressed like strippers and say "How do their parents allow that?" Another part of this change in me are the things that I enjoy doing, which now includes getting adventurous with cooking. Sunday night lends itself to that as it gives me a day to get ready and plan something new.

As clichéd as this is, it all really started with Masterchef. I would watch it religiously and was a little too emotionally involved in the end. When it finished, I had a hole that needed to be filled (much like finishing the final episode of West Wing). This lead to me picking up a pasta maker for my sister (that running joke continues, I really told the shop assistants that it was for my sister who was a big masterchef fan). Making pasta was so much easier than I expected, and a whole load of fun (although I am not good at cooking it as yet).

My partner in crime in Sunday Night Gourmet is Miss Peters. She was kind enough to show me the ropes and Brisbane and I showed her my appreciation by cooking for her on Sunday night. This has developed into a weekly rotation between her and I trying out outdo our own previous attempts. Sometimes it works (pesto, oh how I love you), and sometimes it doesn't (I was dubious of picked turnip in the Pad Thai recipe from the start).

Irrespective of if the dish works out or not each Sunday, the fun of planning, cooking and the company is enough to make it the time of the week I look forward to the most. So I plan to update this with the tales of each Sunday night's gourmet cooking adventure.

Well, now it is time for me to prepare the duck - watch this space to see how it turns out.