Hot Cross Buns for Anzac Day

This year, it so happened that i was shoveling whale and foie gras into my gob while you were munching on bunny ears, or matza if you were less lucky. Upon my return from Nihon, I spotted the Easter edition of Gourmet Traveller sparkling in my pile of mail and figured that now i have more than a bar fridge and humidifier at my disposal, I would give these puppies a crack. My Apple and Cinnamon Hot Cross  Buns were awesome. The kneading and resting and expanding took their freaking time, but they only required 20 mins in the oven and after a quick slop of apple-lemon-cinnamon-syrup, all my Easters had come at once. And dad, as the cross part was made out of plain flour and water, I can also say i also had a nominal Pesach.

Keep your dirty hands off my Domo-Kun.

I actually have a spare brown towel nearby so no one puts their grubby hands on my new towel.

A kissing diary is far more appropriate then a pube diary (I think?)

I know some people who used to keep a pube diary. These people were male (obviousIy) and had a well planned technique whereby they would pocket a sample mid-poke as an 'acquisition' trophy and stick it in a notebook with some brief annotation. Ew.

I used to have a kissing diary, essentially a log book where i listed all of my snogs and their attributes.

There was Darryl, kiss #1 who got me to my bedroom at age 13 under the pretense he wanted to see my collection of TV Week posters, and then jumped my bones. Little did he know that the watermarks on Jason Donovan's mouth were attributed to my years of practice.

There was boy#3NYE96 (can't remember his name, but he was the 3rd boy I pashed on a wayward new years at Portsea back beach. May have been a Xavier boy, if i recall correctly) who stuck his tongue up my nose rather then my mouth. Lack of experience/education or alcohol? I'm not sure. The main thing i recall from the incident was my help-i'm-being-raped air-compression squealer (that my dad armed me with for protection) went off went he tried to get to my privates. Certainly got everyone's attention, and had anyone had the malice/foresight to document the spectacle, it would've made the perfect submission for the www.getcloseup.com website which just launched last week. It’s a clever new campaign for the toothpaste brand, Closeup and it's aimed at Gen Y kiddies who are not adverse to a touch of PDA, be it with their BF, GF, BFF or a combination of the three. So if you have any younger siblings/cousins/friends etc, flick them the link. They can either upload an existing pic or get intimate for their web cams. Get to it people! Mwa!

Dinner at Makoto's

We got the attention of Makota, Myko and Masaie while pouring tempura sauce onto our rice in Kyoto. They thought we were excellent company/entertainment and invited us round for dinner at their home in Yokohama, Tokyo. When we arrived, the sushi was laid out in the shape of an 'N' for Nicole and 'D' for Donald. Classic. The meal was very educational; I finally found out the correct way to position myself over a squat toilet. After my incident earlier in Hakone, I had felt somewhat incompetent, but i was reassured that it was the toilet, not me.

 

Watashi no kutsu wa kawaii desu.

I haven't had much success with clothes in Japan. Although they have a particular 'fashion' going down here i.e. rara skirts and hot pants with mega heels and boots a maternity tops, it's not a look i could a) pull off and b) get away with in Oz. Their trainers however are another story. They have the cutest shoes ever and they are so much cheaper than in Australia. These were AU$75! I will be the talk of the town when i get home. I will also be Clean & Clears acne model for 2010.

A WOMB. Kyoto, Japan.

The Wallpaper City Guides have yet to fail us. The latest example of frickin awesome food is the 5000 yen set course dinner at A WOMB near the Kyoto Art & Design University. We had a hell of a time getting there as we jumped on the no. 5 bus in the wrong direction and then landed ourselves a taxi driver who spoke no English and could not read small text, so despite having 5 different maps and photographs of the directions from Yahoo!, he had no idea where we were going. He was kind enough to call up the restaurant and ask them for directions and half an hour later, in -1 degrees, Puss in boots and Domus in shirt rocked up to a hidden concrete restaurant which only seats 10. There were only two other people there. We were a tad nervous but as the food started rolling, we couldn't contain our excitement, I haven't included all courses but each plate was immaculately displayed with so many different colours and flavors and the waitress, who spoke fabulous English and told me where we can get chicken sashimi and those funny toe separating shoes, explained every last detail. Unlike the 120000 yen traditional meal the other night, nothing here could be mistaken for turtle ejaculation or hardened sea moss. Don even got to choose which glass he'd like to drink his Sake in. Full on! I'd be back here in a second.

Hug-a-vegetarian week.

I felt a little guilty at WIP last week at The Age when i went on a tirade about vegetarians being the scum of the earth, well, not quite the scum, but certainly tricky to cater for, and then found out that half of my clients were vegetarians! One said her boyfriend was generally a vegetarian but was exempt on holidays because he didn't think it was right to deprive himself of goodness on vacation. My lord. 

Anyway, last weekend i made a conscious effort to make something fantastic sans meat to impress the Age crew. It was damn hard. I spent a good hour scanning the Gourmet Traveler indexes and found a colourful looking number with pomegranate, walnuts, pistachios, parsley, spring onion and green olives. Sounds amazing but god only knows what abuse i would cop from the hardcores who insist that a vego requires chick peas, lentils or some other grain or beany bit to ensure they don't get faint and pass out, so i improvised. I doubled the quantities and cooked up 1.5 cups of course burghul. The perfect dressing combo of pomegranate molasses with walnut and olive oil and lemon juice tasted even better the day after. I even considered being becoming a vegetarian for 4 seconds. But then i thought about lamb back straps and spaghetti bolognese and shark fin dumplings and i thought better of it.

My first attempt and frothing milk.

Poached pears with olive oil espresso mousse on almond and hazelnut meringue.

Greens.

We made a bean and asparagus salad with Tahini dressing. I threw is some chick peas because i was told vegetarians require fiber or they'll keel over and die. Unfortunately my camera died when i went to take a photo of the final ensemble. This is evidence that vegetarianism is no good for people (sorry Benny). Or inanimate objects. 

Beetroot salad = beetroot poo.

This salad is a guaranteed winner. The candied walnuts are a standout every time. Blanch the walnuts in boiling water. Pat them dry. shake them about in icing sugar. Throw them into a put of extremely hot oil. Take them out when they go golden. At this point you're supposed to blot out the oil with paper towel but this generally causes fluff balls to stick to your nuts. Kinky sounding but not aesthetically pleasing. I generally get a crap tea towel and rub them about. Then, you sprinkle some cayenne pepper over them and boom, you're done. Very tay-stee. Goats curd is also a fabulous invention. It's like goats cheese but is much smoother a softer and you have to dollop it on. I can only find it at Prahran Market in the shop opposite the Olive/Chilli baguette baker. The contrast between the salty cheese and the sweet roast beetroot and pomegranate is to die for. Note the Scotch Fillet psyching itself up in the background. Mr Teriyaki beef is next on the menu.

Better than a Four'n Twenty Pie

I couldn't allow my carnivore mates to become malnutritioned after entree so we whipped them up some mini meat pies. I slow cooked the chuck steak with red wine, beef stock and thyme for three hours. We then made the short-crust pastry which we stuffed up a bistle as we left it in the fridge for about 5 hours instead of one. Panic phone call to jess who suggested grating the dough on an old school  cheese grater. Fantastic idea. Softened the bastard up, rolled him about with a rolling pin and voila: perfect pie base. We bought the puff pastry for their hats, squeezed them all together and banged them in the oven for 25 minutes. Such little rustic looking delights. I accidentally gave don the tomato paste instead of the tomato sauce so he had a rude surprise when the stuff squelched onto his entree, but he loved them nonetheless.  

Miso soup with barley and pumpkin.

A yummy easy option when you realise a good third of your guests have eating disorders (vegetarian). The recipe called for crispy wakame on top. Seemed like a nice idea at the time but deep-frying seaweed is kind of like making popcorn without a lid; really hot, loud, dangerous and freaking messy.

Learning from a pro.

Nana pulled out the 60 year old Polish cook book on the weekend (unlike the chocolates, this surprisingly did not smell of mothballs) and taught me how to make her renowned apple cake in honor of my parents wedding anniversary. My basic Polish language skills (injection, no problem, bitch, one cucumber and weeds) did not help much. Despite my general 'bake from scratch' rule, Nana taught me the benefits of canned apple pieces. She also laughed at me when i presented her with a grater and orange in response to her requesting that i brig around orange rind. Apparently the type she likes is bought in small chunks and swimming in sugar. Thankfully this ingredient was not the make or break of the masterpiece.Neither was the SR flour from the 1800's.

I also learnt a nifty trick for the top bit of the cake. You freeze the dough and then rape it with a cheese grater. Makes for the most perfect crumble-looking top.

The final rule is 'the more sultanas, the better the cake', and may I say, this is a damn fine cake.