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27 Responses to “Julie & Julia – Do you have what it takes?”

1. 

   Justis Saayman 28 October 2009 at 5:36 pm #

   Awesome Site, Awesome Blog and Awesome Competition.

   Thanx for giving us such a chance.

   I posted my first great cooking experience on my facebook profile.

   This was the first of many and I now cook constantly whilst my fiance tends to my baby. She is more than happy to do that as my cooking skills have improved dramatically over the years.

   Thanx again
2. 

   Cathrine Landzanakis 13 November 2009 at 3:55 pm #

   My cooking experience with Le Creuset: “OPPA!!”

   Being a South African girl and marrying into a Greek family can come with many challenges. One of which is the cooking! Years of heritage cooking befall the true blooded Greeks. Therefore it can be somewhat daunting to prove oneself worthy of being able to cook in the true Greek fashion.

   Having stumbled across the glistening, multi-coloured pots, on the Yuppie Chef website, I ventured into the world of online shopping. I decided to embrace the idea of stylish cooking and invest in a Le Creuset pot. This purchase was prompted by an impending dinner party I was to have, and I felt I needed all the help I could get! The age old saying of :”if you have a problem throw money at it,” surely had to ring true and help me in my cooking dilemma?

   Slow Roasted Garlic Infused Greek Lamb was on my menu. I received some valuable tips from the Le Creuset web page and along with the countless recipe books I had painstakingly studied, I was ready to meet the challenge of impressing the INLAWS!

   Apron tied tightly around my waist to restrict the blood flow only to my head. I lovingly rubbed my extra large, shiny, cream coloured pot, hoping the Greek Genie within would appear.
   And appear he did!!

   On taking out the pot that had been gently coaxing my lamb into the most tender, melt in your mouth, explosion of sheer perfection, I smiled and served it to the Greek panel of judges. I waited in anxious anticipation with my heart beating for their comments.

   However their critique was put on pause as the entire meal was devoured before my very eyes! Then the flood gates of praise enveloped me like the kisses on both cheeks. I knew then that I was truly happy in my decision to convert to ………….Le Creuset!!

   Greek Roast Lamb with potatoes

   Ingredients:
   1x extra large Le Creuset pot
   1x large leg of lamb
   10x garlic cloves
   1x juice of fresh lemon
   olive oil
   fresh rosemary and origanum
   salt and pepper
   potatoes

   Method:
   Trim lamb of excess fat.
   Drizzle olive oil all over lamb.
   Piece lamb several times and slide in garlic cloves.
   Sprinkle herbs and seasoning.
   Grill on both sides with lid off to brown meat.
   Put lid on and bake at 180′ for 2hours.
   Add potatoes.
   Cook for a further half an hour and remove to add lemon juice to lamb.
   Cook for another half an hour.
   Remove lamb to carve and put potatoes back in oven to brown on grill for 10 minutes.
   Pour the remaining juice in pot over the carved lamb.

   And OPPA!!!
3. 

   Martinique Stilwell 23 November 2009 at 2:08 pm #

   Tongue in Cheek

   ‘Where’s the horseradish?’
   ‘Didn’t we use it already?’
   ‘Yes, I grated 3 tablespoons into the sauce, but now I need more for the creme fraiche.’
   ‘The creme fraiche that tops the baby leeks that top the watercress that tops the tomato confit that tops the tongue in cheek?’
   ‘That’s right. So where’s the horseradish?’
   ‘I think I might have thrown it in the dustbin.’

   The recipe had looked deceptively easy. Braise a couple of beef cheeks in veal stock, red wine and mirepoix, slice and layer with poached veal tongue, and top with creme fraiche, horseradish, leeks, oven-dried tomato and watercress. Spoon a bit of sauce over the meat and around each plate. Oh yes, the sauce. Based on veal stock.

   Veal Stock

   5 kg veal bones
   1 calf’s foot, split (optional)
   24 quarts cold water
   2 cups tomato paste
   2 1/2 cups carrots
   4 cups leeks
   1 1/2 cups onions
   1 head garlic halved
   Italian parsley, thyme and 2 bay leaves
   2 1/2 cups tomato pieces.

   Hunt down veal bones and a large enough pot before cutting the vegetables into 1 inch mirepoix. Convert quarts to units you can understand and consider crying. Over the next two days, a night of interrupted sleep and a couple of domestic disputes, blanch the bones, make veal #1 and veal # 2 and ‘perform the marriage of veal #1 and 2’, even if your own may be faltering. Total simmer time: 22 hours. Total draining, straining and skimming time: at least another 22 hours. Final result: 8 cups of rich brown stock, exhaustion and icy relations. Use this stock together with a bottle of good red wine, to braise the cheeks. Finally, reduce the cooking liquid to yield 2 cups of sauce. Slice the tongues and the cheeks, layer with the sauce, top with leeks, tomato, watercress and horseradish creme fraiche.

   ‘What do you mean, you threw the horseradish in the dustbin?’
   ‘Well,’ my husband replied, ‘I thought you had finished with it.’
   I looked over at my twelve dinner guests. They looked back at me. This is the disadvantage of an open plan kitchen. They had eaten miniature cones of salmon tartare, followed by parmesan baskets filled with goats cheese, and a plate each of Carpaccio of Yellowfin Tuna Nicoise. They had just finished sweet potato agnolotti with sage cream, brown butter and prosciutto. They sat waiting now, a few of them it must be admitted with some trepidation, for tongue in cheek.

   ‘Don’t expect me to get more horseradish,’ one of the guests said. He had trolled supermarkets for weeks before finally finding a few lonely roots which he had then forgotten at home. On arriving for dinner and hearing the story of the stock, he had said: ‘I’ll go back. It’s only on the other side of town.’
   And then my husband had thrown most of it away.
   ‘I know those roots didn’t look like much,’ I said, ‘but they were very important to me.’
   Was my lower lip trembling, I wondered, or was it merely the effect of prolonged sleep deprivation, extreme cooking and drinking a glass of wine with each course.
   ‘Do you have a head torch?’ my husband asked.
   The Tongue in Cheek was magnificent. The cheeks, braised for six hours, melted into the tongues which had been poached for four. The sauce was translucent, satiny and as complex as great wine. I could almost taste my suffering in it.
   ‘I feel an urge to put my head down and lick the plate,’ said a guest. They too had worked hard; peeling boiled quail eggs, forming quenelles of olive tapenade, filling tiny cones, folding agnolotti and frying miniature sage leaves to crisp perfection.
   ‘The creme fraiche is just right,’ I said, smiling at my husband over the rim of my wine glass. He smiled back. He had recovered the remains of the horseradish roots in the compost heap outside, under a pile of peelings. A quick wash and scrape and our main course was served.
   ‘Cheers,’ I said, ‘and pour me another glass.’
   For desert there would be roasted pineapple chops carved at the table and served on black sticky rice with vanilla butter but I could relax. I knew they would be a cinch.
   Note: No Le Crueset pots were harmed during the cooking of this dinner, thanks mostly to their robustness. With apologies and much respect to Thomas Keller and his French Laundry Cookbook.
4. 

   Linda Sofilas 30 November 2009 at 4:56 pm #

   Thoroughly enjoyed Cathrine Landzanakis’s ‘Oppa’ story! I’m also married into a family of outstanding Greek ‘chefs’, so can totally relate. This year I’m buying a le Creuset pot and trying her lamb recipe for my Christmas eve party. Who knows the Greek genie might just pull through for me too this year!
5. 

   Sarah Blake 30 November 2009 at 9:52 pm #

   I’m going to have to try that Greek lamb recipe (might need to hold thumbs and hold off for some Le Creuset), but this competition has pushed me to put Two Foodie-ish recipes on my blog – something I have been meaning to do for a long time! Just saw the extension date on entries – so expect more to come! Sarah
6. 

   Anke 4 December 2009 at 2:24 pm #

   Hi I posted my little African Christmas Story at:
   http://www.facebook.com/pages/Yuppiechef/7168140863?v=wall

   THANKS!
7. 

   Anke 4 December 2009 at 2:29 pm #

   Steamed Christmas Me without Ice Cream…

   With very little air to breathe – out here ‘air’ actually means water vapour scarcely suspended successfully – cooking Christmas lunch in the worlds largest steamer has left us resembling the cast of Lost.

   Come to think of it, ‘lost’ would not be an adjective untrue, with Mama barking immeasurable volumes of words at the top of her voice, employing both the critical condescension of her Portuguese passion and the bewilderment of foreign language.

   For my kitchen staff, this is a regular Christmas in rehab with the exception of being on kitchen duty. For me, it’s just another occasion to marvel and mutter at what foul lunacy possessed me to serve as a volunteer. For an entire year. A term which, incidentally (but perhaps rather obviously to one not made beside oneself in a stupefaction of saintly intentions) includes Christmas…

   Back to the menu at hand, it’s a swirling, clashing mess of colours and fragrances as cultural influences are brought to bear by sentimental young people all vying to have their traditional Christmas meal be cooked. ONS vreet vetkoek but WE enjoy gammon and THEY nibble chicken legs and THE OTHERS crunch chillies and crabs… Needless to say, Mama is still in Dias mode and quickly conquers the scramble for dominance, claiming the greatest food footprint for the Portuguese. Our rehab patients of this ethnicity will no doubt be done proud and brought to melodramatic tears of gratitude for her fierce show of heroism in the face of such adversity.

   But for us at the plates, its tears of another sort as the unrelenting spikes of smarting smoke from fire pits cooking mammoth cast iron pots of rice, batata frita (chips, in our case wedges), mixed vegetables and gravy, burn and blind the eyes.

   Mozambique is lovely. There can be no doubt. But add to its landscape a roofless caneso (reed) boma, a couple of rickety tables and tree stump chairs, a couple sticky, uneven gas burners in a long row and a cavernous wood firing oven that puffs dust and ash from its crumbling interior onto your roasting rations each time you replace the hefty steel door, and you have yourself a not-so-merry little Christmas in the stinky-hot bush. Justin Bonello has a rival for the title of his book though in our case we were the Cooked part, in Africa.

   So, subjugated by Mama, our menu was basically: Fesuada (bean stew), Sopa de Camarao, (a traditional fish soup with 1001 ingredients), the sides previously mentioned, a strange Christmassy take on a meat-free lentil curry for the Veggians, a couple of roast turkeys and legs of lamb by my Mom who mercifully came across with her Le Creusset to help a daughter out, and the main and most revered course of all: Leitao assado (suckling pig), compliments of Mama’s friend Donna Mila from ‘just up’ the potholed, riverbed-like, goat teeming road. This, of course, means fetching one such suckling AFTER it’s been cooked, as no being whether human or otherwise, would gratifyingly accomplish the task and Donna Mila hence had taken it upon herself.

   Of all my odd sojournings and experiences, taking that tank-like Land cruiser up the road to Donna Mila and loading into her a massive, dripping, sizzling (not-so-suckling) pig with a very creepy peaceful look on his fat face and driving at ground hornbill speed back to base, ranks Experience Most Anomalous.

   Not only did dear Mila find a pig in this country of scarcity, but managed to cook it for hours on end until it was basically coming away from itself. And not only did she do all this but created about eleven petite side dishes that a hog like this should never, ever, not if you’re the Queen, be enjoyed without. Everything from grated carrot swimming in pineapple juice to roast slivers of beetroot with a peanut lid ground over the top. All presented in her very best crystal ware and laboriously made stable in the back of the cruiser, next to the still roasting pig. For whom the windows remained wound up for fear of flies and dust and for whom I, consequently, almost succumbed to a truly one of a kind, inelegant death in a year of my life at least eighty too early.

   Hot beyond the salvation of humour, sweating like a soldier and red as a capulana I stumble from the cruiser-turned-warming drawer and head for the relative cool of the wash up area. By now, most of the food has been cooked and there are decorations everywhere. A Euro-African jumble of dangled and draped hand made objects coloured red and white and gold. The heat from Hades (our nick name for the clay oven) and the constant smoke had made it all seem too much, but now, as I look out over the wonky tables and their lovingly placed wares and decorations, it all seems to be coming together, like Christmas magically always does. The ice cream hadn’t survived the trip from Maputo despite our best planning and the gas freezer had once again turned the ice blocks for the juice to water. But when we finally sat down on our tree stump seat,(albeit three hours behind schedule) and tucked in, there was, for the first time anyone can remember, silence at this vibrant, loud rehab in the stinky-hot bush. Just the soft clinks and groans of eating and eating and eating. Of loving every moment and mouthful and partaking in what has become one of my most cherished Christmases ever.

   ON TO RECIPES for anyone keen to try their hand at Suckling Pig the Porra Way, or delighting in Mama’s simple crème caramel that leaves you reminiscing the wonderland that was childhood and its fare.

   LEITAO ASSADO

   Apart from finding yourself a suckling pig and an oven large enough to contain it, this recipe is dead easy. (Ask your butcher to clean the carcass – maybe impaired by a couple of 2M’s when preparing the brine, Donna Mila neither removed the guts and all they contained or warned us to cut very carefully, rendering a large portion of meat inedible, yes, eeouw!…)

   BRINE
   1 box of fresh, coarse sea salt
   ½ a cup of freshly ground, coarse pepper
   4 bottles apple cider or beer, Donna Mila uses 2M, of course
   8 cups water
   1 cup brown sugar
   3 large onions, chopped
   5 cups fresh garlic, chopped

   HOW TO PIG

   A day before, wash your pig thoroughly and pat dry.

   Mix all the brine ingredients in a plastic bucket or container suited to pickling the pig for 24 hours.

   Ensure the pig is covered in liquid and place in a refrigerator. Turn once in 24 hours.

   When ready for cooking, its best to use a wood firing oven and traditional Portuguese custom dictates Eucalyptus chips for their particular flavour, but really, any wood chips for smoking flavour will do. If using a conventional oven, preheat to 200°C.

   (English recipes suggest burning the hair off ears and face with a torch; you are welcome to do so at this point)

   Using your hands wet with oil, ensure it is well oiled all over.

   Using handfuls of coarse salt and pepper, rub thoroughly.

   Fill with your choice of stuffing, and place with feet tucked under it (like a sleeping dog) on an oiled tray.

   Some folks fill the eye sockets with marbles to retain shape, its up to you. A wooden block or tin foil ball will wedge open its mouth sufficiently to ensure you can fill it with a polished fresh apple at the end.

   Cook for at least two and a half hours or more. Baste every half hour or so with dripping from the tray or extra oil. The skin should bubble to crackling and the meat should fall off the bone.

   Add boiled potatoes or crispy wedges and enjoy!

   Word to the wise and or camping – for brine in a flash, I’ve heard it rumored that a famous five star Portuguese restaurant has reverted to the simple though not very chef like chemical concoction of Coca Cola for marinating the piggie… apparently, magnificent!

   CRÈME CARAMEL, MAMA ANANDA’S WAY

   CARAMEL
   ¾ cup cold water
   200g caster sugar

   CUSTARD
   100g white sugar
   12 eggs
   1 litre milk
   1 vanilla pod, sliced in half

   HOW TO CARAMEL

   Slowly allow the sugar to melt on a very low heat. (About 15 mins) Once runny it will change colour, darkening as it goes. Careful not to burn the sugar, allow it to darken to an amber colour before adding the water. It will boil rapidly; allow this for another 3 minutess or so until it is thicker and a little darker still.

   Pour the syrup into a suitable mould – a flat, broad mould that’s slightly tapered to the top is often prettiest.

   HOW TO CUSTARD

   Preheat oven to 180°C.

   Bring milk to the boil with the vanilla.

   Whisk the eggs, one at a time, into the sugar until pale.

   Gradually add the milk to the egg mixture, whisking briskly.

   It should form a thick custard with which you fill the waiting mould. Take care to pour close to the mould and with a broad gentle stream so as to not lift too much of the caramel.

   Place mould in a bain marie or an oven proof dish and fill half way up the sides of the dish with water.

   Bake 40 minutes or until set. It’s best to take out the oven and rest for 15-20 minutes.

   Demould and serve. (Serves about 6 –
8. 

   Trisha Millar 5 December 2009 at 10:40 am #

   Ha ha…. I loved the story ‘OPPA’!! My husband and I went to Greece this year and we fell in love the Greek cuisine. Christmas is around the corner, so I am going to use this recipe. Well done Cathrine, I am sure you have a few more recipes to earn you some more Greek kisses this festive season.
9. 

   Vicki 16 December 2009 at 1:14 pm #

   There is something about having all the bells and whistles that is a comfort to any cook. Sure, we’d survive on a camping trip with one chopping board, a sharp utility knife and a few other goodies but once we’re on home ground, most enthusiasts will tell you that a drawer full of paraphernalia (from that rarely, if ever, used grapefruit knife to a meat mallet and that oh-so-special favourite, the sugar thermometer) is a security blanket of sorts…after all, you need to have some semblance of skills in the kitchen to know what the hell most of them do!

   Non-essentials aside, it’s a given that every cook will have their can’t-live-without’s, their favourite battered spoon that is the only one that’ll do for checking whether the sauce needs more seasoning, the spatula that’s slightly wonky but that works perfectly, thank you, and the favourite coffee mug with the crack in it. In my mind one’s preparation and appreciation of the results suffers if the exact favourite is not used.

   My life has been peppered with cooking and eating and drinking utensil idiosyncracies. Growing up, when it came time to set the table for supper, my siblings and I knew that my father only ate with one specific fork, its silver tines long ago squashed together in a formation only he knew the benefit of. I can still see the slightly tarnished silver, in need of a polish (he insisted he could taste the polish, so tarnished it remained) and those poor tines, squeezed together for all eternity.

   I learnt to cook in a deep sided copper pot. Scrambled eggs (why a pot and not a pan I have no idea), custard and even spaghetti Bolognaise were all borne of that pot, a wedding present long ago given to my parents. I can still see my seven-year-old-self peering into its depths, willing the changes that would signify that cooking, real-life, sizzle-spatter, bubble and boil cooking was afoot. Twenty plus years later the pot still lives in our cupboard and catching sight of it every few days ago takes me straight back to a series of edible (and many inedible) firsts. Now, it is so warped it wobbles on the stove but I can assure you no other pot makes popcorn as perfectly.

   I also have a bit of a knife thing and over the years have amassed something of a collection. From my Global chefs knife given to me when I moved into my first place, to the knives my folks had made for me in France to the general Wüsthof kitchen knife my Dad bought for me one Christmas and which he never had the chance to give me. Every time I use it, I think of our Saturday morning visits to the butchery to buy meat for the week, his tap-tap-tap of salt onto still-warm garden tomatoes that we would eat like apples and the fact that he would tease us that during the war, food was so scarce, even the water was dehydrated. Knives bring out the OCD in me too. I frighten myself that at least twice a week I find myself checking the knife magnet that my favourite of favourites, my little Victorinox utility knife is exactly where it should be, ready and waiting to chop veggies into oblivion when duty next calls.

   My fiancée, though not a particularly enthused cook also has his own attachments. It goes without saying that only certain braai tongs will do for flipping lamb chops and heaven help the person (invariably me) who moves his special teaspoon, the one with the squarish shape that he insists is the only one that squishes teabags just so. To me it is a simple silver teaspoon, nothing special about it. But to him it is a symbol. That the world is all right and everything is as it should be.

   As time marches on, the arsenal of kitchen essentials grows. There is a wooden spoon that has made it into the mix, its short stature a perfect match for my smallish hands. A chopping board that is the only one I’ll use for salad ingredients and my much prized duck egg blue Le Creuset pot, that’s used so much it lives on the stove. It’s these attachments I believe bring us back into the kitchen time and time again. Inaminate objects they may be, but to me their familiarity plays an essential role and brings life and soul into even the simplest of edible offerings and kitchen rituals.
10. 

    Halim Tomy 19 December 2009 at 1:04 am #

    I absolutely loved Martinique Stilwell’s ‘Tongue in Cheek.’
    The intricate personalities within the dinner party scene formed a seamless union with her fabulous gourmet meal. And ironically, cooking to perfection for her guests seemed to cause a temporary rift in her own loving relationship. Definitely a delicate recipe for my finacee and myself!
    We love it,
    Halim
11. 

    Justin Skowno 19 December 2009 at 9:10 pm #

    Tongue in Cheek describes complex cooking perfectly – challenging to the chef and the chef’s family, requiring careful coordination of sous chefs, sous sous chefs and ingredient orders, and rewarding at the end, not only for the sublime creation one dispatches toward the stomach, but for the memory of the manhattan project of cooking artistry that got it to your chops in the first place.
12. 

    Judy Cargill 20 December 2009 at 5:19 pm #

    What it is to be a Yuppie chef!The highs and lows that go into that seemingly effortless flourish as the dinner plate is set before your friends (or is it judges?). I had a good laugh at Tongue in Cheek. It reminds me that no matter how heavenly the meal or how divine the chef, always check the horse radish for coffee grounds.
13. 

    Jacci Rudling 24 December 2009 at 9:02 am #

    My best try at cooking, life and relationships.

    Cooked Cannelloni with my daughter this week. As usual Jamie Oliver inspired our kitchen adventure, or should I say Jamie at Home, with Taste Magazine – I mean who can help but be inspired to culinary greatness watching him conjure up family delights straight from the garden? See more at http://jaccir.blogspot.com/2009/12/culinary-adventure.html
14. 

    June Roux 25 December 2009 at 8:46 pm #

    To undertake something as complex as ‘tongue in cheek’, the very first ingredient needed seems to me to be a sense of humour, followed closely by intense dedication. As intense as the stock that is the final goal of the exercise. The third vital ingredient would be dinner guests capable of appreciating the effort that the whole exercise has taken. Bravo!
15. 

    Pierre-Stephane Delport 26 December 2009 at 11:20 pm #

    Banana Puddin’ Blues

    I was very fortunate to have travelled a lot when I was young, thanks to my conference-hopping parents and their penchant for unusual (if somewhat ivory-towered) travel destinations. From a young age my love of eating must have overshadowed all other experiences because the most memorable parts of these trips are the local cuisines. A few months ago, I was reminiscing about the year we spent in the beautiful US state of North Carolina. As memories of the sparkling Crystal Coast and snow on the Smokey Mountains filled my mind, I knew only one thing could quell the longing in my heart – a big ‘ole banana puddin’.

    For days banana pudding was on my mind. As a guy not accustomed to baking, I walked the streets of Cape Town hoping to catch of glimpse (or a whiff even) of its golden meringue topping, its succulent filling of sliced bananas kissed by creamy custard. But alas, no one I asked had even heard of it. I sighed, lamenting the total absence of Southern cooking in the Southern-most city in Africa. After enduring my complaints for some time, my ever-patient and inspirational girlfriend provided the solution, “just make one yourself!” And so I did….

    On the surface, banana pudding seems so easy to make. Slice a couple of bananas, make some custard, beat some egg whites for the meringue, and then throw it all together and bake the sucker to golden perfection. These were my thoughts as I began my cooking journey, scouring the aisles of Woolies in search of the simplest of ingredients. I had come upon http://www.lanascooking.com, a charming Southern cooking blog packed full of delicious down home recipes, including an authentic and easy to follow Banana Pudding recipe. “A simple recipe” I thought, “this should be a cinch”. Confident and excited, I paid for my groceries with a smile and headed home to bake a prize-winning dessert. Or so I thought.

    Back in the kitchen, I set out all the equipment and ingredients before I started, just like the TV chefs do. I had perfectly sliced my bananas, lined my buttered baking dish with tennis biscuits, and was ready to prepare the creamy custard filling. So far so good. A careful reading of the recipe revealed that some heavy-duty equipment was called for. After I Googled “double boiler” and realised I had never even seen one before, I decided to improvise. Moments later, I had an absent-of-use glass Pyrex dish masterfully balancing atop a pot of boiling water – sheer genius. If you had asked me how I felt at that moment, I’d have told you I could feel victory in my bones. My jubilation was short-lived though, because it was exactly at that moment that things started to go horribly wrong.

    I had combined the milk and sugar to make the custard filling and was about to add the egg yolks when I realised that I had no eggs. Off with the stove, and off I went to Woolies again to get some. I returned home, got the liquid boiling again and was about to add the yolks when I came to a shocking realization – eggs, even Woolies eggs, don’t come pre-separated! After a few failed attempts, I worked out how to separate eggs and obtained three perfect yellow yolks, which I added to the milk. I stirred conscientiously, trusting that the custard would soon thicken into a wonderful creamy filling. It didn’t.

    At this stage, the kitchen was a mess, with egg shells, banana peels and biscuit crumbs strewn across the black granite landscape of the counter tops. At the centre of this chaos was me, frantically trying to beat egg whites while I prayed that the custard would thicken. Unfortunately I had lost track of time, and was startled by the ringing of the buzzer, the CCTV image confirming my worst fears – my girlfriend was home from work. Upon entering the apartment her reaction was mixed, a combination of shock and horror. She took a few moments to gather herself, then announced that makeshift double boiler wasn’t providing enough heat to thicken the custard, and that the egg whites were far too soft. By this time the latter had half returned to their liquid state, while the water in the “double boiler” was fast running out. I acted quickly, adding some boiling water to the pot, and beating the egg whites on the fastest setting, but alas, the custard simply refused to thicken. At this point I realised something else – I hadn’t bought the ingredients for the dinner I had promised to cook! Leaving the custard in more capable hands than mine, I sped off to Woolies again, and was about to pay for my groceries when I received an SMS: “Ran screaming from the kitchen, it’s a mess. Taking a shower. X” Just great.

    I returned home, out of breath, and put my parcels down. When I neared the stove, I went cold. Lying before me was a ghastly sight: my double boiler had collapsed. Whether it was the weight of the custard in the glass dish above, or my haste in adding the hot water, the dish had slipped into the pot of water, flooding my custard and washing half of it into the cauldron below. My heart sank as I surveyed the scene before me. I was ready to give up, to cast off my dream of Banana Pudding forever. But then I remembered the Alamo. (OK, so I didn’t but it sounds Southern.) Mustering all my strength, I hatched a cunning plan.

    As the old saying goes “Cometh the hour, cometh the man”. Except in this case it was more like “Cometh the hour, returneth the man to Woolies”. Back in the queue for the third time, I was getting decidedly odd looks from the cashier who, as luck would have it, had served me twice already that day. I had in my hands two containers of fresh custard that I had spied on the dessert shelf. Armed with these creamy beauties I knew victory was mine.

    Back home for the last time, I looked upon my biscuit-lined dish and smiled. Adding the banana slices and layering them in rich creamy custard, I whipped up fresh egg whites (which I now separated with greater ease) and topped off the pudding with a thick layer of tasty meringue. A few minutes in the oven, and a golden, scrumptious Banana Pudding emerged, the pride of any Southern kitchen.

    Ultimately, everything worked out great. I got the kitchen sparkling clean, we had a great meal and delicious dessert that evening, and all the calories I burned on my trips to Woolies meant that I had an extra helping, guilt-free! My longing for Banana Pudding satisfied, I have my sights on more ambitious dishes, and these days I even make my own custard!

    Real Deal Banana Pudding
    (http://www.lanascooking.com/2009/05/22/the-real-deal-banana-pudding/)

    3/4 cup sugar, divided
    1/3 cup all-purpose flour
    Dash salt
    3 eggs, separated
    2 cups milk
    1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
    45 NILLA Wafers, divided
    5 ripe bananas, sliced (about 3 1/2 cups), divided
    Additional NILLA Wafers and banana slices, for garnish

    1. Mix 1/2 cup sugar, flour and salt in top of double boiler.
    Blend in 3 egg yolks and milk. Cook, uncovered, over boiling water,
    stirring constantly for 10 to 12 minutes or until thickened. Remove
    from heat; stir in vanilla.

    2. Reserve 10 wafers for garnish. Spread small amount of custard
    on bottom of 1 1/2-quart casserole; cover with a layer of wafers
    and a layer of sliced bananas. Pour about 1/3 of custard over
    bananas. Continue to layer wafers, bananas and custard to make
    a total of 3 layers of each, ending with custard.

    3. Beat egg whites until soft peaks form; gradually add remaining
    1/4 cup sugar and beat until stiff but not dry. Spoon on top of
    pudding, spreading evenly to cover entire surface and sealing well
    to edges.

    4. Bake at 350°F in top half of oven for 15 to 20 minutes or
    until browned. Cool slightly or refrigerate. Garnish with
    additional wafers and banana slices just before serving.

    Makes 8 servings.

    Enjoy!
    © The Nabisco Co.
    http://neverenoughthyme.wordpress.com
16. 

    Pierre-Stephane Delport 27 December 2009 at 7:52 am #

    Almost forgot – here’s the FB link

    http://www.facebook.com/editaccount.php?notifications#/profile.php?v=wall&ref=profile&id=100000601967077
17. 

    Anne Davies 28 December 2009 at 10:30 am #

    I remembered the fun Greek story so went back and printed the recipe out. I made the the roast lamb for Christmas and it was a huge success! Many thanks Cathrine for an easy to follow recipe which produced a great result!
18. 

    Hanno 28 December 2009 at 2:59 pm #

    Cock and wine

    As with so many things in life, the climax of the story involves cock and wine…

    Carefully and meticulously, I had cultivated a personage as the quintessential yuppie. Successful, driven, ambitious. Climbing the corporate ladder as if I could scale that vertical wall even without the ladder.

    Then two things happened at once that I needed to reconcile:
    I became the father of the most beautiful baby girl the world has ever seen, and I was offered a job that would earn me more money than I had ever dreamed possible.

    As I pondered these two events, I felt a growing unease…
    One night, over a bottle of exquisite red, I played out the scenario. Me, gone for weeks, making lots and lots of money, increasingly unable to take time off, increasingly unable to walk away from that lifestyle and spending less and less of the ultimate resource – time – with my lovely new family…

    A decision was made that would change my life forever.

    I resigned and started balancing my time between investing myself in my wife and daughter, and working part-time for an NGO that really changes lives.
    All of a sudden, life slowed down. Where previously I had eaten for sustenance, I started to savour flavours, textures. Cooking became a passion.

    But the big moment came when I opened a magazine with an excerpt from Les Halle Cookbook by Anthony Bourdain. I needed just two words to be absolutely, irrevocably changed:
    “Day One”.

    I had never even considered a recipe that started with the words “Day One” before! Yet all of a sudden, it made so much sense that I didn’t know whether I could ever cook in any other way. The recipe was for coq au vin, and it was exquisite.

    I invite everyone to take a moment, re-evaluate your priorities and if at all possible, only ever cook recipes that start with the words “Day One” …

    If you’re not sure where to start, try the recipe that initiated me into slow food…
    Courtesy of Monsieur Bourdain.

    Coq au vin

    Ingredients

    1 bottle (1 liter) plus 1 cup (225 ml) of red wine
    1 onion, cut into a 1-inch (2.5-cm) dice
    1 carrot, cut into ¼-inch (6-mm) slices
    1 celery rib, cut into ½-inch (1-cm) slices
    4 whole cloves
    1 tbsp (14 g) whole black peppercorns
    1 bouquet garni
    1 whole chicken, about 3.5 lb (1.35 kg) “trimmed”–meaning guts, wing tips, and neckbone removed
    salt and freshly ground pepper
    2 tbsp (28 ml) olive oil
    6 tbsp (75 g) butter, softened
    1 tbsp (14 g) flour
    ¼ lb (112 g) slab or country bacon, cut into small oblongs (lardons) about ¼ by 1 inch (6 mm by 2.5 cm)
    ½ Ib/225 g small, white button mushrooms, stems removed
    12 pearl onions, peeled pinch of sugar

    Directions

    DAY ONE

    The day before you even begin to cook, combine the bottle of red wine, the diced onion (that’s the big onion, not the pearl onions), sliced carrot, celery, cloves, peppercorns, and bouquet garni in a large, deep bowl. Add the chicken and submerge it in the liquid so that all of it is covered. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

    DAY TWO

    Remove the chicken from the marinade and pat it dry. Put it aside. Strain the marinade through the fine strainer, reserving the liquids and solids separately. Season the chicken with salt and pepper inside and out. In the large Dutch oven, heat the oil and 2 tablespoons/28 g of the butter until almost smoking, and then sear the chicken, turning with the tongs to evenly brown the skin. Once browned, remove it from the pot and set it aside again. Add the reserved onions, celery, and carrot to the pot and cook over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until they are soft and golden brown. That should take you about 10 minutes.

    Sprinkle the flour over the vegetables and mix well with the wooden spoon so that the vegetables are coated. Now stir in the reserved strained marinade. Put the chicken back in the pot, along with the bouquet garni. Cook this for about 1 hour and 15 minutes over low heat.

    Have a drink. You’re almost there …

    While your chicken stews slowly in the pot, cook the bacon lardons in the small sauté pan over medium heat until golden brown. Remove the bacon from the pan and drain it on paper towels, making sure to keep about 1 tablespoon/14 g of fat in the pan. Sauté the mushroom tops in the bacon fat until golden brown. Set them aside.

    Now, in the small saucepan, combine the pearl onions, the pinch of sugar, a pinch of salt, and 2 tablespoons/28 g of the butter. Add just enough water to just cover the onions, then cover the pan with the parchment paper trimmed to the same size as your pan. (I suppose you can use foil if you must.) Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and cook until the water has evaporated. Keep a close eye on it. Remove the paper cover and continue to cook until the onions are golden brown. Set the onions aside and add the remaining cup/225 ml of red wine to the hot pan, scraping up all the fond on the bottom of the pot. Season with salt and pepper and reduce over medium-high heat until thick enough to coat the back of the spoon.

    Your work is pretty much done here. One more thing and then it’s wine and kudos …

    When the chicken is cooked through—meaning tender, the juice from the thigh running clear when pricked—carefully remove from the liquid, cut into quarters, and arrange on the deep serving platter. Strain the cooking liquid (again) into the reduced red wine. Now just add the bacon, mushrooms, and pearl onions, adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper, and swirl in the remaining 2 tablespoons/28 g of butter. Now pour that sauce over the chicken and dazzle your friends with your brilliance. Serve with buttered noodles and a Bourgogne Rouge.
19. 

    Kim Peacock 29 December 2009 at 3:45 pm #

    Guess that le creuset pot is one piece of crockery Cathrine won’t be smashing! Oppa! Loved this Greek tale!
20. 

    Martinique Stilwell 29 December 2009 at 6:28 pm #

    Well done Hanno! What a lovely piece, and such a sound underlying sentiment. Oppa is cute too, in a My Big Fat Greek Wedding kind of way, but my vote goes to you.
    I’m a big fan of recipes that start with Day One, but just watch out, when it comes to Keller and Tongue in Cheek it’s day three and four that get you. Oh yes, and those six extraneous courses, because it is, after all, French Laundry. Hope you get the pots (or is it pot?) because since you turned down that high paying job it sounds as if you need it more than the rest of us.
21. 

    Linda Pretorius 30 December 2009 at 7:17 am #

    I’ve never had the courage to start a recipe that will take several days to complete, but I must admit Hanno’s post is inspiring! Well done to you – I hope you win the pots and that your wife and baby daughter are the beneficiaries of many slow recipes in your household!
22. 

    Justis Saayman 30 December 2009 at 12:49 pm #

    I was 19 when on holiday from Varsity I descovered the cooking channels on TV.I always loved making food but never to the extent that I would try new things and ideas they show on television shows.
    It then dawned on me that I could take my two (then current) favorite things and meld it together for a tasty meal (or at least part of it).
    I then proceeded to warn my parents of the impending destruction of their kitchen and the need for cleaning afterwards and get the ingredients for what I thought was a phenominal idea.

    Jack Daniels Steak with Mushroom Sauce was born that day and to my surprise its still a firm favorite with my imediate family.

    For The Recipe You Need:
    Beef Fillet (any amount you want to make)
    Jack Daniels Bourbon Whiskey (any bourbon would do)
    Salt and Pepper (freshly cracked)
    Butter (to cook with)

    Instructions for steak:
    Grab a ziplock bag and add the fillets to the bag with about 2 shots of Jack Daniels per fillet and season with Salt and Pepper. Allow this to rest in the fridge for about 2 hours. Yes I know this doesnt really allow oxidation to make the meat softer, but you essentially just want the flavour and smell to infuse into the meat.

    Using a medium frying pan, melt some butter (I like it as it add’s flavour) and heat the pan to a medium-hot temperature.
    Fry the fillets for a few seconds on each side and add a glug of Jack Daniels straight into the pan.

    Grab a match, light it and then proceed to light the Jack Daniels within the pan.Shake the pan (not too rough now) to make sure all the alcohol burns and continue to pan fry the fillet to the rare’ness you desire.
    Remove Fillet and allow to rest for a few minutes whilst you make the sauce.

    For the sauce You Need:
    1x Punnet of button mushrooms (any will do), sliced
    1x 250ml Fresh Cream
    2x smallish blocks of butter (to thicken sauce)
    Half a glass of your favorite white wine (personally I enjoy Blanc de noir)
    Your favorite herbs (I use Basil)
    Salt and Pepper (frashly cracked)

    Instructions for sauce:
    Using the same pan as for the steak, add the mushrooms and fry until cooked and soft.Add the wine and allow to simmer for a minute then proceed to add cream and basil and allow to simmer for a few seconds (the colour of the cream will slightly change).
    To thicken sauce, just add the butter and allow to melt whilst continually stirring.

    The Finished Product:
    Add steak to a hot plate and pour over sauce. Serve with veggies of your choice. I normally just go for freshly made potato mash (chunky) as I love eating the extra sauce with the mash.

    Note: no need to use the wine in the sauce but except for that Teetotalers can eat this dish as all the alcohol is burnt away when you light it.
23. 

    Hetta Breytenbach 7 January 2010 at 1:07 pm #

    Hanno is getting my vote also. I’m sure it’s an experience to eat Coq au vin prepared by him. Martinique I liked your story as well and can relate to that feeling of “still too much to be done,time running out and waiting guests!” But such a pleasure when your guests enjoyed it and give compliments.
24. 

    Richie Vulcan 13 April 2010 at 1:18 pm #

    I can not believe that I’ve only discovered Yuppie Chef now! I am into eating and living healthily, but once a week is treat time, and then anything goes, and I like to make myself something special. There are some real treats here, thank you folks for sharing your culinary delights and masterpieces so freely! That is one thing about foodies, they like to share.

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