Weekend house and garden stuff - the art of finishing.

Two weekends ago we had a 'finisher' weekend. You know the kind? We'd had a number of projects on the go, for several weeks, and The.Time.Had.Come.

So on Saturday I dug out and replanted a large triangular garden bed while the Prof and the Gorgeous Boy finished this:



Being the first stage in our grand plan to Destroy the Neighbours via Greenery.

These trees are Flowering Ash, for the horticulturally minded, and will apparently grow to seven metres or so, given encouragement.

Yay! Go trees, go!

There, they already look taller.

On the Sunday, the Prof concreted and rendered the inside of aforementioned triangular garden bed (pics saved somewhere but too ugly to bother hunting down) in readiness for the fish pond of my dreams.

Meanwhile, indoors, I finished doing this - um - thing:


The notion of "something big for that really long wall" had been hoggling large sections of my brain and occasional slabs of dining table for three or four weeks while I worked out what on earth to do with these three bits of fabric that took my fancy back in the New Year Spotlight sale.

It was, shall we say, a learning experience. I now have all kinds of quilting fantasies that might or might not come true.

Fast forward to this weekend, when we finished another two projects (major reorganisation of Pea Princess' bedroom and the main living area) and when I, as usual, on Saturday morning wrote up the family menu for the week ahead.

Have I blogged on the family menu before? I don't recall, but I really should have. I do know that it is something I have in common with the lovely Emma of Hearth and Home.

I also know for an absolute fact that I am not the kind of person who can keep to a weekly menu plan. And, finally, I know for certain that, without The Menu, we would be eating takeaway three nights a week, serving four different meals on each of the four nights we did cook, and supporting a fridge jammed with food bought because it was in season or looked fab, but was destined to be thrown out by the bucketload when it went rotten or passed use-by.

I know all this because this is how life was working out in the House of the Ladies Lounge before I learned to lurve The Menu.

So, The Menu has been with us for over a year now and is probably deserving of a post all of its own. Let me just say that the interesting variation this week was that I grabbed a handful of cooking magazines (my porn collection) and handed them out to children and husband and told them each to pick something for the menu.

Here's what we ended up with:



And on Saturday night we kicked off with the Prof's choice, Moroccan Lamb Steaks with Yoghurt Dressing



Tonight was the Pea Princess' choice, Lime and Dill Ocean Trout


Tomorrow it's Gorgeous Boy's turn with Thai Beef Salad (he likes it for the tomatoes)


then on Tuesday it's back to Morocco (not the way I'd normally do it but good business management says you can't get people to contribute if you make the rules too prescriptive, and besides, I've already bought the Moroccan seasoning) with BBQ Pork Skewers with sweetened (?) Moroccan seasoning for Sparkle.


On Wednesday I get mychoice, Chicken with Lemon and Oregano


Thursday is usually "Cheese on Toast" on the menu board - which actually means Cheese on Toast some weeks but is more often a euphemism for leftovers from all this cooking. Friday is often takeaway but if we're not exhausted then the kids prefer making their own pizzas to having bought ones.

Of course, before we could get stuck into the menu this weekend there was another job that needed finishing so we could get to the dining table: - the number one, most important, cannot be avoided, weekend job for a family of five with both adults in full-time work - look familiar?



mtc

Bec

Greek BBQ Pie Recipe

You know, I'm not so good on actual recipes. You need to see Joke or Kim for that, because they are very good at it indeed.

I'm more of a technique gal. I know enough to know what works, and usually have that sort of channelly feeling in my head when trying something new: sort of an internal humming that says "yes, sumac," or "the powdered oregano, not the fresh, you moron" (yes, my inner chef-channeller can be a rude bitch).

So when, on a recent warm evening, I decided I wanted to use the minced beef in the fridge but did not want to cook indoors, nor did I want to barbeque rissoles again, my inner (rude bitch) chef channeled this one up.

Greek BBQ Pie for five with leftovers

• Olive oil
• As much garlic as you can take, smashed with the side of a knife and cut across the grain
• Half an onion, finely chopped (or not so fine if you don't have to hide it from children)
• A carrot, finely chopped, and similar for celery, if you have it ( I didn't, and inner chef was cross with me)
• 5-600grams minced beef (lamb would also serve admirably)
• one tin of drained cannelini beans, or similar
• about two cups of stock - I know this may cause shudders but I have a big supply of chicken stock in the freezer and it is so rich I felt it would go with the beef and SO It Did. (capitals for the sake of those who won't drink red wine with fish). Beef stock, obviously, would work but perhaps it would be too obvious?
• tablespoonful of tomato paste
• Hoyts Greek Giro mix, see picture above (click on it to get bigger view) or similar mix of greek herbs. Nothing fresh from the garden this time, inner chef said 'no'.
• five or six medium potatoes, boiled or in my case microwaved in the magic terracotta crock*
• fetta cheese, in large crumbles

In my case, for the aforementioned climatic reasons, this was cooked in a paella pan on the barbeque, with the hood used to keep temperatures steady. Any old stove top would give similar results.

1. soften garlic, onion, carrot and celery in olive oil in a wide, open pan
2. add mince and brown lightly, breaking up well as it cooks
3. add stock (also wine, I donated a glass) and tomato paste and stir well, adding also the Greek Giro mix or similar.
4. Mix through the cannelini beans.
5. Cook down until mixture is growing thick but not dry, it should feel like meat pie consistency so add more liquid if not enough sauce is evident.
6. thickly slice the cooked potatoes and arrange them to cover the meat
7. scatter the fetta cheese crumbles over the potatoes and cook another five minutes or so, either with hood down (bbq) or possibly inside oven if indoors - you want the fetta and potato to start to brown without drying out.

Serve, to the acclaim of large husband and small children, at least three of whom will request leftovers for lunches at work and school the following day.

Try to think of clever name and instead come up with Greek BBQ Pie.

Bon appetit

mtc

Bec

*The magic terracotta crock, as seen in the photos above, does truly extraordinary things to potatoes in the microwave. I live in dread of the day that one of my thousands of children inevitably knocks it to a smashing end, but until then, I can assure you all that you have NEVER tasted a potato unless you have eaten it dry-steamed from my terracotta crock. Mine came from my ex-husband's aunty, a professional potter and the sort of hippy who owns a microwave. Sheer bloody genius.

How to bone a lamb. No sheep porn intended. Kiwis, look away.

First take your lamb leg. This one is about 2kg. We'll call it dinner, shall we?

Remove from your mind all memories of Hannibal Lecter.

Make sure your knife is very sharp.

Stick it in at the top of the leg around the boniest part and make a nice long cut down the length of the bone.



With your very sharp knife, slide the blade along the bone carefully to gradually open up the leg with as much meat intact as possible.

Try hard to forget every television autopsy show you've ever seen.



Also, Nip/Tuck. You definitely don't want to be reminiscing about that one episode you saw of Nip/Tuck when you thought it was just a fluffy show about ogling the son of a former Australian Prime Minister.



Keep going, slow and steady, slicing away the meat from the bone.

It would also be advisable not to think about the hospital tents in the American Civil War.

Because pretty soon you should end up with this.



Hold it together.

You've just made your dog happier than she's been since her last chance to roll in cowshit. No. Wait. Happier.



The Pea Princess. She makes the dog happy too.

Next examine the corpse meat. There will be a big thick bit on one side and a thickish bit on the other side.



Make some slices through the thick bit along the grain. It might help to think of the arsehole who stood you up on your birthday that year. The knife is sharp; it should slide through that thick meat like butter.

Ahem.

It will flatten out like so.






Pop it into a coffin suitable container while you make the embalming mix marinade.



My marinade included some of these from the garden...



... and a bottle of Greek Giro mix that's been tickling my fancy half the summer (it usually shows up in tiny lamb meatballs, but on this occasion it hit the big time).

And lemon zest and juice.

And olive oil, of course.

And garlic. LOTS of garlic.



(pictured here: the third addition of garlic to the mix, taking the total to an entire head of cloves).


Rub it into all those lovely crevices, as well as the extra slices you carved into his face the skin side of the lamb earlier.



Marinate in fridge while you get pissed with your friends.

Watch them ooh and ah as you bring it out to cook (actual quote: "Oh my god - WHAT is that?")

Barbeque on a hot hot grill for a few minutes each side to get a nice crusty exterior. Then pop it into a baking tray and sit it on your bbq's plate side, turning off that side's gas while leaving the gas running under the grill... Are you still with me? Close the hood, let it cook on the indirect heat until it feels fleshy rather than squishy when you push down. Squeeze lemon juice over the lamb and the coals as you cook.



sorry folks. I was too busy eating and drinking to get the money shot.

But this is what it looked like much, much later...


Served with: baked jacket potatoes; cherry tomato, capsicum, baby spinach and bocconcini salad; cucumber, yoghurt and mint.

Preceded by: lime and chilli prawn skewers.
Succeeded by: made-from-scratch chocolate cream tart.

When my husband woke this morning the first thing he said to me was : "Hey, great dinner last night".

Which made it seem blogworthy. Gory, but blogworthy.

mtc

Bec

The Ghost of Christmas Cake Present

Oh dear.

Well, at least I know where I went wrong.

It wasn't the recipe, which came from my grandmother, from her mother, and possibly unto the middle ages by the look of this piece of paper.



It did have its challenges.

And its moments of fun...



Translation: "Sprinkle extra brandy or sherry over cake while hot - keeps moist. (Also an excuse to have an extra nip!!!) "

So the fruit was found and the soak began.



And continued for a day or so...


the cake pan was lined...


and this was my first mistake.

I've never mentioned here before, but I hate Donna Hay.

I could devote an entire post to how much I hate Donna Hay. How I hate that I fall for her pretty magazine covers and her promising headlines, only to find I've purchase $7.95 worth of ego-driven twaddle.

Judging by what I actually use from a typical Donna Hay magazine, I should be paying about 33 cents. However, based on its value to me as pure food-porn, I think the price is about right.

Cutting a potentially major rant short, I hate Donna Hay especially this Christmas because a) she has a new magazine that advertises 'make ahead' menus that ARE NOT make ahead*, and b) I followed the instructions for double-lining a Christmas cake tin from one of her older magazines instead of going with my own instincts. More on this later.

Where was I up to? Ah, yes, the tin was lined, the stove was heated (and this involved calculus level maths to translate from my Nana's version of combustion stove temperatures), and the batter was made.



Yum. Five eggs, golden syrup, the vanilla that Nana forgot to put in her list of ingredients but included in the method and, well, lots of other stuff.

I saved the glace cherries til last.



And then we baked.

I should mention that by now it was 11.30pm because - well that last post explained it.

Nana's recipe strictly forbade leaving the cake in the oven to cool down (dries it out) so I resigned myself to being up another two hours or more until the slow bake was done.

Imagine how pleased I was when, turning and testing after just one hour and 40 minutes, I found the cake was cooked early! Yay! That clean-as-a-whistle-skewer gave me a much needed ticket to bed.

So off I went. Having dutifully left cake out of oven but in the tin to cool, and even more dutifully adding the extra nip of sherry while cake was hot, and covering it to keep the Christmas beetles off the top overnight, I went to bed.

First thing next morning, it hit me.

Fucking Donna Hay.

How on earth was I going to get the cake OUT of the tin since I had followed her baking paper instructions and cut four separate pieces to line the four sides rather than using at least one long piece to go from one side to the other so I could LIFT THE BLOODY THING OUT?

shit

Now, if any of you have the genius answer to this problem, bearing in mind that tipping the pan upside down was NOT an option because of my beautiful glace cherries: keep it to yourself.

No, really, I.DO.NOT.WANT.TO.KNOW.

I can be peevish like that.

In the end I had to divide and conquer.



The Prof stood by, cautiously making helpful comments like, "Well, it smells great anyway" and "Will you be using those bits that dropped off?"

And indeed, bits were dropping off quite alarmingly.

Despite its delightfully cake-y texture on top, the bottom half was really feeling much, much more like pudding.

Turns out, the skewer lied.

It really should have been two and a half hours after all.

So. Here's my plan.

The pudding-cake is going into the freezer, to emerge on Xmas day as a dessert to be mixed through with fabulous vanilla ice cream. I expect it to be a senSAtion.

The fruit mix I'd kept out to make pudding will now go towards a second attempt at cake.

And I'll be listening to my dear departed Nana this time. That Hay woman can sit on her quaint and perfect Christmas tree and rotate.

mtc
Bec

*This is an alarming trend in cooking mags this year: has anyone else noticed? Note to all Food Editors - a 'make ahead' menu that involves making a chilli sauce the night before Christmas and doing the rest of the five courses four hours before Christmas lunch is a crime against motherhood. You should all be ashamed.

Carrot, Pineapple, Coconut and Walnut Cake. A genteel moment before we once again Root, Shoot, Marry

Ah, the Ladies Lounge. A quiet corner of an otherwise rowdy public house. A comfortable, tasteful room for ladies of refinement, and perhaps their gentlemen friends. In the Ladies Lounge, they can relax and enjoy a cup of Earl Grey tea and a generous slice of Carrot, Pineapple, Coconut and Walnut Cake, perhaps even eating a second slice before calling for the vodka shooters and getting legless while playing Root, Shoot, Marry.

Pineapple, Carrot, Coconut and Walnut Cake, courtesy of the Favourite Recipes of Rotary Ladies of District 965 recipe book, circa 1986.
2 cups self-raising flour
pinch salt
1/2 teaspoon bicarb soda
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 cup sugar
3 eggs
1 cup vegetable oil
1 teaspoon vanilla essence
2 cups grated carrot
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
3/4 cup dessicated coconut
1/2 cup well-drained crushed pineapple (from a tin- we prefer Golden Circle brand)

preheat oven to moderate - 180-200C or 375-400 F and grease a cake tin of about 8-10 inches

Sift flour, salt, bicarb and cinnnamon into a larg bowl. Stir in the sugar (I used caster, ymmv).
Make a well in the centre of the dry ingredients and add the eggs, oil and vanilla essence.
Beat well with a wooden spoon.
Stir in carrots, walnuts, coconut and pineapple

Pour into greased cake tin and bake 45-50 minutes until cooked and a skewer in centre comes out clean (or almost clean, I like the middle just a tiny bit underdone). Leave in the tin 10 minutes after taking it from the oven.

You can ice this cake, and the Rotary Ladies recommend a vanilla cream cheese frosting, but with the cinnamon-y smell drifting all through the Ladies Lounge I never have the patience.

Eat the cake, sip your tea, rub your tummy and move on to the hard liquor.

mtc
Bec