Archives for posts with tag: main dish
Wholemeal beer crust homemade pizzas

Wholemeal pizzas topped with a) pesto, caramelized onion, pumpkin & goat's cheese and b) pesto, mushrooms, zucchini, sundried tomato and goat's chese

Maybe you are a lucky soul sitting in a gorgeous Italian piazza right now, watching elegant ladies strut past ancient fountains while you sip your chianti and scribble in your Moleskin. But if you’re reading this post, chances are you’re experiencing something a bit more mundane. Maybe you’re curled up on the couch with your laptop like me, or sitting at your desk pretending to work while actually reading blogs. Either way, really good pizza is not as accessible to us as it is to our fabulous piazza-sitting friend.

My solution for the no-Italian-pizza blues is to whip up this quick dough.  What I learned from my culinary adventures in Italy is that the best pizza is made of a simple base, stretched thin and covered minimally with high-quality toppings. I’ve one-upped the health factor of this recipe and used wholemeal flour, because it’s important to pack some nutrition in there. You can top this base however you like – lately I’ve been whipping up a simple pesto, caramelizing some onions, and dotting blobs of goats curd here and there.  Bellissimo.

Stuff:

  • 3 c. unbleached flour (preferably wholemeal)
  • 1 Tbsp baking powder
  • 1⁄2 tsp salt
  • 1 375 ml (12 oz.) can or bottle beer
  • oil for greasing
  • medium mixing bowl
  • 2 baking sheets
Messy Jess spreading homemade pesto on homemade pizza bases

Topping pizza bases with homemade pesto

Step-by-Step

  1. Preheat the oven to 230° C (450° F).
  2. Combine flour, baking soda and salt in mixing bowl and mix well.  Add beer and mix until fully combined. Dust a little flour on a clean work surface and place dough on it. Knead for just a minute or two until the dough comes together – it will still be somewhat sticky.
  3. Grease both baking sheets with a little oil. Divide dough in half and spread across baking sheets, stretching as thin as you can without tearing.
  4. Bake bases for 5 minutes, then remove from oven and top however you like.
  5. Return pizzas to oven and bake another 7 to 9 minutes. Check for doneness by gently lifting the base – when the bottom has begun to brown, the pizzas are done.

Saffron Milk Cap

Foraging for mushrooms is one of the activities that make winter worthwhile.  There’s a pure childlike joy in tromping around the forest in gumboots and cozy jacket, staying out until the cheeks are flushed.  The best part, though, is coming home and frying up some tasty morsels for dinner and basking in the satisfaction of having plucked them by hand from the wild woods.

Saffron Milk Cap mushrooms (lactarius deliciosus) are big, meaty specimens.  I was lucky enough to find a good crop of them growing in the Daylesford area.  This is picture of my haul – please forgive the quality, I was tired and hungry and it was dark in my kitchen!

milk caps raw

Here’s my step-by-step guide to successful mushroom foraging:

1.  Find someone who’s been foraging before and is really knowledgeable.  Don’t try picking on your own the first time – too easy to make a mistake and poison yourself!  White amanitas often grow in the same area, and if you ate one of them you would not be a happy camper (you’d probably be a dead one – seriously, be careful).

2.  Do some research on the best areas near you for foraging.  Isn’t the internet great like that?

3.  Wear gumboots (aka galoshes) and warm clothing.  Sometimes you have to walk in muddy areas and look for quite a while, so be prepared for the chilly outdoors.

4.  Be patient!

5.  Bring paper bags to store your mushies – they are fragile little creatures and break easily.

6.  When picking your mushrooms, either cut with scissors or break very carefully, leaving the very bottom of the stem in the ground.  This helps protect the mycelium for future generations of mushrooms to grow.

7.  When you get home, clean your mushrooms thoroughly with a damp cloth.  Cut them into chunks and cook in a fry pan with olive oil, garlic and fresh herbs.

milk caps cooked

What is your favorite way to prepare wild mushrooms?

Hot and Sour Pumpkin Soup

Hot and Sour Pumpkin Soup

There’s no particular reason that Australians should cultivate such a strong fondness for two particularly brilliantly-hued vegetables. The love affair with the bloody beetroot is fairly obvious: it’s the color of a ruby, it’s got a fantastically sweet and earthy flavor, and it packs a nutritional punch of antioxidants. But as an American, it’s taken me a long time to understand the ubiquity of pumpkin on Aussie menus – it’s just not something I ever ate, aside from in pumpkin pie (which, strangely, isn’t popular here).

Upon planting a few pumpkin seeds in the back of the veggie patch, I quickly came to understand why pumpkin seems to show up in nearly every dish this time of year. The expansive vines have taken over at least half of the garden, and are blocking the footpath to the lemon tree. We must eat pumpkin or be overrun by it. It’s a survival situation: woman vs. pumpkin.

First off, a word about pumpkin. As a child in New England, the only pumpkin I was familiar with was big, orange, and full of seeds. While it was fun to carve (and Mom’s roasted pumpkin seeds were an addictive snack), nobody eats that technicolor specimen. The humble Aussie pumpkin is a totally different animal – er, vegetable. While my seed packet simply said “pumpkin,” my internet detective skills have identified the final product as kabocha, or Japanese pumpkin. This variety is fleshy, sweet, and creamy, and you can even eat the skin.

So being fond of the wise old motto “waste not want not,” I’ve set about my erstwhile battle with the attitude that these pumpkins are going to feed me and my family throughout autumn. So far I’ve made a killer Thai-flavored soup, have added wedges of roast pumpkin to every salad and vegetable dish imaginable, have taken a trick from Mom and roasted the seeds into crunchy, salty, delicious morsels, and have even discovered that my dog loves to eat the raw pumpkin “guts” surrounding the seeds. I think a pumpkin-coriander dip is in my future, and I also have my eye on a recipe for pumpkin muffins. My American sensibilities might just insist on a pumpkin pie, too.

Yes, I’ve come to love pumpkin for much more than just looking pretty. I love it because you can do just about anything with it, from sweet to savory. I love it because it grows in abundance in my backyard, costing me only pennies. I love its color, its nutritional value, its easy adaptability. And I love it cause it’s downright Australian.

Hot and Sour Pumpkin Soup

from epicurious.com
Gourmet | October 2001
Adapted from chefs Ming Tsai and Tom Berry
Blue Ginger, Wellesley, MA

Ingredients

  • 1 large onion, coarsely chopped
  • 1 tablespoon chopped garlic
  • 1 tablespoon chopped peeled fresh ginger
  • 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
  • 1 (3-lb) sugar or cheese pumpkin, peeled, seeded, and cut into 1-inch cubes (6 cups)
  • 1 cup dry white wine
  • 2 qt chicken stock, or 1 qt canned chicken broth and 1 qt water
  • 6 lemongrass stalks (bottom 5 inches only), coarsely chopped
  • 1 (1-inch) piece galangal (thawed if frozen), peeled and coarsely chopped
  • 3 to 5 fresh (1 1/2-inch) Thai chiles or 2 fresh jalapeño chiles, trimmed and coarsely chopped (seed chiles if a milder flavor is desired)
  • 4 kaffir lime leaves (fresh or frozen)
  • 1/3 cup fresh lime juice
  • 1/4 cup Asian fish sauce
  • 1 tablespoon sugar

GastroGnome Note: I used coconut oil instead of vegetable oil, rice wine instead of white wine, vegetable stock and water instead of chicken stock, and omitted the galangal (because I didn’t have any!). I also used lemon leaves from my lemon tree instead of kaffir lime leaves, reduced the amount of fish sauce by about half, and used coconut sugar. I pureed in the blender after adding the sauteed lemongrass and chilies. ‘Twas creamy and delicious!

Preparation

Cook onion, garlic, and ginger in 1 tablespoon oil in a 5-quart heavy pot over moderate heat, covered, stirring occasionally, until onion is softened, about 4 minutes. Add pumpkin and wine and boil, uncovered, until wine is reduced by about half, about 5 minutes. Stir in stock and simmer, covered, until pumpkin is tender, about 20 minutes.

Heat remaining tablespoon oil in a 10-inch heavy skillet over moderately high heat until hot but not smoking, then sauté lemongrass, galangal, and chiles to taste, stirring, until lightly browned, about 1 minute. Remove from heat.

Purée pumpkin mixture in batches (use caution when blending hot liquids) and return to pot. Stir in lemongrass mixture, lime leaves, lime juice, fish sauce, and sugar. Simmer, uncovered, 20 minutes. Pour soup through a sieve, discarding solids, and season well with salt and pepper.

Roasted Pumpkin Seeds

Scoop the seeds from the inside of the pumpkin. Remove all the “guts” and feed them to the dog. Give the seeds a good rinse and pat dry. Toss with a bit of olive oil, some good salt, and a dash of cumin or another favorite spice. Spread on a baking tray and roast at 200 degrees C for 5-10 minutes, stirring once, and checking constantly as they can burn quickly. Let cool and enjoy as a crunch snack.

Roast Pumpkin

Cut pumpkin in half, scoop out the seeds. Cut each half into 6-8 wedges. Arrange on a baking tray; rub with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast at 200 degrees C for 3–45 minutes, until soft.

Suggested ways to eat pumpkin wedges:

  • Hot with other roast veggies such as leeks, brussel sprouts, onions, beetroot, potato, etc.
  • Hot on top of salad of rocket/arugula and grated raw beetroot with some fresh olives.
  • Cold mixed into a green salad.
  • For breakfast, mixed into hot steel-cut oatmeal (porridge) and drizzled with a simple dressing of one part miso paste, one part sesame oil, one part apple cider vinegar.

Isn’t it funny how many idioms in the English language have something to do with food? I suppose this linguistic phenomenon exists because food is such a central aspect of our lives. Not only do we, as animals, need to eat frequently to obtain the nutrients that we require for survival, but we, as humans, need to assign value to our foodstuffs and apply our creativity to nature’s produce. So here and there, food words have crept into our daily speak. People, objects and events are “worth their salt,” “sweet as honey,” or “the spice of life.” An unpleasant experience “leaves a bitter taste,” and gossip girls “share the juicy details.” We’ve got projects “on the back burner,” and, hopefully, clients “eating out the palm of our hands.”

It’s with the utmost appreciation of the possibility for irony that the quirks of the English language provide that I venture to share with you “what’s cooking” in my raw kitchen.

First of Spring Asparagus with Pink Pasta and Pesto

When the first asparagus of spring appeared at the farmer’s market, I nearly did a dance of joy right there among the roaming chickens and beautiful hippie children. What I actually did was snatch up a bunch of the slender stalks and danced a mental jig. I brought the beautiful babies home and did absolutely nothing to them – they were just too perfect and sweet and crunchy to adulterate in any way. I took some inspiration from Raw Chef Russell James’ gorgeous Purple Pasta and topped them with some zucchini fettucine dyed with beetroot juice and a great big mound of ad-hoc pesto, consisting of just about everything green I could find in my garden mixed with walnuts, olive oil, garlic, lemon juice, himalayan salt and nutritional yeast. The dish was not only beautiful, but also really fresh and comforting at the same time, and pretty easy to whip up.

Primavera Celebration

Also known as This is Totally Not Lasagne. I have a real problem with calling this raw dish lasagne, even though clearly some the inspiration comes from the baked pasta classic. But come on, what do layers of zucchini, fresh tomatoes, living marinara, nut cheeze, and vibrant pesto have to with the stodgy casserole? I don’t want to serve this dish and have my guests expect lasagne, and I don’t want you to anticipate any similarity except in structure. This is a rich raw dish, but it’s a celebration of fresh spring vegetables, not layers of starchy noodles and cheese and meat cooked into oblivion (no offense to lasagne – I used to love you). I made this dish because juicy, local tomatoes are finally back, as are the first of spring’s local zucchinis. And because I had brazil nut pulp left over from making the most creamy, amazing nut mylk to pour over my grawnola.

Middle Eastern Salad

Sometimes the best inventions just kind of happen. Yesterday was one of the first long, warm, sunny afternoons, the kind that really feel like summer. After taking the dogs to the park, I just really felt like bright, sunny Mediterranean flavors, and this dish seemed to create itself from there. The base is chopped beetroot leaves, but I’ve added almost as much fresh coriander (cilantro), lots of chopped tomato and cucumber, some grated beetroot, fresh spring onions, and a fantastic mix of ground brazil nuts with cumin, coriander, turmeric and tamari, all dressed with lemon juice and olive oil. The garnish is the eggplant bacon recipe from Matthew Kenney‘s book Everyday Raw. I could eat this all summer long.

Quinoa Sprouts

Not too much to explain here! It turns out that quinoa is incredibly easy to sprout. I followed a really basic method – soaked the grains overnight, then left them suspended in a fine-mesh collander for a couple of days, rinsing twice daily. By the third day they had these lovely tails and I stored them in the refrigerator, where they kept for about a week (I’d eaten them all by then). I ate them in just about every salad I had during this time, and they were delicious.

Sauerkraut

This is perhaps my best discovery in ages. A head of cabbage costs less than AUD$4, and it makes two big jars of sauerkraut that last for ages. It takes about ten minutes to make, and all it requires is salt and caraway seeds. Furthermore, it’s fantastic for encouraging healthy bacteria to flourish in the gut and really improves the ecology of the body. My inspiration came from watching Donna Gates on the Renegade Health Show – though I haven’t tried her method yet. The technique I used here is simple: finely chop a head of cabbage, massage in two tablespoons of himalayan salt and one teaspoon of caraway seeds until the cabbage releases a great deal of moisture (about 2 minutes), and then pack it all tightly into jars. I then left it to ferment for about a week, after which I stored the living sauerkraut in the refrigerator. Jayson says it tastes like the real thing, and he’s half Aussie German! Oh yeah, it’s pink because I added in a little bit of purple cabbage that I had left over, and it colored the whole batch. Amazing.

I love the great tradition of the French composed salad. The composed salad is about compartmentalization, about showing off the gorgeous simplicity of good quality ingredients without a lot of fussy tossing. Think the classic nicoise: lettuce, boiled potatoes, hard boiled egg, black olives, tuna and green beans, everything in its right place. The composed salad is to the tossed salad what Vermeer is to Jackson Pollock. It’s a detail thing: one about order and exactness, the other about explosive bursts of creativity.

As a lover of Japanese food, it occurred to me that the clean, sexy and somewhat restrained flavors of this cuisine lend themselves incredibly well to the composed salad form. What I’m talking about is more or less a nori roll, deconstructed. A gorgeous bed of greens, slightly wilted and lightly dressed in sesame oil, tamari and a touch of chilli, supporting an artful array of vegetables, finished with a mound of spicy ginger pate.

Don’t be alarmed by the seeming complexity of this recipe. It’s simple, really. Dress the greens, make the pate, and arrange. Done.

Just resist the urge to toss.

Salad a la Japonaise

Serves 2

Salad

6-8 large chard or spinach leaves, finely chopped (about 2 cups)

1 bunch bok choy, finely chopped

1/2 tsp himalayan salt

1/3 cup wakame (dry), soaked in water to cover for 10 minutes and drained

2 Tbsp sesame oil

2 Tbsp tamari

pinch of red pepper flakes

Ginger Pate

1/2 cup brazil nuts

1/2 cup sunflower seeds

1 cm square piece of fresh ginger

1 small clove of garlic

1/2 tsp himalayan salt

juice of 1 lemon

1/4-1/3 cup water

Toppings*

2 medium swiss brown or white mushrooms

1 Tbsp tamari

1/2 Lebanese cucumber, julienned

1/2 carrot, shredded

1 medium tomato, cut into small wedges

2 small handfuls sprouts, any kind
4 radishes, thinly sliced

For mushrooms:

Slice each mushroom in half, then into 1cm slices. Place in a shallow bowl and toss with 1 Tbsp tamari. Set aside to marinate for 10 minutes.

For salad:

Combine chopped chard or spinach and bok choy in a large bowl. Add a pinch of himalayan salt and massage for about 30 seconds, until the greens just begin to wilt. Add rehydrated wakame, sesame oil, tamari and red pepper flakes, and toss to coat. Set aside while you make the pate.

For pate:
Combine brazil nuts, sesame seeds, ginger, garlic and salt in food processor and pulse until grainy. Add lemon juice and water as needed, and process until fairly smooth (similar to hummus texture).

For assembly:

Divide salad into 2 large shallow bowls. On top of the greens, place a large scoop of the ginger pate in the center. Surround with individual piles of carrots, cucumber, tomato, sprouts and marinated mushrooms. Serve immediately.

*Use any vegetables you have on hand for the toppings. Thinly sliced red capsicum, snow peas, broccoli, daikon, gobo, or many other vegetables would go just as well here.