Fish stew from a potted garden

Four gardens beds around the house aren't quite enough, so I grow a lot in pots. And wheelbarrows. And the occasional baby bath. Herbs, flowers, greens, beetroot and carrots are in pots chez moi.

Some of it works – my hydrangea is happy as is the sage and flowering thyme. And some of it doesn't – if the strawberries, mint and rocket were people, they'd be a sour-faced dour bunch of grumps.*

My tarragon, which shares its garage-sale pot with oregano, is probably more like a 1960s Julie Andrews. Chirpy and oh so sprightly.

Which is just as well, because it's my favourite herb. Have I ever mentioned I could eat béarnaise with a spoon?

This afternoon, after I'd worked at the computer all day and with under half an hour to spare before I had to pick the boys up, I realised I'd cut it too fine to make fish pie with Graeme's leatherjacket. Time for something quick, so I wandered into the garden and picked sprigs of tarragon and thyme and a couple of bay leaves.

A summery fish stew is what I made. I sautéed 1 chopped onion and 2 garlic cloves in some coconut oil for a few mins, then added 3 chopped anchovies, 2 chopped tomatoes (from my FIG box this week!) plus the thyme and tarragon and let it all soften a little longer. Next, I added a good splash of white wine and let it bubble away for a few mins before adding roughly 350ml of stock and the bay leaves. I brought it to the boil then added enough couscous to soak up most of the stock. I let it simmer gently, then stirred through around 500g of white fish – cut into chunky pieces. Another 5 mins and the fish was cooked. I took it off the hob, checked for seasoning, put a lid on it and rushed out the door to fetch my little rascals.

A one-pot dinner in under half an hour and both boys loved it. (OK, so one really enjoyed it and one just ate to fill the tiniest bit of his tummy. But I can live with that.)





* These grumps in the garden are the reason why I'm doing Nicola Chatham's next online course: Grow Organic Food in Pots. Wherever you are in the world, if you want to learn more about Nicola and her lovely way, you can get her free (yes, free) video on 'The 5 Secrets to Growing Organic Food in Pots'. Maybe I'll see you in the 'classroom'?

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. 

What a pear

Winter has arrived. I don't mind it all. In fact, I quite like it.

Change is good. Cosy cardigans and mugs of hot chocolate. I'm saying hello to winter and its chilly evenings with warming crumble and cream. A green salad with goat’s cheese and pear makes a speedy supper, and your little ones will love these pancakes with coconut chocolate butter. *

Here's what I cooked up for Breeze magazine this month.

A pear and raisin crumble is perfect in winter. I buy Over the Moon Jersey milk at the Entrance Farmers’ Market whenever I can. It’s like liquid gold. I think it’s exciting to buy milk and cream straight from the dairy. Old-fashioned, full-cream milk that hasn’t been homogenised or diluted, from a single family-owned farm that doesn’t use pesticides or man-made fertilisers is beautiful. That’s just the milk. Once you taste their cream, you won’t put anything else near your crumble.

I would love to see the milk at the Avoca markets (either beachside or growers'!). Love love love. This single thing would infinitely improve my quality of life. So if you're reading this Karl, pleeeease....

It’s often a relief not to have to bother with cooking, which is why a simple cheese and salad course is just the thing for when you’ve overstretched yourself. A goat's cheese salad with pear and walnuts. Convenient, but it relies on the very best ingredients. An industrial, supermarket-grade goat’s cheese, mediocre bread and rock-hard pears just won’t cut it. Visit the Avoca Beach Growers' Market and bag one of the exquisite goat’s cheeses from Leaning Oak, then swing past La Tartine for one of their finest loaves of sourdough. 

We don’t make pancakes anywhere near enough. They’re so easy to make, especially these pancakes with coconut chocolate butter and pears. I’m hooked on Cocopure’s coconut chocolate butter, and once you add some fruit (pears in winter, strawberries in summer), you have an impressive dessert for any night of the week. You’ll find Cocopure at the Avoca Beach Growers' Market. Try the cashew butter and the vanilla butter for a great healthy snack to have on fruit. The chocolate butter, with its blend of organic virgin coconut oil, raw cacao, agave nectar, vanilla and himalayan crystal salt, is sensational. Kids will love it spread on toast, or straight from the jar - like mine do. 

Visit their website and download a copy of their new Pure magazine. Learn about the amazing power of raw chocolate, why every kitchen should be using virgin coconut oil and make your own raw chocolate!

Stay tuned, because I've got something very exciting on Cocopure coming very soon.  

Only two days left to enter the Amazement giveaway. Quick!

 


* All photographs copyright Breeze magazine. For the full recipes, click on the recipe links above and download a recipe card for you to print and fold in half, and keep! Otherwise, you can read the whole thing here.

Mini quiches and a roasted red pasta sauce

My food posts are few and far between. I know that. It's because my kitchen and I are not on very good terms at the moment. There's the fish tank, the new compost bucket, water cask, all the dirty dishes (yes, they certainly are a permanent feature around here) and everything else that gets dumped on the kitchen bench (if we don't know where something goes, or we just can't be bothered to put it away, guess where it ends up?).

So funnily enough, I don't feel inspired to cook there. I'm looking at it now and I can just about fit an A4 piece of paper in the space available. It drives me wild.

One day, I'll have a kitchen big enough so that when I'm rolling pastry out, half of it isn't dangling off the bench top. One day...

Anyway, I realised last night that I hadn't made any bread (see above for reason why), and the boys need a packed lunch today, so I decided to make some mini leek and cheese quiches in my A4-size workspace.

I whisked out some butter puff pastry sheets from the freezer and while they thawed, I softened a couple of leeks in some butter. No real recipe here. Sound familiar?

Three or four eggs in a bowl, beaten with a small tub of crème fraîche, a dash of milk, a sprinkling of nutmeg and salt and pepper. Plus a handful of grated cheese (I used a mixture of cheddar and parmesan). I probably didn't need the extra milk, but Mum always adds milk, so I do.


I pretended to leave the leeks to cool, then I mixed them into the eggy cheesy cream. Squares of the butter puff went into a muffin tray, followed by spoonfuls of the filling. I didn't half fill them, or put the tray in the oven and fill them to the top. Instead, because I think I know best, I wobbled over to the oven, and the mixture leaked out and caught some of the pastry.


Still, they look good. And I've just had one for morning tea.


I popped some cherry tomato quarters on top and baked them for around 15 mins at 180-200C. (Honestly, though, I just cooked them until they looked ready.)

Something else I did a while ago was a roasted red pepper (capsicum) and tomato sauce for pasta. I get so bored with Kian spitting things out and working out what he'll eat. He can't just survive on bananas and sultanas, so I often to resort to a good old purée.

I roasted whole garlic cloves (in their skin), red onion and red pepper (capsicum) with olive oil and a bit of seasoning for about 20 minutes in a hottish oven. (Don't you love how vague I am?!)**. I added the tomatoes towards the end, just so they soften and before they start to char.

Then I blitzed the whole lot with a stick blender (take the squishy garlic out of their skins first). A nice dollop of crème fraîche makes it deliciously creamy, and I know the flavours would be too intense without it for my little ones...

One more idea for your posse... I made some falafels for dinner one evening and served it with some tahini sauce, which I've never made for the boys before. Tahini made from unhulled sesame seeds is very good for you (yes, I know that's very erudite of me, but... well, I've never really been interested in how much calcium or magnesium something has.)

Anyway, it tastes good and it's rich in nutrients.

I made the tahini sauce by mixing a little tahini into some yoghurt along with a good squeeze of lemon. Add a little to start with and keep tasting. 

The boys loved it, especially for dipping their sweet potato wedges.

** I'm not being deliberately vague. This is largely how I cook. There are lots of badly written recipes out there; recipes that set out to give you all the information but end up letting you down somehow. I'm not setting out to give you precise measurements and timings. I'm just cooking for my family, and I'm telling you about it. It's meant to inspire. Because I like to be inspired too. 

Easy midweek family meals

I believe in food cooked from scratch. I believe in good ingredients. Those two things bring me so much joy and so I really do believe in the cliché that food is one of life's greatest pleasures.

That said, I still get stumped on what to cook occasionally. I don't spend enough time planning meals, so I do a lot of 'open the fridge/freezer doors and stare blankly for a few minutes', trying to create meals in my head with what we also have in the garden and cupboard.

Often, the blank stare achieves nothing more than a bolognese.

Sometimes though, much like when you come up with an absolute corker in Scrabble, my eyes light up as I realise I have the makings of something very nice for dinner.

A little while ago, I had some free-range chicken mince in the freezer. I did my blank stare and then discovered bacon in the fridge (I always have bacon in the fridge now that I can buy free-range!). 

I made some patties using the chicken mince, lemon zest, softened shallots, and some parsley and thyme from the garden. 

I wrapped the patties in the 'streaky' bits of bacon (or just streaky bacon, if you're English!) and baked in a hottish oven for 20 mins or so.

Now, before you scroll to the bottom to find the recipe, wait. There isn't one. You see, I don't really like recipes. In fact, I don't actually believe in recipes very much. Not for this type of thing anyway.

I've written hundreds of recipes, and edited dozens of cookery books, and I find recipes just mostly get in the way. 

They get in the way of cooking. And they bore me.

If I say 1 tsp of thyme leaves, I'm implying that 2 tsp will make it all go horribly wrong. Which it won't. 

Obviously, I follow cake recipes and the like because there is an element of science involved. But the more cooking I do, and the older (and the more impatient I get), I want to add what I want. I just want a vague idea of what goes in, and I make up the rest. It's so much more relaxing that way. Rather than traipsing up and down the kitchen checking your recipe and freaking out when you realise you haven't got as much as the recipe dictates, you add a dash of this and a dash of that. 

That's how my mum cooks.

And maybe, MAYBE, that's a load of twaddle. It could just be I've seen so many recipes that I just don't want to type out precise tsp and grams. Either way, you're not going to get a recipe. (But you get very good pictures!)

Chicken and herb patties

And last night, I was stumped again. The fridge and cupboards are crying out to be filled. I flicked through a book, saw the word 'pancake' and fritters came to mind.

A bag of corn in the freezer. A red pepper (capsicum) and avocados need to be eaten, and there's spring onions in the garden.

I will give you a vague recipe here, but it's just a basic batter. Beat together 100g self-raising flour, 2 eggs and around 100ml milk. Season, then add whatever you fancy. In my case, chopped basil and some corn, along with diced red pepper and sliced spring onion, both of which I'd softened in olive oil beforehand. Then just gently cook spoonfuls of the batter in a pan with some oil.

Corn and red pepper fritters

I cut the fritters into fingers for the boys and they had them with some sliced avocado drizzled with a bit of lime.

There. Two really good meals that you can rustle up and have on the table in less than half an hour.

Would love to know if you make this.