The little rosette in the middle of my bok choy, depicted above, is not something you’d see in an exhibition-standard specimen. Â It indicates the plant in question has gone to seed. Â Far from being ashamed, I am absolutely delighted I kept something alive long enough …
Who knew that the Sunshine Coast of Queensland, Australia was a hot bed of macadamia nut growing? Â I for one did not, and yet, I find myself in possession of a packet of macadamia nuts from Nutworks, thanks to my parentals and their recent visit …
We now found ourselves at Almond Biscuits in the Edmonds Cookbook index.
Almond Biscuits, as a category of baked good, enjoy a little more history and reputation than I had suspected.  The internet informs me that these popular biscuits are “prepared in different ways across various cultures and in various cuisines.”  Versions of almond biscuits are found from China to Norway, Spain and Turkey.
Who would’ve thought? Â New Zealand, not to be outdone, has its own Almond Biscuit and of course, where else would you expect to find this but New Zealand’s baking bible, the Edmonds Cookbook.
The ingredients for Almond Biscuits ask for:
The first thing that caught my eye as I read through the ingredients were the blanched almonds. I realised that although I know what a blanched almond looks like and could pick one out in a line-up, I didn’t know much about how they got this way. Â Hurrah, another educational opportunity presents itself in the space of one blog post!
The internet to the rescue again….blanched almonds are made through plunging the unsuspecting almonds into boiling water, then after a timed interval, plunging them into icy cold water to halt the cooking process. Â This softens the almond skin, meaning it can be removed.
For your educational benefit, please see below a blanched almond compared to its unblanched cousin. Â The naked one is the blanched one, and the one with its clothes still on is unblanched.
Anyway, on with the baking.
The best thing about many biscuit recipes is that they start with my old favourite, creamed butter and sugar, and happily Almond Biscuits begin by creaming the butter and sugar.
Then, in goes the egg.  I bought these lovely free range eggs from our Harbourside Market – don’t they have such a beautiful orange yolk?
The almond essence goes in at this time too. Â Confession – personally, I’ve always been a little mistrustful of almond essence as it smells a bit like loo cleaner to me. Â But dear readers, I’m not about to let you down. Â Personal misgivings aside, in it went.
One beats well and then sifts in the flour and baking flour, mixing to a firm dough. Â Then the mixture is rolled into balls.
Time now for my second confession – I’m not a terribly consistent biscuit maker. Â It was at this point of proceedings this fact came home to roost. Â My mixture was a little too soft to be rolled into balls. Â I added a bit more flour and put it on the greased tray, not really in balls, more in lumps. Â I’m not sure why this happened, but it will certainly be me, and not the glorious Edmonds.
Half a blanched almond is pressed into each biscuit before baking. Â If you can figure out how to half one of these things without losing a finger in the process, let me know. Â I couldn’t, so the almonds went on whole.
They are baked for fifteen minutes at 180 degrees celsius.
I watched anxiously, feeling a little fearful they would remain funny little lumps with a blanched almond perched atop. They baked up well enough however, and once cool enough, I snaffled one up for testing.
Mine were quite cakey in texture as demonstrated below, when I really suspect they are meant to be quite crisp.
But not all was lost at all, and I’m pleased to report that taste really quite lovely, sweet and subtle, and perfect with a cup of tea on a rainy Sunday afternoon.
On a recent trip to the supermarket, ample signage informed me that Sunday 4th August was National Roast Day. Â Although no doubt a ploy to sell more products, it’s been a while since my tiny kitchen knew the joys of a hearty roast, so …
Albert Squares are the next instalment in my Edmonds challenge series, following Afghan Biscuits in the index section of the Edmonds Cookbook. Â Although not strictly – there is an entry for Afghan Slice hot on the heels of Afghan Biscuits. Â However, the recipe for Afghan …
Don’t get me wrong, I love a good sandwich. Â Although bread has been having a hard time of late, what with low-carb fashions and suspicions about gluten, I do not let these things hold me back.
Nonetheless, we all have times when we crave a little change from the humble sandwich. Â This week is one of those times and so the Mr and I put together some sushi.
Now, please don’t think I am making claims for any kind of sushi-making prowess, and certainly nothing in the league of the talented Jiro in the delightful film, Jiro Dreams of Sushi, which I heartily recommend by the way. Â No, I always find sushi-making a bit of a stretch of my technical abilities, with plenty of frantic stuffing of rice and filling into the hapless nori.
Concerns about presentation aside (which I understand is certainly not the point if one is making sushi properly), there is still something very satisfying about  the combination of sticky, vinegary rice  and the filling of one’s choosing.  I am an avocado nut, and so I always plump for plenty of avocado, along with tuna and plenty of capsicum and carrot in this instance.
And as we’re talking about sushi ingredients, I just can’t help adding a few snaps from Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo, where the proper sushi chefs find their ingredients. Â A far cry from my tinned tuna, I know.
The nice people at BBC Food provide these helpful instructions for cooking sushi rice. Â My sushi even fits nicely into my much-love Tupperware sandwich container, which will be housing sandwiches again before long I’m sure. Â Happy eating ’til next time.
Today was an exciting first for me. Â As you may have read in earlier posts, I have taken to gardening over recent months. Â Well folks, today was the first time I harvested and ate something I had grown myself (aside from herbs…I’m talking things you …
I have been toying with the idea of cooking my way through the entire Edmond’s Cookery Book for some time now. The seed of this idea began to germinate a while back, after I watched Julie and Julia and my mind leapt to some more …
My adventures with chickpea flour began in Binn Inn, one of my favourite retail locations. Â It’s the perfect combination of thrifty spending and food shopping that leave me positively glowing with pleasure and virtue.
On this particular occasion, my sister and I had made a special trip to Binn Inn as part of a birthday outing, in which she also very generously shouted me high tea at the gorgeous Sweet Pea on Petone High Street.
As we poked about in the bins and bottles, she alerted my attention to a large vat of chickpea flour, promising ‘I have a nice recipe for this stuff.’ Â Not one to turn down a new recipe, particularly one which involves a purchase at Binn Inn, I found myself in possession of my sister’s lovely Socca recipe and now, dear reader, is your chance to read all about it.
Socca is flatbread made from chickpea flour.  This lovely dish also goes by the names of Farinata, Cecina and Faina and is found in Italy, France, Agentina and Uruguay.
Chickpea flour, I suppose, does not look terrifically exciting in its raw form, although I can assure you it has a rather pleasant nutty smell.
To turn a little pile of chickpea flour into delicious Socca according to my sister’s recipe, you will need:
1 cup of chickpea flour
1 cup of water
1 tablespoon of olive oil
1 teaspoon of salt.
Method:
Add all the above ingredients to a bowl, mix them together and leave them for about half an hour so the chickpea flour can absorb some water.
Heat up the grill at quite a high heat.
Heat an oven-proof frypan on the stove top and once hot, add a fair bit of olive oil and swirl it around to grease the pan (I say ‘a fair bit’ as my first attempt, sadly, did not involve enough olive oil and I wound up forlornly picking bits of my flatbread off the pan).
Pour in a third to a half of the batter and treat it like you would a crȇpe – swirl it around to cover the base of the pan.
Leave it cooking a few minutes. Â Mine developed some cute little pancake-like frills as I did this.
Then, put the pan under the hot grill until it bubbles and blackens slightly. Â Once it has coloured and bubbled evenly over the surface, you’re ready to go – pull it out and enjoy.
My sister included the following piece of advice about this stage: ‘DO NOT hold the handle of your frying pan with your bare hand. Â I did and it burnt me. OUCH.’ Â And for this, I can recommend my cute little green potholders, modelled below. Â They offer a bit more grip and flexibility than your average cloth potholder, with their clever ridgy-bits.
I served my flatbread with pan-fried chicken thighs, spinach and pine nuts, and a smudging of my Parsley and Mint Yoghurt Sauce. Â The internet tells me they are often served with fresh rosemary, pepper and sea salt which sounds utterly scrumptious, and given the fact I am nurturing a small rosemary bush in my new garden, I will be trying this combination soon.
I am probably not the only person inspired by the recent New Zealand’s Hottest Home Baker episode featuring caramel garnish. Â With my sister and sweet-toothed brother in law due for dinner later in the week, what better and tastier way to impress than a simple …