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A paper dragon for Joanna…

This optical illusion is so cool that I had to take a video to show you!

When you view the dragon with one eye closed, its head appears to actually move as it follows you…

Pete says the illusion can be captured on video because the camera is recording the image as it would be seen by one eye (mono) rather than two (stereo).

Try it out for yourself – you can read about it on the Grand Illusions website and download the pdf file here.  One tip – make sure you tape the head together facing inwards rather than out, or the illusion won’t work.

Have a fun weekend!

Last year, my friend Christine at Slow Living Essentials put us onto perennial leeks.

In garden terms, these have been life-changing.   We bought seven tiny leek seedlings from Cornucopia Seeds (sadly, they don’t seem to stock them anymore!), planted them in the yard, and watched them grow.  They’re smaller than regular leeks, but sweet and delicious nonetheless, and we use them right up to the green tips.

I think our leeks are a slightly different variety to Christine’s, so I decided to take some photos for you.  Here’s one we pulled out last week (it reminds me of a Muppet)…

Unlike regular leeks, these grow with a bulbous base, particularly at this time of year, when they’re madly reproducing…

As we peeled back the base, we found 24 bulbils, half of which were already shooting.  All of these will grow into new leeks – we simply poke a hole in the soil with a stick, drop in a bulb and water it in…

Before we had perennial leeks, we planted regular ones, which have taken a full year to get to a picking size.  Here’s a comparison of the two.  Remember that even though the traditional leek is larger, there are oodles more of the perennial ones in our yard, and they’re growing much faster.

After a quick phone call to our friend the Spice Girl for advice, we turned a few leeks and a couple of onions into bhajis. We mixed the sliced vegetables into a thick batter made with:

  • besan (chickpea) flour
  • salt
  • lots of cumin
  • coriander
  • a little turmeric
  • chilli powder
  • a little bicarb of soda (baking soda)
  • water (added sparingly)

Heaped spoonfuls of the batter were then deepfried until golden brown. They were very moreish with a garlic and yoghurt dipping sauce…

Our perennial leeks taste just like the regular kind, but reproduce like onion weed (albeit less vigorously).  They’re thriving in our small suburban backyard, and more than make up for the fact that we haven’t been able to grow onions!

Edit: According to Jerry Coleby-Williams, the variety we grow here in Australia is Allium ampeloprasum var. porrum.

For the longest time, Valrhona chocolate was out of our reach, price-wise.

It’s still nearly double the Callebaut equivalent, but that didn’t stop Pete from buying me an early Christmas present when we spotted this bulk pack at Chefs’ Warehouse.

The bag contains three kilos of Valrhona Manjari, a dark (64%) origin chocolate from Madagascar.  It has a most unusual colour – the fèves have a slight reddish tinge to them. They’re lighter in colour than most dark chocolate, which made me double check the packaging to see if there was any added milk (there wasn’t).

The flavour is quite distinct, with high acidity and a long aftertaste. It’s not my preferred eating chocolate, but I was pretty sure it would have some exciting culinary uses…

Earlier this year, my dear friend Joanna put me onto this wonderful chocolate cake recipe by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall.

It’s become a regularly baked treat at our house, partly because of its simplicity, but mostly because it showcases the chocolate, without the overlay of competing flavours.  Needless to say, it’s worth making this cake with the very best chocolate you can get your hands on.

Made with Valrhona Manjari, the cake has a hint of orange that is most appealing. Here’s the amended recipe (our original post is here):

Valrhona Manjari Chocolate Cake

  • 250g (8.8oz) Valrhona Manjari fèves , 64% cacao
  • 250g (1 cup) unsalted butter, cut into pieces
  • 4 medium free-range eggs, separated
  • 200g/7oz caster sugar
  • 50g (1.75oz) plain (AP) flour
  • 50g (1.75oz) ground almonds

1. Grease a 23cm/9″ springform cake tin and line the base with parchment paper.  Preheat oven to 170C/340F or 160C/320F with fan.

2. In a large pyrex bowl, melt together the chocolate and butter in the microwave using short bursts, being careful not to scorch the chocolate.  Stir until smooth and combined.

3. In a large bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and sugar to form a paste, then stir in the melted chocolate and butter.  Carefully fold in the flour and almonds.

4. In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites until stiff.  Stir a large spoonful into the chocolate mixture to lighten it, then carefully fold the remaining egg white in, trying to keep as much of the air in the mixture as possible.

5. Pour the batter into the prepared tin and bake for 30 minutes, until  just set.  The cake will still be a little wibbly in the middle – resist the urge to bake it until solid.  Allow to cool in the tin for about 15 minutes on a wire rack before opening the springform.

The finished cake is quite flat, velvety and slightly fudgy.  Don’t take that to mean that it’s stodgy in any way – somehow it manages to be both light and fudgy at the same time.  It cuts well at room temperature, and the flavour seems to improve with a day’s rest.

Finding a really good flourless (or nearly flourless) chocolate cake recipe is a little like Goldilocks’ search for the ideal bowl of porridge.  The ingredients are always similar, but the proportions vary slightly from recipe to recipe.  Sometimes the cakes will be overly eggy (which Pete is particularly sensitive to); other times the finished texture will be dense and heavy.

For us, this version is the perfect rendition of the style. It’s a great do-ahead dinner party dessert, particularly when served with a dollop of microwave custard. It’s the cake I’m baking for all our December entertaining, and the one I’ll be putting on the table for Christmas lunch.

As Hugh FW wrote in his introduction to the recipe:

“Everyone should have a little black cake in their
culinary wardrobe and this is mine.”

It’s now mine too, and it’s so easy that it might soon be yours as well!

This quick and easy recipe comes from the Silver Palate Cookbook.

I first made it more than twenty years ago, and can still remember the excitement of my then work colleagues when I brought it in for morning tea.  It was very encouraging feedback for a kitchen novice.

The recipe itself is a doddle to make – the only tricky part is spreading the thick batter evenly into the pan, and that’s only because I use parchment paper to save on washing up.  The original recipe says to grease the pan, which would make the dough handling much easier.  I’ve found the simplest method is to spread the mixture out with my hands, and then smooth the top over with a spatula.

The bars are a delicious combination of brown sugar shortbread, chocolate and nuts.  They’ve proven to be as popular now as they were twenty years ago!

  • 250g (1 cup) unsalted butter
  • 210g (1 cup) brown sugar
  • 1 large (59g) egg yolk
  • 300g (2 cups) plain (AP) flour
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract (I used homemade)
  • 340g (12oz) dark chocolate chips (I used Callebaut 811 54%)
  • 90g (1 cup) toasted flaked almonds (original recipe specified coarsely chopped walnuts or pecans)

1.  Preheat oven to 175C/350F or 160C/320F with fan.  Grease a 23cm x 30cm (9″ x 12″) baking pan, or line it with parchment paper.  Don’t worry too much about the pan size – mine was an inch longer (13″) than the recipe recommended, and it was still fine.

2. In a large mixing bowl, cream the butter and sugar together. Add the egg yolk and vanilla, and mix well.  Finally, beat in the flour until well combined.

3. Spread the batter into the prepared baking pan and bake for 25 minutes.

4. Remove the pan, sprinkle the chocolate chips evenly over the top, then return the pan to the oven for a further 3 to 4 minutes.

5. Remove the pan from the oven and spread the melted chocolate evenly with a spatula.  Scatter the nuts over the surface, and allow to cool completely in the pan (be patient!) before cutting.

Click here for a printable version of this recipe

When my children were little, I loved them so much that it would occasionally cause my heart to ache.  I’m not speaking metaphorically either – sometimes the feeling would be so overwhelming that I’d actually feel physical discomfort.

They were so loving and trusting and perfect that I never wanted them to grow up.  I couldn’t imagine what kind of relationship I might have with them as adults.

Of course, they did grow up, and they’ve enriched our lives in the process, beyond anything we could ever have dreamed of.

Big Boy is now eighteen. Every Friday morning, he heads into town to do a couple of hours paid work for his Auntie Kate.  It’s not much, but it gives him a tiny bit of spending money.

Around midday, I’ll get a phone call…

“Mum, have you sorted anything for lunch yet?”

“Not yet, what did you have in mind?”

“Would you like a pork roll?”

And then Big Boy, one of the great loves of my life, will spend $5 of his hard-earned money and buy me a pork salad roll from the Vietnamese bakery.  It’s full of processed mystery meat, heartburn-inducing chilli, and a strange, unidentifiable pâté, encased in a crusty white bread roll.

I devour it with enormous enthusiasm.

With every bite, I think to myself…“Big Boy loves me.”