Stephanie Alexander: a book giveaway

I was too late getting to the food co-op this week. Sweet potatoes had all but gone – pretty much the only vegetable my little cuddlebug will eat. 

So Luca helped me pile in what was left of the parsnips.

While they napped yesterday, I decided on Stephanie Alexander's parsnip croquettes*. Cooked till tender, then fried in a little butter and cumin, mashed with egg yolk and rolled in wholemeal breadcrumbs, they were sweet, crisp and they had me wishing I bought more parsnips.

Sadly, though, Kian made it quite clear that roasted sweet potato is still his favourite thing to eat. 

I've had The Cook's Companion ever since it was published. It's one of those timeless books with recipes for everything, from bug meat coconut curry and lemon risotto to lamb shanks and popcorn.

The funny thing is I laid my hands on another copy a few weeks ago. The cover is different and infinitely more charming than the one I have, so I couldn't resist. 

It would make the perfect present so I'm giving it away. To say thank you for all the lovely comments lately. Just leave me a comment if you'd like to win this magnificent tome. 

Do you collect cookery books? What about ones you already have – or is that just me? 

Update: Congratulations Libby!






Parsnip croquettes from The Cook's Companion

900g parsnips, peeled and trimmed
butter
1 tsp ground cumin
2 eggs, separated
1 tbsp chickpea flour (I used plain flour)
salt and freshly ground black pepper
50g fresh wholemeal breadcrumbs
olive oil

Cut parsnips into chunks. Boil until tender, then drain well. Melt 50g butter, then add cumin and sweat for 1-2 mins. Mash parsnip and add egg yolks. Sift in flour (I didn't bother!) and season. Mix thoroughly (there shouldn't be any lumps, but guess what? Mine did) and chill for 1 hour (I chilled for 20 mins). Lightly whisk egg whites. Spread breadcrumbs on a plate. Rolls spoonfuls of parsnip mixture into sausage shapes or flattish cakes. Dip first in egg white and then in crumbs and chill until needed (or don't chill if you have hungry children to feed). Fry in butter and oil until crisp and brown.

Food that sings

Organic carrots at FIG, my local food co-op, are cheap. Usually when I apply the word 'cheap' to food, I mean cheap and nasty.

But there's nothing nasty about these carrots, or anything else that I get from the co-op. I don't need an invitation to wax lyrical about my food co-op. Ever since we moved to Australia, I have struggled with the challenges of sourcing and buying fruit and veg that makes me feel good. Until recently, I bought a bit in a little gourmet grocer (do you hate gourmet as much as I do?), a bit at the supermarket, spent a fortune in a health food store, and supplemented it with a very small expensive weekly box delivery.

I have spent almost three years thinking we would never be able to eat the way I want us to.

If it wasn't breaking the bank, it was breaking me. That might sound a touch melodramatic, but for a while there I lost that connection – with food, with nature and with farmers. 

In the UK, I found it easier to find that connection. My weekly box came box with notes and beautiful anecdotes about who was growing what, and why the month's crop of purple sprouting broccoli was wiped out by a sudden change in the weather. It was very real.

I also found a little connection at the supermarket. The Big Four over there are just as bad as the Big Two over here, but I shopped somewhere that paid farmers a decent price for their milk. It was probably far from perfect, but I felt a connection and talking to all those producers and growers over the years, I believed this supermarket was committed to fostering good relationships with its suppliers. That feels right to me.

Labelling helped too, of course. I could tell my pork was raised in the open fields of East Anglia from outdoor bred pigs sired by pedigree Hamsphire boars and my raspberries grown by a nice chap called Harry Hall in Berkshire.  

Sadly, labelling over here is not the same. Beef is Australian and pears are grown in Australia. That's about all you get in my supermarket. When you think of the sheer scale of this beautiful country, there's a lot of connection lost for me where food is concerned.

Organic isn't everything. In fact, when it's packaged in loads of plastic and sits for days on end on the supermarket shelf looking miserable and tired, I'd probably rather go for the fresher stuff on the other side, even if it has been buffed and polished till it sparkles. (Actually, if it sparkles, I just go without.)

Nor is local. People pay too much lip service to local, especially people who don't care. I once ate in a restaurant in the West Country that was so proud of its locally reared chickens. 'It's all local', I remember them saying. I like a story, so I visited the farmshop down the road who sold these chickens. It turned out they were caged chickens. 

But when you combine organic with just-picked and local, and when it's perfectly in season.... well, it's food that sings. I have my connection.

Back to carrots. I ended up with 10kg last week (it was quite some singing).

Here's how they ended up. (And they all went down a storm in lunchboxes the next day.)

Carrot and sesame burgers with chickpeas, lemon and cumin

Kakiage (tempura vegetables)*

Carrot and silverbeet muffins

Do you need that connection too? Do you wish we had an affordable supermarket full of food that sings? One that could fill the gap that co-ops, farmers' markets and box schemes can't meet?




* Make the tempura batter by mixing 1 beaten egg with 1 cup of iced water, then gently mix in 1 cup of flour and a good pinch of salt. Pay it very little attention and don't worry about lumps. Whatever you do, make sure you have iced water and don't over mix. I added grated carrot, zucchini, red onion and red capsicum. I still had batter left over, so I dunked cauliflower in there too. Add spoonfuls of the mixture to hot oil and deep-fry until browned all over. Drain then dip into equal quantities of soy sauce, mirin, sake and a bit of sugar to sweeten.

A figgy co-op

I am desperately trying to reduce our dependancy on the supermarket. It's a particularly soulless experience for me. There's something about seeing the masses of cheap food, sold very cheaply, and people loading it into their trolleys that leaves me feeling empty and a bit alone.

Every single week. I dread it. 

I try and try to make us go two weeks between supermarket shops, but it's always the milk that sends me back. I don't actually know how much we get through, but I'm guessing over 10 litres. Do other families go through this much? (It's why I made this plea.)

Very often I clear the shelves of the organic milk (they very rarely have more than 7 litres on the shelf), and most other times I just can't fit that much milk into the trolley on top of everything else. 

I buy what I have to at the moment. In the back of my head, I'm making plans to make a few things – our own laundry detergent (maybe), mayonnaise, tomato ketchup... I've already made a start on ricotta, except it wasn't quite right, so I must revisit the cheese-making. It's just about getting into the habit – and finding the time!

The garden has been giving us spinach, parsley and (very holey) rocket. The kale is almost ready and Luca picked our first pea pod yesterday. 

Our little Monday box scheme came to an end recently, so I had to find something else. 

I discovered FIG (Food Integrity Group Co-op). Well, the truth is, I'd heard about a co-op on the Central Coast a while ago, but I couldn't contemplate the half-hour drive when Kian was a baby.

I've been going and getting my box for the last couple of weeks now, and I'm happy.

Bit of a dicey drive (have I mentioned I don't like driving?), but it's worth it.

Watching other mums pile beautiful local (proper local) produce into their baskets makes me happy. I'm not alone banging on about free-range birds and eggs; there was a petition here this week along with plenty of information to inform us.

This week, I filled my bags with apples, potatoes, greens, citrus, broccoli and cauliflower. Plus I bought eggs (a member's eggs; $4 for a dozen!), celery, ginger, bananas, beetroot and sweet potato. Last week, there were carrots for $1 a kilo! Organic carrots. A dollar a kilo! 

The celery came home and was quickly sautéed in butter with onion and bay leaves, before joining the broccoli and the cauli together with a layer of breadcrumbs, crushed walnuts and parmesan in a creamy gratin. 

Graeme and I were home alone yesterday. And this is what we rustled up for our lunch. Figgy poached eggs.*

It's Thursday and I'm running out of veg already. That's the trouble when I have really good ingredients in the house. They disappear quickly. More to the point, there's a lot more care and respect that goes into the cooking, so I've been making some lovely meals. 

I made last week's mushrooms the star of the dish in a French chicken casserole. All the potatoes sat huddled next to a roasted lamb joint for yesterday's dinner and tonight, we have soup. 

A soup so good that Kian had two servings. I can't tell you how that made me feel given he hasn't really eaten a proper meal (lunch or dinner) for months. He eats porridge, a few prunes and spoonfuls of chocolate coconut butter.

Until today. 

This is what broke his fast: shallots, carrot and the leftover bunch of celery leaves (see above) sizzled very gently for a little while. Then I stirred in quite a generous knob of ginger and some orange zest. Red lentils next and chicken stock. Left to simmer until I picked Luca up from preschool. A blitz, then Luca added a can and a half of chickpeas ('two cans would be too much, Mummy').** 

Here's a list of other food co-operatives around the country. Another one here too.

More on FIG coming soon...




* I don't know if you've noticed, but this is a pretty good shot compared to most of the food photography on here (I wish I took it!). I've decided now that I've reached this milestone, I'm going to take my food shots a bit more seriously. No more slopping on plates and trying to take something one-handed with the phone (sometimes it's the only way if my little cuddlebug needs his half-hourly cuddle). We have a very good camera and I have a husband who knows what all the buttons do, so the food will start to look good now. (I half toyed with the idea of deleting some of my very dodgy food shots, but y'know what? They're staying. How else can I call it a journey?) Joy, if you're reading this, I'm hoping for some pointers when I see you next...

** I hope I'm not being annoying not giving you an exact recipe. I write lots of exact recipes. It's just that I love to inspire rather than prescribe.