The way porridge should be....

Porridge with espresso honey, pear and walnuts

Purists take their porridge with water, and the odd pinch of salt.  I’ve tasted it and happy to say that I left Clag glue behind in my younger school years with my macaroni necklace, and that these days I will happily eat the bastardised versions – those that add milk, seeds, nuts, fruit and of course a touch of something sweet. Honey though, or maple syrup. I balk slightly at the use of jam, so it seems I have sugar standards (at least at breakfast).  I’ve incorporated espresso into honey in this version – killing all breakfast birds with one stone so to speak. Eat your heart out goldilocks.  With a sweet, spiced caffeine kick, I think this is a true breakfast of champions. 

Ingredients

1 cup rolled oats

1 ½ cups boiling water

1 cup milk

pinch of salt

1 tablespoon brown sugar

pinch cinnamon

1 vanilla bean, seeds scraped

Espresso honey

2 tbsp honey

30ml espresso

Buttered pears

30g butter

2 pears, peeled, cored and thinly sliced

1 tbsp caster sugar

Toasted walnuts to serve

Method

Place oats and boiling water in a medium saucepan and stir to combine. Let oats sit for 10 minutes. Add the remaining ingredients and stir again. Bring slowly to the boil over medium heat. Reduce heat and bring mixture to a simmer. Cook for 10 minutes, stirring often. Remove from heat and let the porridge stand, covered for 2-3 minutes before serving.

Meanwhile, combine the honey and espresso in another saucepan and place over low heat. Stir to soften the honey and until just combined.

For the pears, place butter in a fry pan and melt over medium heat. Add the pears, and sprinkle with sugar. Cook gently until the pears are pale golden. Turn over gently to prevent them braking and cook until golden on the other side.

To serve, spoon porridge into bowls, top with buttered pears, espresso honey, toasted walnuts and extra warm milk on the side.

The Cunning Canele

Cunning Canelés

It was on the narrow streets surrounding Quartier Saint Pierre in Bordeaux, France that I fell in love. Amidst the myriad of cheeses, silky beef bourguignons and the roast chicken riddled bistros, I found my one true significant culinary other. The Canelé (alternate spelling: cannelés)

Made from a crepe like batter infused with vanilla and rum, then poured into copper cylindrical moulds and baked at fisson inducing temperatures, they are crunchy on the outside while custardy, soft and sensual on the inside. It’s the pastry equivalent of taking you up in a hot air balloon, landing you in a forest full of flowers, and reading to you the funniest and saddest story in a voice as soft as rain. It is without doubt my most favourite, most lusted after confection. And the best bit, amidst the glitz of macarons and pain au chocolats, is the absence of trimmings. The canele is simple and earnest and while it might require beeswax, special fluted moulds and at times determination of uber-foodie proportions, I implore you to try them. For the diligent baker, the pay off is spectacular…

Ingredients

Makes 20

You will need to start this recipe one day ahead

500ml milk (full fat please)

2 ½ tbsp butter, chopped

1 vanilla pod, split, seeds scraped

100g (¾ cup) plain (low-protein) flour, sifted

Pinch salt

170g caster sugar

3 eggs plus 1 egg yolk (super fresh) lightly whisked

1/3 cup good quality rum

Method

Combine the milk, butter and vanilla in a medium saucepan, and bring to a simmer, add the sugar and stir until dissolved then set aside. Add the rum.

Add the flour and salt to a bowl. Pour over the whisked egg and milk mixture, (remove the vanilla pod if you kept in the milk for flavour) and stir. Let cool to room temperature then add to a pouring jug, cover and refrigerate for at least 24 hours. (Some chefs leave the batter for up to 3 days).

Preheat the oven to 220C.

Butter the canelé moulds if they are made of copper (unnecessary if you're using silicon molds). Remove the batter from the fridge, it will have separated, so stir gently until well blended again. Pour the batter into the moulds until ¾ full. Place on a baking tray and bake for 20 minutes. Reduce the heat to 200° C and bake for another 20 – 40 minutes (40 will result in a very dark brown caramel crust). Turn out onto a cooling rack and let cool completely before eating. Best eaten on the day of making.

The moulds and preparation

The complexity of the canele is in the variables. There are the tangible ones that determine texture and taste: flour, eggs, butter, the copper mould, and the quality of the vanilla. And then the more elusive intangibles: judgement and intuition, experience and flexibility, common sense and skill. And of course, love.The copper moulds are difficult to get your hands on, but there is a silicon version available at specialty baking/kitchen stores that still offers a good result.

Traditionally beeswax is used to grease and line the moulds. I sometimes use almond oil or a flavourless oil rather than butter. I find the butter burns at the high temperatures too quickly and can give a much too dark end result.

History of the Canele 

Some say that during the XVIII century, nuns known as the Ladies of the Annonciade prepared the cakes with donated egg yolks from local winemakers who used only eggwhites to clarify their wines. Others state more humble origins, claiming the canele was created by Bordeaux residents living along the docks, who gleaned the low-protein flour from the loading areas and used it to make sweets for the children. To this day the actual derivation is still unconfirmed. Archaeological searches have never found a canele mould and no record of any repairs to canele moulds from that period have ever been recorded.

So the canele is something of a pastry folklore, its history and production a delicious odyssey stitched together by history, politics, religion and a bounty of village specific versions that are courted far beyond the boundaries of Paris. The origins and creators of the canele are highly contested; it’s method has been subjected to 300 years of refinement, and supposedly the recipe lies locked in a vault in the underbelly of Bordeaux, protected by a band of pattisiers who fiercely guard its’ secrets like the knight templars over the holy grail.In 1985, 88 Bordeaux patissiers formed a confrerie, a secret brotherhood, to protect the integrity of their caneles. They staged a “linguistic coup d’etat” by removing an ‘n’ from the original spelling (canneles) to differentiate their cake and protect its secret method of preparation from basterdised versions.  

Cooking the Books: At My Table

At My Table is a recipe collection put together by the Diabetes Centre of Sydney's St Vincent's Hospital and Amanda Bilson and Janni Kyritsis. Now before you tune out, thinking this is a school fete charity cookbook full of crappy coconut ice recipes, think again. Finally. At. Long. Bloody. Last. There is a book filled with some fantastic recipes that help Diabetics and people who want to generally eat well, make some brilliant "dinner party" worthy food and most importantly informed decisions about what they are eating. This is interesting food - not the fodder of your typical "diabetic cookbooks". And I'd know. One of my nearest and dearest friends is a Type1 diabetic and if there is one thing she cannot stand it's the below par boring Diabetic cookbooks available. Just because she has diabetes doesn't mean she wants bland and unimaginative food. I cannot wait to give her this one - it reads like a who's who in food, chefs who have given up some great recipes with a dietician breaking down the content as well as identifying where the fats, proteins, carbohydrates etc come from. Aside from being delicious, it's interesting. And not "diety" in focus which is something I absolutely abhor - there are enough confusing food messages out there without contributing to the try this try that, promise results dieting that goes on. Hands down this is sensible eating. For foodies.

I am torn between Martin Boetz' recipe for pineapple curry of grilled pork and Andrew McConnell marinated beetroot, shanklish, lentil, apple and mint salad. Martin's recipe is indulgent, full of those punchy Thai flavours that I am obsessed with while Andrew's dish is fresh, crisp and the kind of thing you feel doing you good as you eat it. I've even gently poached some chicken in stock, bay leaf and white wine and added to the salad - equally brilliant and a great way to stretch the dish further if you wanted to call it dinner for a crowd.

Dessert wise there is a beautiful spiced orange salad - I would never have put ras el hanout with oranges but it's amazing! But I think, because it also looks so damn pretty, my dessert vote goes to the rose geranium junket with raspberries. You cant probably gather I am having a little tough time deciding. 

 I think the names speak for themselves. This is a treasure trove of recipes from the likes of Kylie Kwong, Neil Perry, Stefano Manfredi, Martin Boetz, Guillaume Brahimi, Tetsuya Wakuda, Andrew McConnell, Maggie Beer, Damien Pignolet....the list goes on.
The book has been edited by two Diabetics and two food heavyweights - Amanda Bilson and Janni Kyritsis. Hats off to these two for formulating a great book and also for their numerous recipe contributions throughout.

 At all good bookstores, online, the usual. I presume it is also widely available at St Vincent's Hospital, but touch wood, I haven't needed to visit lately so cannot personally check. I hope this book becomes available in the offices of all doctors who treat diabetics. 

 Because you will want to cook from it. And often. Because it has recipes for when you want to spin a few tricks and dinner party delights, down to the beautiful, simple and homely mid week dinner inspirations we are constantly looking for. 

There is genuinely something in this for everyone. It should not be a book restricted to be dutifully given to the Diabetics in our lives - this is a book for anyone watching their blood glucose levels, cholesterol or who simply want to learn more about what they are putting into their mouths.

Chocolate Rhubarb & Raspberry Tart

Dessert people, you bright elusive things. Looking for something that combines the delicate taste gymnastics of chocolate and rhubarb? Pleased to meet you. Welcome to the glittering sequin mines of this chocolate rhubarb and raspberry tart. It’s soufflé-ish, sinful and so definitely full of chocolatey goodness. It is a fitting choice for this week's Daily Life Column to celebrate World Chocolate Day on 7^th of July – a truly wonderful event that is one big chocolate harvest, and one that makes it completely ok to eat your favourite chocolate in ample portions. Genius.

Ingredients

Pastry

2 tbsp dutch cocoa powder

100g icing sugar

300g plain, low-protein flour

pinch of salt

250g butter, cubed, cold

2 egg yolks

50g dark chocolate, melted

Filling

1 rhubarb stalk, chopped into matchbox size pieces

225g dark couveture chocolate

112g unsalted butter, chopped

3 egg yolks

2 eggs

75g caster sugar + 2 tbsp

1/2 cup fresh raspberries

Method

Preheat the oven to 180C. Grease and line a long 30cm x 10cm fluted pastry tin and set aside.

To make the pastry sift the cocoa powder, icing sugar, flour and pinch of salt into a bowl. Add the cubed butter and rub in until a course crumb consistency is achieved. Add the egg yolks one at a time until just combined. Fold in the dark chocolate then turn out onto a clean work surface and bring together with your hands into a ball, it will be a little sticky. Enclose in plastic wrap and rest in the fridge for 30 minutes. While the pastry is resting, place the chopped rhubarb in a baking tray and sprinkle over the 2 tbsp caster sugar. Add about a cup of water and place in the oven to gently poach for 30 minutes. Remove and allow to cool in the liquid.

Working quickly, roll out the pastry and gently press into the fluted pastry tin and trim the edges. Rest for 20 minutes. Blind bake in the oven for 10 minutes then set aside.

For the filling, add the chocolate and butter to a heatproof bowl over a saucepan of simmering water until the chocolate has melted. Remove from heat and allow to cool, reserving the saucepan of water. Add the eggs, yolks and sugar to another heatproof bowl over the saucepan of water, turn the heat to low and whisk constantly until the mixture is nice and thick and holds the lines of the whisk if you run it through the mixture (ribbon stage).

Remove from heat and gradually whisk through the chocolate mixture. Gently stir through the raspberries. Pour the mixture into the tart shell and place the pieces of rhubarb on top. Return to the oven and bake for 20 – 30 minutes until firm to the touch but still a touch gooey. Remove and allow to cool completely before slicing.