Dirty Face Burgers

Despite thinking we've had more than our yearly quota of barbequed meats in Buenos Aires, we were surprised to discover that we hadn't exhausted our meat hunger entirely (and yes, there'll be plenty more on the meat gorging when I finish curating my South America holiday photos). After a gloriously warm sunny day we arrived home from work and upon seeing the end of a streaky orange and pink sunset over the water from our balcony, we decide to fire up the barbeque and make some quick and dirty burgers.

So the Co-pilot set about and sweating down some onion and grilling some bacon and seasoned meat patties on our tiny $99 Bunnings bbq. For the big men out there that are standing next to their behemoth 4 burner monsters, guffawing at our tiny bbq - yes, it's impossibly small and fragile but it fits our tiny balcony and does the job. Besides, I think it's cute.



Whilst the Co-pilot toiled over the hot bbq, I seasoned some lean minced beef with salt, pepper and a dash of mustard and shaped some patties. The Co-pilot insisted that I create only 2 patties from the 500g of minced beef we'd bought, and after a doubtful raised eyebrow and some negotiation he relented and we settled on 3 patties. He was clearly determined to have 2 burgers to himself. Patties done, I set about creating a simple creamy herb sauce from a Gordon Ramsey recipe.


Creamy herb sauce (a Gordon Ramsey recipe)
(makes enough sauce for 2-3 burgers)

• 50g cornichons, finely chopped
• 1 tbsp capers, rinsed, drained and finely chopped
• 1 sml red onion, finely chopped
• 1/2 bunch flat leaf parsley leaves, chopped
• 1/2 cup (150g) whole egg mayonnaise
• 1 splash worcestershire
• 4 shakes tabasco sauce

The sauce is incredibly simple to whip up and it is amazingly tasty - tangy, herby, creamy and the chopped onion and cornichons give it an excellent bit of zesty crunch. After a few mandatory spoonfuls for taste testing purposes, we smeared it across the burgers liberally.





Then we piled on the other ingredients - you can choose your own mix, but for ours we used the following mix of ingredients:

Dirty Face Burgers
(serves 2 insanely hungry people who have cravings for obscene amounts of meat or 4 normal people)

• 500g lean beef mince (I recommend you try and make 4 burgers from this)
  
• 150g of bacon
• 1 large brown onion
  
• tasty cheese
• chargrilled capsicum
• pickles
• lettuce
• creamy herb sauce
  

After we finished compiling the burgers I looked at them and then the Co-pilot in disbelief. Clearly with our last few meals in Buenos Aires we'd grown accustomed to impossibly supersized meals. Not only could I not fit my mouth around my burger, I couldn't even hold the burger together without one ingredient or another slipping out.

But it was an excellent burger - we instantly agreed the sauce recipe was a keeper as the creamy, tangy flavours complemented the meaty, greasy ingredients excellently.

The first bite evoked a reaction from both of us that can only be described as sublime, pupil dilating, eyebrow twitching happiness - instantly returning us to our Buenos Aires carnivore satiation state. And it left a very noticeable imprint of grease, sauce and a dusting of flour on our faces, hence the name, Dirty Face Burgers. So wrong, so unhealthy but so wickedly good - if you've got a burger craving you've got to try this one.

And for the record, I couldn't finish my burger and although the Co-pilot finished one of his 2 burgers, he didn't even come close to finishing the second burger. Not surprising as the patties alone were about 170g each - the size of a small steak in its own right and when coupled with the rest of the ingredients, a hefty calorific meal fit to feature in burger eating contests. But it certainly satisfied any residual meat cravings we had.

I think salad is on the menu for the rest of the week.

South America calling

Bienvenudos to the first post in a marathon series covering my month long travels with the Co-pilot across South America. A month! The longest holiday I've ever been on! Who knows when I'll get another chance to blow all my annual leave in one go.. It pains me to think about it but as one friend morbidly acknowledged, the end of your holiday is the point in time when you are the furthest from your next holiday... *sigh*

During the month we've traipsed fleetingly across 4 countries: Argentina, Chile, Bolivia and Peru and experienced more diverse cultures, scenes and landscapes than I thought possible. From the bustling metropolitan late night party life in chic Buenos Aires; to breathtakingly beautiful arid lunar landscapes and rainbow mountains crossing the Andes into Chile; in Bolivia we saw blinding white surreal salt flats juxtaposed with steaming hot lush jungles, not to mention some of the worst bus trips imaginable; to mysterious historic monuments enveloped in mist and cloud in Peru. The stark contrasts in landscape, food, culture and people constantly intrigued us and I hope through my awe struck words some of our experiences can be related. And of course for me, there was a determined effort to experience as much of the local food and dining experiences wherever and whenever possible.

We experienced fine dining, excellent European-influenced bistro fare and the most outstanding beef I've ever tasted in trendy neighbourhoods in Buenos Aires; traditional Andean dishes showcasing quinoa and potato, lots of dulce de leche, horrid salchipapa, surprisingly tasty guinea pig and freshly caught Red Piranha in Bolivia; and excellent ceviche and smooth pisco sours in Peru. So much was eaten, so many days where we clutched at our painfully bloated bellies trying to work up an appetite for our next meal. The logical segmentation of the posts will be by country, then split into more managable subsegments.

But as is customary with our international Qantas flights now, we made good use of the Co-pilot's Platinum Frequent Flyer status and started the culinary journey at the Sydney Qantas First Class Lounge with a selection of delectable goodies from the lounge's à la carte menu.

A delicious breakfast with bloody marys and an endless flow of champagne: Taittinger Brut Reserve (foreground) and Veuve A. Deveaux Blanc de Noir

We've had the Veuve A. Deveaux Blanc de Noir that last time we were at the lounge and the Co-pilot was won over by it last time so didn't hesitate to order it again. The tasting notes on the menu for the Taittinger Brut Reserve intrigued me enough to have me order myself a glass. "Lightly citrus with mineral hints on the nose. Big, fruity and citrus on the palate with a little bit of cookie dough giving a delicate roundness. A lovely long green apple finish." It sounded divine and the cookie dough definitely piqued my interest.

Unfortunately, I can't say we agreed with the tasting description.We sipped, tasted and swilled the champagnes; an eyebrow raised, brows furrowed in thought. There was an overwhelming flavour that was familiar but not one mentioned in the tasting notes. Was it buttery? Yeasty? Perhaps it tasted like eggwhite - albumin?

And then it came to us. It tasted like Luria Broth. What's that you say? Luria broth - is that some kind of delicious broth? No - Luria Broth is a nutrient-rich soup used for growing bacteria in scientific labs. It has a distinctive smell - one we've likened to the smell of KFC in the past and now we can say, like Taittinger Brut Reserve. It sounds a tad unfair as the champagne was otherwise pleasant, but once the association was made, it was difficult to erase from our minds and with each sip I couldn't help but envisage some of that murky yellow bacterial soup swilling in my mouth.

Before the waiter could kindly refill my glass I switched to the safer option of Veuve A. Deveaux de Noir as per the Co-pilot.

Ricotta pancakes with blueberries, whipped butter and maple syrup

The Co-pilot ordered the ricotta pancakes - which were just excellent - light and fluffy with each mouthful bursting with blueberry flavour. So delicious!

Eggs benedict with petuna smoke ocean trout

I'm a sucker for eggs benedict. If I see it on a breakfast menu - invariably it gets ordered. But there is nothing more disappointing than a poorly poached egg or worse yet, when I get a hard boiled yolk. But there were no problems here. These were rich and perfectly poached. The gooey orange yolk eagerly spilling all over my plate.

Wholegrain toasted sandwich with schulz bacon, lettuce, vine-ripened tomato and aioli

The Co-pilot decided to follow up his breakfast entree of pancakes with the more substantial main of a toasted BLT. Though full I managed a few bites and found the thick cut smokehouse bacon was full of flavour. A simple dish but so delicious and impressive when well executed.

Buffalo yoghurt with vanilla strawberries and seasonal fruit salad

To finish we had the buffalo yoghurt and fruit for dessert. The buffalo yoghurt is rich and creamy like a smooth ricotta but with a more acidic aftertaste. The sweetness of the slightly poached strawberries complements it very nicely and despite being full we gobble it all up.

Noble One dessert wine

And because I love dessert wines we each finish with a glass of Noble One - served in a small shot glass. We sip the sweet, sticky and delicately perfumed golden liquid and as we watch the sky reddened by a Sydney dust storm brighten, and planes preparing to take off load their cargo holds we were grinning broadly and giddy with excitement over our impending holiday and all the sights and experiences waiting for us in South America.

There might have been other factors contributing to the giddyness. If you've been counting, that's a Bloody Mary, 2 glasses of champagne and a shot of dessert wine each. And all before 10am! It was excessive for an early morning breakfast but the Co-pilot assured me it was well justified as it was 9pm in Buenos Aires and we were merely getting ourselves settled into their timezone and the South American lifestyle.

Sounded logical to me.


A post on Buenos Aires coming soon...

Address:
Qantas First Class Lounge.
Sydney International Airport.

Foodie in the know:
Entry to the First Class lounge is reserved for only international travellers that are travelling First Class or are Platinum frequent flyer members. The lucrative perk for Platinum customers - you get this experience even if you're travelling economy class!

Websites:
Sydney Qantas First Class Lounge

Related post:
Decadent gluttony in the first class lounge

Vietnamese eating tour - Phu Quoc island bliss

Given I'm currently on holiday in South America I thought it was most befitting that I endeavour to finish all the posts from my previous holiday in Vietnam! And as I've just bought myself a nifty little notebook it makes blogging whilst on holiday convenient and a good use of the often long travel times. So here's the last post in a series covering my Vietnamese eating tour.


Having experienced the hectic pace and vibrancy of Ho Chi Minh, then getting up close and personal with locals and tasting what the Mekong River had to offer in the Mekong Delta, we decided the last leg of our Vietnamese eating tour should involve dedicated recuperation time in prepartion for our journey home. Key to recuperation would be plenty of access to beautiful beaches, lots of massages and an abundance of excellent food. So for our last leg we ventured further South to Phu Quoc island.

Phu Quoc (pronounced "Fu-Wuck"in Vietnamese) is a small island off South West Vietnam that is actually geographically closer to the coast of Cambodia than Vietnam. The island is famed for it's beautiful white beaches and the local fish sauce which is apparently the world's best fish sauce. My friend L-bean jokes that the production of fish sauce is such a pungent and nostril assaulting process that the Vietnamese mainland chose Phu Quoc as the production site as it was remote from the rest of the country.


After the preceeding journey through Ho Chi Minh and the Mekong Delta, we'd re-discovered a zealous appreciation for the air conditioner. Lying starfished under a creaking ceiling fan as it slowly circulates warm, sticky, suffocating humid air around you will do that. So we decided to stay at Cassia Cottage, a lovely boutique hotel with private cottages and blessed air conditioning. The cool air conditioning was more than enough to bring a sigh-inducing smile to my face, but the lovely welcome sign and fresh flowers on our bed were a nice touch that didn't go unnoticed.

Discarding the burden of our luggage, we left the cottage and followed the garden path framed by lush greenery to the beckoning water.


It's amazing what a sight like this can do for a weary traveller. The Co-pilot did complain that the water was too warm to be refreshing but it seemed perfect for me - like lounging in a warm spa. The only complaining I did was in relation to the odd-tan lines I got. The strength of the Australian sun is legendary, but surprisingly I found the Vietnamese sun stronger. A mere 10 minutes in the sun gave me the worst tanlines. The Co-pilot kept sniggering non-discreetly at my panda-like sunglasses tan.


For me, one of the main perks of beachside holidays is having meals in your swimmers right on the sand next to gently lapping waves. The hot humid weather calls for light refreshing meals - none more perfect than green papaya salads and green mango salads! The salads were dressed with tangy lime juice, chilli and some of that local Phu Quoc fish sauce. I have to admit that both the Co-pilot and I were unsure whether we were enamoured with the taste of this particular fish sauce. It was certainly more fishy and potent than the usual fish sauce we're accustomed to, but it also seemed to have a hint of a stronger ammonia-like aftertaste.













The most interesting meal we had was a dish of stir-fried cinnamon chilli okra. Cassia, the spice from which our hotel takes it's name, has been farmed and traded on the island for decades. It is a close relative to cinnamon, is frequently substituted or mixed in commercial preparations of ground cinnamon, but on it's own is better used in savoury rather than sweet dishes. I've not had cinnamon (or cassia) in a savoury dish before so I was very curious to try this. The flavour had the unmistakable cinnamon spicy flavour without cloyingly sweet overtones and a kick of tomato and chilli heat added some extra interest for our taste buds. Neither of us are particular fans of the texture of okra, but the unique flavours definitely made the dish worthwhile.


After a full day of relaxing at the resort, we'd exhausted all the interesting options on their menus and decided it was time to venture out and explore what the rest of the island had to offer. Besides, the wind had whipped up on our side of the island (the west side) so we decided to explore the beaches on the wind-protected eastern side. The best way to explore the island is by motorbike, and the Co-pilot was keen. I was less than keen to ride a bike of my own so I opted to sit on the back of the Co-pilot's bike and grip on for dear life like a clip-on koala toy. Interestingly enough, the intimate position of cuddling the back of the rider is known as a "motorcycle hug" in Vietnamese.

But, all notions of intimacy and any teen fantasies I had of riding in a skin tight black leather jumpsuit and high heels, skidding to a halt in front of some unsuspecting leading man and taking off a tinted black motorcycle helmet to shake out my long billowing hair whilst sending him smouldering looks were very much banished on this holiday.

Please meet Bao, the small Vietnamese child of indeterminate sex that I transformed into for the motorcycle trip. To add insult to injury, the Co-pilot chastised my poor choice of singlet as sun protection and swiftly donned his large man-sized shirt on me. If I look dejected in that photo below it's because I felt it. It couldn't be further from the leather jumpsuit. *sigh*




Casting aside my motorcycle outfit fantasy, the Co-pilot and I (as Bao) set off in a motorcycle hug on dusty red roads around the island. We passed some fish sauce production plants, where the stench of fish rotting and fermenting in the sun would herald the location of the production plant long before we had visual confirmation.













After a long, hot and dusty ride, we arrived at Sao Bao beach on the eastern side of the island, covered in a thick film of red dust mixed with sweat and sticky sunscreen. Oh yes. I couldn't be further from that leather jumpsuit ideal.

But our efforts were instantly rewarded as the sight was even more impressive on this side of the island. Can it get any more idyllic and postcard perfect?


After a refreshing dip in the water, rinsed free of red dust and grime, we sauntered over to one of the shady bungalows. The view was only enhanced by an icy cold beer and some excellent local seafood. There were many interesting shellfish on my menu that piqued my interest but the sensible traveller within me decided against the tasty filter feeders, particularly when they have ominous sounding names like blood cockles. Instead we opted for grilled chilli salt squid, a blackened kingfish salad and a pomelo fruit shake each to quench our thirst.

When the much anticipated food arrived the Co-pilot and I glanced at each other warily. The pomelo shake had ice that looked suspiciously like un-safe chipped local block ice and the blackened kingfish salad came raw. Bad ice and raw fish. So much for being sensible travellers. The food looked so good we decided to take the risk - besides, we've drunk from the Mekong River now - how much worse can it get? We quickly slurped down all the pomelo shake before much of the ice could melt and dressed the kingfish with as much lime juice as possible in a vague hope that lime juice had suddenly gained the powers of a bactericide. I'm glad we persisted as the kingfish, combined with plenty of fresh herbs, cucumber, chilli, ground coconut all cocooned in a rice paper roll was so incredibly delicious and refreshing. The coconut and lime juice added an interesting twist to the flavour and defined it from the usual rice paper wraps we're accustomed to. The grilled squid was also tasty: tender, pungently fishy and served with an addictive garlic and spice laced salt that we just couldn't get enough of.

That night we went on a squid fishing tour. I am slightly obsessed with the concept of fishing despite the fact that I've never really caught anything substantial or impressive. Squid fishing intrigues me even more as the squid is such a curiously alien-like nocturnal creature with it's flashing camouflage skin and suckered tentacles. Needless to say I was as excited as a giddy child going to the Easter Show when I got on the boat and couldn't wait to start fishing for the critters. The Co-pilot and I were not the only tourists on the boat, there were some expats returning from Canada and all the others seemed to be Vietnamese on domestic holidays.

A 20 minute slow putter and some of the most beautiful strewn red-purple lava sunset skies we'd arrived at our squid fishing destination and it was time to stake our spots on the boat. And that's when the sea sickness started to hit the boat. (Warning - if you get easily nauseous, best to avoid the following passage!)

As we descended from the top deck viewing platform, a tourist from Ho Chi Minh had already dropped to his knees and was hurling over the side of the boat. I could barely believe that he'd succumbed so quickly and felt intense empathy as it was going to be a long 4 hours for him.

As we set up our jigs around the boat and I industriously if impatiently kept hauling up my line to check whether an unsuspecting squid had been snagged, around me one-by-one the squid fishers succumbed to sea sickness. To make matters worse, the locals clearly had no idea how to deal with their nausea as they all systematically filed upstairs to the top deck where the rocking and swaying of the boat was at it's worst. Along with the other survivors remaining on the lower deck I persisted in my squid fishing efforts and we joked that with all the nauseous people on the top deck, it was probably only a matter of time before someone vomited over the edge and hit one of us. It was ironic then when it actually happened. Someone hurled without warning onto the outstretched hands of another passenger fishing on the bottom deck which immediately rendered her nauseous and immobile. In the photo below, you can just see her hand on the far side of the table as she'd immediately collapsed onto the benches in a mix of nausea, disgust and embarrasment.

With about 12 of the 15 people on board sick, the Co-pilot and I along with the Canadian expat made an executive decision to return to harbour. There was no point persisting for another 2.5 hours and punishing the deliriously sick or goading those remaining survivors to give in. The boat had two small squids to show for our efforts and whilst memorable, I don't think many of the passengers will be heartily recommending the experience to their friends.

Feeling slightly ill ourselves from merely being in the presence of so many productively nauseous people, we headed into town to find the ultimate cure-all-ails: pho bo tai. The local recommendation was for Pho Saigon and we headed there was two hot steaming bowls of the delicious clear sweet broth. The servings of pho at Pho Saigon were small but packed full of flavour and just what my ailing stomach craved to sooth the heaving threat.

The next night we rode down to explore a section of beach where the locals congregate. Whilst I don't believe the sections of beach that house Cassia Cottage and Sao Beach Club aren't prohibited to locals, the prices of food and services offered there may be. In comparison to the relative calm and isolation of the "upmarket touristy beaches" the local's beach was a buzzing hive of activity with kids and adults running in and out of the water, ball games being played on the sand and enterprising food vendors selling delicious and cheap snacks to the hungry crowds. In comparison to the touristy beaches, this section wasn't as picturesque, but it felt more alive.

Taunted by the smell of grilled goods we wandered over to the nearby night markets and slowly perused the fare on offer.

A myriad of different grilled meat and seafood aromas enveloped us in their heady saliva inducing spell and we peered at the curious looking things on display. There were grilled skewers and Vietnamese sausages, fresh seafood and bizarre looking conch-like shellfish.

We walked past one store after another, each selling delicious smelling goodies and finally (and arbitrarily) settled on a busy stall called Thanh Xuan somewhere in the midst of all the stalls. Unless you have insider knowledge or have done your research, usually the golden rule is to avoid any stalls that are bereft of customers and have the proverbial tumbleweed lurking about in the foreground - if the locals frequent the store - that's usually the best sign you can ask for.

We ordered a fresh whole fish to bbq over hot coals and some chilli seasoned squid.

It was simple, satisfying meal and allowed us to sit outdoors enjoying the balmy tropical night, sipping cold beers and soaking up the night market atmosphere.

Satiated with our meal we wandered over to a dessert bar and ordered a Sam Bo Leung, a sticky mixture of sweetened syrupy fruit, barley, lotus seeds and thin strips of chewy seaweed. As we ordered and sat down we invoked curious stares from the locals. I find the staring peculiar. Particularly when it's aimed at me. Often the staring begins with the Co-pilot being the focus and I imagine the locals stare at him with interest, noting that another tourist was in town. And then usually the staring shifts it's focus and intensity to me. I wonder what the locals must be thinking to warrant such blatant, soul-boring staring. I speculate that they must be trying to figure out what my story is. I speculate they ask things like "Is she a local girl or a tourist?" "Is she Vietnamese?" "Is she an 'escort'?" "Where is she from?" Sometimes the locals attempt to speak to me in Vietnamese, which of course fails and the staring invariably intensifies, often persisting throughout the meal and following us out the door. On this occasion, a Vietnamese man on holiday from the US approached us. After some polite chatting the focused turned to me - "Where are you from?", "Where are your parents from?", "Do you speak Vietnamese?", "Do your parents speak Vietnamese?", "Were you born in Australia?", "How long have you been together?" Satisfied he'd mined me for sufficient information he retreated back to the shadows where all the other locals instantly called out to him and he translated my answers into Vietnamese for them. There was some nodding, a last curious backward glance and then the staring stopped. As I look generic-ly South East Asian, I tend to get curious stares in most countries so I'm seriously considering having the answers to those generic questions printed on a t-shirt and stem the onslaught of curious stares once and for all.

There was at least another day of swimming and dining at Sao Beach Club and the night markets but I don't have the photos anymore as we lost our little digital camera! It has served us so well and it was just lucky that we happened to fill one of our memory cards and had just swapped over to a fresh empty one before we lost it so at least the loss of photos was minimal. The remaining photos were taken with out SLR.

On our last day we caught a flight from Phu Quoc back to Ho Chi Minh. We knew there were 3 hours between arriving in Ho Chi Minh and our flight back to Sydney, so we did what any self-respecting food lover would do: check our bags in, jump into the nearest waiting cab and high-tail it to the city for our last taste of Vietnamese food in the capital. Ever since I'd seen Anthony Bourdain visit, I'd been wanting to try out Com Nieu Saigon for myself.

For starters we ordered the crispy white baby tomatoes which turned out to be pickled white eggplants and the Vietnamese style beef salad. Neither impressed us. The pickled eggplants were rather pungent and unpleasant in flavour and the beef salad had too much Vietnamese basil and incredibly mouth puckeringly astringent green carambola or starfruit to be enjoyable.












For our mains we ordered a Hanoi sour soup with basa, a popular type of catfish regularly eaten in Vietnam and overseas. The soup itself was tasty albeit thin, watery and slightly bland. The basa fillet was not to our liking - although we'd eaten it before, on this occasion it seemed impossibly strongly earth and mud flavoured. Not surprising given that basa are either commonly found in the dirty waters of the Mekong River or farmed in muddy estuaries.

The standout dish for us was the restaurant's signature dish - the traditional com dap or charcoal grilled claypot rice. If you've seen Bourdain's "A Cook's Tour" show on this restaurant you'll be familiar with the crazy, gimmicky, theatrical way in which the rice is served. When the rice is ready, it's whisked from the coals and sent sailing at high speed through the air from one waiter to another who deftly catches, flips the pot over and smashes the pot open using a mallet. The procedure is flashy, but effective having all the restaurant patrons enthralled. Unfortunately, even though pots seemed to be whizzing overhead every 2 minutes, the show happens so quickly I didn't get a chance to capture it on camera. And the rice itself is excellent - the crust is brown and crispy, flavoured with a drizzle of oil, spring onions and a mixture of whole and crushed toasted sesame seeds.

Though the rest of the meal wasn't particularly exciting, the com dap rice redeemed the meal and made the last minute mad dash all worthwhile and a befitting end to an excellent eating tour through Southern Vietnam. We thoroughly enjoyed the whirlwind 10 day tour and the experience has only left me hungry to explore the center and the north towards Hanoi and Halong Bay. That's another trip hopefully in the not too distant future.

Addresses:

Cassia Cottage

Ba Keo Beach, Duong Dong, Phu Quoc Island, Vietnam

Tel: (+84) 773 848 395

http://www.cassiacottage.com/

Com Nieu Saigon

19 Tu Xuong Street, District 3, Ho Chi Minh City

Tel: (+848) 3932 2799 or (+848) 3932 2279

Note: There are 3 branches around Ho Chi Minh.

http://www.comnieusaigon.com/ (at the time of posting this page was under construction)

Related Posts:

Vietnamese eating tour - Ho Chi Minh (part 1)

Vietnamese eating tour - Ho Chi Minh (part 2)

Vietnamese eating tour - The Mighty Mekong

Salt and pepper crab, scallop and calamari

On a recent grocery trip to Cabramatta, I came across some cute little scuttling crabs I'd not seen before. The sign said shore crabs - but they certainly looked different and appreciably larger than any crab I'd ever found on any sea shore I'd explored - and believe me, I'm always on the lookout for an elusive meaty crab that is happily sitting plumb atop a rock waiting for me to pick it up and carry it home. So, being as obsessed with crabs as I am, I had to buy them and try them for myself.

My mother helped me pick out 4 of the largest and most nimble crabs - a sure sign of a healthy crab and you definitely want to avoid any sick, sluggish crabs. You can tell the gender of a crab from it's tail flap on it's underside. Males have thin pointed tail flaps and tend to have larger, fleshier claw pincers; whereas females have broader, rounder tail flaps and may be hiding precious rich crab roe within (a delicacy for most Asians).



My parents suggested I cook them in a salt and pepper mix. As I'd never made any salt and pepper dishes myself I innocently asked them whether it was as simple as the name suggested and I only needed salt and pepper. From the scoffing, chiding and "tsk tsks" I received, I deduced the answer was no. Back home my parents showed me how to make a fresh batch of salt and pepper mix - it's the one my dad used when he had his own restaurant and the same basic recipe used by most Chinese restaurants. Oh, and this one is best attempted when you have a well aerated kitchen as the spicy pepper aromas have a sneaky way of violently assaulting your nostrils and lungs.

Chinese salt and pepper mix

Ingredients:
* 1 cup salt
* 30g or about 7 tblsp five spice powder
* 1 teasp white pepper
* 2 tblsp Szechuan peppercorn powder
(note: the five spice powder and Szechuan peppercorn powder are both available from Asian groceries)

Method:

1. Heat a wok over low heat and add in all the ingredients.
2. Cook over very low heat, stirring continuously for 5 minutes to avoid the dry ingredients from burning
3. When done, transfer to plate lined with a paper towel and allow to cool (the paper towel will help you transfer the mix to an appropriate storage vessel by simply shaping it into a funnel for pouring). When cool, transfer to a dry, airtight jar. This will keep well for 2 - 3 years without losing it's aroma.
   

Cooking the salt and pepper mix

The finished salt and pepper mix

The salt and pepper mix - which my dad insists on calling "Special salt" - contributes the primary familiar flavour you'll recognise in most salt and pepper style dishes. Add a few additional seafood ingredients and you'll turn it into an excellent salt and pepper fritto misto di mare dish or salt and pepper fried mixed seafood - doesn't it sound so much more appetising and exotic in Italian? Now the first thing I need is crab. Hello my little friend. Have you met my cleaver?


Ok, not everyone needs to be as bloodthirsty as I am. You can use pre-cooked crabs like the oft found cooked blue swimmers if you like, or if you have an un-squeamish partner or willing friend or family member they can do the dirty work for you. I didn't. At this point I was flying solo. If you're interested some instructions on how to prepare crab are below, and in the interests of reader squeamishness, I omitted the photos in this section.

Cleaning and preparing crabs:

1. The most humane method of preparing crabs is by anaesthetising the crabs in the freezer - but, remember to clean them thoroughly beforehand first. If you wash them after their freezer session, unsurprisingly, they wake up. Depending on the size of the crabs, freeze for 15 - 30 mins. Check periodically - you don't want to freeze the crab solid as that would affect thecrab flesh, just anaesthetise it. When the crab is unresponsive, it's anaesthetised.
   
2. Act quickly and using a large sharp knife, turn the crab onto it's back (i.e. legs facing up) and split the crab cleanly down the middle. Don't pierce the shell or carapace if you want to keep the shell for presentation later.
   
3. Lift up the tail flap and pull off the shell - it should come off easily.
4. Remove the intestines, the gills - also known rather graphically as dead man's fingers, and anything else that looks like gunk and not flesh. If you're trying to identify roe - it tends to be a deep, rich burnt orange colour and will be easily identified from the internal organs (unfortunately mine didn't have any so I didn't take photos of the carnage or crab dissection).
5. Cleave the crab into smaller manageable portions. I tend to split the crab into quarters and if the pincer is impressive, cleave that off separately. If the pincers are large, consider using crab claw crackers to give them a preliminary crack before cooking to allow the flavours to get inside the pincer to the flesh.
6. Place crab pieces onto layers of paper towels to remove excess moisture
   

With crabs prepared, I was ready to finally tackle the compiling and cooking of the other seafood ingredients I bought - fresh plump scallop and calamari. This recipe requires the seafood pieces to be coated in a light batter of corn flour which gives everything an exterior coating that's slightly translucent and delightfully crispy and chewy.


Salt and pepper crab, scallop and calamari
(Serves 2 hungry people)

Ingredients:
Seafood & batter
* 4 shore crabs (or about 2 blue swimmer crabs or 1 mud crab)
* 10 large scallops
* 2-3 calamari tubes (cleaned and cut into rings)
* 1 whole egg (beaten)
* corn flour to coat
* oil for frying (peanut oil or corn oil is recommended as it provides better flavour)

Seasoning:
* 2 heaped tblsp of Chinese salt and pepper mix
* 2 tblsp dried onion flakes (available from Asian groceries)
* 1 tsp minced garlic
* 1 tsp chicken powder
* 2 Chinese shallots or spring onions (chopped, reserve some for garnish)
* fresh chilli (to taste)
* chopped coriander to garnish
* oil

Method:

1. Heat up oil in a wok or a deep frying pan
   
2. Coat crab, scallop and calamari pieces in egg wash then coat in the corn flour. Shake off excess then drop gently into the oil. Take care not to overcrowd the pan and reduce the temperature too much.
3. When golden brown, transfer from oil to a plate with plenty of paper towels to soak up the excess oil.
   
4. In another wok, heat up a small amount of oil and fry the garlic and fried onion pieces (only a small amount is needed as the fried seafood will be oily enough)
   
5. Toss in all the remaining seasoning ingredients and stir fry to mix.
   
6. When mixed through, add in the fried seafood and mix well to coat
7. Garnish with fresh shallots and coriander and serve immediately

Salt and pepper fritto misto di mare (aka salt and pepper fried mixed seafood)

Salt and pepper crab

The result was better than I'd expected. The batter was light, crisp and chewy and didn't drown the flavour of the scallops and calamari. We were worried that the crab was too small and the legs too fiddly to warrant trying to extract the succulent meat from within, but surprisingly they were generously fleshy. Being small and thin shelled the frying help crisp up the shells and allowed us to eat them like crunchy soft shell crabs - a little bit of chitosan is good for you anyway! And the flavour? It was salty, spicy, peppery, pungent with the fragrant wafting aromas of five spice and szechuan pepper nicely contrasted with the fresh crunch of shallots and coriander. It was delicious, moreish and we ate more than our fair share of tasty deep fried goodness.

Just as well it's easy to make as now I have a hefty jar of Chinese salt and pepper mix which I estimate to last me... oh... a few lifetimes. I'm forecasting a few more salt and pepper dishes in my near future.

Poached loquats with jasmine and see Julie & Julia on me!

Spring has come unusually early this year and all around me lush green shoots sprout, flowers are in full bloom, cherry blossom petals float and swirl down streets lifted by warm spring air drafts and birds twitter overhead as they build their nests. It's all rather romantic at this time of year.

My parents' backyard is a hive of productive activity at this time of year and all the fruit trees are already heavy laden with fruit. There are pomelos, guava, nectarines, mandarins, lemons, kumquats and loquats - all of which are either fruiting now or are covered buds ready to bear fruit. I'm not sure what my parents' secret to garden productivity is but many of these fruit trees, particularly our pomelo and lemon trees fruit all year 'round. Perhaps it has something to do with my parents' hyperactive dog, Toffee, who industriously piddles her own little dose of nitrogen fertiliser at the foot of every plant, and sometimes, on demand when excited.


One of the trees fruiting now are the loquat trees. Loquats are peculiar, the small, furry fruit turns from green to a pleasant golden yellow when ripe and grows in large bountiful clusters on tall, proud trees. I'm sure our neighbours laugh when they see my parents or me jumping ineffectually at the base of the tree trying to collect the fruit off these tall trees, before we inevitably give up and get the ladder out.



Seeing the plentiful fruit inspires me to do something other than simply peeling and eat them. I decided to pick some of the riper fruit for poaching.


Loquats are often juicy but have thin walls of fruity flesh, hiding large seeds within. The cutaway of the fruit below shows how large loquat seeds can be. Given ripe loquats are generally the size of large grapes, this doesn't leave a great deal of flesh, so you'll need a fair few to use in any recipe. The flavour is sweet but very subtle and not particularly distinct so I use jasmine to scent the loquats. Below is the simple recipe I used.


Jasmine spiced loquats recipe (serves 2)

Ingredients:

* 30 or so large ripe loquats (about 100g)
* 1/4 cup sugar
* 1 cinnamon stick
* 2 shavings of lemon rind
* 2 tblsp dried jasmine flowers (available from Asian groceries and Chinese tea shops)
* 1 cup of water (or enough to cover the fruit)
* squeeze of lemon juice

Method:

1. Remove the skin of the loquats by washing and scoring the loquats before dropping them into boiling water for 2 minutes. Transfer from boiling water into cold water and peel skin off and de-seed.
2. In a pot bring sugar and water to a boil, reduce to a simmer before adding loquats and remaining ingredients (I use a porous tea-bag like pouch to keep the fruit separated from the other ingredients)
   
3. Poach the loquats over a gentle simmer for 15 minutes
   
4. Drain, allow to cool before serving with ice cream or sorbet. I used store-bought mango sorbet in this recipe.
   

I don't normally make desserts as the use of butter or sugar in recipes terrifies me (eating the produce that eventuates from a recipe is fine though), so making any dessert-like recipe is something different for me. It's the type of dessert I like - not jaw numbingly sweet, and the total amount of sugar in the recipe is something I can comprehend and cope with (yes, I know as a ratio the amount of sugar is still high but the total amount isn't so I can deal with the compromise). And it's a recipe that for me is perfect for the transition between seasons - the inexplicably summer heat linked sorbet and a memory of cold winters from the poached fruit. Having said that, when compared to other poached fruits, this was very time consuming and fiddly one to prepare. There's a lot of work involved to get a very small amount of edible fruit. Maybe I'll stick to eating them straight off the tree next time.

And I have a little giveaway! I managed to score myself a double pass to see Julie & Julia! I was so excited as I read the book earlier this year whilst holidaying in Vietnam and thought that other than the hilarious account of Julie Powell's attempts to cook all the recipes in Julia Child's cookbook, it also provided good insight into the life and sometimes curiously obsessive mind of a food blogger to external audiences. But upon reading the fine print of the freebie pass, I realised I wouldn't be able to attend the screening as I'll be away in South America (yay! and boo! simultaneously). So it's not a grand competition but I'd like to give the pass away to a fellow food lover. Simply comment on this post to enter the competition!



Now the boring stuff:

• the pass is valid for 2
  
• valid on October 3 & 4 for VIC, QLD, WA, NT and
  
• valid on October 3, 4 & 5 for NSW, ACT & SA
• competition closes next Monday and I'll send out the pass at the end of next week before I leave on holiday (yay!)
  

Good luck in the competition!


Updated: Monday 21st September 2009

The winner was chosen the old fashioned way - all entrants' names were written on slips and put in my mug.



















The lovely Oggie Bad then did the honours and drew the winner: Trish! Congratulations! Hope you enjoy the movie!

The Deadliest Catch of Alaskan Crab

Oh how I love crab. I have a great weakness for these scuttling arachnids and if it appears on a restaurant menu, I'll preferentially order it over anything else.

I've tried a plethora of different crabs across the globe from the humble blue swimmers and meaty mud crabs widely available in Australia, to hairy Shanghai crabs in Hong Kong, to the stone crabs and Alaskan king crab in Miami and it was the last experience that really took my appreciation of crab to another level. It was early 2008 when I had Alaskan king crab in Miami, squealing in excited delight as I'd finally come face to face with the star of the highly addictive show, The Deadliest Catch. We had them at Joe's Stone Crab, an iconic Miami institution, and they were served with wedges of lemon, melted butter and seafood sauce, but with one bite of the delicious unadulterated crab flesh, I knew it needed no more than a light drizzle of lemon as the flavour was an explosion of intense crab flavour, more so than in any other crab I'd eaten. I was in crab lover's nirvana and for me, Alaskan king crab was well deserved of it's royal title, instantly surpassing all other crab species in flavour and flesh desirability.

Since then, Sydney-siders have been lucky enough to have easy access to Alaskan king crabs at the Sydney Fish Markets and some selected seafood specialist restaurants. Personally, no trip to the fish markets is complete without purchasing some Alaskan king crab to snack on. Not only is this particular crab delicious and a must-try for all crab lovers - it's also excellent value! Although their market price seems quite high compared to other crabs, the flesh to weight ratio is easily superior and the Alaskan king crab is kind to crab lovers, having a thin, flexible and easy to penetrate shell. It's simply a crab lover's best friend!

So when some industry friends told me about a special Deadliest Catch dinner at Jordan's Seafood Restaurant - 3 courses of Alaskan snow and king crab for $59 and an audience with Andy Hillstrand, Captain of the Time Bandit, it took only a mere 10 minutes to transition from being aware of the event to confirmed and booked.

On this night I am joined by fellow crab lovers, L-bean and Spamtaro - we'd been sending each other pictures of Alaskan crabs all week in anticipation of this meal and we'd built up high expectations. The event was held within the private event section of Jordan's and as we walked in we were greeted with a large screen flashing images of Season 5 of The Deadliest Catch.


And then we see a familiar logo - The Time Bandit!


We head over to our seats and were handed some cute crab paperweights adorned with The Deadliest Catch logo. These doubled as lucky draw tickets as hidden on their bellies were numbers scrawled in black texta.














We started the night with a well deserved drink after a long week and ordered some cocktails. The L-bean ordered a Midori and Cointreau infused concoction called a Japanese Slipper, whereas I opted for a Frangelico Sour, a simple mix of Frangelico and lime. They arrive at the same time as the first of the 3 Alaskan crab courses - the starter of Thai king crab salad.

Japanese Slipper $13.50 and Frangelico Sour $10

The Thai king crab salad is not king crab from Thailand as we mused, but Alaskan king crab with a Thai-style sauce. The rouille is spicy with rich capsicum and tomato flavours and fairly unsalted on it's own, but paired with the sea-saltiness of the Alaskan king crab it's perfect. In retrospect, it was my favourite dish of the night.

Thai King Crab served with herb rouille and baby herbs

The entree and mains were served on an alternate basis, so Spamtaro's entree was an impressive looking Alaskan king crab leg with parmesan gremalata balanced on a mound of polenta and sauerkraut. Spamtaro kindly offered us a taste of this and we found the parmesan gremalata to be very tasty in a cheesy, tangy, herby and generally very flavour packed way.

Entree: King crab leg served with parmesan gremalata, polenta and sauerkraut

The entree that L-bean and I received had even more complex flavours, combining a peculiar mix of smoked chicken, fetta, rocket and olive tapenade with the Alaskan king crab to create a mêlée of smoky, cheesy, spicy, salty and rich savoury flavours. Though both entrees were interesting we were surprised and slightly disappointed with the needless complexity in the dishes as the flavour of Alaskan king crab is so exceptional au naturel that it usually doesn't need to be draped and adorned with an entourage of cloaking flavours.

Entree: Smoked chicken and king crab salad
- smoked chicken breast, king crab, rocket, fetta and olive tapenade

The impressive looking mains promised to redeem the experience of the entrees. Spindly long red legs clawed out from the plates, tempting us with the fleshy delights within. The crab used in the mains was Alaskan snow crab, also known on the market as Opilio or "queen crab", which gives you a good idea of it's desirability next to the king crab. Fans of The Deadliest Catch will know that the Bering Sea king crab fishing season is held in November, whereas the snow crab season starts in January - when the Bering Sea is even more ferocious, icy and life threateningly dangerous! There are literally lives on the line to bring us this crab. Fishing on the Bering Sea is dangerous - but oh, for such tasty, juicy crab!


Spamtaro receives the snow crab cluster - unadulterated Alaskan crab served with a variety of condiments - just what we'd been waiting for. We find that the snow crab is naturally saltier than the king crab, but like the entrees, the mix of accompanying sauces are hit-and-miss. The macadamia-spiced dukkah is very strongly flavoured with what we think is chermoula and overpowers the delicate flavour of the crab. The aioli is a better complement with the crab although the garlic and lemon flavours are almost too subtle to be detected. The best accompaniment came in the form of the paprika chilli oil reduction - mild, subtle and it allowed the crab to take the center stage. Perfect!

Cluster of snow crab served with macadamia spiced dukkah,
lemon garlic aioli & paprika chilli oil reduction

L-bean and I received the Singapore chilli crab and were excited to dig in as it'd been a while since we'd had this dish. The sauce was surprisingly rich in sweet tomato and prawn flavours but lacked any real chilli heat. The sauce consistency was great though, thick and syrupy enough to coat the crab, my hands and everything else. We dived in for messy finger licking fun.

Singapore chilli snow crab served with coconut rice and Asian greens

Fleshy Alaskan snow crab - the messy reward

Midway through the mains, Captain Andy takes the floor, introduces himself, and takes questions from the floor. He entertains the crowd with stories of fishing for crab on the Bering Sea and of treacherous 40 - 50 ft waves in churning seas like those in The Perfect Storm. For the record, he eats his fair share of Alaskan crab, but knowing the market value of the crab in the back of his mind is a self limiting factor in his crab intake.

Andy happily poses for photos with all his fans, and although he was at first reluctant to take a photo on his own, it only take some half hearted encouragement before he breaks out his signature tough-guy Captain's pose.


And he was kind enough to sign a poster for me! I did feel slightly silly like a giggling teenage fan with a pop idol, but I guess that's what excessive crab consumption can do.



















We left Jordans with our bellies full of Alaskan crab, clutching signed posters but we all felt strangely unsatisfied. I rectified this the next day with a swift and determined trip to the fish markets.


The remedy for crab fever is great fleshy morsels of Alaskan king crab, simply dressed with a light drizzle of lemon juice. Sublime! Sometimes, less really is more.


Address:
Jordan's Seafood Restaurant
197 Harbourside Darling Harbour; (02)9281 3711
Open daily from 11:30am - 10:30pm

website

Foodie in the know:
The Alaskan crab dinner was a special one-off event to promote the new season release of The Deadliest Catch DVD and the updated edition of the Time Bandit's book: "Time Bandit - Two brothers, the Bering Sea and one of the world's deadliest jobs"





View Jordans Seafood Restaurant in a larger map

Freddy and Faheem's Fast Food

World, please meet Freddy, the luckiest kid around.

A few weeks ago the Co-pilot and I caught up with good friends, Mr & Mrs LightningDB and their gorgeous little fella, Freddy. Look at those cheeks! Even I couldn't help but coo, cluck and indulge in a bit of cheek pinching. Freddy doesn't mind, he just smiles sweetly, his inquisitive eyes sparkling as he indulges his guests. He is quite possibly the most well behaved child I've ever encountered. Other than a few gurgling smiles and some energetic Tupperware rearrangement he barely makes a peep.


So that should make Mr & Mrs LightningDB the luckiest parents - how is Freddy be the luckiest kid? Well, how many babies do you know that get gourmet 4 course meals? We chatted with Mrs LightningDB as she served Freddy and realised there was a degustation in play:

Primo
creamed risotto

Secondo
pureed roast lamb and vegetables

Contorni
mashed vegetables

Il dulce
chilled watermelon

Mrs LightningDB is welcome to feed me anytime. Incidentally, I also noticed Freddy had 3 changes of adorable outfits during the short time we were there, no doubt influenced by Mrs LightningDB's stylish credentials. Lucky, lucky kid. No wonder he looks confident enough to rule the world.



Watching Freddy chow down has built up our own appetites so it's time to find dinner for ourselves. As it's not always convenient for parents with little ones to look after to eat out at whim, but to ensure we get to catch up with our friends whilst they maintain their parental duties, we're making it easy on everyone and getting take-away. On the cards is Faheem's Fast Food, a Pakistani restaurant in Enmore that we've been meaning to check out since the Co-pilot and I went to Himalaya, another Pakistani restaurant in Five Dock. So whilst Mrs LightningDB put Freddy to bed, Mr LightningDB, the Co-pilot and I headed out to Faheem's.

The restaurant's simple decor and million wattage fluorescent lighting lends itself well to take-away and quick, casual meals. There are a few tables occupied with families chatting over their meals and we can't help but peer at their selections - everything looks tasty. Like our experience at Himalaya, seeing Pakistani and Indian families dining here gives me confidence in the fare.

At the counter we see fish fillets being marinated in a tikka marinade. One of the staff skewers several pieces and pulls back the tandoor oven lid to bake them. Seeing me stand on tip-toe to peer over the counter he invites me behind the counter to peer into the furious heat of the oven. Even though he's just put the fish fillets in, they're already well underway to being cooked showing lots of colour and charring around the edges. It smells so good we decide to get some tandoori fish tikka along with a range of other tasty dishes.













Back home with Freddy sound asleep, we unload our tasty cargo and set the table - just because it's take-away doesn't mean it can't be civilised and has to be eaten out of flimsy plastic cartons. With some candles and a decent bottle of wine, it's suddenly a lot more inviting than just simple take-away.


We have the tandoori fish tikka we saw earlier in the restaurant. The fish has been marinated with ginger, garlic and traditional spices and it's tasty and smoky from the tandoor. I think it's a tad too dry but I don't mind the dish. The Co-pilot however thinks they're too bony and have a low flesh reward to effort ratio.

Tandoori fish tikka $11.00 for 4 pieces

The tandoori chicken that I try next is tender and very robust in it's flavour. I can't help but compare it to the exceptional tandoori chicken I tried at Himalaya, and I have to say I think Himalaya's version wins. Although my opinion might have been influenced by us dining in-restaurant at Himalaya and having the tandoori chicken served to us on a fiery-hot sizzling plate with the chicken smoking, spitting and enveloping us in clouds of it's fragrant aroma.

Tandoori chicken $9.00 for half; $13.00 for full chicken

The dal palak we ordered contains mixed lentils and spinach cooked with spiced tomatoes and fresh coriander. The coriander and spinach flavours are fresh and herby with a mild chilli bite but it's the wonderfully creamy and inexplicably light, fluffy texture that wins me over. It's as though I'm eating a savoury whipped mousse! This one is a winner I'd be happy to order again.

Dal Palak $9.00

The saag gosht description states that it's "tender lamb pieces cooked with spinach in a bland of medium spices". Yes, engrish in all forms never fails to amuse me. Far from being bland, the saag gosht is salty, slightly spicy and like the dal palak, deliciously light and fluffy. The lamb pieces themselves are soft and tender, falling away at the prod of my fork without any resistance.

Saag gosht $10.00

The chickpeas dish has been cooked using fresh herbs, coriander, pureed tomatoes and is delicately spiced. The flavour is more subtle and a good contrast compared to the other strong flavours from the other dishes.

Chickpeas $9.00

The haleem contains 4 different lentil wheats cooked with a mixture of boneless beef in a traditional Pakistani hot curry and carries the inflammatory title of "king of curries". After having been slow cooked for hours on end, the muscular integrity of the beef eventually gives way to the relentless cooking and becomes a fibrous mass intermixed with the curry. The result is a fantastic, thick, paste-like creamy consistency with the occasional pop or crunch from a round of green chilli or ginger. It's another dish we'd tried at Himalaya but in this case, I can't see any appreciable difference between the two. Both are excellent but despite claims that it's a hot curry, I feel it lacks any real heat - and I'm not one to consider myself up to a chilli challenge.

Haleem (king of curry) $11.00

The meal wouldn't be complete without the omnipresent pappadums. Salty, crisp and light - what's not to love?

Pappadums $2.00 for 4

To end a night of great company and Freddy visiting facilitated by the excellent take-away choice, we play a friendly (but secretly competitive) game of Jenga. Pictured below is the Co-pilot nimbly selecting his Jenga piece - luckily he hasn't inherited his Nonno's fingers because quite frankly, those hands are great for kneading dough, but they'd be disastrous at Jenga.


Overall, we thought Faheems Fast Food served excellent fare. Whilst this is only the second Pakistani restaurant I've ever tried I'm not in any position to assess whether it's authentic Pakistani cuisine or not. However, I would have thought Pakistani dishes can pack a lot of heat (all puns intended), yet, interesting all the dishes we've tried so far at both Himalaya and Faheem's haven't even come close to raising a sweat. I had great experiences at both Pakistani restaurants but if I had to differentiate, between the two, we thought the fare at Faheem's Fast Food was better value in both price and portion and certain dishes also appeared and tasted slightly fresher. But, I'd happily dine at either again.

Do you have a favourite Pakistani restaurant? Or can you attest to the authenticity of these establishments? I'd love to know your thoughts!

Address:
194-196 Enmore Road, Enmore; (02) 9550 4850 or (02) 9550 4803
Open daily for lunch and dinner from 11:00am - midnight

Foodie in the know:
The take-away curry options come with free rice - only something we discovered later as we were prompted to order additional rice and then once home discovered we had enough rice to supply a rice eating contest. It is also worth noting that Faheem's serves 100% halal fare and consumption of alcohol is not permitted in the restaurant.



Related posts:
Discovering Himalaya


View Faheem's Fast Food, Enmore in a larger map

Oscillate Wildly with me

I'm not really familiar with Newtown as a foodie suburb. Truth be told, if I have any say in choosing suburbs to eat in I generally try to avoid Newtown. Not because there is a shortage of choice for food lovers and shoppers alike - that there is plenty and I love the upbeat vibe and atmosphere of the suburb - it's just not driver friendly! The number of times I've tried to park near a specific location only to find there is no right turn for 5 blocks and when I can turn, I'm led down a succession of dark and increasingly narrow rabbit warren tunnels like Alice in Wonderland where attempts to backtrack invariably lead me further from my desired location and deliver me to a blackhole where I engage in automotive do-si-do with other lost cars down narrow one lane streets.

So it takes a rather lucrative tasty carrot to lure me to Newtown, and Oscillate Wildly just so happens to fit the bill. Oscillate Wildly is one of those restaurants that has been high my restaurant wishlist but just haven't found the right occasion or opportunity to make it there. Having dined at Sepia knowing ex-Oscillate Wildly head chef Daniel Puskas was in the kitchen dampened my enthusiasm as I'd assumed without the star attraction at the helm, Oscillate Wildly's bright shine may have retracted into dormancy. But a recent glowing review in SMH gave me confidence and reason enough to head there with good friends and experience it for ourselves.

Joining the Co-pilot and myself for dinner are good friends and fellow food lovers DanW and KatieB. To save me from any possible Newtown-related driving anxiety or murderous rage, the Co-pilot kindly drives and safely delivers us to Newtown without hiccups. The evening is still young, the restaurant din quiet and reserved when we arrive but the commotion in the kitchen couldn't be more different.



















We're lucky to be seated in the perfect vantage point near the kitchen allowing us to easily peer over the counter into the tiny kitchen where three chefs jostled and toiled through their chereographed dance at a frenetic pace. Mesmerised we watch them weave and tuck around each other. Eventually they realise they're being stared at and when our eyes lock over the counter top we all quickly duck our heads below the safety of the counter slightly ashamed and giggling like guilty schoolgirls caught red-handed.


We decided to start the meal with a glass on champagne as eating is reason enough to celebrate! Sipping our champagnes we peruse the menu and see that all the courses at Oscillate Wildly have similar name structures - just 3 or 4 seemingly disparate ingredients or elements describe the dish. The descriptions offer a taster of the dish to come, but remain vague enough that you're pleasantly surprised when the dish arrives. As KatieB is vegetarian there wasn't a print out of her courses so we just left ourselves in the kitchen's capable hands.

Before long, our starter of Jerusalem artichoke soup arrives. It is creamy, rich and fills the mouth with the full flavour of artichoke, whilst the nutty drizzle of walnut oil on top is nicely complimentary. I learn from DanW and KatieB that Jerusalem artichoke isn't actually an artichoke at all - it's actually a tuber that resembles ginger. And apparently, it's notorious for ..er.. promoting gaseous exchange.

1. Jerusalem artichoke, walnut soup

The next course that arrives is beautifully presented and causes me to gaze at it in wonder. Two plump and perfectly seared scallops sit on a smear of creamy foie gras butter and towering next a small crumbling of hazelnut picada, (a Spanish style nutty flavouring) where taut microherb sprigs stand proud and tall. It evokes a vision of whimsical scene in a forest clearing, where boulders sit next to mossy toadstools and green saplings strive to flourish in a race to the forest canopy. It was as much a pleasure to eat as it was to admire.

2. Scallop, picada, foie gras butter

It's ironic then that the vegetarian option that arrives hot on the heels of the scallop dish actually does contain toadstools! Well, king mushrooms, but close enough. From KatieB's rapturous expression, I'm guessing she enjoyed it too.

2. Mushrooms and picada (v)

The next dish to arrive appears to be a glistening runny poached egg on toast but the waitress informs us that things are not as simple as they seem. This is a bantam chicken egg (a small breed of chicken) cooked for 60 minutes at 62 degrees C using the sous-vide vacuum cooking method. This method of cooking is currently in vogue with the rise of molecular gastronomy. The method involves vacuum sealing the ingredient in a bag and cooking it at a set temperature in a water bath. By doing so you cook the ingredient without oxidation, supposedly preserving the flavour and often the appearance and colour of the ingredient. This would explain the milky white translucent quality in the albumin (egg white). The egg yolk is rich, the brioche buttery and the truffle generous - delicious! But do we think the sous-vide method added anything appreciable over simply poaching the egg in this case? Probably not. But we may be biased, as the company on this night includes ex-scientists. Water baths are really commonplace instruments in a lab - it's going to take a really sexy piece of equipment to impress us.

3. Bantam egg, Manjimup truffle, brioche

The fish course that arrives next gets me prematurely excited when I spot the gleaming black beads on top. Caviar! I love caviar! So I was a little disappointed to learn that it wasn't my beloved caviar but actually black sesame pearls. Nevertheless, the dish was still very enjoyable - the fish soft and tender; the fennel resting beneath the fish and foam intensely strong in concentrated fennel flavour and the crunchy fried speck a welcome contrast in texture. The flavours work well together and I find the black sesame pearls merely add texture and aesthetic pleasure as their flavour is almost too subtle to detect. Perhaps caviar would have been better...

4. Mulloway, fennel, speck, black sesame pearls

The corresponding vegetarian dish substitutes confit tomato for the mulloway and has additional fennel veloute drizzled in vivid green pools on the plate. KatieB reports that the tomato is beautiful - the flavour rich, sweet and intense - what tomato should always taste like.

4. Tomato confit, fennel veloute, black sesame pearls (v)

The next dish is another sous-vide creation. What appears to be seared rounds of pudgy Weisswurst reveals itself as organic chicken breast cooked using the sous-vide method for 80 minutes at 62 degrees C and finished in the pan. It sits on top a mound of celeriac, puffed buckwheat and wild rice. The fact that the cooking of the chicken has only taken a mere 20 minutes more than a small egg is not lost on us. We poke and prod the chicken before apprehensively taking a bite. Good news - it's not only cooked, it's also incredibly soft and tender. The muscular fibres you normally detect in chicken breast are almost not detectable and I'd liken the texture to a semi-firm tofu instead. Well, what d'ya know, maybe using the controlled water bath does work. The blackened puffed grains scattered across the plate don't look impressive but the crunchy, tasty little toasted morsels are also a hit with us.

5. Chicken, celeriac, puffed grains

The corresponding vegetarian option is surprisingly different to ours. Hidden under dollops of maple flavoured foam, a variety of mushrooms lie strewn across a block of celeriac. Amidst mouthfuls and moans of pleasure KatieB tells us that the mushrooms are nectarously sweet, nicely contrasted with the celeriac which has more savoury overtones.

5. Shiitake, celeriac, maple and chives (v)

We're starting to feel fairly satiated at this point, so it's just as well that the dishes that come next are the last of the mains. Sitting in front of us are fleshy, rare slices of venison cooked again in the sous-vide method, this time for 30 minutes at 62 degrees C, then they're dusted in cocoa and finished off in the pan. It's incredibly tender and fills our mouths with it's molten flavour. Given the difficulty in cooking venison well without overcooking it, perhaps sous-vide is the method of choice for this particular type of meat. The venison is paired with semi-pureed baby beets and a bitter chocolate millefeuile. The sweet beets complement the venison, and we can see how the bitterness of the chocolate would have provided the necessary counterbalance, but we're not taken with the flaky, dry texture of the millefeuille.

6. Venison, baby beets, chocolate millefeuille

The equivalent vegetarian dish also contains the baby beets and the chocolate millefeuille but has substituted the venison for quinoa and those puffed grains we saw in the sous-vide chicken dish. This elicits a joyous cry of yippee from KatieB as she felt she'd missed out on the puffed grains when they were absent in her shiitake dish.

6. Organic quinoa, baby beets, puffed grains (v)

Between the mains and the dessert courses we actually had the cheese plate (additional $12). I am ashamed to say that we forgot all about the photo for this dish - oops! But my notes remind me that we enjoyed a range of hard and soft cheeses with excellent homemade lavosh and a moreish apple and cumquat preserve rich with spicy cinnamon and nutmeg flavours.

But onto the desserts. The first course was chilled custard flavoured with Calvados (an apple brandy), perfumed with the subtle scent of jasmine flowers and topped with tart pink lady apple jelly and strands of Persian fairy floss. It looked so inviting and it visibly took every ounce of strength for DanW to resist digging in whilst I tried to capture this shot (in fact we had to take it back off him a few times). It was devine, devoured in a frenzied flash and gone remorsefully quickly. I could've eaten 3 times the volume that was served to me.

7. Calvados custard, jasmine, pink lady

The last course of the degustation comes as a colourful precariously balanced stack. Eyebrows raise in skepticism when we hear that we have celery sorbet, cocoa wafer, chocolate chantilly, poached pear and basil seeds in sugar syrup. Celery sorbet? Surprisingly, the flavours really mingle seamlessly - the poached pear is still firm, the chocolate rich and the celery flavour so intense yet indescribably refreshing. Instead of feeling dreadfully full we feel uplifted, our palates refreshed. What a clever combination of flavours and textures!

8. Pear, chocolate, celery sorbet

We reflect on the night's dishes over coffee and petit fours of fizzy, sherbety cubes of blood orange jelly that tasted like orange preserve and chocolate sarsparilla lollypops. We really enjoyed our journey, at times challenged with seemingly disparate flavours that proved to work so well together and other times perceiving fanciful metaphors in the presentation. And for 8 courses at $95, excellent value!

9. Petit fours, tea & coffee

Given the menu changes frequently with the seasonal availability of produce, I'm looking forward to going back for a second ride. Yes, it's good enough to convince me to head back to Newtown. And, in case you were wondering - those infamously well publicised long wait times are gone, as my booking for a Friday night took a mere 3 weeks wait.

Address:
275 Australia Street, Newtown; (02)9517-4700
Open for dinner Tues - Saturday; 6pm - 10pm
BYO available

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Vietnamese eating tour - the mighty Mekong

Having completed the first phase of our Vietnamese eating tour in Ho Chi Minh, the Co-pilot and I headed off the on dusty and bumpy road to Can Tho, to embark on the second phase of the eating tour: The Mighty Mekong Delta.

Having tried and failed to procure some delicious banh mi for the 3 hour bus ride, the Co-pilot and I did our best to settle our growling, indignant stomachs and tried to enjoy the occasional glimpses of roadside towns flashing rapidly by our windows. Unfortunately, that was a difficult task as seated next to us was a curious but stomach-churningly offensive local we affectionately dubbed "The Red-eyed Jackal". It will be no surprise to travellers that locals are often curious and may stare unashamedly at foreigners or in some areas even be compelled to touch and stroke you like an exotic specimen in a petting zoo. We've both endured our fair share of being stared at and can usually quite confidently ignore the blatant stares and go about our business. The Red-eyed Jackal challenged us to new heights and threw all our experience out the window. I'm not sure what it was about him - perhaps it was his cherry-red bloodshot eyes that unnerved us; or his lack of respect for personal space as he craned in close leaning across the Co-pilot to read my guidebook with me; or maybe it was the way he chose to nap, his relaxed body nearly draped across the Co-pilot, with one filthy foot ever threatening to make contact with the Co-pilot's knee; or was it the way he industriously picked and groomed his facial orifices with filthy, long, yellow talons and flicked them into ether with a spine chilling "click" of his nails, every so often flicking gunk from his talons in our direction and eliciting terrified high-pitched girly screams from us both. Not sure what facet of The Red-eyed Jackal we found most offensive, but I know one thing for sure - that 3 hour bus trip was painfully stressful.


By the time we arrived in Can Tho, we were tired, stressed and feeling dirty from our encounter with the Red-eyed Jackal, we checked into our hotel to refresh then headed back out to explore Can Tho by night, savouring icy cold beers in the humid heat and snacking on treats where the wafting barbeque scents around the city led our noses.

The next morning we awoke early and strolled down the main street, as the town arose and locals emerged from their houses. We headed down to the river to embark on a 7 hour boat tour of the Mekong Delta.


Greeting us at the river was our boat driver Minh in a small wooden motorboat. A cheerful young man with a broad smile permanently plastered over his face. Though he spoke very little English we seemed to just get by with a combination of a little poor English, a little poor Vietnamese from our phrasebook and a great deal of finger pointing, gestures and charades. It was using these cobbled together methods that we learnt that although Minh looked a youthful and exuberant 18 years old, he was 35 with a wife and young son. A perfect example of those fabled youthful Asian genes. Conversely, he was quite shocked to hear that we were both significantly younger than him. With bittersweet forced smiles we cursed those damaging Australian UV rays.


Off we set down the river, heading west towards the markets. Although it's an early 6am and we were still rubbing the sleep from our eyes, the river was already teaming with activity with many boats coming back from the markets. From Minh we learnt that the first boat tours set off at the unearthly hour of 4am, like this enormous boat heavy laden with rice. How is this boat staying afloat? It doesn't quite seem possible.



We saw many boats still heading out to market, their wares piled so high and the boats so low they seemed level with the water, creating small waves that lapped over the edge as they plough through.


We heard a boat call out and drive up next to us offering piping hot coffee. I nodded in excitement and we ordered us one each and watched in wonder as the ladies prepared our coffees, adding in plenty of sweetened condensed milk. I've said in one of my earlier posts how much I enjoy Anthony Bourdain's travel shows and I actually watch his experiences in the countries I'm about to visit in the way of research. And since I'd seen Anthony Bourdain sample a similar coffee on his trip down the Mekong, I knew I definitely had to have one myself.


And I normally don't post photos of myself on this blog, but this one is special. This is the momentous occasion just before we had Cafe au Mekong. Only after we'd downed half of our piping hot Mekong coffee did we think about the origins of the water used to make the coffee. My memory tells me there was a suspicious looking tin pail near the kettle and I'm guessing the locals don't have the same reservations we have about drinking straight from the Mekong River. The Co-pilot then grimly analyses and dissects the Mekong geography. It's downstream of all the other Mekong countries and given everyone pollutes the Mekong with their human and factory run off, and we've essentially drunk a small cross sample of it all. Damn you Bourdain! Why must I blindly follow where you lead? I just hope they boiled that water really thoroughly and I don't have semi-dormant coliforms from every south-east Asian country breeding happily in my belly...

Luckily we don't have to dwell on Cafe au Mekong for too long as Minh calls over a pineapple and watermelon boat and nimbly clambers on board to dig through and carefully pick out a juicy pineapple. Once back on board he pulls out a knife and deftly peels and scores the pineapple. In minutes he hands us each a delectable pineapple lollypop. The pineapples here are sold with the stalk intact which makes for a convenient handle.


And boy, I think it was the best pineapple I've ever had. Like all fruit in tropical south east Asia, the fruit grows balistically, and this pineapple was so sweet it tasted like it was sugar concentrate infused. There is also something incredibly primal and satisfying about holding onto a whole pineapple by the stalk and tearing great meaty chunks of it as though it were a whole leg ham. This is the way pineapple should be sold everywhere!

The river narrows and suddenly we've hit the traffic jam and mildly organised chaos that is the floating market.


We are surrounded by boats, their hulls pointed in every single direction and the sound of diesel motors, splashing from wildly waving oars and market vendors yelling out their wares and at each other fills the air. What strikes me as most fascinating is that this feels like a real working floating market. Unlike most of the colourful floating markets in Thailand, the vendors and buyers here use these markets as a genuine resource for buying, selling and bartering. The produce on sale is mainly of the fresh fruit and vegetable variety, not small touristy souvenirs and trinkets, so the vendors don't bother harassing tourists to buy their rice, potatoes or spices. It is appealing to think that if no tourists turned up tomorrow, these vendors would all still turn up and go about their daily business.













Having said that, we haven't gone absolutely unnoticed. This little girl persisted in yelling "HELLO!" repeatedly and at the top of her lungs to get our attention, but would simply stare in wondrous silence whenever we turned to give her that desperately sought after attention.


After the markets Minh steered us down narrow canals that bleed off the main artery of the Mekong into lush tropical forested areas where the boughs of jackfruit and green mango trees hang heavy with fruit that had grown to colossal sizes that I'd never imagined possible. Going down these canals and seeing life on the banks of the Mekong is one of the advantages of doing the floating market tour in smaller boats. The larger and faster longboats and even larger powerboats just wouldn't make it down these shallow veins, ducking under low and rickety bridges. They're designed for more time poor travellers that intend to get to and from the floating markets in a hurry.


From our intimate vantage point we drift past countless people bathing in the river, soaping up a lather in their hair whilst their neighbours wash dirty dishes in the water. We see a little local boy hanging a makeshift rod in water hoping to catch dinner, and further still an outhouse hangs purposefully over the water and a fetid scum mixed with drifting plastic bags floats across the surface. This is life on the Mekong - and for the locals it's a truly multipurpose body of water.


We stopped at one of the riverbank restaurants for lunch. Being still surprisingly full from the pineapple, we decided on a small snack of Can Tho style spring rolls for breakfast. These spring rolls are filled with a taro like savoury mixture and wrapped not in the traditional egg pastry but in a fine rice vermicelli netting and deep fried. The resulting texture is incredibly crisp and crunchy without being as oily and heavy as normal spring rolls.


As our boat ride came to an end, the ever cheerful Minh steered us back to Can Tho. We're exhausted despite not having done much other than sit for 7 hours in the boat. The constant assault from the heat, humidity and bright squint-inducing sunlight takes its toll and we struggle to stay awake.


Wasting no time, we grab a quick streetside bite and jumped on the 4 hour bus to Rach Gia, the hometown of my best friend L-bean and the launching pad for the last phase of our trip, Phu Quoc. We'd done our research on where to eat in town and took advantage of the soft early evening light to head out and stroll around town to take in the sights and smells. We unexpectedly came across a bustling area of street side hawker stalls. Countless motorcycles lined the boundary of the markets and locals congregated here in singles, couples and entire families. The heady smell of barbequed meat flooded our senses but from where we stood we could only see the crowd and wisps of white smoke against the night sky so we found ourselves lulled towards the crowd, mouths agape and salivating like brainwashed zombies.

Nestled amongst the bicycles were women with makeshift mobile barbeques generating that mouthwatering aroma. On closer inspection, we see that the menu du jour are sizzling spitting pork chops grilled over white hot coals.












Other vendors sell a tempting array of glistening roasted and barbequed meats. We spot roasted pork, chicken and duck, soy braised pigeons and duck wings.












But we've got pork chop firmly on the brain. Seeing those plump chops being turned on the barbeque and the seductive meaty aroma still beckoning, we decide on the trusted pork chop with rice. Served on broken rice drizzled with copious amounts of fragrant nuoc cham dipping sauce (fish sauce, lemon juice, garlic, chilli and water) and a side of crisp fresh cucumber, tomato and pickled carrot and radish salad. The pork is perfectly cooked and very tender, with moreish smoky grilled flavours. This is how Vietnamese pork chop should always be. Delicious and eaten outdoors savouring the warm evening air and watching the world bustle by. And it should be this cheap - the 2 pork chops cost us 60,000VND or about $4AUD. Bliss!












The next morning we wake up at dawn to get the early flight to Phu Quoc for the final leg of our eating holiday - a relaxing beach resort stay to finish up whirlwind 10 days through Southern Vietnam.

We look out the window and hear the tooting of horns and bicycle bells, the clatter of dishes and the sounds of a broom sweeping against concrete - signs the city is waking from it's slumber. Directly beneath our window, 2 ladies carrying heavy laden baskets stop and decide this is where they'll set up shop. We watch mesmerised as they systematically tidy up the space and carefully put their wares on display. Hands work quickly as they fluff up the still steaming hot rice, and the spices and condiments are arranged this way and that, the vendor taking obvious pride in the final layout as though she was putting priceless jewels on display. Satisfied with her handiwork, the two women pull out stools and settle in to wait for customers. The pride, optimism and entrepreneurial spirit of the Vietnamese people is visible everywhere you look.


The quick cab ride to the airport sees us whizzing by an army of people in identical buttoned up blue long sleeved shirts heading to work on their bicycles, school children trudging to school, shop keepers opening and sweeping their stalls and the first signs of barbequing meat. All this and it's only 6am! The Co-pilot and I agree that Rach Gia is a town with a easy vibe about it. It's small enough to see more bicycles than motorbikes or cars giving it that elusive village feel, but large enough to generate that vibe of energy of industriousness unique to bustling cities. And any place that routinely has barbecued meat for early morning breakfast wins my vote!

We check-in our bags in at the airport and bypass the sad looking cafe serving overpriced bottled soft drinks, juices and sanitised sandwiches in favour of street fare. We'd noticed the road to the airport was paved with delicious looking noodle stalls and bakeries and just 5 minutes walk from the airport we came across this simple noodle stall with sticky plastic chairs, cold stainless steel tables and a roll of toilet paper on the table. All the hallmarks of an authentic Vietnamese eatery.


Ignoring stares from the locals, the Co-pilot and I conversed in our distinct brand of broken Vietnamese and charades to order a delicious hu tieu noodle soup (a type of chewy tapioca noodle) with generous chunks of fatty pork leg and blood jelly. I bravely ignored the inner voice that questioned whether I should be eating Vietnamese blood jelly (coagulated and cubed pig's blood) or whether the pink looking pork was cooked and slurped down the warming sigh-inducing broth. Besides, I've had Cafe au Mekong now, surely I could do no worse.


After seeing pork chop being grilled on barbeques on our way to the airport, the Co-pilot opted for another pork chop on rice to satisfy his never ending pork chop lust. Like the pork chop the night before, this one is delicious, the fried egg with the still runny yolk on the side making mouthfuls of rice, nuoc cham, pork and yolk incredibly tasty.


Satisfied we pay for the meal which is a mere 50,000 VND or $3.50AUD. *Sigh* I love Vietnam!

Despite spending a mere 3 days, 2 nights in the Mekong Delta we feel like we've seen enough of the area to appreciate the slower pace of life here compared to Ho Chi Minh, and the difference experienced between the 2 areas is so vast we might as well have been in 2 different countries! Although the food we had in the Mekong was delicious, I felt this phase of the eating tour was less food-focused than the previous one in Ho Chi Minh. Conversely, though the Mekong Delta provided the perspective of culture and local interaction that was absent in Ho Chi Minh. The Mekong Delta experience enabled me to feel like I'd really arrived in the Vietnam I came to see and not just another cookie-cutter style bustling urban Asian city.

Content and bellies full we strolled slowly back to the airport to board our plane to Phu Quoc - the last leg of our Vietnamese eating tour.

Related posts:
Vietnamese eating tour - Ho Chi Minh (part 1)
Vietnamese eating tour - Ho Chi Minh (part 2)

Other travel related posts you might like:
Waiheke Wonderland: Part 1, Food Cornucopia
Waiheke Wonderland: Part 2, Food Heaven
The Asian Food Odyssey - Part 1: Taiwan
The Asian Food Odyssey - Part 2: China
The Asian Food Odyssey - Part 3: Hong Kong

Nonno's gnocchi with pork and veal sugo

About a month ago, the Co-pilot and I engaged in an extensive gnocchi making session under the guidance of our Nonno. This resulted in a gnocchi dish with sauteed prawns and sage burnt butter - a recreation of Alex Herbert's recipe shown on Masterchef. Delicious and satisfying though it was, it wasn't quite what Nonno had in mind. It was something different, he declared - but next time we'll make gnocchi with pork and veal sugo. Nonno is a man of his word - he wasn't kidding, or wasting any time. That next time is now and this time it's a family affair.

It's wintery and overcast on the morning we all congregate at Nonno's house. Anticipating the cold may affect troop morale, Nonno has prepared some winter medicine and ladles out steaming glasses of mulled wine, which he gleefully calls his "Tamiflu". I try to dismiss the fact that it's only 10am, I've been awake for half an hour and I'm drinking wine for breakfast. But before I know it, Nonno is topping up our glasses. Resistance is futile so we all accept our obligatory medicine without much protest and boil the potatoes in preparation for the gnocchi.


Whilst we're waiting for the potatoes, the Co-pilot's mum whips up a mâche salad to go with the gnocchi, simply dressed in lemon juice, salt and olive oil. On a trip to France earlier this year the Co-pilot's parents had mâche salad (also known as lamb's lettuce) in this way and were determined to find it upon their return to Sydney. A request to their local green grocer did the trick, and we've recently heard, its appearance on that grocer's shelves has sparked a resurgence in the demand for mâche in our neighbourhood! The mâche itself has a subtle buttery flavour - I think it's more about the texture as the rosettes used are often young and tender and the thick leaves lend a bit more substance than other salad leaves.


When the potatoes are ready, the family gathers around Nonno as he personally shows us how to make gnocchi. For more detailed step-by-step instructions, please click through to my previous gnocchi post here.

Nonno starts kneading the potato dough with assistance from the Co-pilot's mum and sister, Briv.

And there's no wonder Nonno is a master gnocchi maker. Other than experience on his side, he has another secret weapon - his hands! Watching him knead and work the potato dough I see that the colossal size of his hands clearly give him a competitive advantage over me. And did you know that the size of your closed fist is the approximate size of your heart? Nonno is a big man with man-size hands and an equally man-size heart. His hands make short work of the dough and in no time, he is rolling out sausage shapes and assembles a production line to create the gnocchi.

The production line consists of the Co-pilot's parents, Briv and his aunt M, all pitching in by cutting the sausage shapes into gnocchi pillows and patterning them under Nonno's direction.


Whilst the gnocchi are being made, the Co-pilot's mum heats up the pork and veal sugo she prepared earlier that morning. It looks and tastes rich and robust to me, but she laments that it doesn't quite have the same flavour as Nonna's sugo had. I hadn't tried Nonna's sugo but it was clearly legendary as the family all spontenously chime in with their own recollections about it. Hers was just so incredibly tasty and flavourful, they all agreed. Had she added in mystery ingredients? Or cooked the sugo for hours, reducing and concentrating the flavour? Sadly we can only speculate on how to achieve Nonna's great sugo. Such is the tragedy of lost family recipes - something I hope to partly alleviate by chronicling family recipes in this blog.


It is not long before the last gnocchi is being patterned. The Co-pilot's uncle takes his turn in the production process boils the gnocchi briefly in salted water to complete the gnocchi making process. A generous ladle of sugo is heaped on the plump glistening gnocchi, followed by a handful of freshly grated Parmesan.


Pronto! Nonno's gnocchi with pork and veal sugo.

Gnocchi the traditional Italian way, the way Nonno likes it. And as the whole family sits down together to eat and drink in Nonno's house I get the feeling the smile on Nonno's face is not just from the satisfaction of making a delicious gnocchi dish.


Directed and produced by Nonno.

Co-produced by the Co-pilot's family.


Related posts:
Something different: homemade gnocchi

Edited extras:
Here's the recipe the Co-pilot's mum used for her simple Italian sugo.

Fry onions and garlic, when soft add in some chopped chilli to taste, then pork and veal mince (available from Italian supermarkets such as those in Haberfield or Leichhardt in Sydney's inner west). When the mince is browned add in tomato passata, red wine, salt, pepper and a pinch of sugar. If desired add oregano or basil for extra flavour. Cook for 2 hours on low heat to bring out the flavour.