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Posted by ragingyoghurt on 4 May 2010 – 11:00 am

Filed under ice cream, lunch, trip

we were only scheduled to be in london for 10 days, until eyjafjallajökull erupted and gave us a bit of a bonus extra holiday. before then, we operated on a strict program that had been planned and refined over the preceding months, via a very comprehensive spreadsheet. with first day brunch at ottolenghi done and dusted, we found ourselves on the train, richmond-bound, for second day lunch at petersham nurseries.

out of the station, we walked down the high street to get there, and along the river, and through a muddy paddock, and up a dusty driveway, and through a little of the nursery, and arrived in good time to be shown to our table in a large tentish room with a dirt floor (a tent festooned with enormous bunches of fresh flowers, and strewn with mismatched furniture of varying vintage). my sister thought it was important that we have bread and butter, and lemonade, and quick! and then there they were.

the menu was streamlined – just three options for each course — and according to one of the nicest waitresses in the world, might change from day to day depending on produce available. friday, i was lucky enough to have…

fried artichokes with a caper and mint dressing
such a riot of crispy edges and zingy flavours! such a joyous jumble of leaves! the play of textures was fun indeed as i mix-matched artichoke outsides (brown and crunchy as chips) and insides (pale, soft, and mildly tangy) with capers and lemon juice and minced-up mint leaves that no doubt found their way into all the crevices of my teeth. smile!

grilled sardines with aioli
you know, it looked modest on the plate, and felt light to eat it — all those lemony, fish oily flavours — but golly, i was stuffed when i was done. the sardines were plump and moist, and the sauteed chard yielding, and the lovely dollop of aioli — so full in the mouth, i only needed a little dab on each forkful of fish, and made it last right ’til the end.

almond tart
we had been excited to read it on the menu, and gleeful to see it at the table — this sturdy wedge of pastry with the lazy slurp of cream and candied orange syrup. it was even pleasing to eat, but alas, in the end, the crunchy pastry shell filled with dense frangipane, rough-hewn nuts and rind completely vanquished us. we probably would have appreciated it more on its lonesome, with a big cup of tea, and not the legacy of three fat sardines and as many crisp-fried artichokes.

stracciatella ice cream
truly, the surprise winner of the show. the ice cream — presented in a heavy drinking glass — was super premium, rich and creamy, and served at exactly the right, just melty temperature. mixed very generously into this were more bits of good dark chocolate than you’d think necessary, or possible. the ice cream makes its way down your throat, and then the shards of chocolate melt away and linger on your tongue. blissful, it was, even when the pain of distended belly kicked in. i could not stop eating this.

it looks simple, does it not? this food? there was nothing extraneous on the plate; each course just a tumble of a few flavours, and no adornment except for its necessary elements. but it all looked beautiful, and tasted much more wonderful than what you might expect from such spare plating. everything that could be eaten — with the exception of the noble almond tart — was.

they serve coffee from a cafetière here, or any number of floral infusions. no, not a single normal tea, grumble. so i picked mint from the list recited by the waitress, and was brought a comforting pot of green. a fine way to conclude a meal in the middle of a garden centre on a sunny springtime afternoon.

Posted by ragingyoghurt on 3 May 2010 – 10:08 pm

Filed under breakfast, shoping, trip

another morning, breakfast for some of us was a remarkably life-like, custard-filled totoro bun. not for me: the day before, i had chanced upon the new digs of the japan centre on regent street. i stumbled into this warren of wonders, and came away with the bready gift for my sister.

it is more frenetic in the store than out on the street. past the sidewalk tables with the unsettling spongey seating, just after the entrance, there is hot steamy action with freshly made savoury snacks. then there are the refrigerated shelves piled with ready-made meals. there are a few rows of tables where people can (and do! madness!) sit and eat this food amidst the crush. there is, somewhat inconveniently placed, a bank of cash registers, before the grocery section kicks in — all the staples and then some, as well as a fridge of treats like cottage industry black sesame panna cotta and maccha swiss rolls. there is a wall of practical kitchen utensils, whimsical bento accoutrement and aluminium foil printed in cartoon characters. beyond all that, almost hidden, a sushi train. truly a fine example of a small but hyper(crazy)efficient inner city supermarket.

back home, totoro-pan was met with an appropriate amount of appreciative gasping, and delivered a comforting combination of airy, sweet bread (complete with “polo” topping for the belly) and nice light custard. me, i had the tiniest nibble, and then contented myself with eating quite a bit of the kid’s hello kitty bun. really, i’d bought it for effect, as the child does not like custard, not even chocolate custard. shame: kitty’s filling was a smooth, dark specimen, rich with cocoa. when i was done tearing limb from bready limb, i licked my fingers clean.

Posted by ragingyoghurt on 3 May 2010 – 12:25 pm

Filed under breakfast, trip

let me tell you about breakfast. this morning, sitting at my desk and watching last night’s episode of masterchef online and writing this — how’s that for multitasking? — i have before me a slice of buttered and vegemited bourke street bakery soy and linseed. i also have another slice slathered in a big sticky blanket of laduree caramel au beurre salé. and i have milky tea.

it’s mostly back to normal: trying to fit a plate somewhere on my paper-strewn desk, or on the dining table which is mostly a thing repository. sometimes just an empty spot on the carpet littered with crumbs from the kid’s last three meals. oh how i miss that clean expanse of candy-striped oil cloth on an almost awkwardly positioned table in a lounge room in london.

our first day there, i steered the excursion into waitrose, where i found an enormous jar of bonne maman apricot compote. just look at that vibrant orange colour — it was very striking against the green gingham lid. i commandeered a packet of scones then, and a tub of clotted cream, and waited eagerly for breakfast time to arrive.

my sister does not have a microwave oven, so i ate the scones cold in the first jetlaggish light of day. however, by ensuring that the volume of cream and compote was greater than the volume of scone, i managed to counter any cold hardness that an overnight scone might normally possess. in any case, this supermarket scone was moist enough inside, and performed admirably its role as vehicle for deliciousness.

and the fruit compote? my word, it was some kind of wonderful. tangy-sweet with huge chunks of succulent apricots right down to the bottom of the jar. we ate our way through it over the next couple of weeks, mostly on buttered toast, and were sorry to see it go.

now, here’s something completely different: we only made it out for breakfast once, and that was to euphorium bakery. i surprised myself by going savoury; even the counter girl seemed taken aback when i ordered the british pork and apple sauce sandwich. but she grabbed one from the pile and sliced it in half before plonking it down on a plate and pushing it across the counter.

i was silenced. it was as big as my forearm. every mouth at the table dropped open in awe as i set it down — except for the kid who was grappling with a perplexing and sodden (and ice cold and rubbery) blueberry clafouti (tchk. there is really no need to serve such a fail in a cafe, especially one where they make everything fresh inhouse.) i began to eat, and the meat was moist and a little bit streaked with fat. there was soft bread, and salty butter generously spread, a foil to the sweet-tart apples. there was crisp lettuce, and crunchy edges of crackling. it really was a most pleasing sandwich.

it was so good i had in again for lunch, after carrying it around in my satchel for some hours as i wandered through the excellent national portrait gallery (a compact and well curated selection of the permanent collection; a quite mesmerising exhibition of three centuries of indian portraits; and a room of mind-boggling contemporary “miniatures” by the singh twins). though mainly because i only managed to eat one half of it for breakfast.

Posted by ragingyoghurt on 30 April 2010 – 1:50 pm

Filed under candy, packaging, trip

i went to singapore, and all i got was this packet of fish pancake gummies.

no, i lie. but four days goes superfast before you have to get on another plane to take you to london, and then if, say, a volcano erupts somewhere in europe and grubbies up the skies, and your flight back to singapore is cancelled for several days, it will not leave you much time to mosey before you are due back in sydney. two days, in fact. ish. it will leave you with many eating plans unfulfilled. ah well.

these fish gummies were procured during a leisurely supermarket trawl during the first couple of days. now see, i like the idea of taiyaki — those japanese fish pancakes most commonly filled with red bean paste — but they are scarce around these parts, and besides, i suspect i would much rather have the ice cream version of it: vanilla ice cream and red bean sauce in a fish-shaped wafer shell.

and now, i would happily have a taiyaki gummy, an adorable little fish-shaped nubbin that tastes uncannily like caramelised batter and white bean paste — a feat probably referenced by the “!?” punctuation on the packaging. it even has the slightly grainy texture of mushed-up beans (the list of ingredients includes bean powder). amazing.

i also found the intriguing pukupukutai air-in-choco strawberry fish, the kind of confection where you tear open the bag, and the air around you fills with the aroma of sweet, sweeeeet fake strawberries. it is a rather perfect rendition of the original pancake fish in crisp pink wafer. encased within is a mass of pink strawberry-flavoured chocolate, the texture of which is that of an aero bar. truly, a stellar light snack for a joyous occasion.

Posted by ragingyoghurt on 5 April 2010 – 6:10 pm

Filed under around town, cake, kid, lunch, trip

in the days leading up to easter, the cupcake bakery made me an offer i couldn’t refuse. from their gleaming little outpost in the myer-to-QVB walkway, rows of festive cupcakes beckoned. this one, a chocolate cupcake with tiny speckled chocolate eggs nestled in an enormous swirl of pink frosting, pretty much grabbed me by the face and told me i should take it home.

so i did, and the kid enjoyed it very much. she was kind enough to allow me a small bite of the cake, as well as one of the eggs, so i can tell you that the cake was light, and not as dry as it has been on occasion, but the egg, alas, was compound. still, it was all the fuel she needed to put the finishing touches on her hat for the school easter bonnet parade to be held the following day.

and would the rains hold? would sodden papier mache crises be diverted? yes.

and now, some days later, we find ourselves at the mercy of this fickle singaporean weather. it was hovering around 30 when we arrived a couple of night ago. yesterday it was rainy, and almost refreshing. today it’s back up to 34. there is most of a big, fat rava masala dosai under my belt — it cost all of $3 — and i’m struggling against the urge to have a big, fat afternoon nap. the battle could go either way.

next stop: old blighty.

Posted by ragingyoghurt on 26 March 2010 – 11:10 pm

Filed under kid, lunch

i clicked on a random link today, and it took me to a website about school lunches, and then i clicked on a link from there, and… did you know there’s a whole genre of blogs out there devoted to documenting school lunches? fascinating!

the kid brings a packed lunch (and recess) to school each day, in her rather fetching apple print insulated lunch bag. within this are two or three smaller boxes. the biggest one always contains a sandwich: her favourite at the moment is cheese and apple, but on heavy rotation are cheese and cucumber; ham and tomato and cucumber; vegemite and cucumber. she really likes cucumber! last monday, she had bak kwa and cucumber, on infinity bakery pumpkin sourdough, but that was a special one-off. the sandwiches are almost always made on grainy wholemeal bread (is the bread helga’s? ja!), with butter, or kewpie mayo.

dessert is fruit: cubes of melon, or apple slices. sometimes grapes or berries.

recess is usually fruit too, but sometimes it might be a squeezy tube of yoghurt, or a box of raisins. did you know you can get raspberry-flavoured raisins in the supermarket? they get raisins, and then coat it in raspberry flavour. the package shows a large grape bisected at the mouth, about to eat a raspberry — amazing. occasionally, there will be a sweet biscuit in a little strawberry-print paper bag.

reading the school lunch blogs made me think about when i was at school, and wonder what we did about food safety and insulation in the tropics. and then i realised that i never did bring lunch to school. when i was in primary school in malaysia and singapore, there was a morning session and an afternoon session. the various grades were divided up, i guess to prevent overcrowding, so if you were in primary 3, you might be scheduled for morning school that year, while the whole of primary 4 would be in afternoon school.

morning school started at 7.30 — it meant waking up to darkness at 6am — and went until 12.30 or 1pm. afternoon school operated from 1 to 6pm. throughout my school career, i ate lunch at home, before school or after, depending on which session i was cursed with at the time.

i did have recess though. i still remember — not fondly — the slightly sour taste (and the slightly furry feel) of warm water or cordial that had been sitting for a few hours under my desk in a plastic water bottle.

once i came into the pocket money, i bought little tumblers of overly diluted rose syrup cordial from the drinks stall, for 10c a pop. the drinks aunty would have a raft of these scuffed plastic tumblers laid out before her on her stainless steel counter, and a pile of cold, wet coins. it was the perfect accompaniment to a soggy curry puff (bar the crimped edge — that was satisfyingly crunchy) stuffed with nothing but curried potatoes.

i’m sorry to say that i also had a predilection for the spring rolls from the fried stall. these were not your ordinary spring rolls, mind. sure, you could have had one filled with shredded vegetables, but more often than not, i ended up with the one stuffed with diced spam. or curried potatoes…

i really like curried potato!

my favourite recess snacks were the little packs of nutella with the foil tops you peeled off and the little plastic spatulas to facilitate eating, and packets of fried noodle cakes — mamee — that you ate crunchy out of the bag. sometimes i ate them together. take that, chocolate-covered potato chips!

as i progressed through high school, i started staying after class for extra curricular activities, and so had more of a chance to eat at the school canteen. it was a large open space with a roof but no walls, with several rows of long tables and benches, and a bank of independently run stalls dispensing all manner of noodles and ricey dishes (also, a drinks stall and a particularly well-stocked snacks stall — chips, puffs, biscuits, candy, nutella, pickled plums…). i usually had a plate of fried beehoon, rice vermicelli cooked extra extra stick-in-your-throat dry, with the barest of garnishings: a handful of limp beansprouts, tails still attached, and a clump of shredded omelette, all for 30c. no-one cooks beehoon as dry as that beehoon aunty at CHIJ toa payoh in the late 80s. i miss it, still.

i must say, i was slightly horrified today as i read the school lunch blogs, but my trip down memory lane is looking decidedly more like the path to ruin. it’s probably a good thing that i ate most of my lunches at home.

here are some of the more riveting school lunch blogs i found today. on the back of jamie oliver’s TED prize speech, a change is surely in the air.

– 6th graders from NY document their daily lunches
– non-judgemental roundup of school lunches form around the world
– a teacher raises awareness about school lunches, by eating them
– gaijin english teacher eats japanese school lunches
– two blogs about the state of affairs at DC school kitchens

Posted by ragingyoghurt on 24 March 2010 – 9:26 pm

Filed under around town, ice cream, kid

they’ve changed the tables (and chairs) since i was last at messina. the stools are now handsome bentwood affairs, and the tables are shiny oversized metal trays set precariously on spindly tripods (all the better, i suppose, to see how you look as you gorge yourself on the product).

the gelati, of course, is as delicious as ever. i still think about the triple chocolate extravaganza i had on my birthday last year. sigh… there are always more flavours on display than i know what to do with, and late this afternoon, barely two hours after weed strudel and exotic cream cake, i thought it might be unwise to have more than, ahem, two.

we were meeting with the artist formally known as “the little matchboxgirl” for a gelato date, and by coincidence found ourselves on the same bus hurtling out of the city towards darlinghurst. the kid rummaged in her handbag for a comic she had made specially for the occasion, and was quite matter-of-fact when sonya immediately handed her a baggie full of tiny tchotkes in exchange. a little later at the shop, maeve sidled up to me and offered, sotto voce, “i like sonya.”

the kid is mostly guided by colour when it comes to icy desserts. sometimes she will surprise me with a left-of-field request for passionfruit or green tea, or — once, confoundingly — mint-chip, but more often than not, it’s a choice between this pink one or the other. this time she picked the only pink available: raspberry.

i always want a scoop of coconut and lychee at messina, but there is always something new i want to try that won’t match, and so i have spent the last few years coconut-and-lychee-less. this time i picked burnt fig jam, walnut and mascarpone because i thought i ought to, for research, and pavlova because it looked so cheery. you may argue that those two flavours do not match, but anyway.

it wasn’t surprising that the fig, walnut and mascarpone gelato was figgy, and walnutty, and extremely rich and creamy from the mascarpone… truly it was a proper grown-up flavour with undertones of seriousness. by comparison, the pavlova gelato was light and charming, milky with highlights of tart berries and tangy passionfruit.

in a cruel twist of fate, sonya did choose the coconut-lychee, but began by eating the chocolate fondant. i’ve had that chocolate fondant gelato; it means business! it fills your mouth with a voluptuous chocolatiness, and once you eat it, you can’t really have anything else in the same sitting. and so it came to pass that the scoop of coconut-lychee sat forlorn in the paper cup as the kid and sonya merrily swapped ballet stories in the balmy breeze.

next time, coconut-lychee, i promise i’ll choose you.

Posted by ragingyoghurt on 23 March 2010 – 2:52 pm

Filed under around town, cake, lunch

quick! before i disappear down another warren of werk…

the next day, i finally made it to black star pastry. i’d known about this pastry shop for almost 18 months, but never felt compelled to make the trek to newtown. clearly my devotion to grunge only extends as far as listening to 20-year-old pearl jam records and harboring a secret penchant for plaid flannel shirts. the main drag is such… a drag, but a little way down australia street this comforting little nook welcomed us with aircon and neat rows (and bounteous jumbles) of sweet and savoury treats.

the kid made her choice — “sausage roll!” — within seconds of eyeing the pie cabinet in the back before whisking herself back out onto the footpath. meanwhile, there i was, nose to glass case while she sat almost patiently outside pondering the philippe starck gnome stool. my gaze hovered between the black olive baguette stuffed with streaky serrano ham and parmesan, and the golden brown wheel of pastry by the cash register.

you will see that the pastry won, an intriguing wedge of organic weed strudel served with a slab of fresh ricotta and a dollop of plum relish. (i did not enquire about the provenance of the weeds, but i trust they were not related to the scrabbly shoots at our feet.) despite being served at room temperature, the thin pastry still delivered a compelling crunch. the dense and tangled filling, eaten alone, tasted dark green and pleasantly bitter. smeared with ricotta and the sticky sweet and tangy relish, it took on a whole range of complex and happy flavours and textures in my mouth.

by this stage, deborah and LJ had shown up, weak and exhausted from their encounter with the predatory car salespeople of parramatta road, and clearly in need of sustenance. they ended up with a lamb pie each, because deb felt that it might be something they wouldn’t want to share. quite. what showed up was a sturdy-looking puck of a pie, all puffy and golden, filled with tender shredded lamb and vegetables in a light sauce. no gummy meat adhesive here!

it was with regret that i scraped the last strand of bitter green weed from my plate; the silver lining was dessert! my mind was set on the strawberry, watermelon and rose cake, for i had been thinking about it since seeing it over at the unbearable lightness of being hungry many months ago. it was every bit as dreamy as i had imagined: layers of light, nutty dacquoise sandwiching cream and thin slices of fresh watermelon. the combination of creamy and crisp and juicy and sweet was most agreeable, though i failed to detect any discernible rose flavour. the kid began a stealthy attack on the top of the cake, poaching a strawberry, then a half blueberry, then a pistachio, then — brazenly — another strawberry; i had to fend her off with a fork.

she had ordered the vanilla pannacotta topped with a delicate lime jelly into which slices of papaya and slivers of fresh ginger had been set. alas, it proved too gingery for her, and she abandoned it a little way in. i wasn’t quite willing to do an outright trade, but sampled enough of it to report that it tasted fruity and fresh, with a definite bite from the ginger — a perfect treat for a hot afternoon, until the pannacotta liquified beneath the autumnal sun.

when the kid had eaten as much of my cake as i’d let her, she turned her attention to deb’s tarte tatin. again, the pastry was golden brown delicious, and the enormous chunks of soft, caramelised apple most divine.

i may have to rethink my aversion to newtown. perhaps it will not seem quite so out of the way if i make it the destination. black star is surely worth the buses and trains, the grit and the smoke, the draining crush of humanity.

Posted by ragingyoghurt on 23 March 2010 – 12:28 am

Filed under around town, lunch

the kid goes to ballet now, in pink: leotard, wrap skirt, socks, shoes, hair band, pink. her ballet bag, a hello kitty tote, is also pink. i am happy to play along, partly because i actually like pink, but mainly because the classes are on saturday mornings in haberfield.

it’s not too far away i suppose, only three suburbs and two buses with efficient, pain-free connections, but i’d never felt like we had to go, and consequently, we rarely did. now we’re there every weekend, taking full advantage of the cannoli, or the panini filled with all manner of cured meats. or both.

after class this past saturday we met cousin sharon for cannoli at pasticceria papa. that was the plan, anyway. the original idea had been to pop in for a quick cannoli, and then move on to a neighbouring suburb for dumplings or duck soup. but our table was right next to the hot food counter, and said counter had never appeared so bursting with bounty. heat-lamped, gold-tinted beauty.

we took our place at the end of the queue, and inched our way down the line. golly gee whizz, the italians here are that much surlier than the ones at a&p sulfaro half a block up the road. over the last few weeks we had become accustomed to the friendly and smiley — though slowish — service at sulfaro. at papa’s, we wavered a little under the glare of our stern countergirl, but we pretended as if our ordering food was not actually imposing upon her, and asked for sour cherry gelato, and ricotta cannoli, and a miniature custard tart topped with a strawberry, a wedge of kiwifruit, a slice of nectarine, a sliver of plum, and half a dewy little fig. at this point the thought of dumplings lingered only the shortest moment before jumping out the window, and we ordered a couple of slices of pizza for the table.

one, a quite straightforward prosciutto and rocket pizza, and the other, a monstrous beast covered in crumbled-up minced meat, spinach, whole button mushrooms roasted succulent, slices of hard boiled eggs — yolks strewn about with gay gold abandon, eggplant, capsicum and tomatoes…

you read all this stuff about pizza purists, and how toppings should be sparse and restrained, but this specimen of crazy ass overblowness is clearly proof of how the other end of the spectrum can be just as wonderful.

we ate the pizza, and then the sweets (except for the kid, who started off with the gelato), and then i cast my head towards the gelato counter with its tubs of milo gelato, and a mystery flavour that involved ribbons of caramel and broken-up cookies. and i thought that maybe, just maybe i could be bothered joining the queue again.

but nah, maybe next week.

Posted by ragingyoghurt on 19 March 2010 – 11:29 am

Filed under chocolate, packaging, werk

what happens when work and chocolate collide?

i’m glad you asked: several weeks ago, a cardboard carton showed up on my doorstep, containing an unadorned packet of foil-wrapped easter eggs. the kid was immediately interested, but i managed to beat her back. this was a sample pack of cocolo easter eggs for which i had to design an enticing label in time for the lead up to ~~chocfest 2010~~ easter.

now you can own a packet of these too. i believe they are being sold in independent health / organic food stores around town. the chocolate is organic and fairtrade, and brought to you by an australian company (though it’s made in switzerland, so count those air miles), and comforting in the way that milk chocolate is.

i still have the mock-up i made, printed up on a 15-year-old bubble jet and stapled to the pack. it’s been sitting on my desk for the past month or so — i wasn’t sure if i had to return the sample bag to the chocolate people. right now i’m leaning towards “not”; those foil wrappers are glinting away awful purty.

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