barbecued chilli con carne with beer

Chilli Con Carne-2074

In case you missed my last post, Aaron and I are now three days into a European adventure which began in Paris on Wednesday 9th July, 2014. To keep the blog running during my absence, a few wonderful blogger friends have offered to contribute guest recipe posts for your reading (and cooking) pleasure over the next few months (yes, the blogger network is amazing).

First off the block is my talented friend Matt, a mutual Mexican food and beer lover who blogs over at Inspired Food. As he mentions below, we met last year at the Eat Drink Blog conference hosted by Perth City Farm and ever since, we’ve maintained a passionate dialogue about everything food and beer related (yeah, you could say that the post below perfectly encapsulates our foodie friendship!).

I’ll be posting a travel update soonish (with plenty of photographs of golden croissants, warm brioche, soft white cheese and wild strawberries… don’t hate me) but for now, it’s over-and-out as I hand over to Matt! Enjoy!


It’s mid afternoon. The sun is hidden behind an army of clouds, occasionally peeking its head through the cracks. The wind has a cold sting as it brushes past my face and I take comfort in the warmth radiating from the charcoal barbecue. Smoke fills the air as a cast iron pot simmers away, filling my soul with joy about what’s to come…

You see, I’ve been sitting here for over three hours watching the barbecue and tending to that cast iron pot of goodness (ensuring I don’t burn down the backyard!). Thankfully I’m sitting with good company and an Esky full of cold beer (I’m sure Laura would agree that it is never too cold for beer, especially when there is a barbecue involved! Yes, Laura does!).

That is all it takes: a little time, a little fire, a little beer and some of your favourite people.

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Hi, my name is Matt. For those of you who haven’t noticed me stalking this page, I too run a little recipe blog over at Inspired Food. Laura and I have known each other for quite some time now, initially coming across each others blogs in cyberspace and eventually meeting up at the Eat Drink Blog conference in 2013. Since then, there have been a number of awesome dinners (The Moroccan Table and The Spanish Table) with Laura and her husband Aaron, Jemima (from Feed your Soul, Perth) and her sister Lexi, Alyssa (my beautiful girlfriend) and of course myself. I’m sure there will be many more to come.

When Laura asked for contributions from guest bloggers while she travels the northern hemisphere, I jumped straight in and volunteered to spend some of my time rambling. This was more of a natural instinct to help a friend out and I hadn’t actually given much thought as to what I would post about. After many late nights trawling the internet, searching through my cookbooks and watching reruns of Jamie Oliver (ok, yes that is just a regular occurrence but shhh!) I finally came up with the perfect post.

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You see, Laura and I share some common interests: we both love beer, we both love Mexican food and we both love Jamie Oliver’s style of cooking. Naturally, once I realized this, all I had to do was combine these three things and I’d be onto a winner.

Combining beer, Mexican and a ‘Jamie approach’ to cooking was really easy once I came to that conclusion. I had just watched episode two of Jamie’s American Road Trip (you know, the one where he hangs out with the cowboys and makes his cowboy chilli?) and that was my inspiration for this post. I wanted to feel the heat from the barbecue, drink beer and cook something amazing.

Chilli Con Carne-2005

I have always wanted to cook something with beef brisket but it’s quite difficult to find here in Australia. Supermarkets tend to favour corned Silverside. I’d suggest you give your butcher a call a few days before to make sure they carry it (and if they don’t they will have time to get it in). Brisket is the perfect cut of beef for slow cooking; granted there is a little preparation involved but it is well worth it. The beer adds a lot of body to the chilli and depending on the type of beer you choose, the options are endless.

Below you will find my recipe for a Tex-Mex style ‘Beer Chilli Con Carne’. Inspired (of course) by Jamie Oliver’s cowboy chilli (‘Chilli Con Jamie‘).

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Barbecued Chilli Con Carne with Beer (of course)

Serves 6-8 hungry people

What you’ll need:

  • 2kg beef brisket, cut into 3 cm cubes
  • 2 red onions, sliced
  • 5 gloves of garlic, roughly chopped
  • 2 fresh long red chillies, chopped
  • 1 tbsp cumin
  • 1 tbsp smoked paprika
  • 2 cinnamon sticks
  • 1 tsp chilli powder (add more if you like it hot)
  • 1 bottle of beer (pick your favourite, I used about 500ml of India Pale Ale)
  • 4x 400g tins of tomatoes 
  • 1 square of dark chocolate
  • 400g tin of red kidney beans (or your favourite bean) 
  • 2 capsicums (bell peppers), sliced
  • a handful of chopped coriander (cilantro) roots
  • sour cream, to serve
  • coriander (cilantro) leaves, to garnish 
  • rice and flat bread to serve

Now What?

This couldn’t be easier to make, simply get your barbecue started, add a splash of oil, add the onions and chillies and cook for 3-4 minutes until softened.

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Add the spices and cook for another 2 minutes.

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Then add the beer and continue to cook for a further 5 minutes.

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Add the tomatoes, mashing up any whole ones with the back of the spoon. Add the chocolate, coriander (cilantro) roots and meat.

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Mix well, cover and cook for 3 hours or until the meat pulls apart with a couple of forks.

Add the beans and capsicums (and more chilli if your game). Then cook for a further 30 minutes.

Remove the lid, add the sour cream, coriander and start eating. This is best served with rice and flat bread (like warm tortillas) with plenty of cold beers. 

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Thanks again Matt for an incredible guest post… I am definitely trying this recipe as soon as I get home! For more inspiration from Matt, please check out his blog (Inspired Food) and associated facebook, Instagram and twitter!

Chilli Con Carne-1998

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beef and guinness hand pies

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It’s frosty this evening. Still, cold and soaked with winter rain. I’m sitting on the couch, tightly wrapped in a furry blue blanket. Despite just finishing dinner, I’m dreaming of food.

You may know by now that that’s not unusual. As a food blogger/recipe developer/carbohydrate and dairy obsessive, I think about food for at least 90% of my waking hours. Heck, sometimes I even dream about food. It’s rather good because… well, effectively I get to eat twice as much.

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Anyway, I digress. Tonight, I’m dreaming of one thing in particular: beef and Guinness hand pies. These gems were fashioned last weekend in partnership with my beautiful friend Erin who, for the record, makes the very best apple caramel cheesecake that I have ever tasted (I still need to steal her recipe). We drank tea, chatted, made spiced pumpkin soup and rolled pastry in clouds of flour. A few hours later, we ate glorious pockets of beef and gravy by the fireside in the best of company.

It was blissful, in every sense of the word.

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It’s now been six days since I ate those golden hand pies. Six long and arduous days, most of which were spent sitting in my shoebox office with dishwater coffee and a pile of paperwork. Between phone calls and assessments, I found my mind drifting towards crisp golden pastry, nuggets of tender beef and rich Guinness gravy. And pulled pork rolls, tacos and flax macarons but… well, mostly beef and gravy (see? all.the.time).

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These little pies are easy on both the eyes and the stomach. Erin and I stole the bones of the recipe from the Australian Women’s Weekly cookbook, though as per usual it’s been considerably tweaked. The pies themselves can be assembled in a flash; the only involved component is making the filling (and the pastry, if you’re that way inclined). Both elements can be prepared the day before, chilled overnight and assembled in minutes before cooking.

If you can, eat these by the fireside. With a chaser of peat-bog whisky. Winter food at its best.

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Beef and Guinness Hand Pies
Adapted from Food We Love by The Australian Women’s Weekly

Makes 24 snack-sized pies

  • 500g beef skirt or chuck steak, finely diced
  • 1 medium brown onion, finely chopped
  • 2 tbsp plain flour
  • 440ml can Guinness stout (we actually added an entire 750ml bottle and cooked it down for aaaages; do as you like! *substitute another stout if desired)
  • 1 cup (250ml) organic beef stock
  • 1-2 tbsp olive oil
  • 350g homemade shortcrust pastry (or 3 sheets ready-rolled)
  • 350g homemade rough puff (or 3 sheets ready-rolled)
  • 1 free-range egg, beaten lightly
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Heat the oil in a large, heavy based saucepan. Add beef and cook, stirring, until browned. Add the onion and cook until softened. Add in the flour, stirring until the mixture bubbles and is well browned.

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Gradually add in the stout and stock, stirring until the gravy boils and thickens. Cover, reduce heat and simmer for 2 hours, stirring occasionally. Uncover and check for seasoning – add salt and pepper if necessary. Continue to simmer, uncovered, for another hour or until the gravy has reduced and thickened (it should appear thick and glossy; add a little cornflour slurry or cook for longer if required). Allow to cool.

Preheat oven to 220 degrees C (430 degrees f) until hot. Lightly grease 2 x 12 hole standard (1/4 – 1/3 cup capacity) muffin pans. Using a 10cm upturned bowl or pastry cutter, cut 24 rounds from the shortcrust pastry sheets. Using an 8cm upturned bowl or pastry cutter, cut 24 rounds from the remaining puff pastry.

Place one round of shortcrust pastry into each of the muffin holes, pressing lightly with your fingers to fit. Divide the beef filling between each pastry case (about 1 heaped tbsp each) and brush the edges with egg. Top with the rounds of puff pastry, pressing with your fingers to ensure that the edges are sealed. Brush with the remaining egg, then make a small slit in the top of each pie with a sharp knife.

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Bake pies for 15 – 20 minutes or until golden. Stand for 5 minutes in the pans before serving hot, with or without tomato sauce.

Note: Cooked pies can be frozen in an airtight container for up to 2 months (though I doubt that they’ll last that long)

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*Thanks to Wendy at Chez Chloe and Susan at The Wimpy Vegetarian for inviting me to be part of the Writing Process Blog Tour. I’m working on my responses and hope to post something by mid-next week!

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slow-cooked lamb ragu, pappardelle and gremolata

sideplateLast Saturday morning, I awoke to a forecast of 25 degrees C (77 degrees f). I excitedly hopped out of bed, put on a light long-sleeved jumper (I know that all of you northern hemisphere people will laugh at that, but I’m Australian after all) and headed to Perth City Farm for a long-awaited breakfast catch up with some university friends.

After toast and conversation, we had a wander around the sprawling market. I purchased a bunch of kale, organic shallots and tiny heads of garlic in a crinkled brown paper bag.

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After squirreling them home, I decided to make slow-cooked lamb ragu; mostly due to the fact that it was finally cool enough to use the oven without sweating. As Aaron was out for the day (helping some friends renovate their house), I spent six hours kneading, rolling, typing, slow-cooking and photographing to a mixed soundtrack created by the beautiful Ali from Milk & Cereal (thanks Ali!).

It was blissful. Creative culinary solitude. Wonderful in a way that only foodies will understand.

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Later that evening, Aaron arrived home in a tumble of dust and fatigue. Whilst he showered, I boiled the fresh pasta and grated lemon zest into a pile of gremolata.

We sat on the couch, balancing plates of rich lamb whilst watching a re-run of Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. Two hours later, with full bellies, we fell asleep.

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This recipe makes a huge pot of delicious ragu. I estimate that with the pasta accompaniment, it’d serve six to eight reasonably hungry people (even more with a side of garlic bread).

Due to a recent obsession with my Marcato pasta machine, I made my own pasta; however for those less motivated (or more time-pressured) good-quality packet pasta is perfectly acceptable.

plateSlow-cooked Lamb Ragu with Pappardelle and Gremolata

Serves 6-8

  • 4-6 small lamb shanks (roughly 2 – 2.3kg bone-in weight = approx 1kg meat yield)
  • 1 large brown onion, finely chopped
  • 8 small French shallots, peeled
  • 2 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
  • 4 slices rindless bacon or pancetta, finely chopped
  • 2 medium carrots, diced into 1cm pieces
  • 2 sticks celery, diced into 1cm pieces
  • 1 cup fresh rosemary, thyme and sage leaves, chopped
  • 1/2 cup (125ml) good-quality red wine
  • 2 cups (500ml) chicken or beef stock
  • 700ml bottle tomato sugo (substitute passata)
  • 2 tbsp tomato paste
  • 2-3 anchovy fillets in oil, minced
  • 1/4 cup kalamata olives, pitted and halved (optional)
  • 1/4 cup double-podded broad beans (optional)
  • 700g fresh pappardelle pasta (or 500g dried)
  • shaved Parmesan, to serve

Gremolata:

  • 1/2 cup fresh Italian (flat-leaf) parsley leaves, washed
  • finely grated zest from 1 lemon
  • 1 clove garlic, peeled and finely chopped

Preheat oven to 160 degrees C (320 degrees f). Coat lamb shanks lightly in seasoned flour (pat lightly with your hands to remove excess).

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Heat some oil in a large, heavy-based oven-proof pan over medium-high heat. Add the shanks in batches, making sure not to overload the pot. Cook for 3-4 minutes each side or until browned. Transfer to a plate, then set aside.

Add a little more oil to the pan if necessary, then add the onions, garlic, pancetta/bacon, carrot, celery and herbs.  Cook until softened and fragrant, approximately 10 minutes. Add the tomato paste, sugo, wine and anchovies; cook for 1 minute. Add the stock and stir to combine.

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Return the lamb to the pan and bring the mixture to the boil. Cover, switch off the heat and carefully transfer the pan into your preheated oven. Cook, turning the shanks over half-way through cooking, for 3-4 hours or until the meat is falling off the bone.

Place the pan back onto the stove top over medium heat. Remove the lamb shanks and shred or break up the meat as desired. Discard the bones and add the meat back into the sauce with the kalamata olives, if using. Cook, stirring occasionally, for another 30 minutes or until the sauce has reduced by one third. Stir through the broad beans, remove from heat and cover with lid/foil to keep warm.

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Cook your pasta until al dente (I used fresh Pappardelle that I made whilst the lamb was cooking in the oven). Drain well, then mix with 1/3 of the lamb ragu sauce. Divide between plates and top with another spoonful of sauce, shaved Parmesan cheese and a generous sprinkling of gremolata (directions below).

*To make the gremolata: coarsely chop the parsley and add it to a bowl with the lemon zest and finely chopped garlic. Grind over some black pepper and mix well.

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kangaroo rendang with roti canai

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Despite being raised in Australia, I was 26 years old before I tasted my first bite of kangaroo. I remember it vividly, in part because Aaron and I were on our first ‘real’ holiday as a couple in Broome, 2,200 kilometres north of our hometown in Perth, Western Australia.

We arrived in Broome towards the end of March. Despite transitioning into the Australian autumn, it was oppressively hot, humid and bright. Despite those minor details, I was ridiculously excited at the thought of spending a few days in paradise with my love. As a bonus, we were also visiting the hometown of our beautiful friends Kelly, Gareth and Amanda, all of whom we see only once every few months. We couldn’t wait.

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A couple of days after our arrival in Broome, we jumped into Kelly’s car (a little rust bucket that she and Gareth generously lent to us) and embarked on a 19km trip to the aptly named 12 Mile Cafe (yes, I can convert from metric), a tiny organic establishment set within the beautiful grounds of Serendipity Farm.

Upon exiting the car, I immediately smelt the heady, rich fragrance of Malay spices, mangoes and galangal. It was intoxicating, particularly when factoring in my ridiculous dehydration. We sat at a tiny wooden table on the cafe deck, sipping fresh mango smoothies whilst awaiting our food orders. For me, marinated tempeh with fresh water spinach, young galangal and spicy peanut sauce was an easy choice. Aaron, on the other hand, chose kangaroo rendang with steamed basmati rice. I looked at him quizzically as sweat dripped from my brow, pooling onto a green serviette. He smiled reassuringly. I patted him on the shoulder before leaving to visit the drop-hole ladies.

My meal was amazing, in every sense of the word. Fresh, fragrant, colourful and deliciously nourishing. Aaron’s meal smelt like… well, wild game disguised in heady spices. He started chewing, thoughtfully registering every blissful mouthful. Eventually, he stopped for air and encouraged me to have a taste. In lovestruck compliance, I reluctantly agreed.

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The first forkful of that rendang has lived on in my memory like a perfect photograph. It was rich, fragrant, warm and delicious, intensely meaty but beautifully balanced by lemongrass, star anise, shallots and coconut. We devoured the whole plateful before sucking the last of our mango smoothies. Aaron has subsequently pleaded on several occasions for me to recreate our Broome rendang experience, but to be honest, I was a little intimidated. The idea of creating a perfect holiday dish in a domestic kitchen sounded wonderful, but largely unachievable. However, last week I harnessed my anxiety and went kangaroo hunting at my local butcher (sans spear, of course).

Upon arriving at Swansea Street Meats, I was disappointed to discover in conversation with the butcher that kangaroo meat is no longer farmed in Western Australia (it’s all transported from Queensland, folks). I therefore carried 1.1kg of frozen kangaroo rump home in a cloud of disappointment, alongside a kilo of beef chuck and various rendang spices. That night, I made a rendang with tender chunks of slow-braised beef, roti canai and a water spinach salad. It was delicious, but I was still determined to triumph over the national emblem.

The following week, I defrosted the lump of kangaroo and set to work on recreating our Broome memory: the perfect kangaroo rendang.

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That brings us to the present moment. Last night, I got home from work and raided the fridge for shallots, lemongrass, birdseye chillies, garlic, ginger and lime leaves. I blended a spice paste, lovingly fried it in hot oil, then set it aside whilst I prepared the kangaroo meat. Upon opening the plastic seal, I was immediately greeted with the pungent smell of bloodied game. It was… terrible. A clean version of roadkill. But still, I was undeterred. I diced it into 2cm chunks, coated it in seasoned flour and chucked it into a hot stewing pot. It sizzled, like game in the sunshine.

Fast forward three hours. The sun had long set below the horizon and street lights were sending dappled patterns across the coffee table. I stood, kneading dough for the roti canai whilst sipping from a cold bottle of Matso’s Mango and Desert Lime cider (necessary, when recreating a Broome dish. On the stove, the rendang sat, quietly bubbling as clouds of fragrant steam rose towards the ceiling. It smelt divine; rich, meaty, sweet and dense with spice. I was pleased; even more so when my roti perfectly bubbled on the cast iron pan.

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Half an hour later, Aaron and our friend Manuel arrived on the doorstep, sweating from a gym session. Post showers, food was assembled on the table and we loaded our plates generously. Then, we ate. In silence. Despite my initial reservations, I was stuffing my face without a scrap of restraint. Tender chunks of kangaroo combined with fresh coriander, cucumber and rice were piled upon pieces of soft roti and before I knew it, my plate was empty. I can honestly attest that it was that good.

If you have any reservations about cooking or eating kangaroo, I’d encourage you to put them aside for the benefit of this dish. When bought from a sustainable, responsibly-run farm, kangaroo is a very safe, nutritious and ethical meat to consume (see ‘resources’ below if you’d like to read more). It’s high in protein, low in fat (about 2%) and a good source of conjugated linoleic acid, which has been attributed with a wide range of health benefits including anti-carcinogenic and anti-diabetes properties. Though kangaroo is generally stronger in flavour than beef, lamb or other commercially-raised food animals, it’s wonderfully balanced in the strong flavours of this otherwise-authentic Malaysian dish.

Try it. From one kangaroo skeptic to another, you’ll be glad that you did.

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Kangaroo Rendang

Serves 4-6 (or one very, very hungry person)

  • 1.1 kg responsibly farmed kangaroo rump
  • seasoned flour, for dusting
  • 5-6 tbsp vegetable or light olive oil
  • 1 cinnamon quill (cinnamon stick), broken in half
  • 4 cloves
  • 3 star anise
  • 3 large black cardamom pods, cracked (pound gently in a mortar and pestle)
  • 1 cup (240ml) thick, full-fat coconut milk
  • 1 cup (240ml) chicken or vegetable stock
  • 2 tsp tamarind pulp
  • 6 kaffir lime leaves, chopped finely
  • handful of curry leaves
  • 2 long mild red chillies, halved lengthways (optional)
  • 1-2 tbsp palm sugar, to taste
  • pinch of sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
  • 6 tbsp kerisik (toasted coconut, finely ground)
  • fresh coriander and cucumber pickle (I just mixed cucumber with oil, lemon juice, toasted coconut and cumin seeds, fresh coriander, crisp-fried shallots and salt) to serve

Spice paste:

  • 5 Asian shallots, peeled and chopped
  • 1.5 inch galangal root, coarsely chopped
  • 1.5 inch ginger root, coarsely chopped
  • 3 stems of lemongrass, thick white base only, coarsely chopped
  • 5 cloves of garlic, peeled
  • 4 small birdseye (Thai) chillies, whole (stems removed)

Prepare the spice paste: add all of the chopped spice paste ingredients to the bowl of a food processor (no need to peel the ginger or galangal, it’ll blend up fine). Blend until well combined.

Heat the oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add in the spice paste and gently fry it until aromatic, softened and reduced. Add in the cinnamon, cloves, star anise, kaffir lime and cardamom pods. Fry for 2 minutes or until fragrant. Remove from pan and set aside.

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Cut the kangaroo meat into 2 x 2cm cubes. Dust with a little seasoned flour, then fry batches of meat in the same saucepan (you may need to add a little more oil as kangaroo meat is very lean) until browned. Add the spice mixture back into the pan and mix well.

Add in the coconut milk, tamarind paste, stock, curry leaves, palm sugar and a little water. Bring to the boil, then replace the pan lid and reduce the heat to a low simmer.

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Cook, covered, for about two hours or until the meat softens and starts to fall apart. Taste and adjust seasonings as necessary. Remove the lid and add in the kerasik. Cook for another 60-90 minutes, or until the liquid reduces to a ‘dry curry‘ consistency.

Skim any oil off the surface of the curry if required. Serve with coriander, steamed rice, the roti canai (below), cucumber pickle and some toasted shallots, if desired.

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Roti Canai (Malaysian flatbread)

This is a somewhat ‘Westernised’ recipe, adapted for the general home cook. To me, it tastes exactly as it’s supposed to; slightly chewy, layered, crisp on the outside and perfectly bendable for mopping up curry sauce. If you’d like to make a more traditional version, omit the yoghurt and yeast (and consequently, the resting/rising time). Fry as specified. More info on Roti Canai here.

Makes 6 x 15cm diameter flatbreads

  • 2 (240g) cups plain flour (+ 1 cup for kneading)
  • 3/4 cup  (180ml) of tepid/lukewarm water
  • 2 1/2 tbsp natural yoghurt
  • good pinch of salt
  • 1 tsp caster sugar
  • 1 tsp high activity yeast
  • pinch of baking powder
  • Butter and oil for frying

In a small bowl, mix the yeast with the tepid water and the sugar. Set aside until frothy.

Combine the flour, yoghurt, salt and baking powder in a medium bowl. Add in the yeast mixture, then mix until you have a sticky dough. Turn out onto a well-floured surface and knead for 5-10 minutes (sprinkle more flour onto the dough as required; I added at least another 3/4 cup) or until the dough becomes elastic and smooth.

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Form into a ball, then place into an oiled bowl. Cover with a clean damp tea towel and set aside to rise for 1-2 hours in a warm, draft-free place (I ended up storing my dough in the slightly warm oven after I had turned it off).

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When the dough has doubled in size, remove it from the bowl and place it onto a well-floured bench. Punch out the air and knead it for five minutes (sprinkle more flour on top if the dough becomes tacky) before dividing the dough into 8 pieces.

Preheat a large, heavy-based frying pan over medium heat. Add 1/2 tsp butter and a good splash of oil; heat until smoking. Roll out one piece of the dough into a thin (~3mm thick / 15cm diameter) flat circle, then quickly drop it onto the piping hot fry pan. It should immediately start to sizzle and puff (sorry for the lack of pictures during this stage, I was working quickly). When the top surface is covered with large bubbles, flip the bread over and press the air out with an egg flip. Remove from the heat when browned on both sides; leave to cool on a paper towel. Repeat the process with your remaining dough.

Serve plain, as I did, sprinkled with salt or spread with garlic butter. If you’d prefer to oven-bake these breads, lightly brush them with oil and bake them on a preheated, lined baking tray or pizza stone at 230 degrees C (445 degrees f) for about 10-15 minutes, or until golden spots appear.

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Resources:

Just a couple of obligatory ‘eating photos’, since I don’t have Instagram:

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On a Personal Note:

  • The pictures for this post were taken with my new Canon EOS 70D, a completely overwhelming gift from my beautiful, wise and generous mother, Kim. I love you immeasurably. I am so, so grateful for everything you do. Aaron and I will be snap-happy for weeks!
  • Another thank you to the coolest sister-in-law on the planet, who got me these measuring cups (below) as an early birthday gift. Now I’ll be measuring things just for fun! Juls, you are beautiful and thoughtful in every way. Can’t wait to use them in a proper baking shoot!
  • Thirdly, a big thanks to Jason (our generally awesome friend and computer programmer extraordinaire) for messing around with some CSS modifications on my blog. Couldn’t have done any of the changes without you! Thanks also to Anna for being generally beautiful, warm, generous and lovely (and for staying up late so that Jason could mess with my blog!)

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slow-roasted lamb with white wine, lemon and herbs

closeupreadyIt’s hard to believe that today marks the third day since our departure from the Australian Winter. Despite my moaning, I predominantly enjoy the cold nights and rainy days of the winter months. The icy chill perpetuates a desire for warm blankets, hot drinks and the best kind of comfort food: creamy mashed potato, spiced apple crumbles and hot buttered bread, dipped into thick pumpkin soup with shards of crisp pancetta.

lemonhebsSo, as we Australians will soon be progressing to salad days, ice-cream and cold beer, I thought I’d do a final homage to the beautiful winter-that-was: a recipe for my oft-mentioned slow-roasted lamb with garlic, rosemary, anchovies and lemon.

I’ve trialled many versions of this dish, ranging from foil sealed to uncovered, wet, dry, seasoned and marinated. This version achieves a melt-in-your-mouth-tender result every time, allowing the beauty of the meat to shine through whilst being gently complimented by sweet herbs and lemon.

anchovies anchovies2For those of you heading towards Autumn and Winter, I’d definitely recommend that you bookmark this recipe for cosy nights in front of the fire. It virtually takes care of itself; all you need to do is to place the lamb in the oven after lunch, and by dinnertime you’ll be beckoned by sweet fragrances of wine, herbs and slow-cooked lemon.

Our usual ritual is to accompany this dish with a bottle of great red wine, some crisp-roasted Royal blue or kipfler potatoes with lots of garlic and an array of vegetable dishes. At present, I’m continuing to indulge my long-standing obsession with Middle Eastern food, particularly Persian, Israeli and Turkish cuisine, so there’s been lots of cous cous, pickled and roasted beets, smoky babaghanouj, preserved lemon and braised celery.

closeupcornerThis is being further encouraged by my recent investment into Yotam Ottolenghi’s beautiful book series, ‘Plenty’ and ‘Jerusalem’. I’m excited, as I plan to share some recipes inspired by his vegetable collection over the Spring and Summer season. Watch this space.

ingredientsSlow-roasted Lamb with White Wine, Lemon and Herbs

Loosely adapted from ‘Dinner at Matt’s‘ by Matt Moran

  • 1 x 2 – 2.2kg bone-in lamb shoulder
  • 2 fresh, unwaxed lemons
  • 4-6 cloves of garlic, peeled and cut into thick slivers
  • 6 cloves of garlic, unpeeled (extra)
  • 4 anchovies in oil, drained, each torn into 3 pieces
  • large handful of fresh herbs, I used rosemary (essential), thyme, oregano and sage
  • 150ml extra virgin olive oil
  • 300ml good-quality white wine
  • sea salt
  • freshly cracked black pepper

Preheat your oven to 200 degrees C (390 degrees f). Using a small, sharp knife, score a diamond pattern into the fat on the surface of the lamb shoulder, then make 10 -12 1cm-deep incisions. Take a sliver of garlic, a piece of anchovy and a few rosemary leaves; press them together to form a small bundle, then stuff the bundle into one of the 1cm-deep incisions. Repeat this process with the remaining garlic, rosemary and anchovy fillets.

meatmontScatter half of the remaining herbs and the unpeeled garlic cloves over the base of a large roasting tin. Place the meat on top, then pour over the olive oil and white wine. Rub some salt and pepper into the skin, then finely grate over the zest of one lemon (use your fingers to stuff some of the lemon zest into the incisions and the scored pattern in the skin).

Cut the two lemons into thick wedges and scatter these into the wine and olive oil around the meat. Place the extra herbs on top of the meat (don’t worry if some fall off into the braising liquid), then cover the tray completely with tinfoil.

meatreadyPlace the covered tray into the preheated oven. Immediately reduce the temperature to 180 degrees C (350 degrees f) and cook for one hour. Reduce temperature further to 150 degrees C (300 degrees f) and cook for another 3-4 hours, or until the meat falls off the bone.

Once cooked, remove the tray from the oven and leave the meat to rest (covered) for half an hour prior to serving.

lambpresentedsumacsalad As aforementioned, I usually serve this dish with potatoes or hot, fresh bread and a selection of vegetables or salads. Pictured are:

  1. Roasted beets in a lemony dressing of soured cream and yoghurt with pistachios, lemon rind, sumac and chopped fresh mint
  2. Bulgur salad with smoky eggplant, red and yellow peppers, roasted shallots, soft herbs, preserved lemon, currants and pistachios
  3. Persian feta, ripe cherry tomatoes, Lebanese cucumbers and herbs with sumac, lemon oil and za’atar

And yes, we ate the lemon wedges with the lamb. They become soft, sweet and delicious whilst slowly braising in the olive oil and wine… so, so good.thefat wineWe drank First Drop ‘Fat of the Land’ 2009 Ebenezer Shiraz from the Barossa Valley, South Australia. Delicious notes of blackened fruit and spice with soft tannins and a lingering mouthfeel. Perfect with rich, meaty lamb and soothing vegetable dishes.

Read a review here from Pinot Shop and another here from Vino Review (I like Josh, he’s cool).

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