In an ideal world, I would be vegetarian, no question.
(while we're at it, in an ideal world I would be married to a vet/retired model, with two adorable adopted kids and a house with a veggie garden. And someone would pay me to write this blog. In chocolate.)
But here in boring old "reality", I have found myself moving further and further away from meat in general, and red meat in particular, for various reasons.
Environmentally, eating meat is one of the worst things you can do for the planet (up there with driving a car and having kids). It's horrendous how much waste goes into that chain of raising animals, feeding them, slaughtering and butchering them, packaging them up and shipping them to supermarkets all over the world.
Ethically, it's not nice to treat sentient creatures so abominably just so that we can enjoy a roast dinner on a Sunday. As the meat.org website says, if slaughter-houses had glass walls, everyone would be vegetarian.
Finally, eating meat is kind of gross when you think about it. Eating the cooked flesh of a living creature. Especially with red meat, there is a particular smell it gives off when it's just starting to cook that is stomach-turning.
And yet... human beings were designed to eat meat. We're omnivores. The smell of a sausages frying outside Bunnings is undeniably attractive. It has even been argued that meat was the essential ingredient that allowed us to evolve into the brainy idiots we are today. Closer to home, my mum recently gave me a lecture about getting enough protein when she thought I was looking a bit pale and skinny.
And so my answer for now is, in the emminently sensible words of my Pa (oft repeated by my Mum): "Everything in moderation". I eat a small portion of meat maybe 2-3 times a week, and try to buy meat from animals that are outdoor-raised and free-range. I am aiming to ultimately cut down to "only on special occassions when I really feel like it" meat consumption. I'm not there yet, but I hope to be in the next couple of years.
* * * * *
For those of you with concerned mothers, good non-meat sources of protein are: potatoes, whole wheat bread, rice, broccoli, spinach, almonds, peas, chickpeas, peanut butter, tofu, soymilk, lentils and kale. Peanut butter, y'all! I'm going out to buy some right now.
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Friday, August 26, 2011
Thursday, January 08, 2009
And now for the good news...
"Having a Big ol' Womanly Ass May Be Good for Your Health, Study Finds"*
(*possibly not the actual wording of the article title)
Rejoice, fellow fat-bottomed girls!
I was bemoaning that little bit of extra Christmas podge in the mirror only last night, but this morning I came across this cheering article which throws hip and buttock fat into a new, far more flattering light. It also served as a blindingly brilliant reminder of why Freddie Mercury totally rocked.
I have been waiting patiently for the chance to have a good old rant about how the media has become increasingly obsessed with youth n' beauty - to a disturbing extreme - in my lifetime. Watching programmes and films from the seventies, the first thing you notice is how frickin' normal everybody looks. Seen through the spectacles of noughties perfectionism, everybody looks strangely frumpy and poorly dressed, with bad skin - until you remember that actually, that's how most people look in the real world. Off-screen life ain't pretty, at least not without a major effort (for the vast majority of us). Before digital manipulation and botox became the norm - in Hollywood at least - adults actually looked like adults; not like the most beautiful kids at your high school.
When did we reach that point where media saturation reached critical mass and became the standard by which we judge reality? Was it the rampant one-upmanship of the eighties? The self-obsessed nineties? Or could it be the current digital era of Myspace profiles, celebrity stalking, and Photoshop?
I feel like we all need a media-detox to get a grip back on reality. Imagine a nation-wide week where there was no TV, no magazines, no posters, no ads, no internet, no images anywhere - just other people, in all their messy, crumpled, ageing, lumpy, wonderful, diverse glory.
I have been watching old episodes of Two Fat Ladies recently, an old-school English cooking programme which feels like it is from a time before women on television had to be eternally youthful goddesses - but which actually aired in the late nineties.
There is hope after all!
Here were two women who were overweight, middle-to-late aged - Jennifer was in her sixties when the show was filmed - and from incredibly posh backgrounds. They were also eccentric, comical, rebellious, defiantly un-PC and a joy to watch. Each episode featured the two of them zooming around Great Britain in their motorbike and side-car, pitching up at various picturesque locations and cooking lovely old-fashioned meals for the benefit of various groups including a Boy Scout troop in Northumberland; a Welsh Men's Choir in Llandudno; and a lacrosse team in Cornwall.
A toast to those two glorious ladies who didn't give a fig what anyone thought of them, and to all those who would rather read a good book than go on a diet; and a big fat butt slap to vacuous celebrity worship. I'm off to tuck into some seriously rich Borough Market brownie. All in the name of butt-reinforcement.
* * * *
Please note, I hope this little rant doesn't preclude me from appreciating the beauty of certain blokes on occassion - it's just that I feel judging people by their outward appearance shouldn't become our default position, and should instead have a clearly defined place within a much more diverse context. There's swooning at the latest Hollywood star; and then there's firing a 37 year old TV presenter for being too old.
(*possibly not the actual wording of the article title)
Rejoice, fellow fat-bottomed girls!
I was bemoaning that little bit of extra Christmas podge in the mirror only last night, but this morning I came across this cheering article which throws hip and buttock fat into a new, far more flattering light. It also served as a blindingly brilliant reminder of why Freddie Mercury totally rocked.
I have been waiting patiently for the chance to have a good old rant about how the media has become increasingly obsessed with youth n' beauty - to a disturbing extreme - in my lifetime. Watching programmes and films from the seventies, the first thing you notice is how frickin' normal everybody looks. Seen through the spectacles of noughties perfectionism, everybody looks strangely frumpy and poorly dressed, with bad skin - until you remember that actually, that's how most people look in the real world. Off-screen life ain't pretty, at least not without a major effort (for the vast majority of us). Before digital manipulation and botox became the norm - in Hollywood at least - adults actually looked like adults; not like the most beautiful kids at your high school.
When did we reach that point where media saturation reached critical mass and became the standard by which we judge reality? Was it the rampant one-upmanship of the eighties? The self-obsessed nineties? Or could it be the current digital era of Myspace profiles, celebrity stalking, and Photoshop?
I feel like we all need a media-detox to get a grip back on reality. Imagine a nation-wide week where there was no TV, no magazines, no posters, no ads, no internet, no images anywhere - just other people, in all their messy, crumpled, ageing, lumpy, wonderful, diverse glory.
I have been watching old episodes of Two Fat Ladies recently, an old-school English cooking programme which feels like it is from a time before women on television had to be eternally youthful goddesses - but which actually aired in the late nineties.
There is hope after all!
Here were two women who were overweight, middle-to-late aged - Jennifer was in her sixties when the show was filmed - and from incredibly posh backgrounds. They were also eccentric, comical, rebellious, defiantly un-PC and a joy to watch. Each episode featured the two of them zooming around Great Britain in their motorbike and side-car, pitching up at various picturesque locations and cooking lovely old-fashioned meals for the benefit of various groups including a Boy Scout troop in Northumberland; a Welsh Men's Choir in Llandudno; and a lacrosse team in Cornwall.
A toast to those two glorious ladies who didn't give a fig what anyone thought of them, and to all those who would rather read a good book than go on a diet; and a big fat butt slap to vacuous celebrity worship. I'm off to tuck into some seriously rich Borough Market brownie. All in the name of butt-reinforcement.
* * * *
Please note, I hope this little rant doesn't preclude me from appreciating the beauty of certain blokes on occassion - it's just that I feel judging people by their outward appearance shouldn't become our default position, and should instead have a clearly defined place within a much more diverse context. There's swooning at the latest Hollywood star; and then there's firing a 37 year old TV presenter for being too old.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
The New York List*
Brunch
It's all about brunch in New York! The popular places can have a wait of an hour or more, but I aim to go and eat early (10-11am) on the weekends. Most places serve bottomless coffee for you caffeine junkies.
Pastis. A New York brunch institution, in the meatpacking district. Lovely old world European style interior, serving up classy French morsels. So-so coffee, but great brioche French toast. A must do.
Mud coffee. Very cool coffee joint in Greenwich Village. Hand-picked by my friend Amy, supreme coffee vixen.
Casimir. Another great (but tiny) brunch place in the hip lower East side, on a friendlier scale and budget than Pastis.
Diner. Supremely cool diner in Williamsburg, populated by local hipsters. Watch out for the spindly outdoor tables, which couldn't contain my giant aussie legs (lots of coffee spillage).
Florent. One of the first all-night diners to open in the meat-packing district before it was trendy: soon to be closed because of the sky-rocketing rent in the area. Shame, the home fries were lip-smacking and the place has got buckets of personality.
Balthazar. Fancy-pants French restaurant on Spring Street, popular with tourists and locals alike (prepare to wait up to an hour for a table). I prefer Pastis slightly, because it is a little less hectic.
Penelope's. My favourite brunch spot so far! Very cute little cafe on 30th and Lex, with delicious home made cupcakes, coffee served in mismatched mugs and yummy, yummy food. Oh my god, the blueberry waffles with orange butter... words cannot do justice.
Clinton Street Bakery. The Best Pancakes Ever. Lovely homestyle food, lower East side.
Food
There is such a plethora of choice when it comes to food over here, it's ridiculous. Your best bet is using a combination of the Zagat Guide (the NY restaurant bible) and a more discriminating guide like the Time Out City Guide, and of course local recommendations.
Supper. Atmospheric little Italian place on the Lower East side with exposed brick walls and pretty chandeliers.
Ali Baba Turkish Cuisine. The most delectable, smoky babaganoush I have ever tasted.
Grimaldi's pizza. You deserve one of these world famous pies after walking all the way over the Brooklyn Bridge. Just be prepared to queue (it's absolutely worth the wait).
Café Sabarsky. The rather posh Neue Gallery restaurant. Get yourself a Viennese coffee and dessert (I had the dark chocolate and apricot cake). Natalie Portman had the apple strudel, in case you were wondering.
Katz's Deli, where Sally proved to Harry what great manipulators women can be. It's a lot grimier than it looks in the film, but the girl behind the counter wouldn't accept payment from a fellow Melbournite, so I can't complain.
Nobu next door. Slightly cheaper and easier to book than Nobu, this is the best meal I have had in the city so far - amazing. Promise me you'll go there and try the fresh yellow tail sashimi with jalapeno, and also the rock shrimp tempura. Still drooling.
Adrienne's pizza bar. It's a pleasure eating outdoors on a warm night at this great upmarket pizza bar. The street is lined with bench-style tables, hidden away on a cobble-dy street near Battery Park.
The Empire diner. I can't believe it didn't occur to me to visit an old fashioned American diner. It took an out-of-towner to suggest it. Proper old-school burger-and-milkshake-at-the-counter territory, served with a smile and a wink.
John's pizzeria. Famous pizza pie joint on Bleecker street. Atmospheric, with years worth of names carved into the small wooden booths, but Grimaldi's pizza is superior in my book (I think it's an Italian vs. American thing.)
Drinks
Alcoholic beverages and bars are not my strong suit, I have to admit - I am a lightweight and don't like noisy, crowded bars - but here's a list of the few places I have visited. Don't forget your ID!
Ayza chocolate and wine bar (Midtown). Try a "flight" (3 little samplers).
Flat Iron Lounge. Groovy bar with retro cocktails, near the iconic building.
Under the volcano. Atmospheric (and very dark) tequila bar in midtown. Fierce margaritas.
Divine Bar, right near Times Square. The cinnamon toast with caramel ice-cream was sooo good, but you might feel a little self-conscious ordering the "Stinkin' Dirty Whore-tini". Try the Angel's Tit instead (truly divine).
Darkroom. A photographer friend (appropriately) roped me into coming to this low-ceilinged den and I enjoyed myself dancing inanely to Stevie Wonder and other crowd-pleasers.
8 Mile Creek. Surprisingly tasteful Australian themed bar in NoLIta (north of little italy). You wouldn't really know it was an Australian bar, except that you might be offered a Tim Tam with your drink.
Superfine. A bar in dumbo which is exactly that: super fine. Fantastic G&T with lime, kick-ass music, and rotating local artworks on the walls.
Music/Venues
You gotta see some live music if you come to New York, it has been hands-down my favourite thing to do here - there are some great small venues and you are spoilt for choice when it comes to gig listings.
Smalls. Even for jazz-novices like myself, an umissable experience.
NYC Town Hall. I caught Flight of the Conchords here, but they have all sorts of stuff on - classical, poetry, world music. Lovely old-fashioned theatre with good views from most seats, right near Times Square.
The Mercury Lounge. Proper dark and dinghy rock venue on an intimate scale, East Houston. I saw the fragile but heart-breakingly beautiful Joan As Police Woman here, with New York's coolest in attendance (including a Warhol wannabe).
Bowery Ballroom. My favourite NY music space so far. Beautiful mid-sized venue in a stylish 1920's building in the lower East side, showing loads of cool acts. I caught the very lovely Laura Veirs here (supported by Liam Finn).
Southpaw. Laidback (but supportive) local venue in Brooklyn, far enough from the beaten track to make you feel like one of the locals. I saw Hayden here.
Summerstage. A series of free concerts over the summer in Central Park - what could possibly go wrong? Well, it could pour with torrential rain and thunderstorms on the day Vampire Weekend are playing...but aside from that, much fun to be had.
Joe's pub. My (and Fink's) favourite New York venue. If you call ahead and book a table, you can sit right by the stage and enjoy dinner and drinks while you listen in this intimate space.
The Hiro Ballroom. I saw Liz Phair rocking out at this sumptuous kung-fu-style venue, with paper lanterns hanging from the curved dark wood ceiling. Very cool.
Culture/Activities
Falling Water. More Pittsburgh than New York, but worth the pilgrimage to see the most beautiful example of mid-century American architecture around.
The New York Public Library. Gorgeous building, worth going in for a look. I went to see the Gutenburg bible, but nearly cried when I discovered the actual, real life Pooh, Piglet, Kanga, Tigger and Eyeore, once owned (and obviously well loved) by Christopher Robin Milne.
Avenue Q on Broadway. Cute and funny. I was hysterical at interval: I don't even remember why. Caveat: The Americans will never touch the British when it comes to humour. I think I was just high on life at the time.
Coney Island. I don't think this counts as "cultural", but it's certainly an "experience". Shoot the Freak, ride the Cyclone, ogle the carnies and tuck into a world famous hotdog. Not for the faint of heart. Scheduled for redevelopment, so get there quick if you want to experience the authentic tawdry-run-down-fairground atmosphere.
The Guggenheim. Another cool Frank Lloyd Wright building full of cutting-edge modern art.
Neue Gallery. I tracked this down after spying a Klimt poster on 5th avenue. I adored it: it is a Klimt-groupies dream. And the most gorgeous display of Wiener Werkstätte jewellery imaginable.
Central Park Boathouse. Fortify yourself with an American-style super sweet breakfast at the Express Café before heading out for a row on the lake. If you are feeling energetic (I was), hire yourself a bike from Metro Bicycles (cheaper than the Central Park bike rentals) on 88th and Lexington for an easy cycle round the entire park.
Wicked. The front row seats are allocated via a ballot system - turn up between 5 and 6pm to put your name down and take your chances for the 8 o'clock show.
BAM. The Brooklyn Academy of Music to be precise, but they also put on plays and have a cinema where I saw a bunch of short animated films from around the world, with a Q&A session afterwards.
Whitney Museum of American Art. Great but dissappointingly small collection of modern American art, including Hopper, O'Keefe, Oldenburg, Pollock and De Kooning. Luckily they had one tiny room in the basement dedicated to my all-time favourite sculptor: Alexander Calder; as well as a collection of exquisite Mapplethorpe polaroids.
P.S.1. Contemporary art museum in a converted school building in Queens, affiliated with MoMA. Very cool and definitely worth the trek. I saw a brilliant show around the themes of "flags, weapons and dreams" - a great insight into the underbelly of the American dream.
MoMA. This is the best collection of big-name modern art I have seen in the world - truly awesome. A fantastic space and a definite must-do.
The Met. For some reason, I was expecting the Met to be a bit fusty and boring, but it blew me away. Utterly amazing collection of artworks from throughout the ages, from ancient Egyptian to contemporary American.
New York Botanical Gardens. I spent a very wet and humid Sunday traipsing around this lovely park, seeking out the Henry Moore pieces which are on exhibition at the moment. A serene retreat from the city, up in the Bronx.
*To be updated during my stay.
It's all about brunch in New York! The popular places can have a wait of an hour or more, but I aim to go and eat early (10-11am) on the weekends. Most places serve bottomless coffee for you caffeine junkies.
Pastis. A New York brunch institution, in the meatpacking district. Lovely old world European style interior, serving up classy French morsels. So-so coffee, but great brioche French toast. A must do.
Mud coffee. Very cool coffee joint in Greenwich Village. Hand-picked by my friend Amy, supreme coffee vixen.
Casimir. Another great (but tiny) brunch place in the hip lower East side, on a friendlier scale and budget than Pastis.
Diner. Supremely cool diner in Williamsburg, populated by local hipsters. Watch out for the spindly outdoor tables, which couldn't contain my giant aussie legs (lots of coffee spillage).
Florent. One of the first all-night diners to open in the meat-packing district before it was trendy: soon to be closed because of the sky-rocketing rent in the area. Shame, the home fries were lip-smacking and the place has got buckets of personality.
Balthazar. Fancy-pants French restaurant on Spring Street, popular with tourists and locals alike (prepare to wait up to an hour for a table). I prefer Pastis slightly, because it is a little less hectic.
Penelope's. My favourite brunch spot so far! Very cute little cafe on 30th and Lex, with delicious home made cupcakes, coffee served in mismatched mugs and yummy, yummy food. Oh my god, the blueberry waffles with orange butter... words cannot do justice.
Clinton Street Bakery. The Best Pancakes Ever. Lovely homestyle food, lower East side.
Food
There is such a plethora of choice when it comes to food over here, it's ridiculous. Your best bet is using a combination of the Zagat Guide (the NY restaurant bible) and a more discriminating guide like the Time Out City Guide, and of course local recommendations.
Supper. Atmospheric little Italian place on the Lower East side with exposed brick walls and pretty chandeliers.
Ali Baba Turkish Cuisine. The most delectable, smoky babaganoush I have ever tasted.
Grimaldi's pizza. You deserve one of these world famous pies after walking all the way over the Brooklyn Bridge. Just be prepared to queue (it's absolutely worth the wait).
Café Sabarsky. The rather posh Neue Gallery restaurant. Get yourself a Viennese coffee and dessert (I had the dark chocolate and apricot cake). Natalie Portman had the apple strudel, in case you were wondering.
Katz's Deli, where Sally proved to Harry what great manipulators women can be. It's a lot grimier than it looks in the film, but the girl behind the counter wouldn't accept payment from a fellow Melbournite, so I can't complain.
Nobu next door. Slightly cheaper and easier to book than Nobu, this is the best meal I have had in the city so far - amazing. Promise me you'll go there and try the fresh yellow tail sashimi with jalapeno, and also the rock shrimp tempura. Still drooling.
Adrienne's pizza bar. It's a pleasure eating outdoors on a warm night at this great upmarket pizza bar. The street is lined with bench-style tables, hidden away on a cobble-dy street near Battery Park.
The Empire diner. I can't believe it didn't occur to me to visit an old fashioned American diner. It took an out-of-towner to suggest it. Proper old-school burger-and-milkshake-at-the-counter territory, served with a smile and a wink.
John's pizzeria. Famous pizza pie joint on Bleecker street. Atmospheric, with years worth of names carved into the small wooden booths, but Grimaldi's pizza is superior in my book (I think it's an Italian vs. American thing.)
Drinks
Alcoholic beverages and bars are not my strong suit, I have to admit - I am a lightweight and don't like noisy, crowded bars - but here's a list of the few places I have visited. Don't forget your ID!
Ayza chocolate and wine bar (Midtown). Try a "flight" (3 little samplers).
Flat Iron Lounge. Groovy bar with retro cocktails, near the iconic building.
Under the volcano. Atmospheric (and very dark) tequila bar in midtown. Fierce margaritas.
Divine Bar, right near Times Square. The cinnamon toast with caramel ice-cream was sooo good, but you might feel a little self-conscious ordering the "Stinkin' Dirty Whore-tini". Try the Angel's Tit instead (truly divine).
Darkroom. A photographer friend (appropriately) roped me into coming to this low-ceilinged den and I enjoyed myself dancing inanely to Stevie Wonder and other crowd-pleasers.
8 Mile Creek. Surprisingly tasteful Australian themed bar in NoLIta (north of little italy). You wouldn't really know it was an Australian bar, except that you might be offered a Tim Tam with your drink.
Superfine. A bar in dumbo which is exactly that: super fine. Fantastic G&T with lime, kick-ass music, and rotating local artworks on the walls.
Music/Venues
You gotta see some live music if you come to New York, it has been hands-down my favourite thing to do here - there are some great small venues and you are spoilt for choice when it comes to gig listings.
Smalls. Even for jazz-novices like myself, an umissable experience.
NYC Town Hall. I caught Flight of the Conchords here, but they have all sorts of stuff on - classical, poetry, world music. Lovely old-fashioned theatre with good views from most seats, right near Times Square.
The Mercury Lounge. Proper dark and dinghy rock venue on an intimate scale, East Houston. I saw the fragile but heart-breakingly beautiful Joan As Police Woman here, with New York's coolest in attendance (including a Warhol wannabe).
Bowery Ballroom. My favourite NY music space so far. Beautiful mid-sized venue in a stylish 1920's building in the lower East side, showing loads of cool acts. I caught the very lovely Laura Veirs here (supported by Liam Finn).
Southpaw. Laidback (but supportive) local venue in Brooklyn, far enough from the beaten track to make you feel like one of the locals. I saw Hayden here.
Summerstage. A series of free concerts over the summer in Central Park - what could possibly go wrong? Well, it could pour with torrential rain and thunderstorms on the day Vampire Weekend are playing...but aside from that, much fun to be had.
Joe's pub. My (and Fink's) favourite New York venue. If you call ahead and book a table, you can sit right by the stage and enjoy dinner and drinks while you listen in this intimate space.
The Hiro Ballroom. I saw Liz Phair rocking out at this sumptuous kung-fu-style venue, with paper lanterns hanging from the curved dark wood ceiling. Very cool.
Culture/Activities
Falling Water. More Pittsburgh than New York, but worth the pilgrimage to see the most beautiful example of mid-century American architecture around.
The New York Public Library. Gorgeous building, worth going in for a look. I went to see the Gutenburg bible, but nearly cried when I discovered the actual, real life Pooh, Piglet, Kanga, Tigger and Eyeore, once owned (and obviously well loved) by Christopher Robin Milne.
Avenue Q on Broadway. Cute and funny. I was hysterical at interval: I don't even remember why. Caveat: The Americans will never touch the British when it comes to humour. I think I was just high on life at the time.
Coney Island. I don't think this counts as "cultural", but it's certainly an "experience". Shoot the Freak, ride the Cyclone, ogle the carnies and tuck into a world famous hotdog. Not for the faint of heart. Scheduled for redevelopment, so get there quick if you want to experience the authentic tawdry-run-down-fairground atmosphere.
The Guggenheim. Another cool Frank Lloyd Wright building full of cutting-edge modern art.
Neue Gallery. I tracked this down after spying a Klimt poster on 5th avenue. I adored it: it is a Klimt-groupies dream. And the most gorgeous display of Wiener Werkstätte jewellery imaginable.
Central Park Boathouse. Fortify yourself with an American-style super sweet breakfast at the Express Café before heading out for a row on the lake. If you are feeling energetic (I was), hire yourself a bike from Metro Bicycles (cheaper than the Central Park bike rentals) on 88th and Lexington for an easy cycle round the entire park.
Wicked. The front row seats are allocated via a ballot system - turn up between 5 and 6pm to put your name down and take your chances for the 8 o'clock show.
BAM. The Brooklyn Academy of Music to be precise, but they also put on plays and have a cinema where I saw a bunch of short animated films from around the world, with a Q&A session afterwards.
Whitney Museum of American Art. Great but dissappointingly small collection of modern American art, including Hopper, O'Keefe, Oldenburg, Pollock and De Kooning. Luckily they had one tiny room in the basement dedicated to my all-time favourite sculptor: Alexander Calder; as well as a collection of exquisite Mapplethorpe polaroids.
P.S.1. Contemporary art museum in a converted school building in Queens, affiliated with MoMA. Very cool and definitely worth the trek. I saw a brilliant show around the themes of "flags, weapons and dreams" - a great insight into the underbelly of the American dream.
MoMA. This is the best collection of big-name modern art I have seen in the world - truly awesome. A fantastic space and a definite must-do.
The Met. For some reason, I was expecting the Met to be a bit fusty and boring, but it blew me away. Utterly amazing collection of artworks from throughout the ages, from ancient Egyptian to contemporary American.
New York Botanical Gardens. I spent a very wet and humid Sunday traipsing around this lovely park, seeking out the Henry Moore pieces which are on exhibition at the moment. A serene retreat from the city, up in the Bronx.
*To be updated during my stay.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Food, food and more food
Last weekend was a rampant 4-day cooking fuh-renzy. Other people have cleaning frenzies. I just let the dirt/laundry/mouse droppings pile up and make another batch of muffins.
I was very proud of my ultra-gourmet dinner on Sunday night, made with the leftover roast chicken from the night before. Firstly, I cornered my boyfriend into peeling a couple of sweet potatoes into fine slices, before coating them in an olive oil/lemon/honey mix, and laying them out on a roasting tray to cook. I tell ya, it is well worth the faff when you get those lip-smacking honey-glazed sweet potato crisps out of the oven about 15 minutes later.
So those, the leftover chicken, some watercress, pine-nuts, avocado, and a few leftover roast potatoes - and voila. This was the most heavenly warm salad ever.
And for dessert? Bramley apples stewed with cloves, grandma style, topped with whipped passionfruit cream (also left over from making a birthday cake).
I spent the evening basking in the kudos, being worshipped as Nigella Lawson incarnate; only taller, blonder and minus those pneumatic appendages. I may be a tad slovenly in the cleaning department, but who cares when your tongue is being transported to gastronomic heaven.
I was very proud of my ultra-gourmet dinner on Sunday night, made with the leftover roast chicken from the night before. Firstly, I cornered my boyfriend into peeling a couple of sweet potatoes into fine slices, before coating them in an olive oil/lemon/honey mix, and laying them out on a roasting tray to cook. I tell ya, it is well worth the faff when you get those lip-smacking honey-glazed sweet potato crisps out of the oven about 15 minutes later.
So those, the leftover chicken, some watercress, pine-nuts, avocado, and a few leftover roast potatoes - and voila. This was the most heavenly warm salad ever.
And for dessert? Bramley apples stewed with cloves, grandma style, topped with whipped passionfruit cream (also left over from making a birthday cake).
I spent the evening basking in the kudos, being worshipped as Nigella Lawson incarnate; only taller, blonder and minus those pneumatic appendages. I may be a tad slovenly in the cleaning department, but who cares when your tongue is being transported to gastronomic heaven.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Serendipity cupcakes
So called because I had to use dribs and drabs left over in my pantry, so that they bear virtually no resemblance to the Nigella Lawson recipe I was planning to use. However, they did turn out beautifully - dare I say even better than Nigella's stuffy old carrot cupcakes.
Makes 12. Just enough to last a couple of days for two greedy people.
100gm light muscovado sugar
175ml sunflower oil
2 eggs
100gm plain flour
125gm self raising flour (I used light brown)
small teaspoon of bi-carb soda
pinch salt
150gm grated butternut squash/pumpkin
100gm chopped walnuts
freshly grated nutmeg
Whip the sugar and oil together and beat in the eggs one at a time. Sift the flours, salt and bi-carb soda together and add to the mix. Fold in the grated squash/pumpkin and nutmeg with the walnuts (inhaling the nutmeg deeply). Spoon the glooopy result into a muffin tin lined with patty pans. Cook at 200 degrees for 20 minutes. Try to keep your nose clean as you lick the bowl.
Makes 12. Just enough to last a couple of days for two greedy people.
100gm light muscovado sugar
175ml sunflower oil
2 eggs
100gm plain flour
125gm self raising flour (I used light brown)
small teaspoon of bi-carb soda
pinch salt
150gm grated butternut squash/pumpkin
100gm chopped walnuts
freshly grated nutmeg
Whip the sugar and oil together and beat in the eggs one at a time. Sift the flours, salt and bi-carb soda together and add to the mix. Fold in the grated squash/pumpkin and nutmeg with the walnuts (inhaling the nutmeg deeply). Spoon the glooopy result into a muffin tin lined with patty pans. Cook at 200 degrees for 20 minutes. Try to keep your nose clean as you lick the bowl.
Monday, January 29, 2007
It's been a long weekend
The only thing for it is a mound of chocolate and a stiff (yet smooth) drink.
Chocolate Weekend-end Comisseration Slice
3x mars bars, chopped
90gm butter
2 cups rice bubbles
1/3 cup dessicated coconut
1/3 cup sultanas
1/3 cup chopped mixed nuts (I used hazels, brazils and pecans)
125gm dark chocolate, melted
Melt the butter and chopped mars bars in a saucepan over a low heat until you have a gooey mess. Stir in the rice bubbles, coconut, sultanas and nuts, and mix till everything is coated nicely. Press firmly into a flat container (anything rectangular will do) lined with aluminium foil. Pour melted chocolate over the top and spread around as evenly as possible. Leave in the fridge as long as you can stand it and then remove from the container and cut into lots of small, dainty pieces. At this point, it is your privilege, nay, responsibility as the "cook" to eat the corner bits, as well as any broken or imperfect pieces.
Serve with large helpings of Frangelico, poured into an innappropriate glass (not shown).
Enjoy responsibly.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Oz Food Fest
Burger rings. Twisties. Two-minute noodles. Mint slice. Snack bars. Tim Tams. Barbeque shapes. Strawberries and Cream lollies. Dim Sims and potato cakes. Solo lemon ("light on the fizz, so you can slam it down fast" - bloody Australian, that). Choc Wedges. Freddo Frogs. Caramello Koalas. Fruit Tingles and Kool Fruits. Ahhh, Australian junk food, how good it makes me feel (in a warm and fuzzy nostalgic way) when I am eating it and how bad it makes me feel 20 minutes later.
Funny how I can't work up the same level of excitement about, say, Australian nectarines or bananas. Apparently I need some glaringly ugly packaging and a host of added E numbers to make my saliva glands start working properly.
Funny how I can't work up the same level of excitement about, say, Australian nectarines or bananas. Apparently I need some glaringly ugly packaging and a host of added E numbers to make my saliva glands start working properly.
Monday, October 16, 2006
Scrumptious new cook book - joy!
This is possibly the most gorgeous-looking cookbook I have ever clapped eyes on, with a lovely, hefty cloth-bound cover and the most beautifully subtle photography throughout. And, bliss upon bliss, I got it for only £7.50, from £25, with a voucher that has been fluttering in and out of my handbag for months. It is "The Kitchen Diaries", by Nigel Slater, a British cook my boyfriend introduced me to - less trendy than Jamie, less girly than Nigella, and nowhere near as fussy as Delia, who seems to assume that we have all freakin' day to prepare our dinners.
I must admit, though, I was disappointed to find recently (in a magazine supplement) that Nigel's own kitchen is an ultra-modern stainless steel monstrosity absolutely devoid of clutter. I was convinced he would conjure up his recipes in an old-fashioned, rustic wooden kitchen, piled high with antique French kitchen implements and hessian sacks full of market apples. The disappointment! Still, this is one beautiful book, which I will try and keep relatively pristine (well, untill the first recipe is attempted, anyhow!).
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
A meal worth 6 nights of sleeping on the ground for
We just got back from a(nother) camping holiday in Cornwall... no, I don't love camping that much, but it is cheap and it means you get to eat out if there is even a hint of bad weather - there is no way the camp stove will cope in this wind/rain/mist! My, isn't it getting dark? We can't possibly cook outdoors in the dark! Oh well, I guess we will have to eat at Rick Stein's. Or Fifteen.
We ate at the Seafood Restaurant one lunch, and it was possibly the most lovely meal I have ever eaten. But then again, anything remotely truffle-flavoured has me salivating in anticipation and my fillet of brill with potatoes and mushrooms was smothered in the stuff.
Fifteen was also a good experience, in a wholesome, supporting-local-produce, giving-local-people-valuable-work-experience kind of a way. Even the uniforms were really cute, fresh and funky, in true Jamie Oliver style.
I did manage to squeeze into my wetsuit on a few occassions - in between meals - and do some light body-boarding, but the conditions were wa-a-ay too rough for me to consider taking a surf board out. Surfing is a sport which requires total lion-heartedness to attempt and learn - it is no sport for namby-pamby knock-kneed wimps such as myself. I did manage to stand up for a bit in Venezuela a few months back, but soon after I copped a board in the face and ended up with a badly cut lip and a severely impaired "fearlessness" factor.
Just prior to cutting my face up, I had reached that rare state of mind (for me) where the combination of sunshine and cold water and adrenaline made me look at the board and think "I am going to tame this sucker!" and a swell of fierce grrl-power rushes into your veins. The thing about surfing is, you have to really, really want it in order to do it properly, if you know what I mean. It truly is an all or nothing sport.
And frankly? I would rather be watching those crazy death-wish surfers from the comfort of a good restaurant, relishing the fresh raspberries and licking white chocolate mousse off a spoon. Do I sound food-obsessed? Because I think I may have made the wrong career choice.
We ate at the Seafood Restaurant one lunch, and it was possibly the most lovely meal I have ever eaten. But then again, anything remotely truffle-flavoured has me salivating in anticipation and my fillet of brill with potatoes and mushrooms was smothered in the stuff.
Fifteen was also a good experience, in a wholesome, supporting-local-produce, giving-local-people-valuable-work-experience kind of a way. Even the uniforms were really cute, fresh and funky, in true Jamie Oliver style.
I did manage to squeeze into my wetsuit on a few occassions - in between meals - and do some light body-boarding, but the conditions were wa-a-ay too rough for me to consider taking a surf board out. Surfing is a sport which requires total lion-heartedness to attempt and learn - it is no sport for namby-pamby knock-kneed wimps such as myself. I did manage to stand up for a bit in Venezuela a few months back, but soon after I copped a board in the face and ended up with a badly cut lip and a severely impaired "fearlessness" factor.
Just prior to cutting my face up, I had reached that rare state of mind (for me) where the combination of sunshine and cold water and adrenaline made me look at the board and think "I am going to tame this sucker!" and a swell of fierce grrl-power rushes into your veins. The thing about surfing is, you have to really, really want it in order to do it properly, if you know what I mean. It truly is an all or nothing sport.
And frankly? I would rather be watching those crazy death-wish surfers from the comfort of a good restaurant, relishing the fresh raspberries and licking white chocolate mousse off a spoon. Do I sound food-obsessed? Because I think I may have made the wrong career choice.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Giving Wizz Fizz a run for their money
Wow! These gorgeous, bubble-gum pink English apples taste just like sherbert, including the fizz. I haven't been so excited about fruit since we went raspberry picking in Wales. Yum!
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Saturday morning muffins
These yummy, yummy muffins are taken from my baking bible, "How to be a domestic goddess", by Nigella Lawson. Her recipes are very good, but the best thing about her books is that you can read them front to back - they are written with such a lovely, warm, lyrical voice. Baking has always been theraputic for me, and there is something so satisfying about whipping up a batter and producing a batch of muffins or a cake - the gap between the miniscule effort and the immense satisfaction makes it a very pleasurable experience.
These are called "Christmas morning muffins" in her book, but they are good any time of year!
200gm plain flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon bicarb soda
75gm demerara sugar (I used unrefined golden caster sugar)
freshly grated nutmeg
I clementine (or mandarine!) or small orange
about 50ml of milk
60gm unsalted butter, melted
1 large egg
150gm dried cranberries
Combine the dry ingredients. Squeeze the orange/clementine into a measuring jug, then pour in milk until it reaches 150ml. Add the melted butter and the egg, and beat. Pour into the bowl of dry ingredients and mix lightly (over-mixing kills muffins!). Last of all, add the cranberries. I also added some poppy seeds because I love the delicate-popping texture they give.
You can also sprinkle some more sugar and/or cinnamon on top of these before baking.
Cook at 200 degrees celcuis for 20 minutes maximum - check them halfway through as I found they only took about 12 minutes. Makes 12.
Eat at your leisure, or before the blokes in your household get a whiff of them.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Kell's Bell's! Recommendations: Part Four
This stuff is delishhhh-ious (Homer Simpson shudder): Rachel's Organic greek-style yoghurt with coconut
This album almost lives up to the (literally) smokin' performance we caught at the Cambridge Folk Festival: Seth Lakeman - Freedom Fields
For all those Pedro Almodovar fans out there: his latest was a little.. shall we say.. over-hyped? Sorry, Pedro, ordinarily your passionate, dramatic, colourful films make me swoon.
This album almost lives up to the (literally) smokin' performance we caught at the Cambridge Folk Festival: Seth Lakeman - Freedom Fields
For all those Pedro Almodovar fans out there: his latest was a little.. shall we say.. over-hyped? Sorry, Pedro, ordinarily your passionate, dramatic, colourful films make me swoon.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Kell's Bell's! Recommendations: Part Three
A "new" Australian muso discovery (where have I been for the last 3 years?!):
For deliciously "natural" fruit smoothies (in all their lumpy glory):
I didn't take much notice what was happening in Rwanda in 1994 at the time - watching this filled in some gaps:
For deliciously "natural" fruit smoothies (in all their lumpy glory):
I didn't take much notice what was happening in Rwanda in 1994 at the time - watching this filled in some gaps:
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Krispy Kreme doughnuts - the work of the devil
Over here, sometimes I hear a snippet of news from home that, due to the distance between my place of birth and where I am now, gets a little blown out of proportion in my head. So it was when I heard that Krispy Kreme doughnuts have made their greasy way over there.
I can't help feeling a little protective of my Melbourne, the city I was born and grew up in. I feel kind of like a big sister figure in relation to my home town (maybe because I am a real-life big sister), and like a big sis, I want to protect my Melbourne from the big, bad, nasty world at large. If I can be incredibly patronising for a minute, there is an innocence about Australia which I wasn't even aware of until I left her sunny shores. My first response on hearing the news was outrage, followed quickly by a feeling of helpless disappointment - another piece of litter strewn on the pathway to American domination.
The problems I have with Krispy Kreme doughnuts are many. Behold:
1. They are seriously, heart-stoppingly bad for you.
2. They promote annoyingly American-product-style bad spelling, which just grates me like fingernails on a chalk board.
3. I don't know how much they are over there, but here in London you could blow your whole lunch allowance on one doughnut.
4. I hate the nostalgic, "1950's Americana" packaging.
5. They have a doughnut called the "Cruller", which features a weird spiral pattern. This is completely unecessary and wrong.
6. Speaking of which, there are just too many varieties. Americans took the concept of consumer choice, and sprinted off with it, turning it into a brain-numbing, zombie-making nightmare of obesity and excess.
7. The ridiculous spin they produce in response to bad press. For example, the "nutrition information" button on the website, which makes dumb people feel reassured by its presence alone.
So there you have it. My personal tirade against the great American bandwagon, rolling over countries like an unstoppable juggernaut, spilling grease, spewing CO2 and rewarding idiots wherever it goes. Please bear in mind, I am the hugest sugar-fiend, and doughnuts used to be the highlight of my week in High School. So I will understand if you succumb and try one of these doughy delights.
Just as long as you don't mind feeling sick with yourself afterwards.
I can't help feeling a little protective of my Melbourne, the city I was born and grew up in. I feel kind of like a big sister figure in relation to my home town (maybe because I am a real-life big sister), and like a big sis, I want to protect my Melbourne from the big, bad, nasty world at large. If I can be incredibly patronising for a minute, there is an innocence about Australia which I wasn't even aware of until I left her sunny shores. My first response on hearing the news was outrage, followed quickly by a feeling of helpless disappointment - another piece of litter strewn on the pathway to American domination.
The problems I have with Krispy Kreme doughnuts are many. Behold:
1. They are seriously, heart-stoppingly bad for you.
2. They promote annoyingly American-product-style bad spelling, which just grates me like fingernails on a chalk board.
3. I don't know how much they are over there, but here in London you could blow your whole lunch allowance on one doughnut.
4. I hate the nostalgic, "1950's Americana" packaging.
5. They have a doughnut called the "Cruller", which features a weird spiral pattern. This is completely unecessary and wrong.
6. Speaking of which, there are just too many varieties. Americans took the concept of consumer choice, and sprinted off with it, turning it into a brain-numbing, zombie-making nightmare of obesity and excess.
7. The ridiculous spin they produce in response to bad press. For example, the "nutrition information" button on the website, which makes dumb people feel reassured by its presence alone.
So there you have it. My personal tirade against the great American bandwagon, rolling over countries like an unstoppable juggernaut, spilling grease, spewing CO2 and rewarding idiots wherever it goes. Please bear in mind, I am the hugest sugar-fiend, and doughnuts used to be the highlight of my week in High School. So I will understand if you succumb and try one of these doughy delights.
Just as long as you don't mind feeling sick with yourself afterwards.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Kell's Bell's! Recommendations: Part One
For listening to while driving along a winding coastal road with the sun breaking through the clouds:
Tori Amos - Scarlet's Walk
To remind you what a tragi-comic genius Woody Allen was back in the day:
Crimes and Misdemeanors
For the most delicious dark chocolate/berry experience this side of a Cherry Ripe:
Cote D'or Experiences Noir Framboise
To remind you that your family isn't all that crazy, comparitively speaking:
My Family and Other Animals, by Gerald Durrell
Tori Amos - Scarlet's Walk
To remind you what a tragi-comic genius Woody Allen was back in the day:
Crimes and Misdemeanors
For the most delicious dark chocolate/berry experience this side of a Cherry Ripe:
Cote D'or Experiences Noir Framboise
To remind you that your family isn't all that crazy, comparitively speaking:
My Family and Other Animals, by Gerald Durrell
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Ugly veg
Not attractive, are they? These knobbly little wonders are Jerusalem artichokes - and I am in the process of transforming them into soup. Ever since I tasted a bowl of heaven in the form of "Jerusalem artichoke soup with white truffle oil" at a restaurant in Kew - a little village east of Melbourne - many years ago while I was working at kbr design, I have kept the recipe idea tucked away at the back of my brain for future use.
The other day, serrendipitously, I came across some reduced packs of them at Waitrose - 20p for 500grams, which is a bargain. That no one wanted them possibly has something to do with the fact that people will no longer buy ugly fruit/veg - for instance, there is a delicious variety of nectarine which used to be grown here, called the "Fantasia", but because it is a funny yellow colour with spots, no one will buy them. We have become so used to perfect, regularly-shaped, blemish-free produce that anything less will be rejected - what is this world coming to?
The National Trust is fighting back with an "Ugly Veg" competition. I do have a soft spot for these "runts" - my Dad has been secretly backing ugly veg for years. Whenever he spotted an odd or slightly rude shaped vegetable, he would always make a point of buying it and giving it pride of place on the kitchen window sill. Lovers of two-legged carrots and bum-shaped apples, unite!
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