You may find me talking about nature, sustainability & resourcefulness, philosophy & ethics, gardening, healthy food, deep & meaningfuls, silly & trivials..whatever...
I tweet: @silverbeet
I went outside this morning to water, and get some air before the onslaught of Christmas preparation. This is how it looked, before the shade cloth went up. It will be 36 degrees Celsius later today, if the forecast is correct.
I’m using this blog as a spot to drop some thoughts that won’t fit into a 140 character tweet. It started with @manfredistefano’s tweet about his buck’s horn seedlings, whose purpose is generously described by the seed supplier: “Use in salads summer and winter for a pleasant bitter taste high note and crunchy texture.” Not only is the name interesting, for what appears to me a very ordinary-looking plant (and it has other names, just as weird), but how interesting for a bit of green stuff to do that to salads.
Let’s skip the ‘crunchy texture’ descriptor for now—texture in food is something that deserves its own focus. ‘Bitter taste high note’ refers to the senses of taste and smell, and reminds me of perfume descriptions and winetasting descriptions. I know little about perfumery or winetasting, or cooking, for that matter. But having an interest prompts me to ask a few questions that seem perfectly reasonable for a food consumer and home cook to ask.
Why are there not short courses available to people like me about flavour balancing? Someone new to wine can attend a winetasting course and learn about the broad categories of flavours, the broad categories of wines, taste stuff, do side-by-side or linear comparisons, and come away with an excellent foundation for subsequent experiential learning. There’s a lot you can teach yourself, and much that you learn from experience, but a good course when you are beginning gives your knowledge-base a kickstart.
We rely on words to exchange information about sense stuff—smells and tastes. And there are different ways that’s done. You sometimes see references to the mouth location that is stimulated by a food component, like the front or back of the tongue. Or to the timing of the flavour impact, for example with wines: early and up-front, or long and lingering. Or impacts may be described as reminscent of other flavour-producers, like floral, fruity, or woody, or ‘stinky saddle’, and so on.
Cookbooks instruct one to taste for the right amount of salt. (Whose right amount is the right amount?). I hear about sugar ‘bringing out flavours’ (where were they hiding beforehand?). Recipes tell us to make small additions of special ingredients to ‘give a lift’, such as lemon zest, parsley, or a splash of vinegar. (How are flavours lifted? Can they be dropped?). And they might instruct us to add such things only after cooking has ceased, so their aromatics are not lost, particularly certain herbs, like basil and coriander. I hear about the warmth of garlic, and I agree, it is a warm sort of sensation. (How is a flavour warm?) Obviously it’s complicated, and difficult to describe, but surely not so complicated that some some general principles might be explainable. There must be principles that apply across cuisines.
@frombecca says that at TAFE she was taught things about pairing foods that were so wrong she had to unlearn them—like that rosemary does not marry with lamb. @manfredistefano says it’s learnt from experience, not from TAFE. Okay, maybe TAFE doesn’t do a good job at it. But surely it doesn’t all have to be learnt from one’s own experience. And surely it should be available to people other than those aiming to make their living out of cooking. For example, @herbiespices, does an excellent job in his book ‘Spice Notes’, grouping spices into a small number of types and giving a rough idea of blending proportions for those groups. But it’s not enough. I want it for more than spices (and herbs). And I don’t just want to read about it—I want to be able to taste it and be told about what I’m tasting, and ask questions. There should not only be books, but short independent courses, like winetasting courses. I do have experience in the kitchen, and have picked up lots of things along the way, but I could use some structured information about flavour so that I can pick up any of my recipe books and make confident successful adjustments. It would be so helpful when cooking around what food is in season, what’s in the garden, and what fresh ingredients I have to hand that will be tossed if I can’t use them. And I’d like to be able to taste better, just for its own sake. I want it for my daughters who are just starting to cook. @frombecca says that people “developing taste will stop acceptance of inferior 'fast' foods, and so much more.”
Another spring /early summer recipe, when the vine is covered in succulent leaves.
Take your time with this recipe, so that you enjoy all the handling, which is sort-of relaxing. Except for the rice, which must be prepared precisely, the rest of the recipe is fairly flexible. Only sushi rice is suitable. You will need a bamboo nori roll mat (sushi mat). If you’ve never made nori rolls before, find an instructional video on the internet, or take a peak at how it’s done in a Japanese take-away, before starting.
The Australian tablespoon measures 4 tsp. The quantities in this recipe revolve around the magic number 300. Using my 2cup measure, I intended to measure 1 cup rice and it happened to pour up to the 300ml mark.I had some leftover cooked borlotti beans, that when measured happened to be 300ml. And when I tumbled in the mint and parsley they happened to be about 300ml each. Go figure!
I used lime, but lemon would be fine.You will need to have soaked the dried beans, cooked and cooled them. (I keep leftover beans in the freezer). Alternatively you can open a can. This recipe made plenty for four people as a light meal.
Go into the garden and pick 20 large young leaves from your grapevine (or your neighbour’s), 2 or 3 lemons or limes, large handfuls of parsely and mint. Don’t forget to say hello to the chooks and give them some fresh leaves from your garden.
Thinly peel half a telegraph cucumber, or Lebanese cucumber. Cut along the whole length into very fine fingers, discarding the seeds. Salt it generously and let it sit to soften in a colander for 30 mins.
In a saucepan, heat 300ml sushi rice, 450ml water, 10 allspice berries,10 peppercorns and a stick of cinnamon. When just boiling, cover and reduce heat to very low and simmmer 12 to 14 minutes. Take off the heat and leave covered 10 mins to cool.
While the rice is still warm, remove the berries and stick from the top, tip it into a bowl and gently combine it with 3tbs lime juice, 1 tbs castor sugar, 1/2tsp salt, removing any remaining berries. Let it cool further.
Leaving the stalks on, plunge the vine leaves into a large pot of boiling water, slosh them around a bit, so that the water moves freely between the leaves. Bring it back the boil, simmer 2 mins. Remove to a colander and refresh in cold water. (All this used water is handy for pre-rinsing your dirty dishes.)
Make a small quantity of red paste using 2 tbs tomato paste, ¼ tsp freshly ground allspice, plus the finely shredded rind and juice (about a tablespoon) from one small lime.
Make a much larger quantity of green paste. Measure about 300ml cold pre-cooked beans, such as borlotti, cannellini or lima. Whizz together the beans, a loose cup each of fresh parsley and mint, 4 tbs olive oil, 2 tbs nuts and a pinch of salt. It should be a spreadable lump when finished.
Cut some very thin strips from a half a red onion or salad onion. Cut any rings in half and separate into strands.
Wash the salt from the cucumber and dry it on paper towel.
Lay four or more vine leaves, veins up, on the flat side of your bamboo nori roll mat (bamboo sticks going crosswise). With scissors, snip off the leaf stems at the base. You need to partly overlap the leaves to avoid gaps. (Don’t worry too much about overhang at the side edges of the mat – they can be cut off the made-up roll if you are fussy.)
Make 3 to 4 vine-leaf wrapped logs, just as you would for Japanese nori rolls. Spread your rice out over the leaves, around a cup for each log, on which you spread a rounded tsp of red paste as a thin ribbon from side to side. Top that with slivers of onion, running edge to edge, generous dollopings of green paste, spread evenly, and slivers of cucumber. Roll up and refrigerate.
When all the logs are made, slice them into discs using a sharp, large, wetted knife. You will need to wipe and wet the knife often. Place on a serving platter and refrigerate. They can be served as is, or with your best olive oil on the side for dipping.
I would have taken a photo, but the whole thing was demolished before I bothered to get the camera. The rolls are very pretty. Next time, I’ll add photos to this post.
You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of
the next moment. All the immense
images in me―the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and un-
suspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods―
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.
You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house―, and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced upon,―
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening...
by Rainer Maria Rilke
translated by Stephen Mitchell
