Category Archives: Food, Politics, Sport, Kitchen

PALIN, WEINER – OOOPS! WHAT A WEEK!

Posted on June 11, 2011 by boeufblogginon

Photograph by David Shankbone

For we mere mortals it is usually fun and always compellingly fascinating when we see the high and mighty slip on a banana skin. In the last week it is two American politicians, Sarah Palin and Anthony Weiner, who have provided us with the humour and pathos of seeing how far the mighty can fall, and laugh at their discomfiture along the way.

Sarah Palin is currently engaged in criss-crossing the United States, meeting and greeting ‘the people’ on a ‘one nation’ promotion. (Where have I heard that expression before?)

Despite her denial that she is running for president in 2012, this latest exercise is nothing more than the Clayton’s presidential campaign; i.e., the campaign you have when you’re not having a campaign.

Sarah Palin has many things going for her – she is extremely attractive, she has a gutter-rat shrewdness for knowing what buttons to push to get the response she seeks, and she is never stuck for a word. She knows what resonates with her core audience, never missing an opportunity, even when one doesn’t exist, of trying to make a political point.

The problem with Palin is that she is neither bright nor knowledgeable which you have to be if you wish to follow this folksy, worldly-wise kind of political approach. She is, however, arrogant. Ignorance and arrogance do not sit well together. They combine to make a cocktail with potentially disastrous consequences.

At the moment she is in no real position of political power so we can look forward to her gaffes with much amusement. The latest, the ride of Paul Revere, came from a no brainer, really innocuous question. Palin couldn’t help herself – the buzz words that resonate: “arms”, “freedom”, “gun”, “liberty” were all inarticulately wrapped up in Palinspeak, requiring the mainstream media to supply subtitles for the benefit of those of us who went “what?” and then fell about laughing.

Two aspects of this blunder I find interesting. The first is Palin’s inability to …fess up to making a boo boo.  Even I, not an American, know about the ride of Paul Revere. How is it that she doesn’t? What are they teaching, or not teaching, within the American education system?  Was she ever paying attention? Who knows – she doesn’t!

There would be more respect for Palin if she had the balls to be able to say ‘well I stuffed that up’, and have fun with acknowledging the stuff up. But she can’t, and that is the arrogance coming to the surface.  She must always be right, or more accurately, she can never be wrong! Palin reminds me of Pauline Hanson when she was at her political prime. It will be interesting to see if she suffers the same fate.

The other Palin-blunder repercussion which I find to be the most disturbing aspect of this debacle was the attempts by Palin supporters to re-write Wikipedia’s historical entry on Paul Revere. Palin can’t be wrong, therefore history must be – so let’s change it. It is plaudits and bouquets to the Wiki people that these attacks of historical vandalism were corrected so promptly and further ones prevented.  Wiki’s credibility has certainly increased as a result.

For Palin the show goes on and her inability to speak off the cuff will continue to supply the water fountain joke moments.

Anthony Weiner introduces the moment of pathos to this week’s political sit-com.  The real issue is not Weiner tweeting photographs of private bits and pieces to the world at large. Ultimately this is an issue for Weiner and his wife and no one else. However, it is the subsequent action of lying about it that is the real cause for outrage, and the serious lack of political judgement, the real cause for concern.  His about-face, when he finally acknowledged that he had erred after a week of panic and obfuscation, made it sadder and more pathetic. One hates to see the death of talent. He would have been in hot water if he had been honest at the outset, but hot water only not necessarily boiling. He certainly would have got brownie points for honesty – a commodity fast disappearing into total obscurity when it comes to politics and politicians.

Official Congressional Photograph, Anthony Weiner 2011

Being a politician in USA is no easy task. In the current political environment, political participants as well as the mainstream media are driven by a conservative and rabid pack of bicycle seat sniffers. This should suggest that imprudent behavior is bound to have professional consequences. Weiner’s lack of political judgement, as well as his attempts at covering up his indiscretions, renders his short and mid-range political future to a place between bleak and non-existant.

And so we end the week with two politicians telling whoppers! Not a good example to set the rest of us.

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Sporting Bureaucrats – the bad, the worse and the arse-holes.

Posted on May 31, 2011 by boeufblogginon

What is it about sporting bureaucrats?

Sepp Blatter. Photograph courtesy of Agencia Brasil

Does the selection criteria for their employment /election include boxes to tick off  such as: are you an arse-hole with an IQ of less than 3 figures?, are you prepared to be corrupted?, for how much?, are you an experienced sleazebag?, outline explicit details of your sleazebagedness? (include photographs), are you responsible for employing and/or keeping in the manner to which they would like to be accustomed, all the dirtbag members of your family?,…etc?

The debacle that is now FIFA, an organisation that describes itself as a “family” supposedly responsible for the world’s most popular sporting event, will be of special interest over the next few weeks. Sepp Blatter is now  unopposed in his quest to continue being President of FIFA, a position he has held since 1998. Despite his pleas that there is no corruption  in his organisation, Blatter himself is no stranger to controversy.  Allegations of corruption have been made against Blatter from the moment he walked through FIFA’s front door.

How could any organisation that needs gravitas have given any credence much less the supreme position of power to a man who was once President of the World Society of Friends of Suspenders, an organisation with a mission to prevent women from moving from suspenders to pantyhose. I’d make him president of Sleazebags Anonymous, admittedly a hotly contested title. Adding to his sleazebaggery was his quest to put women football players in tight shorts because he thought they would look good, adding to the image of the game.   http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/3402519.stm

GOD GIVE ME STRENGTH!

The numerous allegations of corruption within FIFA  have been pursued in earnest by media organisations of serious standing.  Articles dating from 2002 appear in the Guardian, the Independent, the BBC, CNN, SBS as well as various sporting publications, and are still available for perusal. I have included a few of the better links below so you can work your way through the litany of allegations, questionable allegiances, and bizarre procedures that have dogged this organisation for the past decade. The best source of information is Andrew Jennings’ 2007 book ‘FOUL. THE SECRET WORLD OF FIFA.’

FIFA cannot be left alone to get its own house in order. It has been promising to do so forever. We poor slobs have had enough of inmates running the asylum. We’ve seen what it does to financial markets and other ‘self regulatory’ industries. The repercussions tend to be at our expense. It is felt, by us, in the quality of the end product; as well as the additional cost, to us, of systemic corruption, incompetence and malpractice. It is the cost that comes with a lack of accountability and oversight. It is a joke! Enough is enough! What is needed is an independent body to go through the organisation like a dose of Epsom salts. The fans must have confidence in the leadership. It is bleeding obvious; they don’t.

The press conference held at FIFA House was a disgrace. Journalists were asking reasonable questions to which it was reasonable to expect that they would get reasonable answers. They were answered by feigned outrage, arrogance and plain foolishness. It was a PR disaster for Blatter. Respect is something earned, not automatically given because you have President of FIFA after your name. What grudging respect Blatter may have had has long gone. If FIFA and their sponsors (including Coca Cola, Visa, adidas, Hyundai, Sony and Emirates) do nothing about major structural change resulting in eliminating corrupt practices, introducing procedures that result in increased public accountability and transparency of decision making, then the sport will continue to become increasingly tarnished, and schisms within the sport will result. It will not be the first time this has happened because a major, if not the major and most popular, faction within the sport has been disempowered – and all because of a buck or two.  Blatter has to go!  He’s Swiss – give him a gold watch, and send him on his way.

Photograph courtesy of Haggisni

Speaking of which –  another sport that has to get its act together is cycling.

This week a cyclist, who probably shouldn’t have been permitted to but was,  participated in the Giro d’Italia.  Despite the fact that he is under a series of very serious drug allegations, Alberto Contador participated in, and won this week’s Tour of Italy.  The Spanish Cycling Federation contravened the international cycling body’s decision banning Contador for his positive returns to clenbuterol during last year’s Tour de France. The International Federation, to their credit,  has taken the Spanish decision allowing him to ride, to the International Court of Arbitration for Sport. It was hoped, but now looks unlikely, that this matter would have been heard and decided before the Tour de France. Alas NO!!. And so we sporting tragics go into another 21 day Tour where the race has again already been compromised before the time trial begins on the first day of competition.

The last word on Sepp Blatter I give to Australian Senator Nick Zenophon, who likened Blatter’s press conference performance, especially the denials that FIFA faces a crisis, to the Black Knight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. That made me laugh for the first time today! For your enjoyment I include the link to the relevant scene from the Mony Python film.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dhRUe-gz690

Here are some links to articles on FIFA from the archives that will open your eyes, and make your blood boil:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2002/may/26/worldcupfootball2002.sportfeatures

http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/2011/may/22/sepp-blatter-fifa-corruption

http://www.transparencyinsport.org/

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PYRAMA – our local restaurant

Posted on May 15, 2011 by boeufblogginon

 

There are two bellwether dishes that if cooked well mean there is a bloody good chef in a bloody good kitchen – squid and zucchini flowers. My sister is the squid connoisseur, and I can never go past zucchini flowers.

It was two years ago when we first tried one of the local restaurants, and discovered it had both as entrees. After the first mouthful PYRAMA came to be our favourite local restaurant.

It is owned and run by a young and enthusiastic couple, Jim, in the kitchen and Karen, front of house.  They have a wonderful, reasonably priced restaurant where the food is excellent, the wine list interesting, and the ambience just what I want when I go out to eat.

As part of the extraordinary Pyrmont Wine and Food Festival it was only natural that we would visit PYRAMA for a special night of food and wine.

His Nibs and I could have spent an entire week going from one restaurant to another during this festival, consigning our sporadic diet to parts unknown.  Our schedules, however, wouldn’t permit such indulgence, but we have already penciled in May next year in the hope that the Festival is repeated.  And so it was that Sister Ruth and friends joined us at Pyrama for a four-course meal with pre-selected wines that were to match.

The food was great. I am a permanently designated driver so I don’t drink, but will inform you of what family and friends thought of the wine that came with each course.

For starters we had a Petuna salmon tartare with lemon crème fraiche, potato and capers.  Additional ingredients identified included shallots, red onion, crushed coriander seeds, roe and topped with deep fried onion (for crunch). The salmon was made up of two kinds, natural and cured. It was delicious, light and just right as a starter. It was a nice mixture of flavours that go pop in your mouth at different stages as each ingredient follows its own choreographed time line.

The wine served with the tartare was a Mudgee 2010 Miramar Fume Blanc. The drinkers at our table were split evenly between those who predominantly drink white, and those whose preference is a red. The method of making the wine is different for a fume (apparently), and results in an oaky taste to the wine. Everyone liked the wine, and said that it went well with the dish.

The entrée was worth starting world war 3 over. It was a twice-baked gruyere soufflé with mushroom jus. Gruyere is such an overpowering cheese, and I am so heavy handed with ingredients I’m never game to include it. The flavour was strong but delicate, if that makes any sense at all. The balance was just right. Words to describe the entrée included gorgeous and fabulous.  I didn’t use any words but rather grunted my way through the entrée, and then had to be restrained from licking the plate.

The wine that went with this soufflé was a 2009 Miramar Unwooded Chardonnay, which had a “lovely after-taste”. His Nibs is very fond of a chardie, and stated that this was one of the better ones he had tasted in a long time.  For me, this is high praise indeed.

A roast dry-aged fillet of beef with root vegetable & thyme gratin, creamed spinach & red wine jus was the main course. The beef was a great piece of meat cooked to perfection, crisply seared on the outside, and red and moist on the in; the root vegetables, layers of potato and sweet potato, were to die for, and the meal was enhanced with a big, big, some said huge, red.

The red was a 2009 Quilty Black Thimble Shiraz, and was described by our red drinkers as ‘stunning’.  It was agreed that it could only be drunk with red meat because it was so ‘big’. Order forms were taken by those at our table to purchase this wine.

The choice of wine by the wine-maker made the chef’s job difficult for the dessert. The wine was a 2009 Quilty Stitch Cabernet Sauvignon, which was smooth as silk, with a slight berry driven sweetness, and a hint of oak. The wine was an absolute winner on its own, and had our red drinkers reaching for the order forms. I was reliably informed that this is a red wine you can have as a stand-alone requiring no food to enhance its quality.

The dessert was a chocolate heaven: a French chocolate & praline pots de crème.  Smooth, rich without being cloying, and a perfect end to a perfect meal. The wine as good as it was, however, did not match the dessert. His Nibs said that a glass of Tokay would have been just the ticket for this great dessert.

$85 per head was the cost of the evening for four courses and very healthy servings of fine wine.

We rolled down the hill to get the necessary transport home after a very satisfactory evening.  PYRAMA is worth a visit.

The links:

www.pyrama.com.au

  www.pyrmontfestival.com

 www.quiltywines.com.au

www.miramarwines.com.au

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OBAMA, THOSE PHOTOGRAPHS and the NATIONAL ENQUIRER

Posted on May 7, 2011 by boeufblogginon

OBAMA, THOSE PHOTOGRAPHS and THE NATIONAL ENQUIRER

Back in the days when Noah thought that a boat was a two-man skiff, Australian journalists had very few alternatives available for working overseas.

One was the BBC. If you were one of the favoured few within the ABC you were encouraged to spend some time at the Beeb where, among other skills, you would learn to speak with rounded vowels, and deliver a sentence with newly acquired rhythm, cadence and emPHARsis.

Unless a journo was posted overseas by their paper, options for print journalists were limited. Newspapers in the UK were heavily unionised, and the unions didn’t like Australian journalists taking ‘British’ jobs. A major alternative in the quest to gain overseas experience was finding a news job in the USA.  Getting a position with a respected newspaper in America was more difficult than any of us could have imagined. The green card was essential if you were to work for one of the biggies. There was also the attitude that if you were from Australia you wouldn’t know anything about anything so how could you possibly report on anything with any credibility.

Of course there was a strand of newspapers, and I use the term loosely, who didn’t give a shit that there wasn’t a green card, and had realized very early on that Australian and New Zealand journalists were well-trained, usually multi-skilled and a most knowledgeable group of reporters.  It was in these dens of iniquity that you could find well paid jobs.

The National Enquirer became the newspaper of choice for young Australian journalists. The enquirer employed a disproportionately large percentage of Australasian journos, some of whom thought they might be able to bring a touch of class to this tabloid which was, of course, idealistic pie in the sky!

I remember a feature article on working for the National Enquirer written by a very talented young Australian whose name I’ve forgotten in the mists of time. This journo accepted a job at the Enquirer believing herself immune to the insidious effect the paper seemed to have on journalists who had worked there only a matter of months. It was either that or starve.

She told the story of being assigned, after only a month or so at the paper, to go and get some quotable quotes from the then aging Frank Sinatra; a celebrity well known for his hatred of the media, the Enquirer by name, and especially Australian journalists, in particular the female of the species.

He became her prey. They finally had their foot-in-the-door stand up stoush, where she was told in language most colourful that he would never have anything to do with the Enquirer. While being treated somewhat roughly by his minders she was reported to have screamed to the back of a departing Sinatra,  “Don’t worry Frankie, we’ll get you when you’re dead…”

She had succumbed to the dark side of the force in less than two months.

The National Enquirer was renowned for paying morgue and funeral home attendants to take quick happy snaps of the recently departed celebs for publication in subsequent editions.

In a country that for decades has thrived on the vicarious pleasure resulting from the questionable intrusion into the macabre of the rich and famous, it shouldn’t come as any surprise that there is a growing demand from all and sundry for the release of gruesome photographs of a dead terrorist.

One expects this sort of request from the conspiracy theorists and conservative red necks.

One does not expect such outrageousness from mainstream media who should know better. I never expected to include the NYT, Wash Post or even CNN in the same category as the National Enquirer, but this week saw them tarred with the same brush. Despite the understandable sense of satisfaction felt with the death of this man, the mainstream media are supposed to have a set of standards that should see them take the high moral ground over the Fox News and the National Enquirer level of gutter journalism.  The mainstream media is not supposed to pursue the quest for ratings and sales at the expense of ethics and good taste.

What is surprising is that the moral tone has been best exemplified in the restraint that has come from the White House. I can’t remember a time during the past four decades when, given the opportunity for gloating and jingoist patriotic fervor in response to perceived ‘victories’, such an opportunity was passed over by US political leaders in favour of deliberate, well considered, diplomatic and appropriate responses.

President Obama brings a new style of intelligence, discipline and class to political leadership in the United States. Long may he reign!

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Joan’s Hearty Chicken and Mushroom Pie

Posted on April 30, 2011 by boeufblogginon

RECIPE

JOAN’S HEARTY CHICKEN and MUSHROOM PIE.

The one really brilliant thing about the weather turning colder is the food. Slow roasts, stews, casseroles and pies can now be put on the menu as legitimate items, and fuck the diets.

We had dinner recently with a friend, John Bok, a bloody good journalist, but more importantly, a 24-carat decent human being.  I hadn’t seen him for 30 years and we ate, drank and talked long into the night.  It was great, an evening spent around a dinner table – nothing better.

I have been faffing about for ages with different chicken recipes trying to create a chicken pie, which isn’t bland as some of them can be, so poor John was the guinea pig in yet another pie experiment.

The best chicken pie I have ever eaten was in a pub in Stratford-on-Avon on a cold and windy English summer’s day. The pie was rich with the heady mix of thyme and tarragon; all ingredients cooked in perfect harmony.  Most recipes only seem to have thyme as the herb of choice. Since the Stratford experience I have added tarragon to the mix, and played around with the mushrooms in an attempt to make the pie even richer.

I think I’ve done it. I made two pies. One was for dinner with John, one for the family to sample.  They loved it. So did I.  Post it was the instruction. I am doing as I’ve been told.  I hope you enjoy it.

INGREDIENTS

¾ – 1kg                       skinless chicken thigh fillets

Seasoned flour

Olive Oil (if you must)

Butter (my preference)

6-8                              slices of bacon

100 g                          dried porcini mushrooms

100 g                          mushrooms of your choosing

200 ml                       stock (water in which you soak your dried porcini mushrooms)

1                                  leek

200 ml                      white wine

1 tsp                           thyme

1 tsp                           tarragon

1 tbsp                         parsley

Short crust pastry – sufficient to line a pie dish as well as have a pastry lid

Pepper and Salt

Egg wash (or milk)

Place your dried porcini mushrooms in water to soak. Soaking the mushrooms can take quite a few hours, as they need to rehydrate.

Dice your chicken fillets. Toss the diced chicken in seasoned flour. I use those Glad snap-lock bags for doing this; the kitchen and I are not then covered in flour.

Heat the butter or oil or a combination of the two. I use a sauté pan, which is so large it is almost too heavy to sauté, and is brilliant for cooking this sort of stuff on the stovetop. So much for the digression – heat the butter or the oil etc. and cook your seasoned chicken pieces in batches until they’re a golden brown colour and put aside for later.

Cut bacon into strips or bight size bits.

KEEP THE WATER YOU SOAKED THE PORCINI MUSHROOMS IN AS STOCK. Drain the porcini mushrooms, pat dry with paper towel, and slice. Get your other cleaned mushrooms and slice.

Wash thoroughly and thinly slice your leek.

Add butter (or oil) to the same pan, and cook your bacon, mushrooms and leek until they start to change colour and become softer.

Add herbs, add white wine and bring to the boil. Add chicken and the stock, season with pepper and salt.  Bring to the boil and then simmer for 30 minutes.

When I’m making pies I do not blind bake the short crust pastry. I spoon the cooked mixture straight into the raw pastry base lining a pie dish. The chicken will continue to cook along with the pastry. Put the lid on the pie and brush the lid with either milk or an egg wash to glaze it.

Put the pie in a pre-heated oven 180C for 30-40 minutes approx. Ovens are now so different from conventional electric, to gas, to fan-forced, to fan assisted; it is hard to stipulate a temperature or even the duration. Be guided by the operating instructions of your oven, and get to know your oven. I’m barely on nodding acquaintance terms with my steam oven but I’ll get there.

When the pastry is that beautiful golden brown colour you are done.

I served it with mashed potato and steamed beans with dry roasted pine nuts.  Using the water, in which you soaked the mushrooms as stock, was serendipitous. I had been making a pie, and had run out stock, so, with fingers crossed, used the mushroom infused water. It made the pie heartier, more flavoursome, and I’ve been doing it this way ever since. This pie will serve 4-6 persons.

ENJOY.

J.

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TOSKA: 1997-2011

Posted on April 19, 2011 by boeufblogginon

TOSKA

1997-2011

– the standard poodle with attitude.

There are those who say that you can’t be all things to all men. Well, they should have been introduced to my dog. He would sum up a person in 30 seconds, and then turn into the kind of dog that person not only wanted, but also needed.

To my mother Bet, Toss was the gentle dog who would never think of doing anything tear-away; he was my son’s partner in crime participating in all sorts of tear-away activities, my daughter’s main amour, my sister’s assistant in all things, especially cooking, my husband’s chief brown nosing companion and confidant, and as for me  – he was my shadow.

It didn’t matter what kind of sport Australia was playing on the other side of the world at whatever outrageous hour of the morning, he would be there at my side. From Rugby to cricket to tiddlywinks, as I shouted joyously; abused refs, and complained about the lack of strategic game play, he would participate, sometimes a little too loudly. Over the last 14 years we have seen live to air all rugby and cricket world cups, ashes, Olympics, etc.  We saw all seven of Lance Armstrong’s Tour de France wins – ALL LIVE. With the seventh victory I explained that this was history. He understood.

The family acquired Toss in Easter week of 1997, and, we lost him this Easter week, 14 years later.

I don’t want to rewrite history by trying to claim Toss was some sort of canine paragon of virtue. He wasn’t. However, his naughtiness found its form in the most delightfully eccentric ways.

Bet came home one afternoon to find him on the kitchen bench. We don’t know how he got there; nor how long he was perched there, but he couldn’t get down. To while away the hours he had consumed a barely used jar of Vaseline. We don’t know how he removed the lid without doing any damage to the jar. He did. For years he had the best lubricated gastro-intestinal tract of any pooch.

Toss loved cheese. He was French after all.

At one memorable party the entire contents on a cheese platter disappeared. An announcement that cheese and coffee was being served in the formal dining room resulted in one of our guests coming to inform me that there was no cheese. The dog was a perfect picture of outraged innocence. The small remaining crumb of the skin of the missing entire double Brie attached to his chin was the damning indictment to his perfidy. Costello blue, aged cheddar, and Stilton had also disappeared. At another party he had finished the two remaining slices of Ruth’s famous New York baked cheesecake. This had saved me from the usual dispute among guests as to who was going to have the last pieces. (You think I jest? Not I.)

One year, as a Christmas present, Bet had given me the very large edition of the Macquarie dictionary, weighing in at 22 tonnes. I came home to find that Toss had consumed all of the As and a large section of the Bs.  I explained in terms most colourful that this was not the way to increase his vocabulary. He was contrite and didn’t continue into the Cs.

My favourite act of naughtiness was when Toss had the shits with anyone of us. He would steal all the scatter cushions and pillows from all rooms, and build a fortress of solitude in the formal dining room.  He would be found later sound asleep in solitude

We had a dinner for him on his last night. My son who was working Sun evening had come to say good-bye in the morning, and we had breakfast at our local restaurant. Darcy ordered a double helping of sausages – just for the dog. My daughter and her partner, Alexis, were coming over for dinner, and I had decided to barbeque sausages – Toss loved sausages, especially pork sausages. He had developed the knack of stealing sausages from a barbeque without burning his nose.

Friends from Brisbane also came to dinner bringing dessert.  We had an uproarious night, full of remember whens, what ever happened to …, slanderous gossip, and lots of laughter. Thank God for Pam and her family! She is somehow always around when there is a crisis in ours.  Pam’s outrageous humour, as well as her unique view of the world and its inhabitants, has saved us too many times to count over the past 35 years or more.

Toss was toasted by all, and thanked for being the very best dog a dog could be, and then fed tidbits by everyone, something which was not permitted until these past weeks.

His last day was spent sitting in the sun while helping me do the crossword, although my heart wasn’t in it. Sophie suggested we go to Petersham Park, our old stamping ground, on the way to the vet. What a brilliant idea!  Despite the two-year absence he immediately recognized where we were and tried to bolt, which, of course, he could no longer do. So his last hour was spent happily pottering around a place he felt he owned; catching up with an old Labrador mate, who also looked like he was on his last legs, and greeting our ex-neighbour like a long lost brother.

He died quickly, happily and peacefully – as it should be for one so special.

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The salad for those who hate salads

Posted on April 14, 2011 by boeufblogginon

I hate salads!

Whenever I am presented with a salad to eat I feel like a little bunny from a Beatrix Potter story. I have ordered salads, such as caesar or nicoise, when I am pretending to be on a diet, and bloody righteous I’ve felt about it as I grazed on the collection of lettuce and other raw, but very good for you, ingredients.

Bottom line – salads are not my food of first choice.

I’ve spent years sampling salads trying to find that elusive one I wanted to make rather than had to make. The following recipe is known in the family as just ‘the salad’. It is a potpourri of different salads with which I have experimented over the years, each one being a curate’s egg.  The salad has become the staple dish in our family now for zonks, and flies off the plate irrespective of whether I am making it just for the family or larger numbers.

The salad for those who hate salads

INGREDIENTS

  • Mixed salad leaves, we usually use a combination of baby spinach and rocket
  • Basil dressing *
  • 1 red capsicum
  • 1 yellow capsicum
  • 2 or 3 Roma tomatoes (optional, as one member in our family reacts to tomatoes)
  • ½ pumpkin
  • 1 large Spanish onion (optional, as the family says the recipe doesn’t need it but I prefer its inclusion).
  • Haloumi cheese  (if you don’t like Haloumi cheese, and many people don’t, try goat’s cheese instead).

RECIPE

Create a base of salad leaves on your serving plate.

Make your BASIL DRESSING* (see below)

Slice your capsicums, tomatoes, pumpkin and onion. Put them in a baking dish with olive oil, and add some dried basil and seasoning. Shove them in the oven at 180C and roast.  This should take anywhere from 45 minutes to an hour depending how well done you like your vegies roasted. The pumpkin may take longer as we like them very well done for this salad.

The vegetables can be roasted earlier and left. I often serve them cold or at room temperature; if you want a warm salad then give them a quick spin in the microwave. Now days there is always a container of roasted vegetables in my fridge for use in dishes such as this one.

Get the Haloumi cheese and dry fry it. When cooked, dice it into small cubes.

Sprinkle the basil dressing on the salad mix. Scatter roast vegies on the dressed leaves, and top it all off by scattering the grilled and diced Haloumi (or crumbled goat’s cheese).

This dish looks pretty on the plate, and tastes even better.

*BASIL DRESSING:

I cheat when I make basil dressing. Sister Ruth, a bloody terrific cook in her own right, first suggested this cheat to me.

There are basil pesto dips, such as “Chris’s”, “Wattle Valley” or “Copperpot”,  you can now buy at any supermarket. They are usually comprised of the basil paste with additional ingredients including some ground Parmesan cheese and crushed nuts. I use these dips as bases for pesto sauces when I’m cooking last minute pasta or, as in this case, a basil salad dressing. It is the quality and quantity of olive oil that you add to the pesto turning the paste into a sauce or dressing that is the trick.

For the salad dressing, it should be a heaped tablespoon of basil pesto paste and a 1/4 cup of olive oil.  Mix through. Ultimately it should be according to your taste.

You can keep any leftover dressing in the fridge as it lasts for ages.

ENJOY.     J.

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GOOD v WELL – the struggle continues

Posted on April 14, 2011 by boeufblogginon

My daughter has the shits, good and proper.

This, of course, isn’t the first, nor will it be the last time this event ever happens.

Her current part-time job is working in a tertiary institution where, for the first time in her life, she is not a student. What is getting her knickers in a right tangle? Reasonably well-educated high school students are unable to properly use ‘good’ and ‘well.’

She has observed, with amused encouragement, my rookie-like attempts at creating a blog while still not knowing what the hell I’m doing; and has proceeded to issue me with a specific set of, if not exactly instructions, certainly suggestions. It would mean my life not to obey.

The first order of business was to set up a page for the grammarian, the pedant that lurks in those of us who like to play with language.  The second suggestion was that my first post examine when to use ‘good’ and when to use ‘well’; this being the cause of her current case of conniptions.

Why she thinks anyone would want to read a pedant’s page is beyond me but here goes.

GOOD is an ADJECTIVE. An adjective’s job is to modify NOUNS. GOOD is only ever an adjective. God, I hope you know what a noun is! It is the concrete stuff we see, hear, touch, taste and feel. Dogs, cats, birds, tables, chairs, air, earth, wind, and fire, girls and boys, etc., are common concrete nouns. There also exists abstract nouns; stuff like fear, democracy, philosophy, shame, etc.  When you shove ‘good’ in front of a noun you get a good girl, a good boy, a good dog, the adjective helps tell us what kind of girl, what kind of boy, what kind of dog…etc.

WELL is an ADVERB. An adverb’s job is to modify VERBS. Verbs are the action words, for example, to: run, jump, skip, hop, fly, talk, race, sing, feel…etc. Adverbs tell us ‘how’, ‘where’, ‘when’, ‘why’ or ‘to what degree’ we are running, singing, jumping, talking…etc.

You cannot confuse the two.

GOOD = adjective. WELL = adverb.

The horse ran good last week; the football team played good tonight; the Australians fielded good.   AAAAGH!

We’ve all heard examples such as these with increasing monotony. The worst proponents of the new dumbed-down English are, of course, sporting ‘journalists/commentators’, especially television and radio commentators who played the game that is the subject of their commentary, and usually played the game very well, but they certainly didn’t pay attention during English lessons. It would add at least twenty IQ points to their score if they could correct just this one error of their using ‘good’ for everything, and ‘well’ never at all.

Being honest for a minute, we all commit this error regularly.  ‘How are you?’ is usually answered with ‘I’m good’ instead of ‘I’m well’, the latter being the grammatically correct usage. ‘I am good’ really means ‘I am a good person’, not ‘I am feeling well’.

The correct use of these words is predicated on one’s ability to identify nouns and verbs. Of course, therein lies the rub.  There are two or three, four or five (?) generations of Australians who wouldn’t be able to differentiate between a noun and a verb if their life depended upon it.

At some point each of us must make a choice. The first is to be prisoners in a communication prison of our own making. In that prison we will never be master; we will never be in control. The lack of language skills will forever limit our ability to say what we want to say, and how we want to say it. And it is all because of our ignorance of what language is, and how it works. This lack of language skills will mean that we will only ever be, at best, a mediocre communicator.

The other choice is to be master of the birthright that is our language. It becomes our plaything. Like play dough, language can then be fashioned, molded and sculpted in any way we desire. Experiment with language; construct, deconstruct and reconstruct – that is what language wants us to do. Break the rules; by all means, break the rules. However, to break them, first we have to know what they are, and how they work; otherwise the outcome will be communication lacking in clarity.

I hope this helps.

I noticed that M/soft WORD doesn’t seem to recognize the interrobang.

What kind of super genius do you really think you are Gates?! Get with the times!

Best wishes

J

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MONA – A must visit.

Posted on April 4, 2011 by boeufblogginon

WOW!

The Museum of New and Old Art. (MONA)

A visit to MONA is now a must on any bucket list.

Situated not far from the centre of HOBART, this extraordinary museum is a short ferry ride up the Derwent River or a brief car ride to Berriedale, a village-like suburb on the Derwent.

I was in Launceston hanging around with not much to do while His Nibs went to a conference. A friend and I decided to drive the hire car to see MONA, which had only been opened a matter of weeks, and was already receiving rave reviews.  A two-hour jaunt on a very good road through spectacular countryside, saw Margaret and I arrive without once getting lost (a minor miracle).

Whatever I was expecting it was not that which confronted me upon arrival. It takes a lot to make me so gobsmacked that I am unable to speak at all, much less coherently, but MONA succeeded.

On an isthmus jutting out into the river and in the middle of a picturesque vineyard, is a building you cannot see. The entire museum appears to be underground.  The ground floor entrance is like walking into the Doctor’s TARDIS where you are greeted by any number of staff willing to walk, talk and guide you through what you will see over the next few hours.Bottom Level Gallery

The Museum is free, as is the i-pod like audio device, named O, you are given upon entering. It doesn’t matter where you are in the museum there is a GPS tracking device within your O locating your position and up-dating the on-screen information about the exhibits you see around you. Not only does O have information about all the exhibits it also has audio interviews with the relevant artists. I personally could have done without the artists’ interviews, and wished for more of the gossip behind the exhibits; I know I’m a philistine! I have yet to hear an artist bang on about his own work and not put me to sleep, yet they can be so interesting when talking about another artist’s work. WEIRD!

At the risk of sounding churlish, I also would have appreciated the labelling of exhibits with their title and the artist’s name as I subsequently lost my hand written notes of the works I especially liked.

With your O in your hot little hand you take a lift or walk down the easily managed staircase to the bottom floor. The space you walk into is huge and breathtakingly beautiful.  The museum’s sheer size is somewhat overwhelming and on one side is a hewn sandstone wall, a natural feature that dominates the museum. A waterfall spelling out words – simultaneously enchanting and bloody clever – falls down one section of the sandstone enriching the natural spectacle.

The wine bar on the bottom level is a very pleasant way to start your visit. You have a choice of antique chairs or lounges on which to sit while tasting the locally produced wines and gazing in wonder at the scale of this privately funded project.

If this building does not win major architectural and design awards there is no justice in the world!

The exhibits are from the private collection of the extraordinarily generous philanthropist, David Walsh, whose vision and tenacity to get this museum off the ground has resulted in a world class venue. The exhibits are eclectic – from ancient archeological artifacts to pornography that is confronting and will seriously offend some people.  I’m not sure that a video of a man taking a dump is art, however, it may be of intrinsic artistic value to someone-else. In my meanderings through the pornographic section I followed three little old ladies who kept tut-tutting but didn’t cut short their stay in this section, giving it a thorough going over. As they left they were overheard to say ‘that it takes all sorts, … wasn’t the building fabulous,… and where do we find the Nolans?’

All artistic forms, periods and mediums are represented. The visitor is encouraged to be engaged by what they see and participate in assessing the exhibits which you can do through your O device. This museum is without the ‘normal’ theme unless having fun and forcing you to be engaged counts as a theme. Certainly it is a philosophy that other museums and galleries might do well to consider.

There are very good eateries dotted throughout the whole complex; but they are inadequate in size and number. I think the museum has seriously underestimated the number of people who will visit.

As there was a very long queue at the nice looking museum bistro with an interesting range of edibles on show and a good menu, Margaret and I decided to go looking for alternatives on site. We found it in a bar overlooking the vineyard and the Derwent. It had a very limited menu but that didn’t matter a jot because you can create your own anti-pasta platter from the range they have on offer, which we did.

Prosciutto, smoked ham, local brie and kalamata olives, freshly baked sour dough bread and the richest and fruitiest olive oil I’ve tasted in a long while made up our lunch. Margaret had a local white wine (pinot gris) and I had a very, very good coffee. PERFECT! 

Replete, we returned to Launceston and our very curious, and subsequently envious, spouses and friends.

This is a definite must return – worth the airfare and accommodation costs of a weekend (preferably a long weekend). I would like to share the experience with His Nibs and also have more time to meander through this remarkable building with its interesting and varied exhibits.

A serious raspberry as well as a fruity howler to QANTAS who are reducing the number of direct flights to Hobart. Shame on you!

For more information on MONA you can visit their website and the link is:   http://mona.net.au/

 

 

ENJOY.      J.

 

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What do you mean you can’t make Irish Coffee – give me a break!

Posted on April 2, 2011 by boeufblogginon

RECIPE

IRISH COFFEE

There is a plethora of Irish Coffee recipes in cyber space and I strongly suggest you get onto one in particular. There is a bloke called Jim Slaughter on the ineedcoffee site who claims he makes the best Irish Coffee in the world. My husband would agree. Jim Slaughter’s recipe differs from most other recipes.

He uses brown sugar, not white or coffee sugar crystals; decent Irish whiskey, not just any old whiskey, which he flames for a few seconds thereby altering the flavour, and the cream is not that stuff you get out of a can, but is heavy cream beaten to the same consistency as thick custard. He also adds white sugar to the cream.  You could think about alternatives such as vanilla extract or cinnamon sugar – the latter alternatives are my suggestions, which Mr Slaughter may find insupportable, however, they are yummy.

Pay him a visit – his link as is follows:

http://www.ineedcoffee.com/00/irish/

Enjoy. J

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