Risotto and Rockets

That is not a misspelling or error in my typing (although I am well capable of both). This post is as much about the evening as it is about the food. Sunday night gourmet was shown at the special time of Saturday this week on account of a Sunday wedding Carla was attending. It may be a little unconventional but, hey, that's how we roll here at Sunday Night Gourmet (I think I have just elevated dinner between two people to a production . . . which is something worth investigating. I'm going to get my agent on to this).

The plan was a simple risotto with just what was in the fridge. Technically Carla was cooking this week but being off a day had everything out of kilter. So it was chicken, mushroom and rosemary risotto, made with the freshest rosemary I have ever seen (bought from the bad coast while I was there on some client work- the bad coast being the Sunshine Coast which is compared to the good coast, being the Gold Coast). Carla sent off the obligatory "I'm leaving home now" message which means she is about 3 hours away (I think that is how far she lives). She added in a follow up message "I'm on dessert, just out of the oven", adding that bit of extra spice to the evening.

The draw card of the evening (excluding the company of course) was Riverfire.

So, the aim was to cook, serve and eat in time to walk from my place to the river by 7pm. My keen sense of planning and time management did not kick in as one would expect in these circumstances and it was a little rush near the end. With this in mind, you would think I would be well into to preparations before Carla arrived but, alas, I was barely aware of the recipe (and I know it off by heart). And how was I to concentrate when she shows up with home made (including pastry) caramel tart, with meringue topping? Carla tells me she was baking for hours, with some assistance from Mrs Peters. We the readers are a little sceptical of this. I don't think licking the spoon counts as making the dessert :P (although we did decide that Masterchef has taught us that tasting is the most important part of cooking so . . . )

As you can guess, the risotto was ready a little later than expected. We enjoyed it, quickly, with a nice glass of West Australian white and some live John Mayer. Although fleeting, it was good. We rushed out the door after I threw on some thongs (this will be relevant later). It was a good 15 minutes walk, and we had 10 before the fireworks so I was nearly pulling Carla by the collar. As we were on the last block, we commented on the particularly "interesting" clientèle of the Brunswick Hotel who were hanging out the front for a quick smoke break between $5 pints.

We picked up the pace when the F111 showed up. We ran the last block like kids chasing Santa, or escaping from a plate of peas (and I now know where peas come from thanks to the Peters). We found a spot behind the crowd that had the least tree obscured view. The fireworks were spectacular. We were watching the fireworks on the story bridge mostly and they were just amazing. We did talk about how fireworks have really not changed since we were kids and we are still enchanted by them as adults (as apparently we are).

There was of course the obligatory inconsiderate couple that decided the best view of the fireworks they could get was one directly in front of us. We used our best powers of glare to bore into the backs of their heads until they "realised" they were being so uncivilised.

There were many highlights, including the spray of fireworks above the bridge that were launched in machine gun like succession (including sounding like a rapid fire gun). There were the red and green ones that reminded me of Christmas and also, just the look of the fireworks glittering of the glass covered buildings of the city. But best of all were the F111 fly overs - three in all. For the second fly over, the combination of the music, the long advance along the skyline and the glow of the tail make it look just like Superman was flying in to save the day. My inner-child was already excruciatingly excited and this was the equivalent of it downing a bottle of red cordial on top of that.

On a high, we made our way back home, past the Brunswick Hotel. As we were passing it, I noticed through the window there was a round pool table. It was a weird sight, nearly as weird as Carla sticking her head through the window to check it out and starting a conversation with one on the patrons.

I am not sure if it was the high from the F111s, it was the need to wash down the risotto or just curiosity, but Carla suggested we stop into the Brunswick hotel for a drink. We found a spot near the pool table, ordered a couple of Tooheys New and sat back to watch the microcosm of Brisbane's society. This included the karaoke lady (oh yes, the night was just getting started), the out of place wealthy family, the homeless guy (we decided his shoes were too good for him to be homeless but for damn sure he looked it), the really, really, REALLY, bad karaoke that tragic who obviously has no friends because for sure they would have mentioned to her that sing talking is only acceptable at the end of your career. We were loving it. Initially I was worried that I was only in thongs and shorts but this turned out to not a problem here.

Then the newest contender for the Brunswick Hotel Karaoke champion, Pav Erotica, took the mic to show us her moves. She was not a bad singer, but she was no Pav Erotica (whatever that actually means).

Hands down the performer of the night was Homeless Guy. He has been entertaining himself (and us) on the dance floor with his smooth moves. He was loving it and we were really enjoying his energy . . . and then he took the mic. I am not sure that he knows what Karaoke is because he spend the entire song (which was well chosen by him- Gnarls Barkley's Crazy) dancing, interspersed with a few howls which teen wolf would have been proud of. It was a sight to behold, especially when he would not hand over the mic when he was "finished" singing and the karaoke mistress said "you do not want to see what will happen if I have to come over there and take that from you". This is not a great video, but you should be able to make out the words on the screen, the music in the background and the notable lack of singing.

It was around this time when the wealthy Mum leaned over to us and said "that is what my hair looks like in the morning" in reference to the Young Einstein style hair of the homeless guy. You could tell how chuffed she was mixing it with the common folk (and that she had a couple of champagnes under he belt). The wealthy family did not last much longer, having spent enough time here to be able to claim to the book club crowd that they have personally connected with typical constituents of the latest heart wrenching book on the life of the poor.

So while PavErotica and the sing talker were taking turns trying to make our ears bleed, Carla takes hold of the song book and looks for some inspiration. After 15 minutes of careful consideration, she chickens out. The crown was disappointed - they really were deserving of some talent before the night was through, but not this evening.

After a game of round-table pool (which proved that I could get worse on the pool table. Seriously, if it is not a straight shot, it is in the hands of the gods), we set off home for a bit of caramel tart with the meringue topping (which Carla referred to from then on as the PavErotica topping and disturbingly closed her eyes as she did). It was excellent, and we enjoyed over an episode of Glee. Thanks for dessert Mrs Peters, it was excellent (and of course Carla for her the spoon licking prowess).

So what started out as an evening of risotto and rockets turned into much, much more. Best night in Brisbane ever.

The times, they are a changing

This blog started out as portrayal of my adventure into cooking as a pass time.  Cooking was something to do, but also, it was a way of finding ways to spend time with a little someone I may have had my eye on. It then moved on to tracking the exploits of Carla and I as we explored the restaurants of Brisbane.  Soon enough, I had taken her to enough places of repute to convince her to spend her life with me.

So times change and along with my jump into a new level of adulthood, comes the nesting phase. Our life does revolve around cooking and food.  Carla has a love of cooking all things sweet, and basically anything that tickles her fancy and I have a love of cooking bread and basically anything that tickles my fancy.  The recent step we have made is home gardening. We have a little courtyard in the apartment  and progressively we have build upon this, with help along the way from the parents in law (we had no idea what we were doing).

We are now weekend warriors at Bunnings (much to Pop's disgust) and we decide on the newest herb, fruit or vegie that tickles our fancy. Now watch as our little courtyard takes on a life of its own.

Restaurant Two

The restaurant list we have been using for this gastronomic adventure has been taken down so I am using Gourmet Traveller's list now which excludes Moda. Not sure why it was on one and not the other, but we will still go there all the same. Of the restaurants that are on the list, Two was the one I was most aware of because I used to drive past it nearly every day on my way home.

So while I was at work recently, we were talking about personal brands. Someone beside me asked "Ian, what are you known for? What would people say about you?". Without hesitation I said "I'm loud". What we quickly learned about Restaurant Two is it is not a restaurant that lends itself to loudness.

We walked in and it is very polished - and almost clinical. We certainly appreciated this was its thing and it was a novelty. Adding to this was how few tables were seated. It was just after 6.30 so it was still early, but the high ceilings, open space and the almost ritualistic silence the staff adhered to made it feel like we were in a library with a particularly stern librarian in charge. This was not the place for a man who's professional claim to fame is he is loud.

In spite of me feeling like I had to whisper, it was pleasant atmosphere and really nicely themed a in simple, clean way. We appreciated the little couches around the bar area and the simplicity of the bar itself, which we would be happy to have a drink at. And so I don't try and make myself out to be a interior decorator, I will leave my design comments at that.

We were greeted by a French Polynesian waitress who followed the indoor voice rules of the establishment to the point I was going to ask for subtitles. I should point out that Carla and I did not actually think she was French Polynesian but I thought she had a French accent and Carla thought Polynesian. We know it doesn't make sense but we could not pluck up the courage to ask her where she was from in fear of being thrown out for being the classless hillbillies we are (it is right to point out that I am the hillbilly and Carla is of course the refined southern belle in this story).

Of course before we hit the menus, we had looked around and checked out our fellow diners. There was the young couple (would have been teenagers) who were sitting closest to us (right next to the window damn them) who ordered the degustation menu. We considered it for a second but both think that doing a degustation sitting requires training and preparation that we both had not committed to that day. Basically, not eating after breakfast is required to get the most out of it.

So on to the main event - the menu. This was a place where the menu offered up so many possibilities that you could see why people would go back. It was almost painful to have to select only one item for each course so I can understand why the degustation would be such a good idea.

To start, Carla went with the Prawns and Gnocchi (because she is taken under a spell every time she sees gnocchi on the menu. I think pillows of potato if the form of a cloud would be her preferred dinner partner if they could talk). I opted for the Game Terrine because game sounded great and I have never ordered a terrine before and we are all about new experiences with our restaurant adventure.

Both of us were very impressed with what was presented. The gnocchi was great (getting close to Anise great which is basically touched by god). My terrine was excellent with really good flavour and a great mix of flavours on the plate. Well done Restaurant Two, you have us wound in with your entrees (although we had to express our delight in muted tones).

On to the mains and Carla opted for Duck served with a honey sauce and me, the Barramundi with seafood in a champagne cream sauce. I'm not usually one to order the fish but mixed with more seafood and then a champagne cream sauce, how could I resist? When they arrived, Two did it again. Carla rated the duck better than the gnocchi and I was really happy with mine. The champagne cream sauce was excellent and everything on the plate was great. They really did everything well. Gluttony has now set and we were hanging out now for the dessert menu. We certainly did not want anything else to eat, but after the quality of what we have had so far, we just could not say no.

We opted to share our final course (there is a physical limit to our gluttony) and being the fair and democratic couple we are, we whittled it down to two options, and Carla selected the dish. As I have previously mentioned, one of Carla's superpowers is choosing the best thing on the menu. It is uncanny. So we just couldn't go past the Chocolate Ganache with Earl Grey Ice Cream. The picture below is what we were presented with and it was impressive. The best thing was it tasted as good at it looked. It was spectacular. It also came with orange wedges dipped in love and pistachio crumbly bits. There was not much talking through dessert because there was just too much to experience on the plate to also have to think of words.

This left us in a precarious position, which is what is a perfect 10 dish? Carla wanted to give this dessert the coveted 10/10 but I was worried that we have closed the door to their being anything better. In rebuttal, Carla asked me what would I change - what was wrong with it that made it less than a 10. In the end, we decided on a 9.5 but in writing this, I wonder if we made the right decision. Of course, we may just find that I am over thinking this and it does not really matter . . .

The verdict:

Prawns and gnocchi 8.5

Game tarine 8

Duck honey sauce 9

Barramundi and seafood 8.5 champagne cream

Ganache and earl grey ice cream. Best dessert so far. 9.5

Watch out for the next post which is on 1889 Enotica where we revisit the definition of the perfect 10.

As I write this, I am sitting on the stairs of Sourced Grocer drinking some of the best coffee in Brisbane, after eating a sandwich that words could not do justice. All this and I get to walk away with the ingredients for my beetroot risotto tonight. They have pretty much ticked all of the boxes - not sure what I did before it opened.

The secret recipe - Alchemy

Next on the list of Brisbane's top 10 is Alchemy. This one was totally unknown to me. For some reason I had it placed in Customs House, but it was actually tucked away next door in the base of a commercial tower, overlooking the Brisbane River from the Story Bride to Kangaroo Point Cliffs. It was a secret garden in the hubbub of the city.

Inside it was small and intimate (although larger than Montrachet) and was almost Arabian in its feel with flowing curtains and dark lighting (I should point out that I have never been anywhere that is actually Arabian and therefore this is based on my impressions from the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark).

One of the most exciting parts of each of these adventures is the first read of the menu. It invariably results in conversations about ingredients and dishes that are on the menu that we do not know, those we have had before somewhere else and some horse trading on who is going to order what. Sometimes Google helps out, other times we ask our waiter for guidance. This part of the night is always great because it offers so much possibility.

We waked through the menu (making sure to ignore the desserts so we can relive that excitement of the menu at the end of the night). And although this has never happened, we also don't want to commit to a dessert when we may not actually be able to fit it in (and we all hope this never actually happens). Before we arrived, we had heard about the house speciality which is the beef cheeks. We wanted to order this because it's what this place is known for but at the same time, did not seem interesting enough to order. Overall, the menu seemed large and there were great ingredients all over the place, but there was not much that actually jumped out at us. Let's hope this is the the opposite of Montrachet.

We took the opportunity to speak to our waiter to help our decision making. He described the way the beef cheeks were prepared, which included 12 hours of cooking. This did seem too good to pass up so we ended up ordering them. For entrée, we ordered Scallops with roasted Chorizo, Confit Tomatoes and Parmesan Foam and also Lemon and Lime Risotto with Crab and Octopus.

I was most excited about the scallops and chorizo (how could two of the best ingredients in the world be bad?) but we were most impressed by the risotto. We were reasonably happy with entrees and were looking forward to mains of Braised Beef Cheeks and the waiter's suggestion of Pork Belly with Lentils. And the winner is . . . . the beef cheeks. This was one of the best meals we have had to date. I went to cut the beef cheek in half (which was served on the creamiest mashed potato you have ever seen - so much so you would have thought it was the brother of the pillows of love) and much like the red sea for Moses, I am sure it parted into two pieces as my knife hovered over it. For sure it was blessed by the divine.

Mixed with the mash, and the glorious gravy that it was born into, a simple plate of meat and mash was a genuine experience. So if this is what they can do with one of the toughest parts of the beast, what can they do with the joy that is pork belly? The answer is overrun it with lentils and make it less enjoyable. Unfortunately the plate was overrun with lentils and this was the dominant texture. It made the whole dish less than it could have been.

So far we have a balanced main, and a balanced entrée - blow us away with your desserts Alchemy.

We perused the dessert menu and were tempted by the chocolate cake. This seemed like a pedestrian choice but it was chocolate and the name of it did not give away the style of the dessert. We asked the waiter what he thought and he highly recommended it. He had also recommended the pork belly (big mistake, huge mistake) but he had also provided a lot of information about the produce they use and the stories behind some of their menu items so we gave him another chance.

It arrived and it was a chocolate lava cake and boy did it erupt. I cut through it and the molten chocolate could no longer be contained. It was an impressive site, and the up side was there was no Pompeii style side effects. Unfortunately, that was the best it could offer. For a dark looking chocolate cake with a molten chocolate sauce, there was a decided lack of chocolate flavour. In fact, it had a real flavour of packet chocolate cake. It was a real pity that the taste was not equal to the presentation.

Carla and I were at our fortnightly pretentious best so let's not beat around the bush here. The food was a mixture of great and good. The service was excellent - our waiter was attentive but unobtrusive. He was also clearly passionate and knowledgeable. He really improved the experience and would be a factor in our return. To be scientific about it:

Lemon and lime risotto 8 (really acute citrus flavour and light for a risotto)

Scallops and cherizo 7 (just did not work as well as it could have)

Beef cheeks 9 (amazing potato, beef melted, super rich)

Pork and lentils 6 (lentils overpowered texture, pork was tender and pleasant)

Lava cake 6.5 (lacked choc flavour. Tasted like packet cake)

Service 9. Knowledgeable waiter, attentive service.

Overall we rated Alchemy 7 out of 10 on the Anise scale.

Watch our for our next instalment in our pompous gastronomical tour of Brisbane, Enoteca 1889.

All the way with Montrachet

It was the big night. As Darren Hayes would say, we were On the Verge of Something Wonderful. We were experiencing child like excitement starting our adventure eating at THE restaurants of Brisbane people talk about. The restaurants that draw awe when mentioned and whispers of I know someone who has eaten there. Well, they are not really that exclusive, but that is how it felt at the time.

With all of this excitement, mixed with my small town boy upbringing (well, on the Gold Coast), I certainly felt a little like a fish out of water. I put on my best adult walk and nonchalant look and faked it until I made it.

Walking into Montrachet, my first thoughts were how charming it was. It was decorated in a classic French theme (or what I think is classic) but without being cheesy (even though the French love their cheese). It was also disarming because it was so quaint. We were seated at the bar, which I have always enjoyed after my time in the US and also that's where we were seated at a recent visit to another French restaurant (more on that later).

But now for the main event- the menu. There were so many treasures to choose from. We devised a plan of attack to maximise our joy. We opted to share an entree, each select a main (sharing allowed), and then we would consider dessert. This meant we could get through three courses without exploding. We also decided not to look at the dessert menu and leave it as a surprise. We ordered from the appropriately arrogant French waiter who fit the place well. He was not rude, he was minimalist in his approach to communication and I loved it. Now and then I'm sure I would get a look from him suggesting he wanted to hit me over the head with a French stick, but being a professional, would not act on it.

We decided to start with the Soufflé aux Crabe et Gruyere, and me being fluent French, knew this meant crab and cheese souffle. Souffle in a French restaurant - it was so clichéd we had to do it. Unfortunately, when it arrived, it food did not live up to our hype. It was nice but it was not wow. It was a cheese souffle and tasted like cheese and crab but there was no wow factor.

It's ok. We will call this a slow start and let ourselves get blown away by les plats principaux. Again, the menu was a feast for the eyes and everything sounded extraordinary. I elected to have the Lapin Sauce Forestière (Casserole of rabbit with white wine, tomato, smoked speck and mixed mushrooms served with sautéed potato and tossed green beans) and Carla went for Poussin et sa Fleur de Courgette (Spatchcock served with a lemon thyme ratatouille and zucchini flower farced with quail and truffle mousse). Our mains were much the same as the entree. It read so well but lacked the punch we were expecting. Don't get me wrong, the food was good, but it was just not great. It was not the experience Carla had been building up or as the menu had insinuated.

We opted for the Crème Brûlée to finish because while in Rome. . . What I can say for Montrachet is that it is consistent. We had a pleasant dessert to round off a pleasant meal. Nothing more, nothing less.

We did not know this at the time, but we had developed the Anise rating system. It is much like the Richter scale or the Richard Wilkins 5 star movie rating system. We had eaten at Anise recently and were utterly delighted by the food, wine, service, and the feel. It then developed subconsciously in our mind as the standard that all restaurants will be measured by**. We may have romanticised Anise, but I think because it was so good and unexpectedly so (I chose it based on proximity and cuisine) and also because it presented to us the best gnocchi every made, by anyone, and forever known as pillows of love. So, based on the Anise scale, we rated Montrachet a 7/10. The restaurant was well presented, the service was great and the food was good. A seven may sound good, but out of the top ten restaurants in Brisbane, I expected more.

We are going to give it another try because poor little Carla's heart was broken by the experience - she had hoped for so much and it had been promised by so many (you know who you are).

Up next is Alchemy and those sweet, sweet beef cheeks.

** I know this is going to disturb the more judgemental of our readers, you know who you are

What else is there to do on a Wednesday night?

I was looking for restaurants in Brisbane for Carla and I to try out when I stumbled upon a site that listed the top 10 as named by Gourmet Traveller. This was a little exciting and a little naughty. Dare we visit all of Brisbane's top 10 restaurants? Is that not a little bit of an overreach? Will we be initially impressed but gradually, as we make our way through the list, start to compare every nuance of our experience against the sum of what we have already done? Could I be massively over thinking this?

One thing I do know, we will spend our time whispering under our breath talking about the ambiance, service and of course, the balance of flavours. If Masterchef has taught us nothing (and there is a strong chance it has), it is we are all experts in the kitchen and we are required to spew our judgement over everything whilst making unnatural facial expressions.

So the great Wednesday night adventure begins with a new restaurant from the top 10 every fortnight. We have decided to start at the bottom of the list and work up. Based on the actual rankings on Gourmet Traveller's site, the first is Alchemy, which is listed as 9th (for some reason Gourmet Traveller can only count to nine in Brisbane and Moda appeared on the OurBrisbane.com site in the middle to make ten).

After hours of committee meetings setting up the rules (we are both accountants so what is a fun, frivolous pastime without rules?), we ended up deciding to do Montrachet first. I know this is out of order but it was Carla's birthday and she has been wanting to go there ever since she remembers so to hell with the rules.

Let the fun begin . . .

Edit: Since posting this, the website we were using that listed the top 10 restaurants has shut down. We are now using the source which is http://gourmettraveller.com.au/top_10_restaurants_by_region.htm

Unfortunately it only lists 9 of the 10 but we are including Moda, which is left off the list.

The list is:

QLD - BRISBANE

1. Ortiga
2. Aria Brisbane
3. Urbane
4. The Buffalo Club
5. Moda
6. E'cco
7. Restaurant Two
8. 1889 Enoteca
9. Alchemy
10. Montrachet

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.