spring risotto

The other night the flatmates and I nearly ordered takeaways. We nearly just had toasted sandwiches for dinner and we nearly declared that it was fend-for-yourself-dinner. But, it was Sunday and we had a cupboard full of groceries, so I sucked it up and ended up making a boomer risotto. Risotto seems to be one of those things that people either love or hate, or they think is really difficult. The reality is, with a few key ingredients and being extremely versatile with what you can chuck in, it's a great recipe to have in the repertoire. All the ingredients were seasonal and fresh, hence the spring name. I used a small red onion, half a  fennel bulb, and a leek for the base. Inspired by hungryandfrozen's recent pea risotto, I used frozen peas too. What really made this great though was the addition of lemon zest and fresh mint. The flavours all worked together beautifully. I struggle to eat risotto without plenty of parmesan and cracked pepper. And that's exactly what I did.

Spring risotto

*Finely slice one leek, a small red onion and some fennel. Sauté gently in a large fry pan with a slosh of olive oil and a decent knob of butter. Turn up the heat slightly; give it a good ten minutes or so.

*Have 1-2 cups of stock warm on the stove. You can use bought or homemade stock, or if you're on a budget just use stock cubes dissolved in boiling water (I used Campbell's Real Stock, and some oxo vege stock cubes)

*Add arborio rice to the fry pan. I used most of a 500g packet and that served 4 people a decent portion each with one portion leftover. Add a ladle of stock and stir with a wooden spoon. Continue stirring until the stock is absorbed. Add 1-2 cups of frozen peas. Add more stock and continue stirring while it absorbs. Season well. Add lemon zest and fresh mint, finely chopped. Continue adding until all the stock is absorbed and the rice is cooked but still firm to the bite. This usually takes about half an hour. Use a fork to smash up some of the peas. Towards the end, grate over some parmesan and stir. Serve, garnished with cracked pepper and additional parmesan.

If we have to endure spring rain, we can at least enjoy spring flavours. Enjoy!

tuesday night at the Ambeli

I am currently holding a warm glass of half-price chardonnay whilst enjoying the smells wafting from my oven as I roast a chicken with saffron potatoes and leek. It's one of many spring-time treats gracing the pages of my latest dish magazine, delivered fresh to my letterbox courtesy of my pacific blue velocity points. Yussss! This time last week I dined at the Ambeli, the recent winner of Best Neighbourhood Restaurant and Best Restaurant Personality at the 2010 Cuisine magazine restaurant awards. The Fisherman was back on land, and we have this deal where he buys me dinner at a restaurant of my choice each time he's back. Call me a restaurant-whore, but I'm still enforcing it. And so I chose the Ambeli (Majoribanks St, Mt Victoria).

You'll have to forgive me; I still feel a little awkward pulling out my average camera in a beautiful restaurant. You'll have to imagine the meals as my poetic descriptions make your mouths water. The restaurant feels homely, like a warm and inviting dining room. We began with the organic homemade bread selection, which included squid ink grissini and a fresh, soft sourdough. Olive oil and butter were accompaniments, and it was beautifully done. We also ordered the warmed olives, which were lovely.

I was impressed that the menu is printed each day, to save wait staff memorising the specials. There is clearly a focus on local, in season produce. We each had a special of the day for our entrees; me the new season Nelson scallops on cauliflower puree with crispy pancetta, and him the new season asparagus with lemon oil and shaved pecorino cheese. My scallops were everything I'd hoped for; the puree was offset with the crispy, salty pancetta and as a dish it was perfectly balanced. I let the waiter match each of my courses with wine; and as I've mentioned before, I'm not pretending I'm an expert, but each match was simply superb. The Fisherman enjoyed the asparagus, but having perfected the roasting of asparagus ourselves, we both thought that while it was fresh and delicious it was simply a plate of asparagus. 

By the main course I was a glass of wine, two gins and another glass of wine in. It was time to probe with the emotionally exhausting questions that had been playing on my mind for the last three months. Needless to say I got weepy, but I was constrained and my subtle tear dabbing did not distract from two sizeable main courses. I went for the lamb - it was a slow-cooked lamb rack, with saffron arancini, roasted shallot puree and spinach. The lamb was strong having been slow cooked. At times it verged on tasting fatty, but the depth of the shallots and the texture of the spinach cut through to form each beautifully balanced mouthful after mouthful. The arancini were nothing flash; I couldn't taste any saffron and the only interest they really added was texture, which was superseded by the side of rosemary roasted potatoes - and they were a feat of potato mastery. Their crispness did a far better job of soaking up the rich flavours on my plate.  The Fisherman enjoyed a Prime Angus beef fillet, with fondant potatoes and curly kale as the winter greens. He dealt to most of the side of potatoes, and between mouthfuls we sniggered at Mr Too Cool and Ms Overly Keen on a date at the table next to us. My lamb was washed down with a 2005 Hawke's Bay Syrah; a blissful match. 

The tears had dried by dessert. The Fisherman is a sweet tooth, and what may now be obvious, I enjoy all food, so we pored over the dessert menu for a while. I went with Valrhona chocolate and olive oil mousse. It was served with an almond sorbet and a slow poached, spiced tamarillo. The almond sorbet was so intensely almond, it tasted like christmas! Well, that almond layer under icing that goes on christmas cake sometimes....either way, god it was good. The Fisherman had a passion fruit creme brulee with a sesame crisp and greek yoghurt pannacotta. He loved it. I loved it. Dessert was a dream. For me it was washed down with a glass of dessert wine. I'm a little hazy, but I was told it would taste like drinking raisins. It was actually a sherry; a dark, rich layered sherry. I don't know it's name, sorry. But it was divine. 

All in all, flawless service and beautiful food meant our evening at the Ambeli was a memorable one. Contrast that with the smarmy service and average food at Ortega next door a month earlier, and there is a clear winner in my eyes. It was a good choice, and on the back of our evening I'd say well deserved Cuisine awards. Emotionally it was a cathartic experience. I said what I needed to say, and that's that really. Whether our deal continues will remain to be seen, but in the meantime I relish being taken out for dinner! At the Ambeli or elsewhere. 

the art of scones

I was explaining to my flatmate the other day that when searching for blogspiration, I thought what the people wanted was more food and less self-indulged weepy ranting. I was abruptly met with something along the lines of "if I was reading a blog called heartbreak pie and it became just about food, I'd be bored". So, give the people what they want I thought! Heartbreak? Pie? All of the above! I had coffee with someone recently who I didn't know very well, and he politely asked me "how's your heart?" My heart is good. It's in tact. It's been an(other) emotional roller coaster with the fisherman being back on land, but I'll talk you through the reunion dinner shortly. I'm still scathing of soppy couples and I'm embracing my new found freedom with the planning of international trips. It's exciting and never fear, you'll be hearing all about it. In the meantime, I mastered scones! 

Scones (Edmond's, sassed up good and proper by yours truly)

3 cups plain flour

6 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

75g butter

1-2 cups milk, approximately, and a little extra milk

Sift flour, baking powder and salt in a bowl. Cut butter in until it resembles fine bread crumbs (I used my fingers for this). Add milk and mix quickly with a knife, to form a soft dough. Knead a few times. 

Before kneading, I divided the mix into two bowls. To one bowl I added a cup of grated cheese- it was a mix of edam and parmesan. I also added a few chopped fresh herbs and some smoked paprika. To the other bowl I added a cup of chopped dates, a tablespoon of brown sugar and a teaspoon of cinnamon. My Aunt Robyn swears that the key to good scones is a wet dough. You would be wise to follow her advice! 

Lightly dust an oven tray with flour. Press the dough onto the tray. I made the dough into a rectangle, and then did cuts to nearly the tray. I then cut them again once they were nearly done and broke them when finished.

Brush tops with milk and bake at 220*C for 10 minutes of until golden brown. Makes 12. And for goodness sake, if making these before work make sure you turn the oven off when they're done. Distracted? Maybe just a little.   

comfort meatballs & cheer up apple slice

Rain, exhaustion, and relationship-status-reality meant for a long, unproductive Monday that was only going to be cured by some solid time in the kitchen and a steaming bowl of baked meatballs in tomato sauce, served on mash with parmesan and parsley. Followed by a cup of tea and some fresh-from-the-oven apple and berry crumble slice. It was very similar to this one here, but I used apples and mixed spice instead of rhubarb. So good. Even though it was only yesterday I was enjoying a beer under the sunny Martinborough sky, picking fresh herbs (see parsley below) and dreaming about summer, today most definitely required comfort food.

Baked Meatballs in tomato sauce
This is based on a Donna Hay recipe, but I halved it to serve 4. I also only had beef mince, but I had two little gourmet pork and apple sausages leftover from last night, and I used the insides of them in this mix.

*2 slices white bread (I used Freyas Rye and it was really good)
*1/3 cup milk
*500g beef mince (or ideally half/half with pork mince)
*1 egg, lightly beaten
*just under 1/4 cup finely grated parmesan
*1/4 cup chopped parsely (the recipe says flat leaf; I used curly)
*2-3 cloves of garlic, crushed
*1 tblsp olive oil (I used chilli infused)
*1 tin of chopped tomatoes
*I also added a wee sprinkle of mixed spice, some finely chopped fresh mint, and plenty of flaky sea salt and cracked pepper

Preheat oven to 220*C. Place bread in a bowl and pour over milk. Set aside for 5 minutes to absorb.

Tear the bread into pieces and place in a large bowl with the mince, egg, parmesan, parsley and garlic. Mix well to combine. Roll tablespoonfuls of the mixture into balls. Place them in a baking tray and drizzle with the olive oil. Bake for 20-25 minutes until brown.

Add the tin of tomatoes (if they're too chunky, add a little stock or water) plus two extra whole cloves of garlic. Stir to combine and cook for another 8-10 minutes until the sauce is warmed through.

Serve over mash, or spaghetti or in a baguette. Sprinkle with extra grated parmesan and extra chopped parsley. Enjoy, feel comforted, and cheer up!

right now..

I'm in bed with the new frankie magazine (two weeks early thanks to my currently-a-melbournite friend Rachel) and a peppermint tea in a country road mug. I'm a mug snob. I'm listening to the rain, and looking forward to my dinner date tomorrow night with my friend Olivia. I'm recovering from last night's sugar-induced coma, which came on after taking these cookies to book group (the one with books, not the one without). Last night was short stories. I adore short stories, but struggled to articulate what exactly I liked about my favourite collection - 'not her real name'  by Emily Perkins, apart from reiterating that I just love her writing! Miranda July's 'no one belongs here more than you' was popular and well received, and there was lots of talk about her very cute short film. After a couple of wines a certain attendee accidentally kissed her ex at the end of a text message. What ensued was deep analysis of why this wasn't ok, how they most definitely weren't on "end a text with an x" terms and whether we preferred our kisses capitalised or not. There's nothing worse than a texty-sign-off-kiss from someone inappropriate; I think the infamous "going down" column in sunday magazine said it best when it declared something along the lines of 'going down: overzealous x's at the end of text messages - stop kissing me!'

On Sunday morning I made a coconut and honey loaf with those confit oranges. I undercooked it (see it's kinda gooey under the oranges there?) then burnt it slightly in the recipient's oven, so I might give it another go and write about it properly at a later date. On Monday I attempted a Moroccan feast but failed slightly in that the lamb shanks really could have done with another couple of hours. So again, I'll spare you the details. They were still tender, and the fennel, olives, chickpeas and saffron made for a tasty meal anyway, but I dished up too  much couscous, the lamb didn't fall off the bone, and the fatal mistake? Overindulging on pre-dinner snacks. When will I learn?!  

The weekend is looming, and thank goodness for payday. My stockings have holes in the toes (friends of mine since third form will know this is nothing new) so I'm eager to invest in a new pair, even though they'll just be the cheapest the supermarket has on offer. New camera batteries are also on the cards, so expect some photographic goodness before Monday. Weekend goals include: making fresh pasta, not staying out 'til 5am, tidying my room, working off the two slices of tarte tatin I indulged in on Tuesday night (thanks to a flatmate who really really wanted to get his butterscotch sauce just perfect...), and purchasing the new Arcade Fire album - this song being my sister's current favourite. Actually, I'm going to do that right now. Night! x.  

 

Tanqueray Thursday!

So, those confit oranges I made a while back? They've been sitting on my windowsill. The leftover syrup came in handy for drizzling over veges before roasting them - yams especially. It was also great for for adding zing to the rhubarb crumble slice, and also for replacement sugar syrup in our birthday party mojitos. Last night I needed a gin, and had some duty free Tanqueray thanks to my sweet friend Rachel who was here for the weekend from Melbourne. Having run out of lemons and limes over said weekend, I flailed around the kitchen in despair. Then, emerging from the windowsill, the jar of confit oranges shone bright. I had fresh mint. I had tonic. Add them to a glass of ice with one slice of orange and you have yourself a million dollar drink. It was the perfect way to welcome in spring yesterday, and the perfect way to dream of summer watching the icy rain tonight. I couldn't think of a fancy name, but replacing the gym with gin is definitely a habit I'm looking into embracing.    

and she's back!

August has been a big month of eating here at Heartbreak Pie. Eating, and drinking and coffees and a little too many post-4am falafel kebabs than my sober-self probably would have liked.

My food blogging failures know no bounds. Irregular postings, badly lit photos, ranting about my drunken escapades and worst yet, not taking my camera to any Wellington on a Plate events. Sorry. Instead you can be imaginative as I explain detail after luscious detail of my Great New York Steak.  And you can have a blurry picture of the Rocky Road Memphis Meltdown that my flatmate bought me tonight as compensation.

Wellington on a Plate has wrapped up it's second successful year and it seems as if it was a roaring success. It has received plenty of positive press and I'm sure it will continue to grow. I absolutely did not make the most of everything on offer, but I still managed to fill my time with plenty of self indulgence. I also managed to get along to the Tasting Room's Great New York Steak Night, its Wellington on a Plate festival event. And boy oh boy, what an event it was.

I spend a lot of my time and my money at the TR. It also partly-funded my social life throughout university and is where I like to think I perfected my waitressing skills. I was overjoyed when the general manager called and invited me along.

The tables were set with white tablecloths, and we were welcomed with Lindauer blanc de blanc. I was seated at the bar leaner with two regulars and to accompany our bubbly we were cheerily delivered an amuse-bouche of poached groper wrapped in prosciutto, a pacific rock oyster with champagne beurre-blanc, and a shot glass of truffled potato and leek soup. It was a delight. The truffle came through as a divine after-taste to the potato, but our table declared the groper the winner. The fish was well complemented to the saltiness of the prosciutto and the bubbles also a perfect match. It was such a light, tasteful beginning that I simply was not prepared for the massacre that was to ensue.

I should have been prepared; I'd read that it was going to be a special cut of meat. It was in fact 100 day grain fed, 21 day dry aged, Pure Angus New York Strip, on the bone. 700 grams. Seven hundred grams! Even counting the bone, that's still a massive chunk of steak. And it was beautiful. I'd asked for mine cooked medium-rare. With the first bite you got just enough of a smoky char-grilled taste before the perfectly cooked soft melting centre came through. This was a steak that commanded your attention from the second it was placed in front of you, and demanded your concentration (and elbow grease!) throughout - it wasn't tough though. It was just bite after tasty, tasty bite.

It was served with accompaniments of potato gratin, green beans wrapped in smoky bacon and roast tomato. The beans were a favourite, but the other vegetables were overshadowed by the stunning array of sauces. I've mentioned before that I'm a stickler for condiments and you cannot beat Bearnaise, Green Peppercorn and the classic Tasting Room jus, all served on the side. The friendly banter that the bubbles had brought to our table earlier in the evening was swiftly silenced by what lay before us. Staff walked around with trays of shoestring fries and salad greens, topping up as required. My gratin was swept aside to make way for the sauce-sponging fresh fries - the stitch set in when I went back for round two.

What I especially loved about the evening was that it was more than just a dinner - it truly rose to the occasion of being a festival event. Our glasses were constantly topped up with the 2008 Craggy Range Te Kahu and things couldn't really have gone better. The badly-disguised "aperitif" of Jagermeister shots for our table just added to the sense of occasion really, and by then I'd managed to squeeze in a long black and a grand marnier truffle. I think it was about then that I had to do some clothing realignment but I'll spare you the details. We were lucky our bar seats weren't required for the second sitting, we happily attempted to digest the meal with more wine to help. Well played, Tasting Room. A fantastic night all round and absolutely the best impression of Wellington on a Plate I could have hoped for. Thank you!