End-of-Month-Egg-on-Toast-Extravaganza #3, French Toast with Bacon and Fried Bananas

EoMEoTE, favoured food event for the half assed, has moved from its humble mediterranean, olive oil rubbed home to be hosted in the centre of modern civilisation Cook sister!. I have great hopes for it. I dream that one day we may have a spaceship descend at the end and congratulate us on it and its efforts in promoting global peace.



1, 2 and 3. A french toast combo of bacon and bananas I nicked from gained inspirition of via the Walk Street Cafe in Subiaco.

Hooray for french toast and its use of old bread and eggs past their optimum poaching date (had I been so organised). Thick chunky slices triumph over slimmer eggy bread imitations and provide for delightful multi-variable pan temperature, slighty browned, medium rare interior calculations. Soaked for a good half hour in 3 free-range eggs, a cup of milk, and a dash of vanilla essence. The greater the proportion of milk, the longer the cooking time. Cooked with butter as were the slices of banana. The bacon was allowed with cook in the pan first and then relegated to the oven where it would crisp while the others were cooking. Pile toast, bacon, and bananas, with a brush of butter for photo glossiness, and garnish with maple syrup. Had with the fresh apple, beetroot, carrot, grapefruit and ginger juice seen pictured.

The freezing air of those cold Asian plateau lands

is now the instant chilling of our refrigerated selection cabinets.

Charcoal Cooked Crabs, Cold Soba, and assorted Tempura

Let's see if the reviews are in. Oh good a generous one, but then again, I do know where she lives.

As slow and easy a Japanesey dinner party as there could be. The starting snack was edamame, boiled and salted soy bean bean pods, which were bought ready to defrost and go. An excellent summer snack if you remember not to eat the pod.



Next was a few blue manna/ blue swimmer crabs detopped, delimbed and cut in half and then cooked at the table over a charcoal burner. Cooking this way with the shell makes for sweeter taste and the the flesh is cooked in its own abundant juices.

Finally a classic summer matching of tempura and zaru soba (cold buckwheat noodles). The two use the same dipping sauce so this saves time.

1 cup of dashi*, 1/3 cup soy sauce, 4 tablespoons of mirin, and 2 tablespoons of sake. Brought to the boil and allowed to chill. I use instant dashi as it's very much in the background but do add to the quality by placing a piece of konbu in the water. You place a mobile phone sized piece in the water, bring it to a near boil, and remove and discard the konbu. Konbu imparts the enigmatic 6th metaflavour umami, artificially associated with MSG powder.

The zaru soba was cooked, ran under cold water and then placed in a bowl with ice. Some of the aforementioned dipping sauce is placed in a bowl, with crushed nori, wasabi, and chopped spring onions. The noodles are dipped in and eaten - it's not a soup.If the sound of cold noodles doesn't do it for you, this may change your mind.

Also dipped in the sauce was the tempura. I used a Japanese premix tempura batter for the combination of wheat and rice flour and used very cold soda water instead of water and added a couple of drops of tabasco. The key to making tempura instead of fritters is to ensure that the mix is very cold, I add some ice. And keep the mixture lumpy. These make for an impact with the hot oil and a much more textured and lighter batter. It's also good to make small batches so every piece is eaten hot. Getting the oil temperature right is difficult but I find it easiest just to do a test piece, too hot and it will burn quickly, too cold and it absorbs too much oil. Under a minute seems about right.

The tempura ingredients were thinly sliced sweet potato, sliced baby eggplant, swiss brown mushrooms, scored baby squid hoods, and spring onions with scallops. The last were my favourite and you can by putting some chopped spring onions and scallop meat in a chinese soup spoon, covering it with batter, and then easing the mix into the oil. It's a perfect amount of time to cook scallops.

Thanks to Natalie for coming over, being an anvil for my culinary hammer, keeping a cracking conversational pace, and making all the right compliments. I look forward to cashing in my Melbourne dinner credit.

WBW#5 Swagman's Kiss 2001 Chardonnay

Pim has gone a further turn of the corkscrew with this month's collective wine review event, Wine Blogging Wednesday, with her chosen theme of Wacky-name wines. My choice, a local wine, the 2001 Swagman's Kiss Chardonnay.

The swagman is the chief character of our semi-official national anthem Waltzing Matilda and the wine's maker Clairault Winery is without doubt one the finest wineries to stop at in the Margaret River region of our South West. What we see on the label is clearly informed by the myth of Narcissus and we feel for our vagabound friend as the cooling waters of the billabong touch his parched lips and automatically associate with the cooling glass of Chardonnay over lunch on a hot day.

I always think of itinerant 19th century farmworkers. The coarse rub of an unwashed woolen shirt outdone only by the rough stubble and breath notes of cold mutton fat and 'baccy in a time when dental hygiene was unheard of. A kiss from a man whose last partner is affectionately referred to as Baabara which he may have gotten or given syphilis. The roughened hands sent a rovin' by a warm bottle of ale. I could go on.

Tasting
Tasting gets off to a promising start by it being pre-openedly dubbed "Swagman's Piss" by fellow pool surrounders. Off we go then. Substantial straw colour and then indistinct lemon whiffs on the nose. Leather strap smoothness across the tongue with an acid finish to the muted fruit tones. Filled out and interest created by citric highs with oily flats and a pleasing coolness sorely missed as the glass heats.

There we have it, Chardonnay is lager made with grapes and a slice of lemon in it. Nice enough wine, ill chosen name. Now as for the kiss, well how about it swaggy? Hey well fuck you too.

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It's on: Go read the roundup. It's a wheeze. Cheers and thanks Pim.

Fifth Annual Blog Awards - and the nominees are...spaceblog of Perth Western Australia

Go away for a week and find spiceblog's on the Fifth Annual Weblog Awards for best Aus & NZ Blog. Welcome to those who swung by down here as a result, feel free to have a browse around. I'll just be over here if you need any help. No! We're all out of that, do you like octopus?

This is kind of surprising as I could point to at least 15 notable omissions in the shortlist. It's all a bit like Swan Draft getting nominated for best beer in the world. I mean I'm pleased and all but you know, it's just wrong when someone gets in just for their manly good looks and awesome thighs. Feel so damned guilty.

Ganbatte to fellow fooders Chocolate & Zucchini and noodlepie in their respective continental categories - go the gourmands! Good luck also to fellow West Australian Kitta - either way it's the best thing for WA since the America's Cup*.

Big thank you(s) for the nominations, there's much fingerpointing as to who's responsible, but yeah get out there and V O T E before the 31st of January 3rd of February and it'll be hot bun cakes all round.

* Hey and go! Karen Cheng.

Dover Tasmania, Day 6 - Hobart

Hobart is one of the most democratically beautiful cities in the world. Every house seems to get a stunning harbour view from the hilly basin that surrounds it. We left the rural seaside idyll of Dover and made our way to Hobart to catch the plane. One night in Hobart and your girl's an oyster.



A mid-morning cappucino and bagel as the Citrus Moon Cafe in Kingston to make me happy and then farewell to my Dad who got me over here and who then went off to win $300 in 15 minutes at the Hobart Casino. Fark! So much for the casinos are depressing places full of addicted losers thinking they're James Bond. We grabbed a shower at our hotel, the Astor. Cute friendly 1920s place but do go for the ensuite rooms which are roomy and swish. The next rooms down are a tad more humble and for those wishing to recreate the depression era emery paper salesman effect.



A wander down the mall picking up this great furry red Yowie vest from Mountain Design and then, down to the harbour for reconstitution in the form of a cherry flan and a nick of Toni's cherry cheesecake at Jam Packed. It's in the restored old IXL jam factory and rumour has it you can still hear the screams of the strawberries at night.



On on and thought I'd have some calamari at the floating harbourside fish and chip shop before windowshopping for antique maps and prints and then buying a genuine Floreat teaspoon (the coincidence!) and an ornate beer bottle opener - more stout Lady Windemere?

Back to the hotel for a disco nap, a quick stop at a pub (can't remember the name though) and rush down to Orizuru sashimi bar to try and nab a barside seat. Well recommended by a couple we met in Dover so quite excited about it all.



But no. Bar seat was reserved - by one man in a suit it seemed so we were relegated to the more distant orbit of a table and I think think this is where things went wrong, largely with the waitstaff who pushed a few buttons. First thing, speaking Japanese is not reserved for Japanese customers*. If I notice a bottle of Yebisu at the bar but there isn't any, the solution is not instant revisionism by coming back as if the last drinks order never happened. When I said yes to having our dishes at the same time this meant not as entree, main not all within seconds of eachother. The food. The food was OK. I think Shige in Perth manages the small local Japanese restaurant much better. Orizuru seems to be anticipating people wanting the framework of a western dining experience. The kaki furai (fried oysters was the best), followed by the gyunotataki (sashimi beef) and it's piquant dipping sauce, then the tempura, and finally the sashimi which I'd had greater expectations of but was put off a little by the heaped in a bottom of the bowl idea with the lettuce and parsley garnish. It had the potential to be exceptional and I've great faith in the recommenders but it may have been a case of the Mondays.

*this sounds a petty thing to say but it's really bloody annoying - can I have some backup here? Mr Goat? Heech?



Drinks. First to the Bar Colona in the old/new Salamanca the Tigris Pinot Gris was just the tonic. Five stars. Looks clear and weak but has a hugh amount going on in there to busy to explain but it managed to be oily and sharp and I liked it.



Off then to the T42 for a Ninth Island Pinot Noir. [reads from notes] Dark like the black heart of satan, announces itself with a vaguely socky note, smooth berry entry filling mid palate with custardy (?) raisins and a good sharp finish. Ahm yes then.

If we don't find a whiskey bar I fear that we might... oh there's Lark Distilllery. A single straight up of Talisker (from the Isle of Skye). The initial "gah! it's whiskey" and then enjoy. Have a moan with the barman about why spirits are so expensive in Australia and the typical experience is Bundy rum or the worst of the bourbons with a bottle of coke with the sole intention of being munted an unlocking a deep seated need to be an agro dickhead. Suave dickhead people, suave.

Wander around, it's a Monday, and find a student pub with a $1.20 drinks deal for a few nightcaps then back to our room and then, in the morning, away back to the flatlands.

Dover Tasmania, Day 5 - Roquefort Files

Into the undersprung oversteering Mitsubishi Lancer rental and upwards out of Dover. Winding inland past orchards along the Huon river which opens out into a long channel that feeds into the D'Entrecasteaux Channel, defined by cattle filled Bruny Island. Turn down at the apex made by Huonville with Mt Misery flanking the left. Stop in at Panorama Vineyard. Disappointed with the whites and the pinot but found the merlot suitably smooth and full bodied. Along the Huon River, mandatory stop at Eggs and Bacon Bay and then around Port Cygnet, past Mt. Grosse and then stopping for cheese. Firstly, Grandvewe is a terrible pun, beneath even me but their cheeses are excellent. All good, the manchego interpretation, the sheeps cheese pecorino, pungent brie, and creamy roquefort. Dried mutton sausages were an inspiration.



Lunch called. Stopped at the flash and new Peppermint Bay resort but crowded so settled for the Kettering Oyster Bay Inn. View. Steak sandwich not up to Quairading Roadhouse standards but flathead is a much underrated fish. Round and back picking up a couple of $3 bags of cheeries and forgoing the 50c bags of donkey poo.



Home to Dover to cook up some scallops and prawns. Scallops* cooked in Cascade Export Stout - not too bad at all.



*Update: For scallops in stout, marinate scallops in white wine for 15 minutes, fry up garlic and a small amount of chilli in EVOO, do two sauteed batches of scallops (just a handful or the temperature will drop too much) and then run out of white wine. Notice glass of stout in hand, add scallops to EVOO sizzle a little and then add a splash of stout and allow to reduce as scallops are just cooked.

Dover Tasmania, Day 4

Mildly out of action with hayfever/cold so here's a couple of pics from Kyari Cafe in Geeveston. Lovely little place and the salmon and mango salad - well, yes.



Oh and here's a pic from Dover.

Dover Tasmania, Day 3 - Superfly

A quick one I'm tired. Next door's the oyster farm but some algae in the bay has shut things down so nae oysters. Ah well. Back up to Geeveston for a lesson in fly fishing. Hard back, pause, release, forward, repeat, or something. Didn't catch anything and didn't deserve too. Oh no that's a lie, caught my left bum cheek - twice!



Dinner. Chowder. Cray legs and shells, salmon, salt dried, salmon, prawns and scallops. Thickened with potatoes, cream and roux. A whole salmon. Wanted to poach it but nothing to do it in so foil wrapped. Local guests, one had been a chef for twenty or so years, Ahm erm ah yes I'm a ah foodie I am. All aok though, Could have done the salmon a little less longer but handicap for dreaded non fan forced electric oven. Over and out.

Dover Tasmania, Day 2

Starting off with cherry's in Dover. $4.00 a kilogram and juicy. After some time scouring the politics blogs, I was pleased to find actual cherry picking in action a lovely thing.



Down to Cockle Creek today. Southernmost town in Australia. John Laws' Maison d' Comment just down the road it's said. Winding roads down there, flanked by trees (those not delicately clearfelled) and and fern. Local woman's teddy bear block faintly disturbing. Planned music therapy centre yet to be be built.



Up up up to Geeveston where I we had a camembert and chicken pie followed by an award winning local hazlenut ice cream. Charming inland town provides mid afternoon top treat.



Back home for dinner. Cooked crays to be had but what to do? Strong pressure from the father for simple, and a good thing too. One of the crays was for dipping with two sauces. Olive oil and vinegar and pepper was one. The other was a resourceful Sauce Phillippe on rough guidlines; garlic, butter, cream, white wine, and tabasco - reduced over heat.

Mains was as simple as I could make it. Fettucine with garlic and red chilli sauteed in EVOO, then some chopped lemon peel and the white wine and lemon juice. Cray meat heated through and then mixed through with the fettucine. Enjoyed very much with a bottle Wave Crest Chardonnay. I'm not going to win any friends in Dongara by saying they're bigger and sweeter down here.



Ahh that's the door local contact arrives, three whole salmon. Two go for smoking, one comes back (that's the deal) and one is for dinner tomorrow night. This is good.

Dover Tasmania, Day 1

Dover. I'm in Dover. Dover's a small inlet town at the end of the Esperance River in Tasmania, the southernmost tenth of the southernmost island of Australia. Red-eye no sleep flight foro Perth and then to Hobart International Airport before picking up the hire car and going south.

This is great, everywhere has a view of the hills and the water as especially does Uncle Phil's place with an island at the end of the block. Haven't seen Uncle Phil in over a decade and he's mad and busy as ever, late fiftysomething, working as a welder in the middle of a bay, riding a trials bike, and the yacht he's building himself. Didn't pick up immaculate workshed genes but did get mid-sentence laughter. In time for the end of the half day shearing season here. One of them's a butcher's knife away from dispatch to the great beyond and I think we'll be having some lamb before heading back. Not that there's any need. This is seafood country, they don't even bother with mussels.

End of the shearing is a visit to the pub. Boags/Cascade. Pick Boags and get laughed at. Cascade it is then. Chat with local who promises to bring crays around later and does and they're the size of a loaf of bread. Wood fired pizza for dinner and it is excellent. Crusty on the bottom with large juicy prawns. I'm here 6 hours and I love this place. The sun sets and fills in parts of the undulating hills at random. Uncle Phil says you'll never see this again, he's right.

Izakaya

If Pubs had continued in a straight line from Inns as places where you could eat and drink rather than drink and then grab a souvlaki, then we may have ended up with something resembling Japanese izakaya. Working on the simple principle that many small dishes are better than several big dishes and that people enjoy drinking frosty cold beer out of large mugs before trying a couple of tokkuri of sake, they have created a dining experience without equal.

Now I'm getting all rheumy-eyed with nostalgia so you'd best go and read Chika of she who eats excellent capture of it all with a typical place to eat atypical Japanese food.

Traditionalists wishing to recreate the experience at home could start with a couple of neck-ties, chopsticks, and some recipes.

Denmark - Al Fresco Pot Roast Variations

Two meals from our post christmas camping trip to Denmark.

Camping dinner must meet certain requirements. It must involve fire. It must take time. It must use a camp oven. Tuna sandwich, no. A large piece of topside, yes.

My usual trick is to roast it and then finish with a few glasses of wine. Sadly, crisp dry summer undergrowth and warm toasty camp fires do not a happy pairing make. So I lacked the coals to surround the camp oven with and instead had the unidirectional heat of the gas BBQ. The solution was to make something in between a pot au feu and a pot roast (I lacked the cook books to be faithful to either and worked on guesses). It worked so well that when I returned to the Denmark Dewsons, I did the same thing again. Here are the two variations.

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Variation 1



First I seared the beef (keeping the topside whole) on all sides, removing to sautee 6 cloves of garlic and two chopped onions. Back in went the roast followed by 1/3 pinot noir, 1/3 beef stock, and 1/3 water to nearly cover the beef. Next a handful of thyme and two bay leaves. Following, were the finely chopped stems of a dozen swiss brown mushroom followed by their halved caps. The broth was brought to a boil and then left to a very slow simmer with the lid on. Kipfler potatoes were added after an hour.

[two hours pass, the sun sets, the flies go to bed, beers are drunk]

Testing the meat it is clearly ready. Slice thinly, placed in bowls with the potatoes and then the broth covers it to make a soup. Topside is lean and therefore not the tenderest of cuts and doesn't break down like stewing cuts but it was flavourful enough and the broth was tremendous.

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Variation 2



[the following evening]
As above but lacking anything for larding, I thought stuff it and lard it with garlic. The stuffing was rosemary and sage with duxelles of butter, mushroom and onions. A pocket made with a knife and then closed with the stem of rosemary. Roasted it for about half an hour before adding the broth.

Similarly good and just as enjoyed. The stuffing broke up the unrelenting meatiness. I don't know if slowly stewing a stuffed piece of meat is correct protocol but it was good.