Cold. Sticky Toffee Date Cake Cold

It's winter here. It's chilly. Perfect for this:


I'm afraid we were on to the second bottle of shiraz voigner when I took the pictures so they are slightly squiffy. Those aren't my hands

Yes, I know there are dozens of recipes and versions out there but this one works for me. It works so well I will take it to a secluded corner and eat it all from the tin if I'm alone. As I consequence I only make it when I have Company.

I first made this in November 1999 when I was obsessed with the Sainsbury's Magazine. It was all coriander and olives and puy lentils and a nascent Nigel Slater and a very posh Lorna Wing and adverts for Twinnings Fruit Teas. This recipe is by Sue Lawrence who won Masterchef in 1991. Back in the days of Lloyd Grossman and guests like Penelope Keith no-one shouted about it being Tough and Real and none of the contestants broke more than a few beads of polite persperation, even when the big green capsicum flashed on screen. sue lawrence titles Sue, it really is a winner of a recipe, thank you. Clearly they don't call you "The Queen of Scottish Baking" for nothing.



RECIPE for STICKY TOFFEE DATE CAKE
175g stoned dates, chopped
1 teaspoon of bicarbonate of soda
250ml boiling water
75g butter
1 teaspoon - can I start putting tsp in now as the abbreviation? Would we all be cool wit that? - vanilla extract
175g light brown or plain granulated sugar
1 egg beaten
175g plain flour sifted with
1 tsp baking powder
and for the sauce:
75g butter
150g brown sugar, the darker the better
120ml double cream.
pre-heat oven to 180 degrees

Method:
1. Line a 7 inch loose bottomed cake tine with a circle of baking parchment
2. Place dates and bicarb in a pan and pour on the boiling water and heat gently for 5 minutes.
3. Remove from the heat and stir in the butter until melted
4. Add the vanilla, sugar, egg, flour and baking powder and stir well.
5. Pour in to the lined tin and place on a baking sheet and then in to the oven. Bake for 20 minutes
6. Meanwhile make the sauce by heating all the ingredients together in a pan. Let them bubble for 3 minutes while stirring. Pour onto the cake and bake for a further 20 minutes. Do use a timer.
7. Leave to cool in the tin and serve when still slightly warm.
8. Prepare modest face for ensuing compliments.


To serve, best vanilla ice cream. In this picture I served a side of Butterscotch Angel Delight on account of wanting to share my culture with the Australians. They didn't get it.



Mandarines, dark chocolate and walnuts finish off the flavours well at the end of the meal, the main course of which was pork sausages, mash, kale and garlic and onion gravy.

Look What I grew. Butternut Squash

Well technically I grew both of them but it is only legal in this country to eat one of them.

Do I make soup with many rinds of German smoked ham? Scones? Or plainly roasted for hours in clarified butter and olive oil with sage and thyme and a dressing of bottled caesar salad and slivers of crispy proscuitto?

But not today. I am listening to my body and this is it wants. Acutally it wants to snap its fingers and be back at the very top of the Holloway Road eating Makani Dahl and Bombay Saag Alloo and listening to the carefully chosen Jazz tracks Raj will be playing at The Sitara - the best of the high-street Indians restaurants in North London and still going strong 15 years on. Good for them, you had a vision, Raj. Sitara Indian Restaurant 784 Holloway Road; London; N19 020 7281 0649; Hey, all those dishes are v..v...v..Vegetarian.



So, it's the first vegetarian dish on Crackling. And time for a medium length Aside:

I used to be one. It was 1985, I was at Poole Arts Centre with my mates at a Smiths Gig (James support IIRC) and between the guitar jangling and the plaintive wailings about Manchester and its environs Morrisey spoke directly to us. He told that Meat was Murder. However what he didn't fit in to his lyrics was that it is also an excellent source of iron, b vitamins and many minerals vital for the nutritional stores-houses of young girls and women.

So I "went veggie" Evangelical, wholier than though, awkward, righteous Vegetarian. There followed endless suppers of beans on wholewheat toast with cheese, snacks of wotsits and potato latkes, pyramids of cheese and onion pasties.*** What a donkey.
I since discovered from music engineers and producers who had worked with Morrisey in the south of France that he is somewhat idiosyncratic in his culinary dogma; he won't have garlic on the premises or butter. And no murdered animals either. They would sneak out for big macs and loaf around the studio with the reek of their forbidden lovers still on their clothes like adulterers just for fun. Also, my friend Nicole swears Morrisey used to come in to a certain Manchester sandwich bar she worked in for tuna melts. How's he doing these days since Swindon?

Vegetarianism, as Anthony Bourdain proselytises, is very much a first world luxury - to pick and choose one's protein sources is a privilege. In the early 90s when Mr Wong and I traveled round Malaysia we would trek to a restaurant famed for Ayam Soto Beef Kway Tow, Char Siew or go out to dinner with the many cousins for house-specialities of venison tendon and river flounder and I would sit with with nose turned up and a sanctimonious demeanour prissily picking at pack choi (no oyster sauce). I doubt my actions saved a single bivalve. One day they gave me a taste of my own medicine and took me to the Bhuddist restaurant for a chow-down on mock-duck. Shudder. That'd shoulda oughta taught me.

Vegetarianism in the 80s and 90s, did call attention to the recklessly dangerous standards of animal-husbandry. Many of us spent valuable physical resources denouncing factory-farming and when the headlines were hit with BSE and the charmingly-named Scrapie for sheep, the standards and scales started to change. Plus old breeds re-appeard at the butchers - ah Freemans of Crouch End and your sublime Tamworth Bangers - and latterly the supermarkets.
I still cooked meat for work though, the irony of standing in Leadenhall Market with a 2k bag of best end of lamb neck one winter's day was not lost on me.

I saw sense in January 2002 after an anaemia-induced spin-out in Toys R Us Colney Hatch and made Mr Wong take me directly to Gaucho, the Argentinian Steak House in Hampstead for lunch (actually it was Uraguayan Fillet steak that day as there was some kind of Latin American Anglo Trade Embargo going on) I have never looked back. At all. And if at all it was to see if there were anymore fibres I could possibly gnaw off a rib bone dropped under the table. And the last time we were in Malaysia with the cousins they had to fight me for a mere sniff of the deep-fried pork hock.

I have friends who are vegetarians for health and karmic reasons. They get on with it calmly and wisely, perhaps having learned from the misadventures of buffoons like myself that there is little or no merit in heckling one's dining companions. I am still evangelical about eating meat: Eat a little of the best you can afford which has been reared and slaughtered in the best possible circumstances.



So finally I present the recipe for
CURRIED BUTTERNUT SQUASH



Oh this one is Malaysian, it has curry leaves which are optional, in fact this is really about technique - amalgamating the first ingredients to a fragrant paste.

500g peeled cubed butternut squash, hitherto known as BNSq
20ml oil
half a red onion finely chopped
one clove of garlice minced
a can of chopped tomatoes, drained
I used this mix of spices because it was what I had to hand but you, of course could use your own favourite blend or even a teaspoon or two of pre-made curry paste - the important thing is how one cooks them to release the flavour and turns the whole thing in to a paste: ground cumin, chinese five spice, tumeric and allspice because it really brings out the sweetness of the BNSq
15g of butter or ghee
150ml each of stock and coconut milk
half a can of chickpeas drained
salt
curry leaves
coriander leaves to serve










1. heat the oil and fry the onions until translucent and just starting to brown at the edges.
2. add the garlic and the tomato flesh and cook on low heat for 5 minutes stirring well
3. push this mixture to one side and turn up the heat slightly and sizzle the butter or ghee and throw in the spices. You want to toast them properly to release the aromas and if you're careful you shouldn't burn them so cook them for at least 60 seconds***
4. stir well to blend it all and cook for 2 minutes then add the BNSq coat with the mixture.
5. add the remaining ingredients, cover and simmer until tender - at least 20 minutes.
6. check seasoning and serve or leave for an hour so the flavours develop and serve luke warm but don't tell the health inspector.

I am going to serve mine with cauliflower, wilted spinach and lime pickle. If I could face the sheer drudgery of cleaning up my kitchen again today (I am very messy) I would make wholewheat roti to mop up the gravy properly. Perhaps another day.


*** prolific cookery author Rafi Fernandez gives this tip for the faint hearted fryer: Addition of spices when cooking: "always reduce the heat before adding any ground spices as they burn easily which will give a bitter flavour to your dish. I mix mine with a little water and fry them gently until the water has evaporated and the oil separated"
Rafi has dozens and dozens of titles Rafi Fernandez titles. I wonder why she is so much less-known that Madhur Jaffrey or Charmaine Solomon? What can have gone on behind the scenes?


** actually, whilst I depreciated my iron stocks I did appreciate my stock of original recipes. I do have some absolutely corking Vegetarian Recipes which I will throw in to Crackling as and when the mood takes me. Why, here's one now!
with the remaining half a can of chickpeas and the tomato juice I whizzed up a hybrid-hummous with olive oil, tahini, salt, roasted garlic and for the necessary zing I fried a teaspoon each of garam masala in oil and poured it in, a techinque Rafi Fernandez calls "tarka".

Chaste chicken, chicken clothed in a crispy coating covering the thighs so no child may know its true origins

Some people are happy to see a carcass in it's gory glory before and even during consumption. Some are not. My youngest son is one of the latter and for him I make these chicken schnitzels or "Flat Chicken" as he calls it. Possibly a relative of Cousin Boneless (Cow and Chicken, anyone?)


CHICKEN SCHNITZELS
I make in bulk and freeze, so here is a recipe which will make you at least 20 schnitzels the size of 6 year old's ear, or there a bouts.



You will need:
4 skinless, boneless chicken thighs
250ml milk
seasoning - I use the generic supermarket season-all product, unless a more up-market manufacturer would like to sponsor me
1 cup of plain flour
2 eggs beaten
1 tablespoon of fine cornmeal or polenta
1 tablespoon of crushed peanuts (optional but my boy needs all the protein he can get)
a lot of dry breadcrumbs - I would say at least 1.5 cups in volume.

Auxillary Equipment:
rolling pin
baking parchment
3 medium sized bowls


1. Trim the surplus fat and bone fragments and sinews from the chicken thighs and lay them out flat.*
2. Take a clean board and cover with a sheet of baking parchment. Place chicken thigh on the lower half and fold the parchment over to cover. With the rolling pin beat until flat. ** 3. Discard parchment paper and cut chicken thighs to size, as a guide 1 thigh should yield five schnitzels.
4. Pour the milk in to a shallow rectangular dish and submerge the chicken. Cover and leave for at least half an hour. ***
5. The egg, flour and crumb station - if you already know about this go to step 7:


You will need plenty of bench space for this procedure which can be messy but well worth mastering. There are few palates can refuse the crunch of perfectly crumbed and fried morsel.
From left to right set up a large plate, a bowl of breadcrumbs mixed with the cornmeal and nuts, a bowl of beaten eggs, a bowl of seasoned flour and the soaking chicken. Tip the milk from the chicken in to the eggs and mix well.
6.


You are going to keep one hand for the dry part of the procedure and the other for the wet. Let's presume you're right handed. Feel like a special flower if you're left. With the right hand take 4 chicken schnitzels and drop in the seasoned flour. Pick up each one individually and pat in the flour until coated, transfer them to the egg bowl and let them submerge. With your left hand take the wet chicken schnitzels out of the egg wash and trail them over the rim of the bowls in to the breadcrumb mix. It is very important to have all the three bowls touching. Sprinkle crumbs over the wet chicken, pat on the side of the bowl to remove excess and place in a flat layer on the plate.
That's it.
Do remember to keep one hand for dry and one for wet as far as possible because this stuff claggs your fingers together if you mix it up too much.
7. If you are going to freeze any of the schnitzels put the plate in the freezer uncovered for an hour then transfer them to a sealed container or freezer bag.
8. To cook: Heat vegetable oil in a small pan to 180 degrees - it must be hot or the crumbs will sop up the oil soggily - and fry on each side until golden brown. Do put a knife through the thickest part of the schnitzel to test it's cooked; salmonella is messier to get off your hands than flour, egg and crumb mix.
If cooking from frozen, let them thaw out first.

I sometimes fry the schnitzels briefly to get colour on each side and then finish them off in the hot oven which is cooking the accompanying crinkle-cut oven chips. If I could get my son to eat tinned spaghetti as a side dish I'd be carried off on a wave of Pommy Childhood Nostalgia. Irretrievably if Pipkins was on the tv at the same time.
SuperMousse for dessert.

courtesy of



* by contrast to Audrey, this chicken dish needs the most fluffing, when raw. I have to get my finger and knife tips right in there to feel for tiny shards of bone left and nick out the head of the vein. And at this point when handling raw meat one should take a moment to marvel at anatomy. This is the ---- veing head I am removing, without which the chicken would not move. Respect.

** note to self don't turn head to watch johny depp in his vest when in the rytm of beating. ow. That's on tv in Public Enemies, not on my sofa in the flesh. Shame.

**why soak in milk? - American recipes usually stipulate this procedure in order to tenderise the meat and stop it from drying out. I am not certain of a scientific principle which upholds this tradition but I 'll get back to you on this one. When I do it I like to fancy I'm in a Nina Simone song. Or Betty Davis. Depends on the weather.

Broccoli Rabe and Cauliflower accompaniment. Better post titles welcome.

Although we are 48 hours away from our winter solstice it's 23 degrees and bright sunshine this Sunday.I don't actually have my Australian Passport yet so I'd better make safe and spark up the barbie:- I can do without a visit from the Immigration Department and barbie-ing is The Law under these conditions.

But what to cook?
I'm going to work backwards today. I turn my back on the barbie (Icannot type that while I still hold a British Passport, it's got to be BBQ) and spy my vegetable beds. Raised zinc vegetable beds. Oi, oi Tufty - your number's up: Broccoli Rabe.



Rappini, Broccolini, Broccoli Rabe. Bitter, leafy, stalky and eventually I am told, flowery. But always full of vitamin C and iron. Erect outer leaves cut off at the stalks, plant still growing. Wash, cut in to four or five sections of 4cm lengths and blanched.



Moisture squeezed out and thrown in to a pan containing sizzling sliced red chilli, a teaspoon of roasted garlic and lots of olive oil. Let the greens steep in the aromatics and be coated with the flavoured oil. Add half a cup of water and put the lid on, simmer for 5 minutes, lid off for 5 to let water evaporate. (Hey, that's just like the Tzh Tzai Choi , guess this must be the best tried and tested cross-cultural fail-safe way to get the most out of bitter, dark green leaves! Why, yes, yes it is! Toast pine-nuts in the olive oil for curly kale leaves, add lots of black pepper and finish with grated parmesan).

So far so good, what's in the fridge? Boiled cauliflower florets. I sense a contrast of flavours, colours and textures afoot: Mild musty cauliflower and intense, fresh rappini. Darkest green broccoli rabe and anaemic cauliflower. Shreds of leaf still with a bite and mush. In fact I mush the cooked cauliflower between my fists to purge the water - few things do I detest more than watery food. In to the rappini pan with some oil from a jar of anchovies, a fillet or two set to melt in the bottom. Mix well and let bubble then splash in cream to bind. Salt and pepper to taste. In fact, and this almost never does cauliflower any harm in fact it is character building, let it get a crispy bottom. N.B. this is also superbly low-carb and will go with any well flavoured meat. You know who you are.

Time to think of the main act.
Not sausages. Not Australian BBQ snags. Don't get me started. The German butcher is shut and there are no boerworst at my fabulous GorBlimey local butcher, Steve, today. But there is steak. It must be steak.

You know how to barbecue steak right?
Well fill in your own captions to the following. And if you don't then beg me in the comments box below.







The gravy was made by taking the steak juices over the heat while the steak was resting on a warm plate and stirring in dijon mustard and straining directly over the plate.

Now I have earthy, salty vegetables cut with cream for texture which will mop up the meat juices and gravy, I need a blend of fresh/sweet/acid to finish the job.
Tomatoes with garlic chives, olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Perfect. You know how to skin a tomato, right? No tomato should be eaten with it's jacket on in winter. Too tweedy. Gah.




I do not stack or tower or deep fry shredded baby leeks nor do I smear or even sprinkle at the point of presentation. I 'm not technically a chef and I more concerned with ease of eating than with fuss.






Suffice to say the Holden full of officers from the Department Of Immigration and Citizenship drawn up at the front were satisfied. Plus my mother in law was watching The Dockers in her Uggs.*






* not really.

Chicken 3-Way

You know how to cook a chicken, right?
Well then just look at the photos this week, the northern afternoon light does stream through my kitchen blinds in a most fetching way I confess.
If you would like to add to your knowledge of how to obtain 3 dishes from a simple single chicken, read on.

All cultures have chicken soup. And the basic reason is that from bathing your chicken in simmering water with local and customary aromatics you can a) cook the meat b) extract the goodness in liquid form and c) make a single beast go a long, long way.


Here's Audrey, as we'll call her. She's just come out of her aromatic bath leaving behind the gorgeous and wholesome liquor or stock. Shame Audrey didn't have the grace to shut her legs. I have hidden her unsightly cavern behind a passionfruit leaf to protect the sensibilities of my readers.

She's had a bath in 3 litres of hot water with carrots, celery tops, half an onion, a shake of season-all generic spices you can get at the supermarket and perhaps this is what loosened her up in the pelvic region - chinese rice wine. There has to be some ingredient to give savoury depth of flavour, to pull it all together and make it Broth. Or Stock. Make it savoury.

When Audrey had cooled somewhat I pulled her apart. Eased her limbs from her body and the flesh from her limbs like Joe Pesci in Goodfellas. I took the opportunity to discard her nubbly bits and her tendons, her skin and her gristle and came up with chunks and shreds of her sweet meat. Place to one side.

The first way:
Audrey's breasts I chopped. Not too fine. They formed the prize in a versatile blend of sauteed spring onions, mushrooms and bacon (saute in bacon fat if you have it), along with sweetcorn kernels, dried herbs and more of the same generic spice blend. Sprinkle in Audrey's chunks and half a can of condensed mushroom soup. Now cut a heaped dessert spoon of cornflour with a cup of her bath water and blend till smooth and add to the pan. Bring to a simmer and hey presto: - the filling to chicken and mushroom pies for son #'s lunch box. Form and freeze.

The meat in the sandwich:
Because I don't want anyone to find Audrey's remains directly, she's all going in the freezer. Parts of her will end up like this: Jewelled domes of frozen chicken and mushroom soup. It's very easy: In a large pan put the other half of the condensed soup, some more of the cornflour/stock mix, a can of creamed sweetcorn, some finely sliced mushrooms, milk and of course the glistening shreds of thigh and wing and throat which Audrey yielded. When all this goodness is simmering throw in a handful of uncooked rice, put a lid on it and simmer for 12 minutes. Again, pour in to many bowls for that large surface area action, portion and freeze. 8 supper-sized soup portions for son#1.


And finally:
Her bath water I strained and poured in to as many large bowls as I could fit on my bench-top in order for maximum surface evaporation - I want to get this stuff cooled down an what would be Audrey's ring around the bath tub flotsam away from the broth so I can package what I won't use today in to boxes to freeze. Chicken Stock: basis and booster of so many dishes. I even cook fussy son#2's maggi noodles in it so that some of the Audrey-y goodness is absorbed in to those squiggly cheap flour strands he loves so much.


"easy" Paella.

And speaking of boxes, in my inbox I found a request from a reader (aka a mate I had emotionally black-mailed to read Crackling) for Paella, or rather something easy to use up her chorizo and chicken knocking around in her fridge. You want me to put on a Mantilla and click the castanettes as well?
I worked at an event for a Spanish family doing the canapes while in the back room were 4 generations of Spanish women sitting tightly around a 1.8m diameter paella pan, its contents unctuous and savoury in the extreme. No one out side the family, especially no one in Catering was getting near that baby and the secrets it held. They were, however very happy for us to carry it and it's moltenly scorching and slopping contents up 2 flights of stairs to the poolside for service. The women had spent days on it and now doubt spent litres of sweat while smuggling in goodness knows what cavities the requisite authentic ingredients on their last long-haul flight from the mother-land. So now that we know there is no such thing as an easy paella, we can know that there is an easy and tasty way to use up chicken and chorizo and chicken stock and put on an Antonio Banderas dvd and be close.


To serve 6 or 4 with leftovers for tomorrow's lunch My mate will need
1 large sliced chorizo
about 300g or 6 thighs, two breasts chicken - if not already cooked then break in to joints and put in a roasting dish with salt and pepper and olive oil and cover with foil. Roast in 180 degree oven for 35 minutes, keep the juices and set aside
liberal quantity of olive oil
1 finely diced onion
1 clove crushed garlic
250g rice (any type but basmati)
can of tomatoes drained, juice reserved
a glass of any kind of wine
about 600ml chicken stock
paprika to taste
thyme, dried or frexh
150g or two handfuls of frozen peas
100g some kind of capsicum - bottled or roasted but not raw and NOT unpeeled. So if you can bear to roast it and peel it do.
stoned olives of any type
salt and pepper

In a large pan heat 20 mls of olive oil and sweat the onion. When transparent add the garlic and cook for 2 minutes.

Now for the aromatics and the fruit: Add paprika and stir through, let it sizzle. Then the chorizo. Allow the slices to char a little and to release their lardy goodness.
Then the strained tomatoes, mixing them in and breaking them down a little with a spoon. This will intensify the flavour and sweetness of the dish. Now the wine, let it, yes, sizzle.

Now for the rice, but first please add the tomato juice to the stock and bring to a simmer - any liquid for rice cooked this way must be hot. Take the unwashed rice and add to the pan, stirring well to coat with. Add the hot liquid and stir well. Reduce the heat.

Now get the rice cooking while stirring often to prevent stickage ( no body likes to wash off burned rice. No one, I tell you). After 5 minutes of cooking add the cooked chicken and attendant juices.

After another 5 minutes, or when the rice is 3/4 cooked add the capsicum and olives, thyme and salt and pepper. Puth the lid on the pan and turn off the heat. Wait 5 minutes. Throw in the peas and stir. Replace lid. Wonder how much farther Melanie Griffiths will go to keep Antonio and then check the seasoning and serve.
Buono Estente

And from the North Western Quadrant...

Lemon Meringue Pie for dessert. It's a triple layer of science: Pastry, Custard, Meringue.
One of my guilty pleasures is watching Canadian Pastry Chef Anna Olson's series Sugar. Man, I 'm surprised that woman has any teeth left. She is, however, technically valuable. For example she tells one to strain the custard ( there are always claggy, eggy floaters) and to put the raw pastry shell in the freezer to firm up. And she's right.
You can have a look at her recipe for yourselves, I 'll just bang on about the way I did it. http://www.lifestylefood.com.au/recipes/9352/lemon-meringue-pie
Oh, and it went down very well as the last course of the Family Fusion Feast. Except for fussy son #2 who had crisps.


Changes: I used cream not egg to bind to pastry - it worked.
I used a ceramic pie dish, however, next time I will be using a loose bottomed metal pie tin. A bit like this one* The holes in the bottom encourage the moisture in the pastry to evaporate promoting a crisp bottom. Soggy bottoms often let pie and tarts down. Make your own joke.


*After spending 8 minutes of my life trying to find a picture of one online I come to the conclusion this is Not The Best Use of Anyone's time, particularly when my kitchen looks like this.
However, I do know a man who sells them. From this shop - more of which later on this week.http://www.basicsandbeyond.com.au/

Ms Olson makes good points about the pastry - firm up the shell in the freezer for 10 minutes before baking, give it an al-foil collar half way through cooking and let it sit in the turned-off oven for 10 minutes after baking time.



All these steps are worth taking time over as the crispness, yet tenderness of your pie shell is what will count.
Pastry = Science. More of that later.

The lemony custard filling of a LMP must be firm and sharp and sweet, so don't skimp on the lemon juice nor the cornstarch.

The meringue must be crisp on the outside and yielding on the inside.

Sure enough, the one I produced was all of the above, however I did not bargain for the extra catergory of Sloshy.

Because, like the best of us, I can be a Fat Handed Twat http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQyxGTjZi2I, as I pick up the finished pie to transfer it to the fridge I drop, it just a little: it leaks a clear fluid. Mild Panic. Have I stuffed up the meringue? The egg whites are not plasticised in the centre and are oozing water? I dip in one of my fat fingers and the liquid is lemony-sugary syrup. In my mild panic I knock an olive oil bottle on denting the meringue top and after explaining to my son why I am swearing I excise 2cm square piece for further investigation. It is not the meringue - that is continent, it must be the filling. The pastry is not soggy, so I must be the filling. I tip the dish and more lemony-sugary syrup trickles out. The filling has separated. What is the science behind this? Eggs = Science. Have the stupendously effective insulating properites of egg white prohibited the escapte of the steam from the re-heated filling? Is it merely lemony condensation?
Anyhow, I am thankful I drained the pie before serving or would a thorough chilling have re-amalgamated the filling?
Dunno, but I won't be cutting no watery slice of pie I can tell you.



On the whole, I got it about 85% right. Thanks for the tips, Anna. It was gone in 85 seconds.

Fusion Family Style

I am only going to say this once, for those who may not know: I am Suzy Wong by marriage. Mr Wong's heritage is Chinese, ancestral home Sabah, East Malaysia.

And this week one of the many cousins and his family is here in holidaying in Perth. There is food. Lots and lots of food. Not fancy. Not restaurant standard. Not painstakingly thought out. Not complicated. Not towered nor stacked nor served in trios or quartets. Not garnished. Food we like. Food we are good at Making. Food we want to share with our family. Fusion.


Just for example on Monday night the table was loaded with Vegemite and Mozzarella on Toast for fussy son #2, satay beef in gravy not on skewers, bok choi cooked in single malt Irish whisky (duty free) because we'd run out of Chinese rice wine, scallops cooked plainly in olive oil, portobello mushrooms sliced like steak and fried, rolls of smoked salmon, rolls of leg ham (no olek-sambal aioli to pull the influences together)











and, best of all, something straight out of the back yard.
That's what I admire so much about the way the Chinese cook: they use everything they have. In family cooking there is nothing too humble to put next to the grand. My Mother In Law (MIL) plucked these from the back yard.



The leaves of the sweet potato plant which grow haphazardly in the yard, the tubers themselves too small and knobbly to use. So she uses the leaves. Washes and washes and washes them and blanches for 2 minutes. She fries the typical Chinese Malaysian blend of aromatics for vegetables of red chili, minced garlic, dried prawn and salt in light olive oil (fusion) until golden and then chucks in the potato leaves and stir fries for 2 minutes.


Back in Sabah she would use Sayur Manis (Malay) or Tzh Tzai Choi (Hakka).
One can breath in the vitamin and iron vapours coming off this dish. It is perfectly balanced as a nutritional compliment to small amounts of protein and rice of a simple family meal and tonight it is a flavoursome high point to the melange of dishes on offer.


My cousin also tells me snow peas and snake beans can be cooked in the same way.

Sit Fan (eat food)
Dig In.
Eat Fusion food without spotting the influences, the flavours. Without scoring points for identifying the most polarised ingredients matching one another. Eat what your family thinks is good.