Making out with Pie

 

So the other day I was just rambling on about pie. In my head. How glorious it was to eat pie. Gobble gobble. Not just any pie. That pie. I was having pie flashback. It had been days since pie and I had been together ...

The H and I were driving to Dunedin. It’s never to early to stop at Jimmy’s Pies - ‘The original kiwi icon’ in Roxburgh. Also home to Roxdale apricots. Sad sad day when they closed their canning factory. Love me a stewed apricot. Love me a pie more.

If it’s Jimmy’s. There was a queue on Thursday 14^th July at 11.35am, 2016. Coppers, travellers, pie eaters. I usually get a bacon and egg. A swirly salty mixture of crumbly scrambled lemon coloured curd with chunks of rindless bacon and maybe a pea, encased in soft ‘n crunchy lardy pastry.

Mmmm she was a tough call but, look, it’s a freaky freaky world out there (just watch the news) and it probably isn’t incredibly wise to have all your pies in one basket. I decided to be adventurous. Radical.

I mean pie above! It was past breakfast pie time. It was lunch pie time.

I chose the smoked fish. Oh pie. Its metallic manuka scented Hoki by pokey aroma sunk into every pore of the car’s interior. I buckled up for the ride. Sat in the passenger seat, I nobbled that pie. Biting through mashed tattoe, delicately hand criss crossed with a fork and lightly browned. I munched my snappers down into a stiff white sauce, in which boiled egg and delicate fishy flakes were securely fastened. Down. And beyond. And all around PASTRY. God that whole damn thing was a dish-o-joy nestled in a crisp boat of pastry. Pie ahoy.

‘It could be warmer. But it’s good!’ I purred, not pausing for breath. ‘How’s yours?’

‘Yeah good.’ His was steak ‘n cheese. The coppers’ pie. 'Hot!'

Pie heaven. A duet. 

Every mouthful chugged down slowly, thoughtfully, eventually coming to rest in the oceanic depths of my stomach. As if sinking into a storage well far below. For later.

Green grassy scenery with tall trees might have whizzed by but I was blinkered. I had a nosebag on. Pie and I. Together alone. I was elsewhere. I was 12, back in our farm house in Onga Onga. My mum had invited friends for lunch. She was serving her famous fish pie at our highly polyurethaned kauri table. With table mats and napkins and a green salad. Winter sun shone low through a paned window; dust particles danced. A fork lunch. A ladies lunch. My sister and I babysat the twins in the kitchen. Pudding was pavlova with kiwifruit. Mum probably served a nip of her homemade wine in between courses. A Central Hawkes Bay palate cleanser.

The landscape dipped and dived. We past Lawrence. I was still munching. Of all the pies I’ve ever eaten that was the most pie of them all. Smoked Fish - you’ve got to be hungry. I was filling my pipes. In fact, my pipes were blocked to over flowing but I could not stop.

It was a solo pie eating competition. Pie was cheering me on. 'Go!', said pie.

I took a sip of water. Swallowed. I won.

But pie. With pastry. 50 years perfecting. Homemade. ‘Delicious eaten hot or cold’. “Jimmy’s”. A copy editor's nightmare. And situated right beside the St John’s ambulance depot, should you be in need of the defibrillator.

I thought about that pie again when someone on the radio started talking about the New Zealand Pie Awards. Godammit – AWARDS they’re everywhere. And pies. I love it when a rookie wins. I looked up the results. An apprentice baker from Timaru was second runner-up. Julia made the newspaper – because she’s a vegetarian. She won a set of knives, Chelsea products and certificates.’

Oh joy. Oh life. Certificates. And pie.

Please note: contrary to what the paper bag states, my pie was smoked fish in mince clothing.

Low Carb July and CHOCOLATE

First of July! How did that happen? Our family begins ‘Low Carb July’ today. It was my idea. The H and I did Dry July last year. That was fine. And boring.

So the plan being to eat a protein rich, leafy green packed veg dinner nightly. With none, or only one quarter cup of complex carbs ie. rice, pasta, potatoes after three pm. Why? To feel good. Alive.

Loads of vegetables do that. Go ask Gwyneth. Or Madonna.

My first day, I must confess has not gone too well. I munched my high protein brekkie. Pics salt free peanut butter liberally spread on linseed wholegrain toast with a very milky coffee. I ate four brazil nuts at morning tea. But then, post river run I munched not one, but two bowls of Ceres Organic Honey Almond Muesli with easy yo coconut and pineapple yoghurt and trim milk. Two bowls. Full.

Oops. That’s straight carbs you twit. I’d sent the rest of the family off with grated carrot, spinach and mung bean sprout laden chicken wraps for lunch. But I was already cheating.

It got worse. After scooping four wheelbarrow loads of horse manure and piling it on my lovely big pile turning into blackist friable compost, I got a craving. I may as well finish it off. While I can. Home alone.

Because.

I managed two rows with a cup of peppermint tea. Then I rang the consumer helpline. 0800 Whittaker’s I dialled. I stumbled over my words. Suddenly feeling like a cad. A nark also. I didn’t want to be that.

‘I eat a lot of your chocolate,’ I confessed and giggled like the techno nong I am who right then couldn’t get her dictaphone to record because she pressed the playback triangle not the small red dot with ‘REC’ under it. I got an earful of static and quickly turned it off.  ‘It’s okay really, I didn’t crack a filling on it or anything…I just thought you’d want to know…’

‘Yes, we definitely want to know. Please accept our deepest apologies,’ said Michelle (named changed to protect privacy.) ‘Our quality control follows strict systems, each batch of nuts is roasted, sieved etc etc (see fuckit I can’t remember all the minutae and I wanted to, for journalistic purposes.)

‘We’ll send you out some replacement king size blocks of Almond Gold tomorrow,’ said Michelle, ‘and a prepaid envelope for you to return the evidence. Sometimes we send the foreign object out to be tested by forensics.’

Jeepers. I started to go a bit hot. They’ll have my DNA. I licked the chocolate off that little of rock hard over roasted nut bit before I sellotaped it neatly onto the inside of its packet. Knowing they’d want its batch number and use by date. FYI Whittaker’s even record the time your block chuffs down the conveyor belt. 15.13. Mine.

Augustus Gloop. Augustus Gloop. You big fat piggy nincompoop. Should I peel off my ticket to a free BAR of choco and wash it? With detergent?

‘What is your name?’ asked Michelle kindly. ‘And telephone number, in case we need to contact you with the results of our case study.’

I wondered if my call was being recorded for training purposes. I could ask for the transcript. Write a proper story. With details. Facts.

They’ll know where I live.

‘Do you have any idea what it was?’ asked Michelle curiously.

‘At first I thought it was a bit of shell,’ I said. And helpfully, ‘if I press my thumbnail firmly into it I can’t break it.’

Then I guiltily wondered how many nut blocks I’ll get. You know, coz of low carb July and all. 

Shorty Shortbread

 

In my quest for meringue perfection I have needed to devise more ways with egg YOLKS. Shrivelling up in the fridge is not an option. And Whitebait fritters are like eating liquid gold in the best of seasons. So I bless Ray McVinnie’s chef hat for printing this shortbread recipe in The Sunday Magazine. I followed his instructions. Mostly. I used organic spelt flour because it was in the cupboard and I omitted 2 teaspoons of fresh rosemary finely chopped.  Why would you?

Shortbread

150g icing sugar

225 grams butter

Zest of one Hawke’s Bay lemon

3 egg yolks

2 cups spelt or normal flour

You must: 

Preheat oven to 170 degrees Celsius

Beat icing sugar, butter and zest until pale and fluffy. I did this with a wooden spoon over a basin of hot water to soften the butter initially.

Beat in egg yolks. I know, my fresh from the hen’s bum eggs are the colour or oranges that's just what a healthy free range diet with exercise does for you. 

Stir in flour (don’t beat or your shortbread won’t be crisp warned RMcV).

Knead ever so briefly on a clean surface. Form dough into log shape and cut into 1cm slices. 

Slide onto floured baking tray (I did push my dough around a bit here to get them the same size. In furture I would be more zealous with the log making to prevent extra handling).

Cook for 15 minutes, or til they are just starting to brown. Cool to a crisp crunch on a biscuit tray. Will store for a week

My shortbread were crunchy, slightly lemony, a bit too spread-y and not exactly Hottest-Home-Sugar-Munching-Baker material. Although, crumbled under my favourite Lemon Curd with a dollop of whipped cream watching Dante’s Peak on the telly last night, I imagined them on the menu of some sweating chef on My-Kitchen-Mules.

More to the point, my shortbread was not a mark on my great grandmother Maxwell’s pale, dense buttery morsels. Maxwell, Mackie –for short, had long white hair down to her bottom, which she pinned into the shape of a currant bun every morning. She lived in a three storied house on Napier Hill with Gandie my great grandfather. At tea time a wooden trolley laden with scones, shortbread, russian fudge and tea in a silver pot was wheeled down the hall to the living room. Mackie lived til 100 and to this day I contest she made the best shortbread on the planet. I suspect her recipe contained cornflour and no eggs.I will be calling her daughter, my Gran to try and extract her secret recipe soon. Happy Baking!

Lemony Curd Castles

I’m a lazy cook

But I love eating

Puddings

Not always chocolate

Sweet tangy lemony puds are next in line as far as my-puddings-worth-making go. My mum is a whizz at Lemon Delicious, though I prefer her Lemon Meringue Pie. And now we’re talking meringues your bum will never look back with this Heavenly Lemon Curd, Meringue & Whippy Cream Combo, first introduced to me by my friend Michelle**.

This pud just keeps on keeping on. Especially when you make a double mixture of:

Lemon Curd   

recipe adapted from ‘little &Friday cookbook’

250 grams butter

2 cups caster sugar

Juice and zest of 8 fine home grown Hawke's Bay lemons

6 large home raised eggs

Grab a metal bowl and put all ingredients in it, except the happy eggs, and place over a pot of simmering water. Stir until the sugar dissolves.

Remove from heat. In another bowl beat up those lovely eggs with an electric beater then add to the first mixture and put it back over the simmering pot. On low. And stir. The mixture will get frothy and you might think - where is my creamy curd going to turn up?

Then all of a sudden your potion thickens and looks like this. 

 

 I decanted mine straight into 5 of the 500 jars I’m hoarding for such an occasion, screwed the lids on tight and left them to cool. According to l&f this mixture will live in the fridge for 3 weeks. They strained their curd but I like the extra zing and chewiness from the zest so left it in.

Meringues

 Now I am a kiwi, but not a pavlova maker. My first attempt at these little egg-white/caster sugar delights resulted in marshmallow THINGS that would have made excellent self adhesive bra fillers. With 5 jars of lemony curd begging to be consumed (I don't like it on toast or brioche, but you might) I tried another recipe. From ye old faithful Edmonds Cookbook. Then I doubled it and beat it up my way.

4 large egg whites (I used the yolks in whitebait fritters)

1 cup of caster sugar

Beat egg-whites until stiff with an electric beater, unless you're in training for the pub arm wrestling comp. Add half the sugar and beat some more. Then mix in remaining sugar. And beat again. By now your meringues will look as silky as one of my mum's silk nighties .

Put soup-spoon-sized-dollops onto a greased tray and cook – this is the important part – at 100 degrees celsius for 1 hour. Turn off oven and leave, with door shut (if it’s not 9pm and you're waiting for your pudding) for another hour.

Finally whip some fresh cream and assemble. Aka Eton Mess. Meringue Sandwich. Curd Castle. You choose. NB. Many meringue-s were consumed in the styling of these pics. If necessary, these babies will live happily in an airtight tin for as long as you can manage.

pps. **Aforementioned fabulous cook, all round good sort and proprietor of 'Vudu Cafe' x 2 in Queenstown, Michelle Freeman, often gives jars of Lemon Curd as Christmas presents. This pud tastes extra divine eaten directly from the fridge on Boxing Day with a silver spoon.

Bon Apetite

(Regency china courtesy of Nana's kitchen)

Finest Homemade Baked Beans

Homemade Baked Beans

If you are looking for a simple, healthy and delicious 15 minute meal read on.

You will need to:
Chop, then sweat in a dollop of olive oil: 1 Carrot, 1 onion & 2 stalks of celery.

Next, add 1 can of chopped tomatoes in puree, half a teaspoon of crushed chilli paste (optional) & 2 tablespoons tomatoe paste. Cook until mixture is nice and concentrated.

Finally, add 1 can of mixed beans and heat through. I used Ceres Organics, which has a mix of chickpeas, pinto beans, red kidney beans and white cannellini beans.Once the mixture has bubbled turn off, add a grind or two of black pepper and some fresh parsley and serve.

I often eat this dish, by itself, on Sunday evenings feeling very virtuous. Feel free to add a shave of parmesan, a dollop of sour cream, serve on rice or with that posh ciabatta bread drizzled with olive oil and grilled gently.
Can freeze and reheat for lunch later in the week.

note: You can add a half teaspoon each of - ground cumin and ground coriander, at the veg sweating stage for a more mexicano flavour. Bon appetito!

For loads more reasons why you'll feel extra bouncy after eating beans read this article.

Say Chocolate, Say Chocolate Mousse

I am a self confessed chocolate freak. A guts. A hoarder. When in doubt I always eat chocolate (if my stash hasn't been raided). My children bought me a safe one Christmas to lock my lollies in. They wonder why I don't use it. It's too small. Mostly. Also I can't be bothered. I like my king size dark almond slipped under a manuscript in my desk drawer. Easy access. I also like my chocolate mousse unadulterated. This recipe is the traditional french one, all you need is good quality dark chocolate and fresh free range eggs. I'm lucky enough to have hens so my eggs are straight down the chute so to speak.

For French Chocolate Mousse

You will need

250grams50% Dark Chocolate (or up to 72% if you prefer)
6 - 8 Eggs

What you do

Melt chocolate in a glass bowl. Call me a heathen but I do this in the microwave, on 40 sec increments on high. Stir until smooth.
Separate Eggs
Add each yolk separately into the chocolate and mix well.
Beat egg whites with an electric beater until stiff snowy peaks form. Farm fresh eggs have the yellow-ist yolks and the most enormous whites, so with 8 eggs I ended up with enough pud for a dinner party of 12, when it was only my daughter and I at home.

Fold whites, a good dollop at a time with a metal spoon, into the chocolate mixture. Leave to set in the mixing bowl or decant into pretty tea cups or crystal glasses. Et voila a rich creamy dessert that believe it or not will be set in half an hour.

Best eaten with a small silver spoon. Can add runny cream.

Happy eating chocolate lovers!

How to Eat an Afghan

(please note this is a bowl of chocolate mousse, not an Afghan)

The first time I offered my American brother in law an Afghan he nearly choked on his cup of Joe. Perhaps not the most PC biscuit name – AFGHAN. Nevertheless, they’re a kiwi classic, just like barbecued lambs tails at a docking after match.

The humble kiwi Afghan is a buttery chocolate and cornflake biscuit, held together with chocolate icing and crowned with half a walnut. My mum’s friend Sue, was the Afghan baking champion of Ashley Clinton. Bags babysit my sister and I would shout if the offer arose; knowing full well her biscuit tins would runneth over with palm sized crumbly chocolate morsels. Twas a sad day when Sue joined Weight Watchers (not that she needed to) and went on a baking hiatus…

Forever on the path of self-improvement, when I came across, Better-for-you-Afghans in the May issue of Taste magazine, I made them. Then never one to do as I’m told I decided to make them again and make them even BETTER for me. So I replaced the naughty dairy fat butter*** with the most-healthy-fat-du-jour coconut oil**. And my Afghans were delicious and gone in 24 hours.

For Better-Better-For-You-Afghans you will need:

185g coconut oil (dig out of jar and mash into a ¼ cup/60ml & a ½ cup/125ml and that’ll do ya)

½ cup unrefined sugar

¼ cup raw cacao powder

1 ½ cup white spelt flower

½ cup brown rice flour

1/3 cup cacao nibs

1 cup cornflakes

• Preheat oven to 180 C/350 F. Grease and line a baking tray.
• Beat together slightly softened coconut oil and sugar (yes this will look odd)
• Sift in cacao powder, spelt flour and rice flour and combine.
• Stir through cacao nibs and cornflakes gently so’s you don’t smash em up completely.
• Grab a spoon and roll, as best you can, golf ball sized balls, plop onto tray and press ever so lightly with a fork.
• Bake for 15 minutes. The biscuits at this point will be soft but will firm up once on a cooling rack.
• Throw your walnut halves into they oven to toast until golden. I kept my boys nut free on this occasion.

Le Icing:

• 50g coconut oil
• Good quality dark chocolate (I used the pour and cross your fingers technique for this, but 100g should do it. Alternatively, enough Dutch cocoa to make a dark icing works mixed with coconut oil).
• Warm coconut oil and chocolate together over a double boiler or in the microwave, cool, then slap a big blob on each biscuit and plonk a walnut on top if you choose and allow to set.

Voila the edible Afghan. And possibly the worst food styling pic seen on a blog this year.

FYI

** Coconut Oil – Fat per 100g Total: 100g, of which 88g is saturated

***Butter – Fat per 100g: Total: 81.4g,of which 49.1g is saturated

Just like cutting salt from your diet 20 years ago was the cure all, Coconut Oil is the current day equivalent it seems. Testimonials claiming it will tidy up poor immune function, obesity and even cancer seem to be only that, back up scientific evidence is lacking.

However, Miranda Kerr eats a teaspoon on her toast every morning and rocks an enviable thigh gap. And if you don't want to eat it, you can use your Coconut Oil as a moisturizer and an exfloliant. A Mumsnetter recently purported Coconut oil to be a plaque reducing mouthwash. It took me a few days to pluck up the courage to try it. Tell the truth I thought I’d gag swilling warm oil around in my mouth even if I was dreaming of being on a tropical island at the same time. End results: my teeth felt smooth but the basin was jolly OILY. Would not do again.

If you want to read more about the benefits and non-benefits of consuming Coconut Oil you can read this stuff written by people with PhD after their names.

Jump over to honestmum.com for her Healthy Quick & Simple Oat & Coconut cookies. 

Happy Baking!