by Kate on January 27, 2012
Though this is such a simple dish, it has plenty of flavour. Try to use the sweet, juicy and plump South Australian mussels which need no scrubbing and preparing. This is a great dish for sharing, with a pan on the table, along with plenty of crusty bread for mopping up the sauce.
100g butter
125g speck bacon, diced
3 golden shallots, finely chopped
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
A few sprigs thyme, leaves picked
1 bay leaf
1kg black mussels, cleaned
200ml dry white wine
250ml PHILADELPHIA Cream for Cooking, a cream alternative
½ cup finely chopped flat leaf parsley
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
Crusty bread, for serving
Melt butter in a large saucepan on medium heat. Cook bacon, golden shallots, onion, garlic, thyme leaves and bay leaf for 5 minutes until just soft. Add mussels, stir to combine and increase heat to high. Add wine and cook, covered, for 3-5 minutes or until mussels start to open. Stir through PHILLY Cream for Cooking and bring to boil.
Remove from heat, stir through parsley and season to taste. Divide between 4 large bowls or serve straight from the pan and let everyone help themselves along with the crusty bread.
Tip: Don’t season until the very end – it’s unlikely you’ll need to add salt because of the high salt content in the mussels and the speck or bacon.
Another tip: Don’t throw away mussels that haven’t opened. It’s really a hug waste and they’re totally fine. Just add closed mussels back to the pot for one minute. If they still don’t open, pry them open with a knife. They are FINE. Mussels will smell absolutely awful if they’re off, and they very very rarely are. I only every discard mussels that are cracked open before cooking.
Recipe and styling by Kate Gibbs.
by Kate on September 21, 2011
This is a tweaked version of a recipe that was published in The Sydney Morning Herald’s Good Living yesterday, in my column The Minimalist.
Braised lamb is a quintessential spring dish that can be a real celebration of a new season, or unbearably heavy. The difference has a little to do with the lamb, and a lot to do with the vegetables and other additions. Here, cinnamon and eggplant turn would-be lamb stew into a spiced, light dish that sings in the new season. I had a version of this dish in Morocco, where the vinegar-drenched sweetness of raisins cut through the richness of the lamb, while lemon juice and fresh mint kept things positively joyous.
One of the great paradoxes of the modern grocery shop is that the best cuts of meat are sometimes the cheapest. The fat-marbled lamb shoulder cut is forgiving for being able to cook more or less forever and still be soft enough to cut with a fork. Most pantries are stocked full of the basic spices used here, which are worth having on hand.
The challenge in this dish comes with the browning of the lamb, essential for any flavoursome one-pot meat dish. Most braises begin with browning, and this is no different. The addition of stock also bumps up the flavour. The easy technique comes in the long slow cooking, and once all browning is done the dish can be left alone for more than one hour to do its magic.
1/4 cup raisins or dried apricots, chopped
2 tbsp red or white wine vinegar
5 Lebanese eggplants
2/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
500g lamb shoulder (boneless meat)
2 large onions, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 x 400g can tomatoes
1/2 cup chicken stock
1 tsp ground coriander
seeds
1 tsp cayenne pepper
2 tsp paprika
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 bunch mint leaves, roughly chopped
Mint leaves, to garnish
Juice of ½ lemon
Marinate the raisins in the vinegar in a bowl, set aside. Cut the eggplants into 2cm thick slices, then sprinkle with sea salt and let stand for half and hour in a colander to draw out the bitter flavours.
Heat half the olive oil in a heavy-based frying pan and fry the eggplant in batches until golden on all sides. Drain on paper towel and set aside. Trim the lamb, if your butcher has not done it for you, and cut into 4cm dice. Heat the remaining oil in a heavy-based saucepan with a tight-fitting lid and lightly brown the lamb in batches. Remove lamb from the pan and set aside.
Sweat the onion in the same pan over a very low heat for about 10 minutes, or until soft and translucent. Add the garlic and some sea salt and cook, stirring for a minute, then add the tomato, raisin mixture, browned lamb, stock and spices. Bring to a very gentle simmer, cover and cook for 1 ½ hours, or until the lamb is soft and easily pulls apart with two forks.
When ready to serve, add eggplant, lemon juice and chopped mint to the pan, and toss together until well combined. Divide the lamb among 4 large bowls, garnish with mint leaves, and serve immediately with cous cous.
by Kate on March 21, 2011
This is my totally easy, throw it all together starter to have just after drinks and just before some more fussed over main. It’s half way between a ceviche and a tartare, partly cooked by a little lime juice but not overly soaked in it. Besides, when you have such a perfect slab of sashimi grade yellowfin tuna (from Martin’s Seafood in Balmain), it would be a waste to cook it and spin the whole lot in other flavours.
Here we have 450g yellowfin tuna, trimmed of skin and those bloody dark red patches that are not so silken. Chop into 5mm cubes, then add to that 2 finely chopped golden shallot, a pinch of dried chilli flakes, juice and grated zest of of 1 lime, and the finely chopped flesh of 1 roasted capsicum, which you can buy in little jars doused in olive oil (from Essential Ingredient), or just do yourself (hold with metal tongs over a flame until blistered and black all over, then shove it in a paper bag and seal for 5-10 minutes – peel when cool). Drizzle the lot with 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil and cover and leave in the fridge for up to an hour. Toss through 1 avocado, cut into dice the same size as the tuna, then season to taste. I serve this dish in little shot glasses with tiny spoons for a crowd, but it’s also great pushed into small ramekins and turned out on individual plates for each guest, scattered with baby herbs and another drizzle of olive oil and lime juice.
by Kate on January 26, 2011
You really need to have started these yesterday, so you can have them in all their glory on this momentous day. But I secretly didn’t and they worked out just fine, still soft and the chocolate icing firm enough to hold the coconut in place and avoid too chocolatey fingers. Is there anything more Australia Day than lamingtons? Ok yes there are snags and VB and pies, but for those the smell and idea is everything and the actual eating nothing at all. Really, we’ve come so far. Lamingtons, and maybe pavlova, are sustaining Australia Day stalwarts; happy and easy and a reminder of a time we used to take English things (like bake) and make them our own.
First you need to make a basic butter cake, and then cut the cake into lamington squares, leaving them like this for a day to prevent catastrophic crumbling when you ice them. To make the butter cake:
125g butter
1 tsp caster sugar
1 tsp vanilla essence
2 eggs
2 cups SR flour
pinch of salt
1/2 cup milk
Preheat oven to 180C. Line the base of a 27cm x 18cm lamington tin with baking paper. Cream the butter and gradually beat in the sugar with the vanilla in an electric mixer, until the mixture is light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition.
Sift the flour and salt, then fold into the creamed mixture alternately with the milk, do not overwork the mixture. Spread the mixture evenly in the tin and bake for 25-30 minutes, or until a skewer comes out clean. Cool on wire racks then cut into cubes or oblongs.
Chocolate icing
3 cups icing sugar
3 tbsp cocoa
4 tbsp boiling water
1 tsp butter, melted
vanilla essence
desiccated coconut, for dusting
Sift the icing sugar and cocoa into a bowl, then add the boiling water, butter and a few drops of vanilla essence. Stir until smooth and shiny, adding another tablespoon of boiling water if needed. If the icing sets, stand the bowl in boiling water and stir. Dip the cake squares into the icing and immediately roll in desiccated coconut, to coat. Leave on a wire rack to set, at least 1 hour.
by Kate on January 9, 2011
The omelet is an oops-we’ve-run-out-of-everything lifesaver. If all you have are a few eggs sitting alone in the fridge, you have dinner, or breakfast. A traditional French omelet of two-to-three eggs per person should be beaten, cooked and served in 90 seconds, the experts say. In respect of this culinary folklore, have the filling completely ready before you cook the eggs. An omelette should be served baveuse, cooked by still soft, never well-done.
Ages 7-12: I heart eggs omelet
This is the height of culinary chic, seven-year-old Ava learns as she gently beats the eggs with a fork. This is the most essential basic skill for any budding chef and the cornerstone of French gastronomic tradition. If you can master the art of a perfect omelet, you can step proudly forward in any kitchen, knowing that you can create a masterpiece out of a few simple ingredients. “I don’t know about all that,” Ava says. “I just like eggs.”
4 eggs
1 bunch asparagus
2 teaspoons butter
1/3 cup freshly grated cheese
Beat the eggs with a fork just enough to blend the yolks and whites. Season to taste. Meanwhile, blanch the asparagus in a saucepan of boiling, salted water for 3-5 minutes. Refresh under cold water, cut stems in half and set aside. Melt the butter in a medium-sized non-stick pan over a medium heat, tilting the pan to film the base and sides with butter. When the butter starts to colour, pour in the eggs. With a fork, pull the edges of the egg towards the centre as it thickens. Let the liquid part run into the vacant spaces. Quickly repeat so there is no more liquid, but the eggs are still soft. Scatter the cheese and asparagus over the eggs. Lift the handle of the pan so the omelette rolls over itself and on to a warmed plate, then serve immediately. Serves 2.
by Kate on November 30, 2010
Boys at elite English school Eton invented this dish. Apparently the top-hat wearing children smashed the school pudding of meringues, strawberries and cream to make this downright Eton mess. Let the juice of the crushed strawberries and raspberries dribble down the inside of glasses, and add less cream for a healthier version.
Ages 3-7: Downright Eton Mess
Three-year-old Lulu looks up at me as if I’ve done something incredibly naughty. With mouth open and eyes wide, humoured and worried at once, she says: “You broke them!” The second she cottons on to the fact we are allowed to destroy the perfect meringues we’d made, she’s all-hands-in embracing the task, only slightly withholding her obvious delight at the mess we were making. As luck would have it, this recipe combines two of Lulu’s favourite things, “raspberries” and “pavlova”. Close enough.
Whites from 3 large eggs
1 pinch cream of tartar
1 cup castor sugar
1 punnet fresh strawberries
1 cup frozen raspberries
250 ml cream, whipped
To make the meringues, preheat the oven to 120C and line two baking trays with baking paper. Using an electric mixer, or a whisk, beat the egg whites until frothy. Add the cream of tartar and beat on the highest speed, until stiff peaks are formed but still soft and a little wet. Gradually beat in two tablespoons of sugar and beat for two to three minutes, until very stiff. Fold in the remaining sugar using a metal spatula or spoon, until lightly mixed. Using two large spoons, dollop the mixture onto the trays to form meringue shapes, leaving a space of at least two centimetres between each. Bake for 1½ hours, then remove from oven and let cool. To make the Eton mess, place four meringues in a plastic bag and crush until broken into two-centimetre shapes. Combine half the strawberries and all the raspberries in a bowl and mash with a fork, until juicy and pulped, then add cream and broken meringues. Carefully spoon the mixture into six glasses, then top with remaining strawberries, sliced, and serve immediately. Serves 6
by Kate on October 28, 2010
This is a truly lovely recipe for ricotta gnocchi. The little iPod-inspired, silhouetted dance at the beginning is also pretty cool.
by Kate on September 29, 2010
When the sneaky “little trees” metaphor no longer flies and broccoli is just not finding its way into dinner, mushing it up beyond recognition with other green vegetables may just be the answer.
Three year old Lulu’s immediate reaction to the concept of “mean, green bruschetta” was “yuk”. But we steadfastly continued with our cooking plan. She was less interested during the cutting and blanching, somewhat distracted by the fridge magnets instead. Her interest heightened during the whirring and blending, keen to hold the noisy machine, and she was positively engaged by the idea of grating garlic on toast. And the final verdict? “Not yuk at all, actually.”
Kitchen Cadets, published in Good Living (The Sydney Morning Herald) looks at Lulu’s “mean, green bruscetta”. Every Tuesday in Good Living..
by Kate on September 9, 2010
It was a perfect 22 degrees in Sydney and I couldn’t get a sesame chicken salad my mother used to make out of my mind. It’s a light Asian-style salad, all crunchy and tangy, with a creamy sesame dressing tying the crunch together with the soft poached chicken. The chicken is still warm when you serve it, tossed with toasted sesame seeds, chopped coriander and finely sliced French shallots and cucumber. This is a perfect Spring evening meal.
You need to start this recipe by getting everything in place – as the French call mis en place - and then just toss it all together and serve. Use organic free range chicken for this – you really should be able to taste the chicken, and nothing tastes better, or has a better texture, than when using birds that have scratched and pecked and which have not been filled with horrible horrible hormones and chemicals. This recipe serves 2 as a main, or 4 as a starter.
2 free range, organic chicken breasts
2 tbsp unhulled tahini
1 tsp light soy sauce
juice of 1 lemon
1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 Lebanese cucumbers, peeled and finely sliced
1 large French shallot, peeled and finely sliced
1 tbsp sesame seeds, dry roasted
1 bunch coriander, roughly chopped
First, poach chicken breasts in a court bouillon (a quick stock, made from water simmered with some peppercorns, a few onion slices and a bay leaf). Gently simmer the court bouillon, add the whole chicken fillets and poach over a low heat for 6-8 minutes. When cooked, the juices should run clear when the chicken is pierced with a knife. Set aside to cool slightly.
Meanwhile, to make the dressing, combine tahini, soy sauce, lemon juice and olive oil together and whisk with a fork. Set aside. Then shred the chicken fillets by pulling the breasts apart with your fingers, shredding the chicken along its natural grain until you’re left with thin strips. Combine the chicken, cucumber, shallot and dressing in a bowl and toss together, season with salt and pepper. Scatter with coriander and sesame seeds and serve.
by Kate on August 31, 2010
Tiny pencil-width fingers press into the floury pizza dough and brothers Tom, 7, and Henry, 9, jokingly jostle as to who gets to tear up the salami. Their older sister, Charlie, 11, watches patiently, letting the boys complete this simple task – the other night she cooked Greek-style roast chicken by herself.
Children in the kitchen: opening the flood gates to a catastrophe of potential burns, scrapes and failed invention tests, or a valuable learning and creative experience?
Two articles written by Kate Gibbs published today in Good Living, The Sydney Morning Herald. Weekly kids’ recipe column starts…
