Tag Archives: Jam

A luscious new tradition

You know how it is with friends when you’ve been out of touch for a while? It’s sometimes hard to make that first contact, to get back in touch, because so much has happened there’s almost too much to say to get you both up to speed? Feels a little like that with this blog…

A quick recap of what’s been keeping us so busy. Firstly, and most importantly, we bought a house. Readers who’ve followed us for a little while may recall that we fell a little in love with the Southern Highlands on our trip there in October. Noodling on Domain in idle moments after our return, I found a little house full of light and promise, with a massive shed and the beginnings of an orchard – just the place for a jam-maker and his wife. After more than the usual serving of stress and grief we exchanged just before Christmas.

We are now surrounded by the detritus of packing. Boxes half-filled. Shelves partly emptied. It’s getting hard to move around and it’s freaking out the menagerie. But in just over two weeks we’ll be country-folk! We can’t wait to see what can be made out of the tree-full of Feijoa that are ripening in our new backyard. And there’ll be peaches and plums must that  be ready soon too.

In my last post the Jam-maker was doing marvelous things with fruit bread. I fear that he is going to find the kitchen in the new house extremely challenging and it will take some work to create a space that will allow him to reach those culinary heights again. At least for a little while. It’s a small space dominated by a wood-burning stove. I’m completely terrified at the thought of it, but he’s excited. Bless him. He’s also very excited by the humongous walk-in pantry. It’s so big the fridge will fit into it (which is good ’cause otherwise we’d have to put it out in the garden) .

Of course Christmas has also been and gone since my last post. It was a pleasant enough day, but the ‘kids’ (my brother’s girls) are now cynical teenagers, so much of the joy has gone out of it – for me anyway. There’s something about little kids and their un-self-conscious delight in every aspect of Christmas that adds extra sparkle to the whole palava …. For the grown-ups, well, we’ve been reduced to exchanging gift vouchers. I think we might need to put in some rules about creativity for next year’s Kris Kringle.

The food was great, even if do say so myself. The Jam-maker you see does the cooking around here 98% of the time, but Christmas is my day. Normally I’m up at the crack of sparrow, prepping the blessed turkey, dealing with the baked ham and making the mango salad (see below). Not this year. This year I got to sleep in! We eschewed the dusty bird for succulent Peking duck. Bought from a local Chinese barbecue joint the day before, it was reheated to crispy perfection for 45 minutes while we did the presents. A bundle of chewy Peking pancakes (bought frozen and nuked), a bowl of sweet and smoky Hoisin and some green stuff for crunch – well, it frankly pissed on the traditional bird (and at half the price). It was genius – and the birth of a new family tradition.

The mango salad has become an essential addition to our Christmas table since I spent six months in Cairns many moons ago. My dear friend, the Pocket Rocket, served it then with freshly caught Coral Trout. I find it does amazing things when eaten with baked ham and adds sweet moisture to a mouthful of even the dustiest roast turkey. It’s piss-easy to make …

Mango Salad
Combine 2 large ripe mangoes (any variety except for those flavourless, too firm, R2E2 things), sliced*; 1 red onion, very finely sliced; and the juice of one or two limes. Serve the salad after the lime juice has softened and sweetened the onion (after about half an hour). Works brilliantly as a colourful side with fish, ham or poultry.

*Slice the mango cheeks off, then remove the skin off (without losing too much of the flesh). Take the skinless cheek and lay flat on a board and slice into thin slices, longitudinally. Not chunks, or it won’t have the right texture.

When is bread better than cake?

I may have mentioned before that I feared we’d become bread snobs. It’s hard not to though really, with artisan bakers on just about every street corner.  I mean if bread is one of those foods we’re not supposed consume too much of, then eating mass produced supermarket bread is just a waste of carbohydrate calories.

The Jam-maker has been developing a new sourdough ‘mother’ since early June. I call the jar his sea-monkeys because sometimes it’s hard to see what he’s so exicted about. His name for it is Saccrharomyces exiguus lactobacillus ‘Grasmerecremornus’. Whatever it’s called, it’s a terrifically vigorous starter made simply by mixing plain flour and water together, then carefully feeding it with wholemeal flour (there are useful enzymes attached to the whole grain missing from the fully processed stuff).

Sea monkeys, aka Sourdough Mother

He’s made some very fine breads out of this already, in particular a seedy bread full of black and white sesame, sunflower and pumpkin seeds. It’s at its best when toasted and all those raw seeds get warm and brown, and their flavours meld. Awfully good with Vegemite, it is of course superb with any of Lloyd’s Luscious concoctions (though there’s something about the spicy notes of the cardarmom in What’s up Doc that takes both bread and jam to new heights).

The Jam-maker’s interest in sourdough bread-making stretches back about seven years, when he first began experimenting with a wild yeast starter. Not for him the simplicity of store-bought yeasts, his first ‘mother’ lasted about three years and was used during his first experimentations with bread-baking.  These were heavy, German-style breads, often combining rye flour and molasses for added body and flavour.  ‘Mother’ died when the Jam-maker’s working life got very busy and there just wasn’t time for bread-making on the weekends.

I’ve no idea why, but he bought a loaf of supermarket fruit bread a couple of weeks ago; the thick-cut, ‘cafe style’ kind. Got an urge for it, I guess. As delicious as it was, slathered in butter (this house is a margarine free zone), it’s still at its heart, bog-standard, fluffy white bread. No substance to it; doesn’t fill you up like a good bread should. Anyway, the next thing you know, he’s digging through the pantry in search of dried fruit …

The first loaf was fine, with a tablespoon of diced dried apricots, a scattering of pecans, a handful of sultanas and currants, and good measures of cinnamon and nutmeg.  There’s a trick to making bread with extra ‘bits’ – a complex balancing act between the extra weight of the water in whatever you’re adding and the yeasty lift you need to make bread, bread (rather than cake).  Perfectionist that he is, the Jam-maker wasn’t too proud of the result, so no sooner had we broached the new loaf and he was pondering how to improve the next.

Dates.  Big chunks of sticky, sugary dates were added to the next mix. Rather too many for my taste, I have to say. My mother’s interpretation of Christmas cake is a fruit and nut dense concoction called Brazil Nut Sensation. It has about a cupful of thin cake batter holding together  masses of brazil nuts (obviously), red and green glace cherries, and dates – lots and lots of dates. It’s incredibly rich, so you can only eat it in tiny slivers. So while I don’t exactly have an aversion to dates – I love them in the right context and proportion – I put in a plea to cut-down on the dates and substitute dried figs, the queen of dried fruit.

Well, what can I say? The loaf he baked on Tuesday was OUTSTANDING. Chock-full of pecans and walnuts, dried figs, raisins and just the right proportion of dates to add that intense sugary hit to every third mouthful. The Jam-maker was proud too that the starter lifted the loaf to high-top heights.

Lloyd's Most Luscious Fruit & Nut Bread

When cut open it smelled just like a hot cross bun, but it came into its own when it was toasted and smeared LIGHTLY with butter (no need to gild this lily). This is bread that is better than any cake.  One slice is enough to start the day, but the Jam-maker insists on toasting me two every morning (I take the second slice to work with me and reheat it in the sandwich press for morning tea). Yesterday I didn’t get to re-toast my second slice until after midday, so it became my lunch and kept me going for the rest of the afternoon. That’s what good bread should do for you, bugger the calories.

A dot in the landscape

I began writing this post as we were driving through the Riverland, heading for Mildura and then on to Balranald. We were on the way back from a lightning-fast trip to Adelaide to see the Jam-maker’s family. He was at the wheel, while I noodled on my iPhone taking photos with my favourite app, Hipstamatic, catching glimpses of the Murray when the topography allowed it, with olive groves, vineyards and stone fruit orchards filling the spaces in between. Looked like foodie heaven, but we’ll have to wait until next time to indulge.

The Murray River, somwhere near Renmark

We had left Sydney four days earlier; just the four of us – me, the Jam-maker and our two beloved fur-kids, Bill and Charlie – on a long-overdue ‘family holiday’. Our first stop was the Southern Highlands, an hour or two south of Sydney. Staying with an old friend who recently chucked in her corporate existence for a quieter life, we spent the afternoon walking around admiring the gorgeous (mostly still affordable) houses. Wandering along what passes for the main drag, we window-shopped the real estate agents, rekindling our own dreams of bugging-out. To make jam full-time from fruit grown on our own trees. Ah, maybe one day …

The next day started early as we headed out for the big drive to Balranald, our ‘half-way’ point this time around. Normally we break the trip in Hay, but the only caravan park that allows pets is frankly, ghastly. Luckily we’d discovered the beautiful, very pet friendly, Balranald Caravan Park, on the net. Built on the banks of the muddy Murrumbidgee, it turned out that it’s run by a fellow jam-maker, Wendee. In fact, we took the very pretty detour through the Barossa and the Riverland on our way back just so we could collect a box-load of jam jars for her. She sells her jams, made from locally sourced fruit, to all the visitors to the park. It’s safe to say that Balranald will be our half-way point stop from now on.

The river gums at the Balranald Caravan Park at sunset

With the critters in tow, dinner at the local RSL (for the ubiquitous country Chinese) was out, so we opted instead to make do with ham, cheese and tomato sandwiches. Sadly, the ham on offer didn’t look very appetizing, and it appears we’ve become serious bread snobs – ‘settling’ for a loaf of fluffy sliced white under sufferance! But paired with slices of smoked salmon, an avocado and some gooey cheese it made a fine meal.

Aside from visiting family, the main purpose of this trip was to collect a new addition to our family. Dorothy, Dot for short, is a tiny black Poodle/Jack Russell cross, a deliciously cheeky bundle of puppy goodness! OK, the wee laddies were seriously pissed off, but I’m sure they’ll grow to at least tolerate her (she says hopefully!). The hostile growling is beginning to subside already … Of course, now we have all the joys (and messy lows) of early puppy life to look forward to.

Our little black Dot (short for Dorothy)

So to the home stretch. We started this morning well before dawn – the best time to tackle the Hay Plain. Vast, desolate and usually a study in beige, at this time of year it’s washed with the vivid purple of Paterson’s Curse/Salvation Jane in vigorous bloom. I love driving through these kinds of landscapes – for some reason a 180+ degree sky opens up my lungs so I can really breathe. The only downside is that the roadhouse at journey’s end is such a disappointment. Is it really necessary to treat your customers with such disrespect? I mean, how hard it is to make a decent cup of coffee and to use fresh bread in your egg and bacon roll. McDonalds in Wagga was a major step up the culinary ladder – and you don’t hear that every day, do you?

Bring on summer!

Depending on how you calculate these things, today is either the first day of spring or it’s just the first of September – your call. Whichever way you look at it, the weather has been warming by just a few delicious degrees each week, and so our thoughts have begun to turn from the heavy winter puddings the Jam-maker’s been playing with (like the diabolically rich, bitter-chocolate self-saucing pudding he made for an impromptu dinner party), to lighter options. Like ice cream. You see, we’ve recently come into possession of a chest freezer, courtesy of my brother’s move from a tiny house to an apartment. I think the original idea was that our families would somehow share the use of the beast although how that was going to work with us living 16 kilometres apart no one has ever been able to properly explain. It’s presence in our basement has meant that we now finally have room to freeze the bowl of an ice cream maker we bought about four years ago. That small frozen silver bowl has lead the Jam-maker to some mouthwatering experimentation.

It all started Sunday before last when the Jam-maker decided to make some strawberry brulee tarts. He’s a huge fan of the Bourke Street Bakery Cookbook (in particular their recipe for an extraordinarily short pastry), but half an hour into it he began railing against the cookbook, its layout, the publishers, and the world at large, all of whom had all failed to indicate that the tarts would actually take more than two days to complete (what with resting of pastry and chilling of pastry cream overnight!). No brulee tarts for you!

This left him with a large quantity of strawberry coulis and the beginnings of a vanilla custard that he didn’t want to waste. After a few tweaks he ended up with a kind of vanilla custard that found its way into the ice cream maker. Yummy, but with a slightly gritty texture. The next night when I came home from work I was greeted with a tub of light as air, strawberry flavoured ice-confection. Oh my god. It was nothing like I’ve had before.

The Jam-maker created this stuff – no name yet (all suggestions gratefully received) – by combining Italian meringue (made by whipping soft ball sugar syrup into firm peaked beaten egg whites) with that leftover strawberry coulis. A turn in the ice-cream maker and bingo! Lloyd’s Luscious does ice-cream. And it’s low fat. Not low sugar sadly, but it could easily be made a little less calorie dense without risking any of the flavour or texture by using a little less sugar in the meringue and sweeter fruit for the syrup. The Jam-maker already has his sights set on further experimentation as the weather warms up. Bring on summer I say!