Communist supermarkets and how I became the Empress

Communist supermarkets and how I became the Empress

So I'm taking a week off from cooking. I did make some puddings I could blog about, but I'll save that for next week. For anyone who read my first post, you'll know that I promised to explain how my regal nickname came about. It's time to cash in on that promise, so here's how I came to be known as the Empress.

Emperor D and I met over ten years ago working for the same company. It's a financial services company and, back then at least, had a cracking social scene. One of Emperor D's colleagues and workmates - who we'll call Chappers - has a penchant for bestowing nicknames on his mates. His nickname for Emperor D is The Admiral. After all these years, I actually have no idea why. The Admiral, or rather, Emperor D, is not a particular fan of boats or anything. But, nevertheless Chappers christened him The Admiral.

I was nicknamed The Empress. There's probably a deeper reason to it, but I think it basically stems from my nickname Jo being somewhat close to Josephine, also the name of the French empress. (And no, my name is not Josephine.) Since that time, Chappers would always greet me as The Empress. And I kind of like it. Beats being a mere queen. Thanks Chappers - The Empress bestows credit where it's due. With the advent of social media, I needed to come up with a pseudonym that would fit all forums and forms of Web 2.0. I hit upon Empress Jo. So there you have it; the birth of an internet age empress in a nut shell.

A Muscovite spoiled for choice
in his local supermarke

For some of you, what I'm about to write could seem like deja vu. And for that I apologise, but I think it's important everyone knows my opinion on the communist, Soviet-era like supermarket chain (and my local one in particular), Woolworths.

When I think of Soviet-era supermarkets, I conjure up the image of bare shelves, or if they are stocked, filled with one or two brands of a product, one of which will be the favoured, state-sanctioned one. That's my local Woolworths, where I've been shopping for ten years. Perhaps it's a case of familiarity breeds contempt, but it seems every week that Woolworths finds a new product that they decide to stop stocking. And it's always one of my favourite brands or products. Sometimes I feel that they take the information on what I buy when I go through the checkout and deliberately stop stocking that item just to annoy me. And it works. And for the ones they do continue to stock it seems like they've always 'just run out of stock'. I recently tried three times in a week to buy my favourite brand of tea. Nope, out of stock. But even other Woolworths stores managed to have it. They have a small variety of products and an even smaller variety of brands for each product from which to choose.

'Hello! Is there a fully-stocked
supermarket anywhere for
my comrade and I?'

What really annoys me is that they stop stocking some brands of a product, only to infiltrate the shelves with their own Select brand - which I refuse to buy. If Woolworths is like a Soviet-era supermarket, then Select is like the state-sanctioned brand you imagine Soviets or people in East Berlin being forced to buy. We are an unashamedly capitalist society, so why not have the choice that goes with it? I guess that same principle is what led Woolworths to develop the Select brand in the first place - more profit to them.

You're probably reading this and thinking why don't I just go to another supermarket? And you're right - I should. But there's something comforting and familiar about going to a supermarket you know so well that you know exactly which aisle and where in the aisle to find something you're looking for. Nine times out of ten Woolworths has what I need, even if it means I need to compromise. But I hate compromise, at least when it comes to ingredients and cooking and eating with something you know and love. These days, if I can't find something, then it's usually a job for the gourmet supermarkets, and I'm not far from quite a few of those. This is just a vent - but I really do wish that Woolworths would stock more of my favourite brands.

A good tart can be easy

Triumph

While I would’ve given this Trusty myself, I think the last picture speaks volumes

A good tart can be easy

A double entendre for a post title always attracts attention, doesn’t it? But, cooking-wise at least, it can ring true. A couple of weeks ago, my team at work decided to host a morning tea for Pink Ribbon Day, which raises money and awareness of breast cancer, the second most common cancer in Australian women. I decided very early on to make Tobie Puttock’s salted caramel and chocolate tart from the September issue of delicious.

Careme dark chocolate pastry

I’d never made a tart before but, having recently acquired a tart pan, decided to give it a go. And, as the post title suggests, I found it surprisingly easy. I guess I found it even easier having to use the Careme dark chocolate shortcrust pastry, which comes ready rolled. It was divine. I had a little bit left over, so tried making a mini tart with it, but I could have turned the leftover into biscuits to go with icecream.I get nervous making caramel. It seems to take forever and I never think it’ll work out. But then, the syrup that was virtually clear just a moment ago, will suddenly start to colour and caramelise. I love salted caramel. I was first introduced to it via a salted caramel macaron. Who would’ve thought that the sweet, gooey caramel that then gets an unexpected salty hit would work? But it does; just gorgeous.

A slight flaw - the caramel is
pushed out to the sides

Throwing it together was simple enough. But here I will admit a flaw. You would’ve already seen that I’ve rated this recipe Triumph. I’ll explain why in a moment, but I’ll be honest and say that I think I made a mistake when setting the caramel. If you take a look at the image of the tart in delicious, you might be able to make out two distinct layers on top of the pastry; the caramel on the bottom and the chocolate on the top. When I poured the chocolate on top of the caramel layer, I don’t think I’d left the caramel enough time to set, causing the denser chocolate to sink to the bottom in some places and pushing some of the caramel out to the sides. It didn’t look pretty. But it sure did taste amazing. The flavours, especially that salted caramel, just melted together in the mouth.

The presented product

For me to give a recipe a Triumph rating, I used to think it needed to be virtually flawless. I don’t often achieve this and I would have given the tart a Trusty rating myself. However, when I explained to a work colleague what went wrong, he said, ‘but that’s just cosmetic. I bet you it would still taste exactly the same’. And he’s right. Looking over at the plate that once held my tart, I thought that perhaps I’m too hard on myself. My work colleagues absolutely devoured it, and I had comments on how delicious it was and requests for the recipe for the rest of the day.

This says it all.

So I’m going to lighten up. Unlike the tart – it was dense, and very rich. In future, I will give a new rating to recipes that are truly exceptional, that are flawless in every way. When you see a recipe given the rating Transcendent, you’ll know I’ve done something really remarkable. I look forward to plating up my first one.

Grand Final fever – part deux

Trusty

Only the delicious taste saves this from tragedy – gotta turn the oven down and use fresh raspberries!

Grand Final fever – part deux

So a few weeks back, it was the AFL Grand Final. If you’re not familiar with AFL, that’s Australian (rules) Football League. It’s kind of a cross between Gaelic football, football (soccer), basketball even, bit of rugby – it’s kind of a mash of things. But Grand Final day, traditionally held on the last Saturday of September, is a big deal. Over 100,000 people actually go to the match, held at the MCG, and millions more tune in from around the country and the globe. For AFL supporters, it’s a day where you get together with mates and snack on meat pies, hot dogs and sausage rolls – traditional footy fare.

This year was a bit different. The Grand Final ended in a draw – only the third time it’s done so in about a hundred years. In fact, it seems to happen roughly every 30 years – there were draws in 1948, 1977 and this year, 2010. The rules state that, unlike soccer where you would play extra time, the teams call it quits and come back the following week to slog it out and try again. Which is why, unusually, the Grand Final part deux was run – and won this time – on the first Saturday in October.

For the first Grand Final, Emperor D and I gathered a couple of our friends around for the standard footy snacks to watch the game. We threw it together kind of last minute, so I didn’t have time to put too much thought into what we’d serve. When it ended in a draw and we offered to host the game again the following week, I realised I needed to come up with something for dessert. I hit upon something I’d only made once before a few years ago – Nigella’s chocolate and raspberry pavlova.

Chocolate and raspberry pavlova - looks
kind of Christmas-y, doesn't it?

I’m not normally a fan of meringues and things like that. But chocolate and raspberry pavlova? You just know it’s going to taste delicious. Also, I liked the fact that the colours of the pavlova kind of matched those of the team I was going for, St Kilda, whose colours are black, white and red. I thought it would be a good omen. It wasn’t. Second time around, the Saints were thrashed to the tune of 56 points.

Because I’m not a fan of, and I don’t normally make, pavlova, this didn’t turn out as well as it could have. But it certainly wasn’t bad. I don’t think I beat the egg whites enough – or I knocked too much air out of it when I folded in the chocolate – so it ended up flat and collapsed in some places. Also, again, I think my oven is too hot; I turned it down 10 degrees more than I should have, took it out as soon as I could after the recommended cooking time had elapsed, and it still burnt a little in some places. And then fresh raspberries aren’t in season yet, so I used defrosted frozen ones, but I don’t recommend it. They’re a bit too tart in taste and also a bit soggy. Much better off with the perky fresh ones.

But still, it tasted wonderful. The meringue had a nice chocolatey taste and was crunchy on the outside and soft and gooey in the middle. Although fresh raspberries would’ve been better, the frozen ones served their purpose when it was all put together with the cream, meringue and chocolate shavings. I think this might be one I have to try again in summer; in fact, it would make a fantastic Christmas dessert. Might give that a go.

The curse of bad drivers and antiquated retail hours

Triumph

Being forced to change seafood ingredients turns out a winner

The curse of bad drivers and antiquated retail hours.

 

Let me tell you about the mission to get dinner on the table on Tuesday night. Firstly, there’s two things you should know about Perth; one, its citizens are notorious for being bad drivers. I, of course, would not class myself as such, but I do admit to occasional acts of stupidity. Two, the majority of Perth shops close at 6pm, leaving us back in the 1950’s; but I will be fair and say the state government recently passed legislation allowing them to stay open until 9pm, though this doesn’t kick in for another month or so.

Paper bags just waiting to be opened

So it was with great dismay and anxiety when I heard that two (or more) bad drivers had caused two accidents on the freeways during the homeward peak hour. One was going the other way, but meant the city roads would be clogged; the other was on my way home and sounded like the worse of the two, and left me scrambling to find another way home. I quickly realised that my chances of picking up the prawns and clams from my local seafood monger that I needed for paper bag seafood linguine before it closed at 6pm were rather slim.

It took me 35 minutes to travel this distance. To put it in perspective, during normal peak hour, I can usually get home in around 30 minutes. When there’s no traffic, I can make it in a little over 10. Thank goodness though that I realised that The Herdsman, which is on the detour way home, is open until 8pm. I managed to pick up the prawn cutlets, but as seems to be my destiny with seafood, they didn’t have any clams. I compromised and went for calamari rings instead. It turned out to be a great choice.

Open up the bag and it looks
like food Christmas!

Getting home nearly 45 minutes later than usual, I started to get everything ready; put the water on the boil for the pasta; turned the oven on to preheat; start chopping the garlic… um, where’s the garlic? In an irritated state after battling traffic jams and stressing over closing shops, I asked (okay, accused) Emperor D what he did with the garlic. He denied all knowledge of garlic – and then pointed out that I used it the night before to make Moroccan chicken tagine. We frantically searched for it, and then, with stress levels rising, I grab my keys and head out the door to the corner shop – which thankfully doesn’t close until 7pm – to get some more garlic.



So good!

There’s something to be said about cooking and good food soothing stressed-out, anxious minds. Chopping up garlic, measuring out ingredients, all serve to calm me down. I put all the ingredients together and tie up the baking paper so it cooks en papillote – a method of steam cooking in a sealed bag. At the end of half an hour or so, I take the bags out of the oven, and open them up, which releases a gorgeous aroma of garlicky butter. I drizzle over some lemon juice and good Olio Bello olive oil and sprinkle some parsley over the top and serve.

And, oh goodness. It was gorgeous – the prawns were cooked perfectly. The calamari was so, so tender. The butter, garlic, lemon, white wine, salt and pepper; all these flavours worked in harmony to produce an amazing result. Next time, I would love to try it with the vongole (clams) – I’ve actually never tried them before. However, despite the anxiety and stress to get it on the table, it was so worth it. Made my night.

Chicken and chips

Tragedy

Rock hard roast potatoes mean oven baked chips instead

Chicken and chips

Emperor D and I have recently become an uncle and aunt twice in the last four months. Our first niece was born at the end of May to Emperor D’s sister and partner; they’re pretty good cooks. Our second niece was born 10 weeks ago to my brother-in-law and his wife; our niece is very cute, the spitting image of her father. But as her father has never been one for cooking, I offered to take a meal or two for dinner over to my sister-in-law a couple of times. It never eventuated as they always managed to have something sorted. But because I had already flicked through my recipes books and found something easy that they could simply throw into the oven – white wine and herb roast chicken from July’s delicious. – I decided to give it a try for myself. 
 

Cooked chook looks good out
of the oven

It’s pretty easy – the night before, all the ingredients get tossed together in a bowl and then marinated in the fridge overnight. Or, if you forget to do it the night before, simply marinate for at least 30 minutes. Then throw in the oven and roast. It came out of the oven looking great. But this is a tragedy because the potatoes – which the recipe says should be kipfler, but of course my local Soviet Woolworths didn’t have any – were rock hard. Well, not rock hard. But they certainly were not in a soft enough state to be edible. I’m guessing that they needed to be a bit smaller or parboiled or the right type or something.



Chicken and chips!

Anyway, it was a minor disaster. I had cooked chicken and very undercooked potatoes. Thinking quickly, I had some of those healthy oven bake chips in the freezer, so I threw some in. What I ended up serving was interesting. The picture on the right says it all really. Kind of looks like fancy Red Rooster. At least the chicken was delicious. Chalk this one up to experience and try again!