Lady Lunchalot

I recently wrote about some of the culinary discoveries I made around Melbourne during our exile from Yarraville. Now that I am back in the cosy bosom of Melbourne’s inner west I have loved returning to some of my favourite food haunts and stumbling upon some new ones. Here are a few of the reasons I love eating and cooking in Yarraville.

Aaaah… there’s no place like home…

Rocco’s Deli
122 Roberts St

Rocco’s is everything a small suburban deli should be. Run by Rocco and his wife Adriana for more than 30 years, Rocco has served prosciutto, olives and provolone to just about every household in the neighborhood. There is so much I love about this place: the bouncy bustle of Italian accents, the way Rocco greets his customers by name, and the old dears who shuffle through Rocco’s door with their push-trolleys as they must have been doing for the past, well, thirty years. This is the perfect neighborhood shop to have on hand when the urge for antipasto takes hold.

Cafe Urbano
43 Anderson St

I found heaven on a plate at Cafe Urbano, and it comes in the form of Italian Chocolate Cake. I noticed this cake sitting on the counter one day when I was about five months pregnant and had a finely tuned hormonal radar for chocolate. This cake is not much to look at - it appears to be a plain chocolate loaf - but what it lacks in glamour it more than makes up for in personality.

Warmed through until the centre of the cake melts into a puddle of puddingy sin, this cake is the perfect solution for those days when your taste buds speak louder than your waistline. Indulging in a slice is one of my favourite ways to turn a frown upside down.

Hausfrau
32A Ballarat St

Hausfrau takes the cake (pardon the pun) for authentic German baked goods. Now, having never been to Germany, I can only assume they’re authentic. But even if they’re not, this is a truly great bakery, and is my favourite place to pick up a cake when it’s my turn to bring dessert.

The Bee Sting is so light it practically floats like the proverbial butterfly, and they have a great selection of lunchtime nibblies too (try the pumpkin fritters and the potato pizza slices). Other notable mentions include their entire range of cheesecakes, Proust-worthy Madeleines and the world’s most perfect sacher torte for those moments when only a dirty great big chocolate cake will do.

My only criticism of Hausfrau is that the service can be a little terse at times. But it’s terse in that German, (dare I say Soup Nazi?) kind of a way. But let’s face it, with cake that good I can forgive just about anything.

James & Dean Meat Supply
22 Wembley Ave

Most people think that the ultimate in Yarraville butchery is Andrew’s Choice, the golden child of Yarraville’s butchery circuit. Of course Andrew’s Choice is great if you’re fond of a bit of swanky sausage, but for excellent value and the most personal service I have ever received in a food store, you can’t go past James & Dean.

This is a tiny butcher tucked away in a small shopping strip off Francis Street. There’s only a limited display in the window, and for good reason. George and Helen will cut the meat BEFORE YOUR VERY EYES! This was a revolution in butchery to me. Need some diced beef? Easy. Just select the fillet you would like it from and Helen will cut it to your specifications. Want some mince? Fine. Just choose the meat and watch it come out of the mincer. Helen even carried my bag out to the car for me as my hands were full with Bubba Lunchalot.

You’d probably expect this kind of service to cost the earth, but the prices were actually on par with the butcher stands at Footscray markets. And to top it off, you can even place your order by phone and have it delivered to your house. Now that’s what I call service.

Domenic’s Fruit Supply
27 Anderson St

The only thing as important as a good butcher is an excellent grocer, and it’s really easy to spot a fruit and veg shop that has taken the time to cultivate good relationships with excellent suppliers. Domenic’s range of fruit and veg never fails to impress me. The produce is so fresh the entire store appeals to my senses - I just love the beautiful ripe colours, and the fresh clean smell of quality seasonal fruit and veg. Check out the fridge down the back for the punnets of meaty olives and fresh herbs.

Ok, I know I promised I’d write more regularly, but this year so far has been jam-packed with the arrival of Bubba Lunchalot, and new houses, and new kitchens of course!

So now that my life is now dominated by feeding schedules, nappies and all the other stuff that goes with being a mum, there is the grave risk that the nature of this blog will start shifting towards mashed pumpkin and baby cereal, rather than the decadent dishes I usually blog about. So before I go any further I promise to keep this blog a relatively baby free zone.

That is, right after I post this picture.

Pretty cute, huh?

Now to the food stuff.

For six months last year, O and I were exiled from our home while it underwent some major renovations. During this time we were nomads, house-sitting for various friends while they travelled to exotic corners of the earth. Living a few weeks here and a few weeks there for six months is a great way to see your city from a different perspective, and of course I made some excellent culinary discoveries along the way. Here are a few of the gems I uncovered during our time wandering the desert.

Malvern East

Malvern East was our first stop, and it was here that I discovered the best quiche I have ever tasted. The bakers at Clancy’s Bakehouse (278 Waverly Rd, Malvern East) know the secret to a truly perfect quiche. The filling is creamy yet dense and really captures the essence of the flavourings. I looooove the caramelised onion and goats cheese quiche, though I was pregnant while we stayed here and really wasn’t supposed to be eating goats cheese. The traditonal Lorraine also deserves an honourable mention.

Now any time I am in that neck of the woods I am compelled to stop in at Clancy’s and pick up a quiche for dinner.

Bulleen

In Melbourne’s heartland of Chinese restaurants I managed to find a really good continental deli. Unfortunately I can’t remember the name of it, but it’s at Bulleen Plaza on Manningham Rd next to the supermarket and fruit shop. It looks like just a butchers shop from the front window, but walk through the door and you’ll find a continental deli that can hold its own against anything you’d find on Lygon St.

Collingwood

Amelia and Lee’s place was right next door to an office I worked in for a year or so, so I wasn’t expecting any culinary discoveries here. I was wrong. O and I went to Gluttony It’s a Sin (278 Smith St, Collingwood) for brekkie one morning. To be honest, I didn’t find the food anything to rave about, but if you are ravenously hungry this is the place to go.

The portion sizes were embarrassingly large, even for a healthy appetite like mine. There was so much food on the plate that I couldn’t help but think of how much food that cafe must throw out at the end of each day, which always then brings to mind starving orphans and a whole lot of western-world guilt.

I’m not going to rave about this cafe, because it was really just the portion sizes alone that made it noteworthy.

East Melbourne

Towards the end of our exile, and the end of the pregnancy, we stayed in an apartment at Tribeca on Victoria Pde. I really didn’t do much other than watch Foxtel in the air conditioned apartment and occasionally pop to the Grocery Bar (412-442 Victoria Parade, East Melbourne) downstairs.

They do a great chai latte and an outstanding stack of pancakes with berry coulis. I became quite addicted to these pancakes in the last few weeks of the pregnancy when the cravings hit full steam ahead, and I ate about three or four pancake stacks a week! These pancakes were the only thing that could make me feel happy when I was two weeks overdue, as big as a house and the mercury had shot past 40 degrees celsius (that’s 104 fahrenheit) by 9am. The people at Grocery Bar even took pity on the overheated pregnant lady and would give me a big serve of ice cream to go with the pancakes.

It’s the simple things…

My goodness. Two posts in a week. I hardly recognise myself.

The other day O asked me what I would like for Christmas. I am always a little shocked and mildly embarrassed when I receive a present. Not quite sure why. I think I get so focused on buying presents at Christmas that it never actually occurs to me that I will receive them.

I had no idea what to ask for, but O is such an attentive listener and an expert present-purchaser (think Oroton sunglasses for last year’s Christmas, birthday dinner at Vue de Monde, beautiful art for first wedding anniversary) that I know I’ll love whatever he comes up with.

Unsurprisingly, many of the gifts my nearest and dearest have given me are of the culinary variety. There was the Global knife set from Stu for my 30^th. The Kitchen Aid mixer from the Barcelona boys as a wedding present. Both of these treasures are awaiting my move back into the new house, and, I will admit, are part of the appeal of finally moving back home (not that the baby and the custom designed kitchen aren’t enough of an enticement).

And then of course, there’s my treasured library of cook books, many of which have been welcomingly received as gifts over the years. Zo gave me my first real prize in that department for my 21st - a much loved copy of Stephanie Alexander’s Cook’s Companion. Oh, and not to forget my beautiful timber spice box, which was another 21st gift and has spent the past decade diligently soaking up the scent of my spice collection. I love opening the lid on that box.

As weird as this sounds, many ex boyfriends have given me knives as gifts. Not psycho bloodletting dagger-style knives, but proper kitchen knives. Andrew gave me a Wiltshire knife set at about age 20, with my name engraved in the cooks knife. Mick gave me a beautiful Furi cooks knife years ago which has been my favourite ever since. He even went so far as to tape two coins to each side of the knife to counter the superstition that giving a knife as a gift would “cut” the relationship. We’re still good friends many years after the romance finished, so maybe it worked!

There was also the cast iron Staub cooking pot, a gift from another ex, who also gave me a pasta machine. I remember unwrapping that pot under the Christmas tree and I knew that the pot would be around much longer than the boyfriend was. And I was right!

And of course there’s lots of other things. Mother of pearl handled salad servers from Stu. Muffin pans and lots of baking things from O. Exotic aprons from far flung Asian destinations when friends return from holidays. Ice cream makers (thanks Za). Much needed platters from in-laws. All sorts of goodies to fill my cupboards.

Perhaps over the past 6 months I’ve become so distant from my own kitchen possessions that are packed up in storage, that I really can’t think of anything that I need. Perhaps I am actually content? The only things I want right now are my waistline back, a big jug of Pimms, a good night’s sleep, and a giant wheel of double cream brie, none of which are going to happen for quite a while yet!

For any food lovers still putting their Christmas wishlist together, I came across this great article in the Age.

So what’s on your Christmas wishlist?

The usual trials and tribulations of a pregnancy and a major house renovation have kept me away from the blog for quite a few months now.

We’ve reached 32 weeks, and Bubba Lunchalot is due in Mid Feb - only mere weeks away! Not long to go now…

So food hasn’t really been a major factor in my life lately, except from a nutritional viewpoint. My thoughts tend to revolve around things like whether I’ve been eating enough fish for Omega 3, or have I had enough protein for the day. And then of course there’s all the fun things you’re not supposed to eat that I am REALLY missing, like oysters, smoked salmon, soft boiled eggs, salami and prosciutto, soft serve ice cream, and of course a zillion soft cheeses that I adore. I’ve put in a request for a dozen perfect oysters and a whole wheel of brie or a really nice washed rind with a loaf of sourdough as a present for mum straight after the birth!

O and I also have not been living in our own home since August. We’ve been house-sitting for various friends around town while our house is being renovated. We’ve been staying three weeks here, and a few weeks there while friends go on holiday, so it’s been a little hard to get into cooking when you’re so tired at the end of the day and don’t have all your own kitchen stuff around you.

But I did want to officially thank everyone who has helped us out by opening their homes to us: Kathryn and Tim, Jess and Richard, Stu and Lachie, Amelia and Lee, and Sam and Kath. You’ve really made the past few months soooo much easier for us, and we’re really grateful.

In just over two months we’ll be in our own brand new home (with a brand new custom built kitchen designed by yours truly!) with Baby Lunchalot well installed in the family. I can’t wait. I can’t promise that I’ll blog regularly for the next few months, but I am sure you’ll hear from me from time to time. I’m sure once I’m in the rhythm of my new life as a mum my posts will be more regular again!

In the meantime, have a great Christmas, and remember to indulge in lots of great food, wine, friends and family.

Forgive me, dear readers. I haven’t exactly been writing prolifically lately. The main reason is that I haven’t exactly been eating prolifically, because I’ve been busy baking Something Very Special. (Yes, that’s with capital letters.)

You see, for the past twelve weeks… we’ve had a bun in the oven!

In February O and I will meet Baby Lunchalot!

So I’ve spent the past couple of months feeling very green indeed, and culinary exploration hasn’t exactly been high on the priority list. In fact, I haven’t been able to look at a piece of red meat without feeling my stomach churn in quite a while, and I seem to have developed a strange penchant for chocolate milk and Bega Tasty cheese slices.

So please excuse my recent silence. Writing about food isn’t exactly a great treatment for morning sickness - which, I have to say, is the biggest misnomer in the English language. Just ask anyone who’s ever been up the duff. Trust me, it lasts all day.

Food cravings are a strange thing for a food lover like me. For example, one week I became obsessed with oranges, and went straight to the market, bought six navel oranges and had scoffed three within minutes of returning home. The other day I couldn’t stop thinking about the vegetarian fake meat burger patties I used to eat during the vegetarian phase in my early teens (yes, believe it or not dear readers, this die-hard carnivore was once a vegetarian). I hadn’t thought of those burgers in over 15 years, and the first bite was an almost orgasmic experience! I had been terrified they didn’t make them anymore or that I wouldn’t remember the brand, but there they were on the supermarket freezer shelf - what a relief. There’s nothing quite like satisfying a craving when you’re pregnant.

Food aversions and sensitivity to smell are the other strange things. Red meat has become nothing short of repulsive. And the smell of meat, whether it’s in the fridge or on the grill, is enough to send me running to the loo. When I walk into my supermarket I can immediately smell the meat section lining the back wall of the building. O and I recently bought a beautiful new fridge, and every time I open the door I am hit in the face by that plastic new fridge smell, which puts me off whatever I was just about to eat. I even rubbed vanilla essence on the door seals to try to cover it, but it only worked for a day or so before the plasticky smell fought back.

So while I don’t know what weird food topics I will be writing about until Baby Lunchalot makes his/her debut into the world, I can promise to keep blogging throughout the pregnancy. I’m a firm believer that you are what you eat, and in this case, this little bubba will be a product of what I eat. Does that mean I will be giving birth to a vegetarian cheese lover?

I also wanted to take this opportunity to thank the love of my life and Daddy-to-be, my wonderful O, for his patience over the past few months. I’ve been a bit hard to deal with at times, and he’s been very patient with me. Not to mention putting up with night after night of macaroni cheese. And giving me his Singapore noodles when I couldn’t eat my Char Kway Teow. And for feeding the cat because the smell of Whiskas made me gag. And for barely mentioning a distinct lack of his favourite burritos on the dinner table. And for not complaining about a lamb shankless winter.

Thank you beautiful man. You make me very, very happy. I love you madly. And I promise I won’t eat any more fresh pineapple until February.

I was recently talking to marketing guru Stu, who told me some disturbing news about supermarket branded products, such as the You’ll Love Coles range.

Stu explained what had happened in the large UK supermarkets over the past few years when the big supermarket chains over there started initiating their own house brands at low prices.

It seems that the large supermarkets can offer these products at a very low price for a year or so, which is long enough to put major pressure on smaller labels and close many of them down. I mean, let’s face it, when the average mum on a budget is faced with a bag of frozen house branded peas at 99 cents, or Farmer Joe’s frozen peas at $2.50, she’s going to choose the house brand. Farmer Joe can’t stand the loss of business for very long, and before you know it his peas have disappeared from the shelves, along with a few other brands.

Next, we see the price of house branded peas creep up from 99 cents to $1.50, then to $2.00. Before we know it, the supermarket brand has a monopoly on the peas you can buy, and can charge a higher price for them. Farmer Joe’s brand isn’t around anymore, so we can’t turn back to them. There’s really no choice other than to buy the supermarket brand and pay the price the supermarket asks.

So much for competition.

When you multiply this across all the products you buy in your weekly grocery shop, it’s a bit scary. House branded products are everywhere - laundry detergent, honey, butter, breakfast cereal. You’ll Love Coles tinned tomatoes are made in Italy. What about all our Australian tomato farmers who produce a great product and supply jobs here?

It’s important to think about factors other than just price when you’re in the supermarket, because the food you buy today can impact on the food you will be able to buy tomorrow. I know this is hard for some people who are stretching the grocery budget as it is, but I see it as safeguarding my rights as a consumer and a food lover.

Stu’s little lesson really opened my eyes as to how our everyday purchasing choices have an impact on a whole economy. So next time you’re in the supermarket, I urge you to think about whether saving a few cents now is worth having no choice but to shop in a monopolised grocery market later on.

Stu and I aren’t the only ones talking about this. You can read more about it in a Sydney Morning Herald article, Choices fade as Coles Stacks Shelves.
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Recently, O and I were treated to a bowl of Signor Valvasori’s outstanding bolognese (boh-lonn-yezz-eh for the purists) which started me thinking about how absolutely EVERYONE has a recipe for spag bol (for the not-so-purists). Even blokes who can’t cook anything other than toast, or students in share houses who are fresh from the nest and consider two minute noodles to be haute cuisine.

My mother has the best bolognese recipe I’ve ever tasted, and I’ve never been able to copy it exactly. I don’t know why - I make mine exactly the same as she does - but it never has the same degree of texture or flavour that it did when I was a kid. Nostalgia does funny things to taste buds.

So the Italian Signor got me thinking about how a bolognese recipe is a true signature dish - everyone has one, and everyone does it a little differently. My bolognese will always contain a diced carrot or two, bay leaves, and a hearty splash of whatever red I have at hand. I also use a sacrilegious blob of Vegemite (a trick I picked up from Mum) and a drizzle of Worcestershire sauce to give it some depth in a very un-Italian way. Often my bolognese will contain a chunk of finely chopped speck or some other kind of cured piggy. And it will always be served with Barilla No 7 and lots of cheese, preferably a good parmesan.

Il Signor uses a mixture of minced meats (he told me but I won’t give away his secrets here).

I find that the best bologneses take a long time, enough for the tomatoey flavours to blend with the meat in a long slow seduction. However bolognese is also the staple of the harassed mum, who rushes home from work and is able to produce a tasty crowd pleasing family favourite in a little under 30 minutes.

Spag bol is nothing if not versatile.

And the best part about everyone’s favourite comfort food is that the leftover sauce can be eaten on toast for brekkie the next day. There was always tension in our house the morning after spaghetti bolognese when I was growing up, as the early bird (or the oldest brother) usually got to the bowl of leftover sauce first.

What’s your bolognese secret?

Sometimes, when I really don’t feel like going out, I’ll bribe everyone with a meal.

When everyone else wants to go out for drinks, I might just make subtle mention of the lasagne sauce that’s been bubbling away on the stove all day, or the chocolate cake cooling on the kitchen bench that I still need to ice.

Sometimes it works, and other times people just want to go out drinking. But to be honest, now that we’re thirty-something rather than twenty-something, it only takes a mention of a roast chicken and the video store before we’re all sitting around the living room in our tracky dacks with full bellies on a Saturday night.

That’s kind of what happened tonight. La Clarkabrese is off swanning around Malaysia so Signor Valvasori was all on his own. O mentioned that we might all go and see a movie or something. I really didn’t feel like leaving the house, so I dropped a mention of a roast chicken with lemons and hey presto, the three of us had a night in.

I’ve written about my favourite style of roast chicken many times on this blog. Slice up a lemon and stick it under the skin, pop a whole lemon in the cavity, throw in a few herbs and baste with olive oil and lemon juice. Mmmmm…

Tonight I teamed it with rosemary potatoes, sweet potato, pumpkin, parsnip and baked onion and garlic. O looooves roast parsnip, so that part was for him.

I also have an infatuation with a box of medjool dates at my supermarket. The affair has been lasting for weeks now. Every time I am in the fruit and veg section I throw a few dates in a bag and scoff half of them in the car. I can’t help myself. The gooey chocolatey goodness is straight from heaven.

So, perhaps a little out of guilt from all the great dates I’ve been having without my husband (pardon the pun) I thought I’d cook his all time favourite dessert tonight. Sticky date pudding.

I drew some inspiration from Stephanie Alexander’s recipe for Sticky Toffee Pudding and put my own twist on it.

Preheat the oven and grease a medium-sized cake tin. Chop up 200g of medjool dates (remove the stones of course). Place in a bowl with a teaspoon of bicarb and 300ml boiling water. Let it sit for a bit while you do the other stuff.

Cream 60g butter with 170g castor sugar. Mix in 2 eggs and a few drops of vanilla essence. Gently fold in 170g SR flour and mix in the date/bicarb/water mixture. Bake for about 30-40 minutes.

For the sauce, place about 300g of brown sugar in a saucepan with 100g butter and 250ml cream. Stir and bring to the boil. Let it cool for a few minutes and pour it on top of the pudding. Let the sauce seep through a bit, (you can put it in the still-warm oven) and then serve.

I gotta tell you, this is one of the best dates you’ll ever have! And it’s a sure fire method of guaranteeing a Saturday night at home.

Wonderful Ken gave O and I the hugest bag of the cutest, tiniest apples imaginable from his tree. There were so many apples I could barely lift the bag! Some of them were little bigger than a pingpong ball, but each weensy little apple was chock full of fresh autumn apple flavour.

I took half the load into the office, but there was still an overflowing fruit bowl on my kitchen bench. I spent a few days just enjoying the apple-icious scent in my kitchen, and then came to the conclusion that they weren’t getting any younger and I’d better cook something.

One of my colleagues got married recently, and brought in some of his leftover wedding cake to the office. It was the lightest, fluffiest cake I have ever eaten. Apple and rhubarb from (I think) Patersons Cakes in Windsor, one of my favourite cake shops who almost supplied my own wedding cake, except they were on the other side of town. One bite of that cake and I reluctantly announced to the whole office that they REALLY needed to have a slice. I should have kept my trap shut and kept it all to myself!

So with a rainy afternoon to myself and a kitchen full of apples, what else was a girl to do but bake a couple of apple cakes?

After researching a few recipes, I ended up settling on one from The Silver Spoon, with a few tweaks of course. It seemed like a nice, plain straightforward cake, which was perfect, because I wanted the apples to be the star of the show.

This is a very simple cake. It’s not overly sweet, and the plainish flavour of the cake is the perfect vehicle for enjoying the gooeyness of the apples. A great cake to enjoy with an afternoon coffee.

Ingredients

• 3 eggs
• 80g butter
• 300g self raising flour
• 150g caster sugar
• 3 diced apples (I used about 6 because mine were so teensy)

Method

Whip the eggs with the sugar until fluffy and pale. Beat in the butter. (Though next time I try this I will cream the butter and sugar first, then add the eggs. The butter didn’t incorporate well enough for my liking). Sift in the flour, then gently mix the apples. I also added in a few sprinkles of cinnamon and nutmeg with the flour.

Pour into a prepared tin and bake at 180 for 40 mins.

On Sunday night I was lucky enough to be invited to a martini tasting at the Gin Palace. Zoeball’s boss, Vernon Chalker, (proprietor of some of my favourite bars in Melbourne including the Gin Palace and the rather fancy Madame Brussels) treated us to a showcase of martinis that made my tongue boggle and my balance wobble.

Vernon is one of those people that is soooo passionate about one subject it makes you realise how little you know about… well, anything! I can’t believe I ever thought a martini was just something you drank. Vernon explained the whole history of the martini, including how gin impacted the British economy, the origins of the vodka martini, and whether 007 was just being pedantic in his preference for shaken rather than stirred.

Thanks to Vernon I am stocked up with cocktail party trivia for years to come.

Altogether we tasted a whopping NINE martinis (I stress, “tasted”, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to manage my way out the door), from the classic In & Out martini (gin, vermouth and two green olives) to the more adventurous Warsaw (vodka, creme de cacao and a chocolate bullet).

It was incredible how a slightly different garnish could tweak the martini in a whole new direction. My favourite was the Bison: Zubrowka vodka stirred over ice, strained into a chilled martini glass and garnished with a marinated garlic clove.

Yes, you heard me, a garlic clove. Oh, stop screwing up your nose! I was actually terrified to take a sip of this one, but the sweet flavour of the garlic clove proved to be the perfect bite against the vodka.

Just don’t try that one on a first date ; )

Many thanks to Zoeball for inviting me, and to Vernon for hosting such an entertaining Sunday night!

• Dec 21 : Christmas Kitchen Booty
• Dec 16 : Crazy Times for Lady Lunchalot
• Jul 31 : Baking something very special
• Jul 11 : You’ll Love Coles now, but will you still Love Coles in a few years?
• Jun 20 : The signature of your bolognese