Real Cakes of Paris

29/12 REAL CAKES OF PARIS

Christmas came and went, leaving us with nothing but feeling very solid. I did intend to write up the whole christmas feast, but by the time the table was heaving I was already sedated. A bottle of Bolly keeping my liver happy. This cake was the first to be finished and the last to be eaten, the nutty book ends of christmas day. Admittedly it was more chintzy centrepiece than consumed. That didn't stop anyone the day after, a little stale but with a coffee.

This is a nutty cake in the sense that there isn't a whole lot of sweetness and mostly from the dried fruits. The nutty sweetness from the chestnut puree quietly compensates, which is even nuttier when paired with the bitter cocoa. Unnecessary - but seasonally welcome - the decoration was the real housewife in me. Desperate to put on a show until the next day, beyond over it, where this will be there to console you in all its sticky glitz.

Ingredients (all approximate) - 

250g Chestnut Puree
250g Prunes
100g Sultanas
2 Eggs
3/4 Cups Sugar
1.5 Cups Self-raising flour
1 Shot Whiskey/Rum
1 tbls Cocoa
1 tsp Cinnamon
Pinch of salt

What I did - Oven Preheated to 180 degrees

Melting pot heated up; stir the sugar, butter, chestnut, dried fruit, alcohol and spices until they form a sticky lumpy sludge. When simmering slowly, take off the heat and prepare the other ingredients. The ugly birth of a ritzy cake.

All prepare the other ingredients means is measure the flour into one bowl and beat the eggs together in another. The sticky and sweet sludge should have cooled enough for you to add the eggs, beating very quickly to incorporate before they catch and cook into scrambled eggs. Add the flour just after and beat again.

There you have it, the sludge has gone through childhood and is about to be baked through the award teenage years into a diva of a cake. Pour the mix into a non-stick tin, any will do but the bundt hole is always fun to play with. Bake at 180 degrees for about 1 hour, then check if baked and give another 10 minutes or so until certain.

Leave to cool for a few minutes before turning out, the rapid change in temperature helps solidify the cake. The gilt sugar was leftover from a failed christmas bake, and found its purpose here. Just brush the top rim of the cake with warmed (to soften) apricot jam and scatter the edible bling. Fill the hole with a clementine if unsatisfied. Real Domestic Goddesses of Paris much, appearance is everything - even if it didn't get eaten.

JG

Pumpkhristmas Pie

25/12 PUMPKHRISTMAS PIE

*there isn't

And I Jack, the pumpkin King, have grown so tired of the same old thing. Sometimes you can't help but shake things up, like running away overseas for a few months with no plan. This pumpkristmas pie is testament to that mentality - rash, odd, yet peculiarly perfect. Pumpkin is a festive vegetable which translates globally, so from Melbourne to Paris via America landing wherever this is read. A pie was created from a can of miraculous pumpkin puree unearthed in an Parisian-American grocer and avoided sickly sweetness by demanding so much seasoning it may spiced up your life.

Very rough and tumble to create. The base is bashed biscuits stuck back together with butter filled with a semi-custard that comes out of the oven as a cartoonishly evil pumpkin, complete with gnarly teeth. Teeth that grin at you, willing you to stick it with a knife. Adding to the ever-chic American in Paris this was served with a spoon of marshmallow fluff - take a moment to laugh, then try it. This doesn't taste of the star spangled Amer-y-kahn pie. This is born of the Eurovision Union with the glitter to prove it.

A muchly Merry Christmas from and to us Orphaned Ingredients x

Ingredients (all approximate) - 

for the base:
300g Digestive Biscuit
125g Butter
1//2 Tsp Salt
1 Egg

for the body:
1 Can Pumpkin Puree (~300ml)
3 Eggs
1 Cups Sugar
1.5 Cups Milk
1 tsp Nutmeg
1 tsp Cinnamon
1 tsp Chilli Powder

What I did - Oven Preheated to 200 degrees

Start by making the crumbly pastry base, which begins with a stress relieving battering of the biscuits. Make sure you smash them all into smithereens, and don't worry if htye're not perfectly even, the larger pieces help keep the crumb. Mix in the salt, egg and melted butter. The crumbs should be sticky enough to line the tart tin (make sure it has a removable base). Press the mix evenly around the base and into the grooves. Bake for 10 minutes to harden.

While the base is forming the molten pumpkin core needs to take shape. Sear the milk in a pan, jumping at the last second to take it off the heat before boiling. In a large mixing bowl whisk the eggs and sugar. Next empty the can of pumpkin (genius creation) and spices and whisk again. Like a custard slowly whisk in the milk until you have a runny orange gloop. Stir over heat (back in the pan) for a few minutes just to start thickening - this will reduce the oven time and stop the base from destabilising and leaving the oven a sticky orange mess.

Pour the pumpkin into the base and bake at 180 degrees for 1 hour. Check after an hour by shaking the tart to see how set it is. It should ideally have the wobble of a toned leg, not the jiggle of a big booty. If it needs longer check every five minutes until ready.

Leave to cool before eating. The gnarly pumpkin decoration was a result of poking around before it had set leaving a hole, but keeps the spirit of the pumpkin alive. Like a certain thorny crowned birthday boy the pumpkin is reborn and lives to tell.

JG

P.S. Served not with cream, but a spoon of uber-chic marshmallow fluff - trust me.

Faux Pho

19/12 FAUX PHO

There are times in your life where you need wisdom and guidance. I found some in the form of this indecipherable old man in a little chinois store in Paris. Impressed by my basket of asian oddities,  a bizarre personal obsession, he proceeded to tell me in incredibly broken frenchinesenglish what I need to have. I left the store with my bag heaving with optimism that maybe this time I will infiltrate asian culture and make a convincing oriental meal.

After many disappointingly soggy, flavourless stir-frys I had all but given up hope of cooking anything asian, except asian (con)fusion. As convincingly as one of Jennifer Garners aliases the secret here was the magic soup stock that allowed me to authentically fake a herbal noodle soup. The other ingredient which transformed me was a miscellaneous legume that the wise man thrust at me. Later revealed as a daikon radish, this sticky root helped to thicken the broth and completed my disguise. I got away with it this time, but the truth will out in time - lets see how well this wig works.

Ingredients (all approximate) - 

300g Noodles
200g Flash-steak (Cheap cut)
2 tbls Soy/Blackbean sauce
1/2 Broccoli
1/2 Cauliflower
1/2 Daikon Raddish
5 Chilis (small heat demons)
1/2 Ginger
Spring Onion
1 Herbal-Soup Stock
2L Water
Chill oil/Chilli powder/Chilli Flakes/Fresh Chilli

What I did - 

Use the magic soup stock, which took the form of large seasoning sachets which are boiled for half an hour and then removed like a teabag. Also steeped simulataneously are the chillies and ginger, which are also removed after 30 minutes leaving a clear yet pungently fragrant broth.

While cheating the stock, dress the steak in the soy-bean sauce and throw under a hot grill for five minutes. No need for perfection as it will be added to the soup, more to draw out the flavour and stop it boiling  to buggery in the pot. Leave aside until ready to serve.

Quickly slice the broccoli and cauliflower into large flat cross-sections, the onion into small green pieces and the daikon radish into sticky flat discs. Add all the veg to the ready soup stock. Then add the noodles, making sure that the strands don't clump together or stick to the pan (learn the hard way).  Best do all this very fast so that the noodles don't turn to mush and the vegetables par-boil, leaving them crunchy yet cooked.

Serve into individual bowls and strew with a few slices of the grilled steak on top. Then crown your bowl with whichever form of red-hot chilli you prefer.

JG

Chicken Run

17/12 CHICKEN RUN

Hunting, shooting and fishing: a country weekend roasting in your oven. A winter treat that dares you to ever leave the house again. Hibernation was my plan, the most attractive way of spending dark winter nights. Roasting a chicken is probably the easiest animal to tackle - but there always is the fear of the bird shrivelling, drying up like it died of thirst on an american salt lake.

I found a solution to keep that bird dead yet alive. Traditionally roast potatoes would accompany the bird to its grave, and not add much other than starchy bulk. Instead roast with a cauliflower that softens perfectly to absorbs the chicken juices before they evaporate into oblivion. I used a makeshift béchamel sauce, really just milk and flour, to help trap all the flavour and give the chicken a soft nest to lie in. Rest in peace chickadee, your sacrifice shall be consumed with love and warmth. 

Ingredients (all approximate) - 

1 Chicken
1 large potato
1/2 Garlic
1 Cauliflower
25g butter
1 cup Milk
50g Flour
50g White Cheese
Paprika
Japanese Chilli
Salt + Pepper
Thyme
Nutmeg
Rosemary

What I did - 

Prepare the chicken, which is no harder than throwing whatever melange of spices you have handy. The fun here came from that elusive Japanese chilli powder reserved for sushi restaurants, but get your hands on some, and liberally dust the chicken. I had a few old potatoes so i stuffed them in the chicken with some garlic, but not essential. Let it sit marinade you prepare its fluffy white bed.

The cauliflower provides the right mix of hearty roast vegetable, without a huge amount of starch which soaks up and drys all the chicken juices, instead it relishes the roasted lubrication. decapitate all the heads off a cauliflower and with a large knife hack them roughly into smaller segments. In a large pan belt the butter until it stars to bubble and then quickly add in the flour off the heat, whisking fast to eradicate lumps. Then continue to whisk in the milk until it is magically thick and creamy. Tumble in the cauliflower and turn through the white sauce until thinly but completely coated. Now grate the cheese and nutmeg and turn once more.

The chicken is ready for its creamy nest, so tip the cauliflower into a baking dish wasting none of the white sauce. Push to the edges so that there is a small space for the chicken so squeeze in. Pack the cauliflower tightly around the bird and drizzle one final slick of olive oil. Bake takes two hours and should be served immediately, so become friendly with your oven timer.The entire dish should come out a uniform golden brown. If slightly charred above no matter, it will be gloriously juicy once your knife massacres it.

JG

Hip Fuel

12/12 HIP FUEL

It so happens that they're all blindly under dominion of Wes Anderson. It's a fact, a thing you can rely on. This salad is their sole sustenance distilled. Fuel from grain, very eco-chic. At every opportunity I've avoided having to use this ingredient, let alone pronounce it. A month away from hip central though has left me longing, so I dared to try. Here is my version, with a not-so-hidden agenda to thwart the grainy illusion.

True to form there was no direction here, except the instructions on the quinoa packet. Like me leaving empty bottles at a dinner party, the vegetables were happily on their last legs. This is the lighter prelude to a meal where the second course delved into rich bacchanalian depths. Naievely this salad harked back to the days of blissful brunches, and can be taken on its own with good bread and a coffee.

Ingredients (all approximate) - 

1.5 Cup Mixed Quinoa (no preference here)
1.5L Water
1 Zucchini
250g Cherry Tomatos
200g Radishes
1 Onion
Balsamic Vinegar
Oil
Salt + Pepper

What I did - 

I feel this recipe should always start with some fake reading glasses and when appropriately attired, begin by preparing the vegetables. The trick here is to let them steep together for a couple of hours, smoothing their raw edge.

Always cut cherry tomatoes in half, there is always the imminent danger of violently popping one's cherry over your guest. Halve the onion, before slicing into translucent thin discs. The same with the radishes, sliced into sharp pink circles. The zucchini were cut with a (recently discovered) mandolin, essentially into discs. Then cut to sticks - like french fries. There is a term for this I can't remember, regardless overcomplicating is ultra cool. Sit them for an hour or so (as long as you want before serving) in a large mixing bowl with the salt, pepper, vinegar and oil.

The quinoa is simplicity embodied, not requiring any technical skill, much to our hipsters disappointment. Boil the grain and water with a large pinch of salt for 5-10 minutes. Any less and it stays raw, longer and it succumbs to mush - but any time between is fine. Strain the water and let drip dry for a minute.

Tumble while still hot into the vegetable mixing bowl, shake it all up. And done, with no need for pretence. You can take those fake glasses off as you tumble the salad into a bowl, they're not doing anything.

JG

Confession Cakes

06/12 CONFESSION CAKES

Blasphemy. I've never been one to tiptoe around political correctness, especially when it comes to religion. I do believe anyone has the right to faith and belief in whatever they feel is truly transcendent. I follow and believe in my idols with great passion. However reading the varied and complicated recipes for traditional cannele (created by Nuns-on-the-rum in Bordeaux) inspired a wicked blaspheme. 

Most recipes stipulate the use of individual copper mould, lined with beeswax and kept warm in a nuns habit for three months. My version uses the far easier silicone mould, and apricot jam as a phantom waxy shell. Smoke and mirrors, but if people believe then we are all none-the-wiser. In honour of those drunk nuns, a recipe from this orphaned ingredient who is working out that life is a mystery. But just like a prayer, these cake will take you there. 

Ingredients (all approximate) - A self-proclaimed recipe derived from all the versions 

3 Cups Milk
1 Vanilla Bean
1 Cup Castor Sugar
1 Cup Flour
2 Egg Yolks
2 Eggs
50g Butter
3 Tbls Rum
20g Apricot Jam

What I did - Makes 16, Start the night before

Making these are no more complicated than making a thick custard, along the lines of crème pâtissèrie. Start by scalding the milk in a pan with a split vanilla bean, seeded of all its glossy black riches. Once it's on the verge of a nervous breakdown (boiling point) take off the heat and set aside. Add the butter and leave to melt, time to prepare the rest of the mix.

In a large mixing bowl whisk the egg yolks, whole eggs and alcohol (Rum if you're religious about the recipe). They need to be pale, yet without volume. Add the sugar and beat again. Flour, beat again. It should be still pale, heavy and sticky. Extract the vanilla bean from the milk, quickly stir the butter completely dissolving. Pour a small amount into the eggs, this should loosen the mix and make it easier to combine all the milk. Take advantage and do just that. Once mixed into a thick custard-come-batter cover it and fridge it overnight.

The next day - the day of baking - take the batter out of the fridge and preheat the oven to 220 celsius. Let the mix come to room temperature and the oven heat up, about half an hour. Fill the silicone mould almost to the top of each cannele and bake for 15 minutes at 220. Then turn the oven down to 190 and bake for another hour.

Trust in the custard, don't give in to the temptation to take them out early. Once they've done their time turn them from the mould immediately and set on a wire rack to cool. While still hot brush lightly with apricot jam, deliciously messing with tradition but I don't care for religious vigour. This miracle does create the lusted after caramel shell. Pray for more sins, then open your mouth.

JG

Shredded Salad

03/12 SHREDDED SALAD

"Come on! Join the party. Have a hearty... glass of rum" - Marlene Dietrich

A lesson once taught, is practiced for life. This salad reflects that philosophy, and should free you up to bring the fun. A shredded jumble of fridge staples, ingredients I always seem to have leftovers from. And by shredding it in this way means that there is no need to stand on ceremony when making or eating it.

To be completely honest, I made this one for freinds the weekend before I left for this overseas jaunt and reading it back triggers a small amount of longing - so I made it again. Not for home so much as having my friends within arms reach. In a way this is my glass reaching far out across the seas, salut. Indeed Marlene will keep us all in fine spirits no matter what horizon you see. Lift the veil, join my party I'll make sure you have a hearty glass of wine. 

Ingredients (all approximate) - 

1/2 Red Cabbage
4 Celery Sticks (large)
1 Avocado
3 Carrots (Large)
1 Tomatoes
100g Almonds (roughly chopped & roasted)
50g Raisins
50g Apricot Chutney
50ml Balsamic Vinegar
50ml Olive Oil
50g Raisins

What I did - 

It is a shredded salad so the recipe is simply just shredding all the ingredients, or as close to shredding as possible - good luck shredding a tomato. I always have one large mixing bowl to compile and toss the salad in so you can be a messy as you like and then come out the other side effortless.

I shred the cabbage with a big sharp knife to shave off spidery purple strands, it will take a few minutes to get the whole way through, but the finer they are the easier to eat - and a large chunk of raw cabbage can be a real downer. Slice the celery finely into green semi circles, no more than half a centimetre thick but the thinner then better. The Carrot is actually the only 'shredded' ingredient, and even thats lying because its peeled then splintered with a large grater. The tomato needs to be cut in half, then half again and then half again (see how your maths goes) before being diced into small pieces.

The reason for making sure they are all cut this way is because they are all hard vegetables when not cooked and when regimented into small uniform shards they combine, tone down loosing their raw edge. Now scoop out the avocado to adhere everything together. Give the whole bowl a turn with a large spoon so compute everything. Scatter the raisins and almonds through at this stage, holding a touch back for later.

Shake the chunky dressing - chutney, vinegar and oil - into submission in a jar and pour over. The salad should take a few turns before it all combines as a fractured technicolour jumble. Tip the whole salad into your most festive bowl and dust with the remaining almond crumbs.

This salad that demands company, if not to tackle its sheer size, but also you can't help feeling warm eating it.

JG