oven-baked celeriac chips

Oven-baked celeriac chips.

Celeriac, the knobbly root vegetable with a labyrinth of wrinkles and tangled ends. It is often described as ugly, but I've always found it to be intriguing and full of character. Also often referred to as celery root, it comes from a special cultivar of celery that is grown specifically for the root, rather than the stalks.

Celeriac.

When I first tried raw celeriac, I found it reminiscent to some vegetables familiar to me in Asian cuisine, namely jicama and daikon. Others have described the taste of celeriac to be like a cross between potato and celery.

Meanwhile, my first experience of cooked celeriac was in a restaurant, in the form of a velvety celeriac puree, a silky mash that was at once simple, sensuous and comforting. Years later, the memory of that dish still stays with me.

So when I first bought celeriac, I decided to go with a similarly simple, warm, comforting route: oven-baked celeriac chips. More tender and less starchy compared to their potato cousins, these fat and chunky oven chips are a great introduction to cooking celeriac. It takes some patience while you wait for them to slowly roast in the oven, but it is so easy and you are eventually rewarded with tasty, addictive morsels with a gentle crispness on the outside and a silky juiciness on the inside.

Go on, try it!

Ready for roasting - celeriac tossed in seasoned olive oil.

oven-baked celeriac chips / roast celeriac
(makes 2 modest servings)

1 celeriac (approx. 600g, or 1.3 lb), peeled, flesh cut into 2cm / 3/4 inch thick
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced
1/4 teaspoon sea salt flakes
1/4 teaspoon cracked black pepper

Prepare a big bowl of water with a splash of lime or lemon juice, or vinegar.
Peel celeriac, then chop into 1.5-2cm / 2/3-3/4 inch thick batons. Place the celeriac pieces into the bowl of acidulated water as you chop them, this keeps them fresh and happy.
When you're done with the chopping, drain and shake excess water off the celeriac in a colander.
Toss together the celeriac with olive oil, garlic, sea salt and cracked black pepper. Make sure it's well-mixed and that the celeriac is nicely coated - I like to give it a little massage as well to really rub the flavours in.
Bake at 200°C / 395°F fan-forced (220°C / 425°F conventional) for 40 - 50 minutes. Give them a flip and a stir halfway through. The time they need in the oven may vary, but basically you want them lusciously golden with browning edges.
These celeriac chips will crisp up a bit more after you remove them from the oven and let them cool a little, so give them some time to do their thing.
Feel free to sprinkle a bit more salt and black pepper to taste.

Other ideas: Next time, I might try it with chilli flakes instead of cracked black pepper!

Oven-roasted celeriac chips.

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the cutting table, collingwood

Simon and I usually pay for our own portion of meals when we dine out, but every now and then we  treat each other. On this occasion he paid for our lunch at The Cutting Table (126 Smith St, Collingwood), a little African cafe with generously sized mains for reasonable prices. (Yeah, I could totally have chosen a more expensive place to try - he got off the hook!)

We're partial to seeking out the chai at different places, and we liked the sound of the home brewed African chai. However, it was a touch too milky, and not strong enough on the spices.

Home brewed African chai ($4).

We were also intrigued by the Green for Life smoothie - there's probably not much that's African about it, but it was an interesting combination of avocado, celery, ginger, honey, cinnamon and milk... thick, creamy, and goes down with a pleasantly cool tingle.

Green for Life smoothie ($5.50).

I noticed a stack of petite African doughnuts at the counter when we were ordering, so obviously I had to try one. I like how they warmed it up for me before serving, with a dash of powdered sugar and trickle of honey. The doughnut had almost a muffin-like texture and was fairly decent.

Zlabia - African doughnut ($1).

It wasn't long before we received our mains. This is the Ugali chicken stack - free-range chicken fillet marinated in spicy lovers sauce (a tomato-based sauce with African berebere spice mix) and served on Ugali (grilled polenta in West African style) with salad, pita chips and tahini-yoghurt dip. The sides are alright, but the subtly sweet, saucy and succulent chicken and the firm, savoury polenta were definitely the stars of this show.

Ugali chicken stack ($12).

We also chose the African plate - special African dish of the day, served in the traditional way with injera bread, rice and salad. They had beef, chicken or vegetarian options available for this dish, and we went with beef. It came out like a thick stew, lots of flavour, but also very salty. Thankfully, the rice and the slim, soft, spongy, sour injera balanced it out somewhat.

African plate ($13.50).

Despite some fault-finding, I like The Cutting Table. The food was mostly tasty and left us full and satisfied without breaking the bank. Their menu includes vegan, vegetarian and gluten-free options. We had a meaty experience this time around, but I hope to return again for the vegetarian dishes, which sounded excellent - I suspect I'll have trouble deciding between the ancient Egyptian burger, the Moroccan chickpea and vegetable patty, the hot chilli lentil wrap, the ingera roll and the spicy tofu salad!

The Cutting Table also forms part of The Social Studio, a community enterprise that not only celebrates multiculturalism and ethical choices but also provides social support and education programs. Besides, you can browse and buy some really beautiful limited edition pieces designed and created on-site in their fashion shop just next door. They do good work, and I look forward to giving them continued support with future visits.




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blood orange and olive oil shortbread (vegan)

Blood orange and olive oil shortbread.

Several weeks ago, I made blood orange cookies to bring to a friend's dinner. I was very pleased with my efforts - they were crunchy citrus bites of joy, and unexpectedly wonderful for a first attempt at a tentatively drafted recipe.

I felt there could still be improvement, however, so the next time I tweaked it a little - and as a result, I baked a delightfully gourmet tray of blood orange shortbread, zestier, softer and crumblier than my first batch of cookies. Simon and his housemates were my taste-testers, and this version was the clear winner - not only by way of verbal confirmation, but also in the telling manner of how they disappeared even more swiftly, one after another, in quick succession. Encouraged, I'm sharing this recipe with you.

But wait, there's more! This is not your typical shortbread. In addition to the sensuous blood orange, it is also made with extra virgin olive oil, which imparts a light, lilting elegance that sings and twinkles and kisses. Yes, it's a vegan shortbread! - and one so beguiling, you can bake it to impress vegans and non-vegans alike. Or enjoy, sneakily, quietly, just by yourself.

The lush, dramatic appearance of a sliced blood orange.

Blood orange and olive oil dough, ready to go into the oven.

Blood oranges have a short season, so if they are not available, feel free to use regular oranges instead. It'll still be delicious!

blood orange and olive oil shortbread

1/8 cup blood orange juice (30ml)
1 tablespoon blood orange zest
1/4 cup olive oil (60ml)
1/2 cup icing sugar (55g) aka powdered/confectioner's sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup flour (105g)
1/2 cup cornstarch (65g)

Combine blood orange juice, blood orange zest, olive oil, sugar, salt in a bowl. Whisk well.
Mix the flour and cornstarch together in a separate bowl.
Add in the flour mix to the liquid mix, and stir with a wooden spoon until you form a dough. Knead with your hands and divide into about 6 chunks. Roll each chunk into a ball, then into a log of about 3.5cm / 1.5" in diameter. This dough will be soft, oily and moist, making it quite difficult to shape - but do persevere!
Wrap up the logs in baking paper, and place them in the freezer for 45 minutes.
Retrieve the logs from the freezer and slice into pieces of about 0.6cm / 1/4" thickness.
Arrange the pieces on a baking tray lined with baking paper. They don't really spread out so you can put them close together, as long as you still allow for some breathing space.
Bake at 160C fan-forced (or 180C conventional) for 15 - 18 minutes, depending on how you like them. I am quite partial to a hint of toasty brown around the edges!

Good stuff... vegan blood orange shortbread, made with olive oil.

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bayte, collingwood: a lebanese brunch

I had a most supremely fabulous Saturday last week.

It was the day I stuffed myself with brunch, the day I jammed with Simon and his housemates garage-band-style, the day I had frozen yoghurt for dinner, the day filled with camaraderie and laughter and fun and affection.

This is where it all started. Brunch at Bayte (56 Johnston St, Collingwood).

Simon, as usual, kicked things off with coffee - but this time, with a Lebanese twist. It was rich and glossy and he enjoyed it.

Lebanese coffee. ($3.50)

I got myself a cool and refreshing mulberry soda. The triangular bottle it came in was cute. The mulberry concentrate seemed to collect at the bottom - I gave it a good stir, and was subsequently rewarded with a gentle berry flavour.

Mulberry soda. ($3.50)

Because we arrived at noon, it was a great time for variety - we could order off both the breakfast and the lunch menus. Hurrah!

Simon decided upon the baked eggs from the breakfast menu. This was splendid - the eggs are cooked in a spiced tomato stew, studded with bits of onion and whole juicy okras, then topped with salty, crumbly chunks of shanklish cheese, with a soft flat bread on the side. I stole a bite, and when Simon had trouble finishing it, I happily did my duty. Can't have good food going to waste.

Beyd el Firin bi Bamieh bi Zayt ma’ Shanklish – baked eggs in an okra & tomato spiced stew, topped with shanklish cheese. ($15)

I picked a couple of dishes from the lunch menu.

The spicy fish pie caught my attention immediately, and I chose it as a starter. It came with a tangy sauce, which I thought might be lemon-tahini, but I'm not sure. The pie was delicious with or without the sauce. It kind of reminded me of a curry puff. While there isn't a lot of fish in it, they do use a stronger tasting fish (mackerel, perhaps?), which Simon wasn't overly fond of, so I ate most of it.

Fatayer bi Samak – spicy fish pie with potato and pine nuts. ($7)

I also decided to be adventurous and opted for the raw lamb kibbeh, which was served with labne, olive oil and crispy flat bread. With the exception of sashimi, I don't eat raw meat very often, and sometimes I feel skeptical about it. One bite of this kibbeh, however, and my doubts were allayed - it tasted so clean, so fresh, so wholesome.

Lahem Nayeh – raw lamb kibbeh. ($14)

After all that, we were both very full, but I insisted on looking at the dessert menu as Simon lets me know I am on my own in this pursuit. I was intrigued by the booza, a homemade ice cream. The waitress informed me that the flavour of the day was bitter orange. It wasn't quite what I felt like, but I shrugged and went for it anyway. In retrospect, I should have listened to my gut instinct - it was a tad too bitter for me, but I suspect marmalade fans would adore it, with the orange flesh and zest liberally strewn through the ice cream, accented with dots of vanilla bean. The texture was interesting, with hints of stickiness and elasticity, thanks to the use of the mastic, also known as Arabic gum.

In any case, our eating patterns continue as expected, with Simon sampling only a tiny scoop while I am left with the lion's share, and managing to polish it all off successfully to boot. I really think he needs to up his game, so that I can order more stuff. That's what partners are for, right?

Booza – homemade ice cream with bitter orange, vanilla and mastic. ($4.50)

At the end of the day, I found Bayte to be a stimulating, charismatic introduction to the world of Lebanese cuisine. It was a tasty learning experience and I hope to return for a continued education.



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iced carrot milk

A delectable glass of iced carrot milk, made with fresh carrots.

I've mentioned carrot milk on this blog before, but I feel like I cheated my readers by talking about it so merrily and yet not offering up a recipe, especially when it is so easy to make. So here I am today, almost two years later, sharing this delightfully refreshing carrot milk recipe with you. Better late than never!

As discussed in the other post, carrot milk is a popular beverage served in Malaysian street stalls, food courts and cafes. However, as I only started appreciating it when I ventured into making my own carrot milk in Australia, I have no idea how close my version is to the typical carrot milk you can get in Malaysia. Next time I go back for a holiday, I'll try a glass, and make the comparisons. In the meantime, does it really matter? I love my version, and I think you will, too.

iced fresh carrot milk (serves 2)

2 medium to large carrots
3/4 cup water
2 cups cold milk (feel free to use soy milk, nut milk, rice milk, oat milk etc to make it a vegan recipe)
2 teaspoons raw sugar, more or less (or other sweetener of your choice)
ice cubes, to serve

Peel the carrots, then chop 'em up - if your blender isn't super-powerful, finely slice the carrots - that should help ease things along.
Thoroughly blend the chopped carrots together with water.
Filter the blended carrot through a strainer to separate the pulp and obtain carrot juice, pressing to get the most out of it. (By the way, don't throw away the pulp after that's done - save it and use it in cakes, muffins, smoothies, or stews!)
Stir carrot juice and milk together, adding sugar to taste.
Pop in a few ice cubes and serve.

If you have a juicer, feel free to use it to get a pure carrot juice to mix with milk, without having to bother with the steps involved in blending with water. Without the dilution of water, this also means that you can achieve a more intense carrot flavour!

Fresh carrot milk - gentle, sweet and refreshing.

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mr burger food truck, collingwood, melbourne et al

Mr Burger food truck at Easey St, Collingwood.

Some days are just perfect. A stroll under sunny blue skies. A brightly enticing food truck manned by cheerful staff. Getting hands-on with burgers and chips in the open air, in the company of silly seagulls.

I'm not the sort to chase after food trucks, but the great thing about Mr Burger is that their trucks are in quite a few locations - plus they have also set up a regular shop in the Melbourne CBD to make things even easier for those who just want a traditional burger joint with a fixed address.

On this occasion - a Friday afternoon - we found one of the Mr Burger trucks parked on Easey Street, Collingwood during lunch hours. It wasn't particularly busy - a few takeaways here and there. We got our food within ten minutes, and found a spot where we could plonk ourselves down to have at it.

The chips here are well-seasoned, and have a nice balance of crisp and tender.

Chips from Mr Burger. Large - $5.

And the burgers? I adored them.

I opted for the namesake, Mr Burger, while Simon had the Mr Meat. These are some pretty classic burgers - no funny business here. Just fresh, quality ingredients treated with respect. Yeah, they're a bit messy to eat. But it's worth getting your hands dirty for these burgers. So juicy, surprisingly light on grease, and still a little pink inside. Most excellent. (P.S. They also offer a Mr Veg - a vegetarian falafel burger, which is apparently fantastic, too. I may try it next time, if I am able to pry myself from the good ol' beef options.)

I introduce you to my Mr Burger, with beef, cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles, mustard, mayonnaise and tomato sauce.

Mr Burger, $10.

And here's Simon's Mr Meat, with beef, cheese, lettuce, bacon, caramelised onions, pickles, bbq sauce, and mayonnaise.

Mr Meat, $11.

Yum, yum, yum.

It goes without saying that this post comes with an enthusiastic recommendation for Mr Burger.

I think the seagull agrees, too.

A seagull sneaking in to eat some chips! Thanks go to Simon, for donating this photograph. :)

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simple silverbeet / swiss chard stir-fry

Simply awesome stir-fried silverbeet / swiss chard.

I suppose I am quite lucky that I have a boyfriend who enjoys vegetables. I seem to have adopted an anxious personality with age, so a vegetable-loving partner means one less thing I have to worry about.

Simon has recently taken a strong liking to silverbeet (also known as Swiss chard), often buying them for himself, or suggesting we buy them when we go grocery shopping together. To be honest, I haven't had much experience in cooking silverbeet, so his enthusiasm served as great motivation for me to experiment with this vegetable.

What I've come up with, thus, is this simply awesome stir-fried silverbeet recipe. Why simply awesome? Because it is so easy, and yet it tastes so delicious. I first cooked it in rendered animal fat (e.g. drippings from roast chicken), which was sensational, but it is also very tasty with butter, or, if going the vegan route, feel free to use your favourite vegetable oil for frying - if I am to make suggestions, something like grapeseed, macadamia, avocado or olive oil will suit with their lovely complementary flavours, a bit of garlic and shallot in the pan wouldn't go astray either.

simply awesome silverbeet / swiss chard stir-fry
(serves 2 as a side)

6-8 stalks silverbeet / swiss chard (including both leaves and stems)
1-2 tablespoons butter or rendered animal fat or grapeseed/macadamia/avocado/olive oil
1/2 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
salt and pepper, to taste

Trim and discard the stringier, tougher root ends of the silverbeet. Roughly chop the stalks into bite-sized pieces.
Warm up the butter, fat or oil in a pan over a medium flame.
Add silverbeet, balsamic vinegar and nutmeg. Stirring occasionally, cook for about 5 minutes, more or less, depending whether you like your silverbeet crunchy or tender.
Add salt and freshly cracked black pepper to taste.

*This simple dish is full of flavour as it is (especially if you use butter or animal fat), but you might also consider frying a little bit of garlic and/or shallot in the pan before adding the silverbeet, if you would like extra pungency and savouriness. If feeling carnivorous, try it with bacon too.

An easy silverbeet /swiss chard recipe worth trying.

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perth holiday wrap-up with odds and ends!

It's been a while since I've returned from Perth to Melbourne, and I've finally gone through all my photos. So to wrap it all up, I thought I'd share some of the mix of other things that haven't yet made it to my other posts. Consider this a summary of leisurely daily life in the Perth Hills with Simon and his family.

First, can I share one of the most indulgent and wonderful holiday rituals? Instead of going out and painting the town red, we would rug up with conversation, cured meats, cheese and wine almost every night. Such happiness. The below is one of my most favourite pairings. Incredibly spicy cured meat that burns, rounded out and softened by cumin-studded cheese.

"Burner" - spicy cured meat by Butch's Smallgoods (left) and Dutch Gouda with cumin seeds (right).

During the day, Simon and I would occasionally go for casual walks in the neighbourhood. Eucalyptus trees abound, along with quirky-looking gumnuts.

Eucalyptus trees with gumnuts.

Mundy Regional Park was just nearby. When we felt like we were becoming couch potatoes and spending way too much time on the internet, we would trek there for a bit of exercise and fresh air.

A little creek in Mundy Regional Park.

A nice view within Mundy Regional Park.

I don't know what these plants are, but I thought they were pretty.

Blue flowers...

A fuchsia something... flower, or leaves? A succulent look to it...

A red flower...

Yellow flowers...

And the silhouettes of the trees against the last rays of the dusky sun were lovely to look at.

Sunset at Mundy Regional Park.

We also met the neighbour's cat, Zoe. She was really shy and timid during our first days, and would run away before Simon or I could even get close. But on the very last day, lo and behold, we became friends.

Zoe and me. Look, we're friends!

And because this is a food blog, here is a picture of Zoe enjoying some salmon.

Zoe sniffing, licking and eating salmon.

Delicious.

Hello and goodbye, pretty Zoe.

Finally, we said our farewells to the Perth Hills, knowing that it shall not be too long before we meet again...

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