Trifling Matters, or when is a trifle not a trifle?

 

Is this a Trifle?

Cassata Trifle from www.taste.com.au

Photography Petrina Tinslay. Recipe published in delicious,  May 2006, p. 136. 

 

Christmas morning, that is the morning of 25 December, always sees me putting the finishing touches to a trifle, which involves simply putting the various pre-prepared components together in the right order. And as I do this I think about my mother because I always make a trifle the way she did and I wonder where the whole trifle thing came from.

The historical background has been traced in some depth by Helen Saberi and Alan Davidson ('Whims and Fancies of a Trifle-Lover' by Helen Saberi in The Wilder Shores of Gastronomy, Ten Speed Press, Berkeley 2002 and Trifle by Saberi and Davidson, Prospect Books, 2009). In its present form the trifle has come down to us via the 'fool' which is essentially flavoured cream and the syllabub which is basically cream flavoured with wine and whipped to a froth. The biscuity or cakey base and custard come in to the picture from the mid-eighteenth century.

According to The Oxford Companion to Food the trifle is a 'traditional English sweet or dessert. The essential ingredients are sponge cake soaked in sherry or white wine, rich custard, fruit or jam, and whipped cream, layered in a glass dish in that order.' Jane Grigson in English Food confirms the details of what seems to be the 'traditional' English trifle. Her recipe for 'a pudding worth eating', calls for macaroons, soaked in a mixture of 'Frontignan, Malaga or madeira wine' and brandy, covered with a custard made with cream and eggs and thickened with rice flour. Once the custard is cool and firm it is spread with a layer of raspberry jam. The finishing touch is a layer of syllabub, cream flavoured with, in this case, white wine or sherry, brandy and lemon, whipped up into a froth.

The authors of the OCF go on to say that trifle 'is essentially a popular dish, i.e. a dish of the people, more apt to be present at family celebrations and children's parties than in cookery books or on restaurant menus.'

A search through my cook books certainly confirms that recipes for trifle are likely to be few and far between. It also confirmed that there is some consensus as to what constitutes a traditional trifle.

Both Mrs Beeton and Eliza Acton require a base of sponge cake or sponge biscuits, ratafias and macaroons soaked in sherry or wine and brandy, a rich custard, syllabub and cream. Nothing much has changed by the time we get to my mother's first cookery books, the first edition of Good Housekeeping 's Cookery Book (1948) and Cooking with Elizabeth Craig (1947). Both of these publications call for sponge cake spread with jam soaked with sherry and/or brandy, custard and whipped cream. Elizabeth Craig calls for macaroons and ratafias in the cake layer, Good Housekeeping uses macaroons in the trifle and ratafias for decoration, similarly shredded almonds are a component of both, and the Elizabeth Craig version is decorated with glacé cherries and angelica. Good Housekeeping also has recipes for a Banana Trifle (containing bananas of course and decorated with cherries, angelica and chopped pistachios), Cherry Trifle (with both cherry jam and stewed cherries and made with either sponge cake or cake crumbs) and Pineapple and Ginger Trifle (using tinned pineapple and preserved ginger and custard made from custard powder).

The Good Housekeeping Cookery Book of 1985 uses a Victoria sponge, raspberry jam and macaroons, sherry, custard, cream and flaked almonds and glacé cherries for decoration. The Silver Palate Good Times Cook Book (1985) includes a recipe for 'Old English Trifle' which requires Sara Lee pound cake and raspberry jam, amaretti crumbs, marsala, custard, almond flavoured cream and almonds for decoration.

That there is some discrepancy between what the recipe books would have us believe is 'traditional' and what cooks actually produce in their own kitchens is demonstrated by comments such as Jane Grigson's when she compares her recipe to 'the mean travesty made with yellow, packaged sponge cakes, poor sherry and powdered custards' and derides 'the brassy effect of angelica and glacé cherries'. Similarly Simon Hopkinson and Lindsey Bareham in The Prawn Cocktail Years insist on 'decent' sherry and preferably amaretti or macaroons/ratafias but definitely not 'shop bought' sponge cake. For them 'jelly is an abomination' and fresh fruit too tart and 'somehow alien to the confection'. And that there is on-going debate about what constitutes a real trifle is born out every year by articles such as this one or this one which claim to set down the rules for trifle making.

I don't know where or when my mother learnt to make trifle. She came to Australia from England in her early thirties – did she make trifle before she came here? Surely she must have done. Did her mother use ratafias? Did my mother remove any trace of almonds from her trifle because she didn't like the flavour, because my father didn't or because I didn't? Certainly a trifle was part of most celebrations. I can't remember a time when it was not an integral part of Christmas. I also can't remember a trifle that didn't involve shop bought jam sponge roll – preferably the little rollettes. The cake layer was flavoured with sweet sherry in the early days but became more sophisticated when Mum started using Marsala – did she learn this from Robert Carrier and his Great Dishes of the World? (Somewhere along the way we also discovered that Marsala was terrific poured over vanilla ice cream).

In our trifle the next layer is always canned fruit, two fruits to be exact. Did my mother discover two fruits (that is a mix of diced peaches and pears) before she came to Australia? Was this considered some sort of delicacy in post war Sunderland? I doubt that she would have encountered two fruits in her mother's kitchen in Little Eaton.

On top of the two fruits, abomination of abominations, comes a layer of Port Wine jelly. The jelly is set separately and then broken up with a fork and spread over the fruit so that it forms a discreet layer and doesn't soak in to the cake – now that would be an abomination! Other flavours of jelly are acceptable but not quite right. I don't remember that she made packet jelly at any other time or for any other purpose. I do remember that my mother was quite capable of making her own aspic and jellied beetroot so using a commercial packet jelly was a conscious decision. Was it too hard to get the right flavour starting from scratch?

Then comes the custard. My mother always made the custard using custard powder. Again it wasn't that she didn't know how to do it any other way. She made sensational egg custard tarts and custardy puddings but runny custard was always made with custard powder. Trifle custard was always made with custard powder, slightly more than recommended on the packet so that it was very thick. Once set the custard was broken up with a fork before spreading over the jelly and for special occasions whipped cream was mixed through. I always make custard for trifle with custard powder.

The final layer is whipped cream. In the past my mother decorated her trifle with 'brassy' cherries and angelica. We thought it was ambrosia. The only real variation I have made is to eliminate both the cherries (because not everyone likes them) and the angelica (because it has become increasingly hard to buy, and anyway angelica on its own would be a bit silly).

How my mother came to this final pinnacle of perfection I will never know but I make trifle the way she did. That is the way my family like it, that is the way our extended family like it. I am the reigning family Trifle Queen and this is the trifle I make every Christmas. I make no excuses for its rather plebeian ingredients. A trifle is not to be trifled with – other layered desserts are trifles in name only. I think a trifle should, as the name suggests, be something light or trivial, it shouldn't take hours to prepare and cost a fortune to make. But made with care the end result is so much more than the sum of the individual components. A mere trifle becomes something special to share to celebrate the moment and commemorate the past.

 

Note: Cassata Trifle is not a trifle if only because it is made with savoiardi not sponge cake, and contains fresh raspberries and ricotta. Anything with chocolate, even if only grated over for decoration, is not a trifle. 'Cassata' and 'trifle' are two words which do not belong in the same sentence let alone the same title.

Christmas Wish List

Some things are always on the wish list. For example a housekeeper. That is someone who will do all the cleaning but will achieve this magically so that I will wake up in the morning and it will all be done.  This genie would also be able to do all the shopping leaving me free to browse the markets without having to make any serious decisions. He or she would prepare all our meals with the proviso that they would cook just the way I  do  - so I could enjoy my own cooking without having to do it myself. Given such a gift is unlikely I wouldn't mind someone giving me a Thermomix and/or a Kitchen Aid mixer, or something similar, and/or an ice cream maker. I don't need any of these gadgets but I would love to have one or other of them to play with, and especially without the guilt of having spent a small fortune on something I know I can live without. Should anyone seriously contemplate any of these gifts they should also consider donating an extra room to the house so that there would be somewhere to put the thing.

There are however one or two more realistic suggestions on my Christmas list.
Yottam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi have written another book, Jerusalem: A Cookbook which I have salivated over (although that does sound slightly revolting doesn't it) in the book shop. As usual it is full of strong flavours and interesting combinations. There has been no shortage of publicity for Jerusalem. There is an article with recipes in the latest edition (December 2012/January 2013) of Delicious magazine and a long and very interesting article about the whole Ottolenghi phenomenon in the December 3 issue of The New Yorker magazine if you can lay your hands on a copy.There is another interview with the authors here at Serious Eats and you can whet your appetite with recipes from the book for roasted butternut squash with tahini and za'atar here, Na'ama's fattoush here, mejadra (which is delicious) here, stuffed eggplant with lamb and pine nuts here and hummus kawarma here. When I first made the mejadra (which has all sorts of other spellings - mujaddara for instance) I used this version of the recipe which skips the step of mixing the onions with flour. I found the flour only made things gluggy and messy and the onions tended to clump together - so this step seemed quite unnecessary. However you make it mejadra is terrific with yoghurt, with feta cheese or with a fried egg on top (or indeed with all three together).

On the non-fiction book list is Consider the Fork: A history of how we cook and eat by Bee Wilson (which you can read about here). There are so many everyday objects that we take for granted, many of which have a fascinating story to tell. This book sounds like a good companion to Margaret Visser's The Rituals of Dinner: The origins, evolution, eccentricities and meaning of table manners. Another food book which caught my attention at The New Yorker is Jon Kramper's Creamy and Crunchy  which is a history of peanut butter, reviewed here. Having worked at a plant which made peanut butter I am very familiar with the benefits of hydrogenation but can only tolerate  peanut butter in small doses.

Another book which isn't actually on the wish list but one which I think I should get around to reading sometime is You Aren't What You Eat. Fed up With Gastroculture by Stephen Poole. Depending on where you sit on the foodie spectrum you might see  Mr. Poole's effort as 'a bloody brutal and necessary sacred cow hunt' (as here) or you may find that you 'strenuously disagreed with every single conclusion' (as here). Perhaps you could give copies to everyone to read before Christmas to ensure lively discussion during lunch on the 25th.

There is also a new Mark Kurlansky book which was published this year Birdseye: The Adventures of a Curious Man (reviewed here) which would appear to throw a whole new light on frozen peas.

And there is one last book on the list. I recently heard Lawrence Norfolk interviewed about his latest book John Saturnall's Feast (reviewed here, the download for the interview is here) which sounds like a good yarn and historically interesting as well. A book about medieval feasting should make perfect reading for the beach this summer.

Food in the city. Month in Review - October 2012

This is a photograph I took earlier this year of a delightful piece of street sculpture in New York which I encountered on my way to Zabar's on Broadway at 80th Street .

 

A crow about to start pecking holes in a big apple seemed an appropriate illustration for this month because New York has been so much in the news thanks to the coverage of Sandy the Superstorm. What struck me as most interesting was the amount of publicity an event like this receives simply because it occurs in New York - third world disaster hits first world city is somehow so much more news worthy than third world disaster hits third world country. From the food perspective it should also give us pause to reflect on how cut off we city dwellers are from our source of food and how reliant we are on electricity and road, rail and air transportation to provide adequate supplies of fresh food. Not surprisingly this is an issue which Edible Geography saw fit to cover - Nicola's post is here. Who would have thought that the best way to survive the storm was to sit at home eating peanut butter sandwiches and drinking beer?

While we are thinking about where our food might come from.... Many moons ago I worked in the food industry so I have spent my fair share of hours in factories processing food stuffs of one sort or another. Nonetheless I rarely bother to contemplate where or how convenience products are made - this is partly self-protection of course since the reality is often too gruesome to confront. However if you have ever wondered how hummus and babba ganoush get made on an industrial scale you should read David Lebovitz account from his travels to Israel. He doesn't mention the amount of hummus the factory produces on a daily basis but judging by the size of the bulk containers for the chick peas it must be quite a lot! And somehow its very reassuring to know that the gloved hand is still the best machine for removing charred skin from an eggplant.

Living in New York or Sydney for that matter you see very little food being grown. I know it is the latest thing to have a bee hive on the roof and for restaurants to have a kitchen garden but surely we aren't expected to believe that these beautifully manicured and very small kitchen gardens provide more than a fraction of the vegetables and herbs that the restaurant actually uses? I can't even supply a family of four with sufficient variety of fresh vegetables from my back garden. I do however support the idea that there might be more interest in where our food comes from if people were to see more of it growing. In many Mediterranean countries the streets are lined with citrus trees and the parks have pomegranates and olives and figs and hedges of rosemary. The best I have seen in Sydney are some borders of parsley in city flower boxes. One of the reasons, so I am told, for not encouraging the use of fruit tress in local streets is because they are messy - what if someone slipped on the dropped fruit and sued the council? But surely all the fruit would have been picked long before that could happen? Unfortunately removing dirt and messiness and smell from our neat and ordered urban environment has become a serious preoccupation, although of course there are other, complicated reasons for the disappearance of fresh food from our streetscapes. Earlier this year the BBC ran a series of documentaries on London markets which address some of the issues - you can read about the series here. There is a precise by Edible Geography here and a glimpse of Billingsgate fish market here.

Finally, if you haven't already seen these pictures you might take a deep breath before you look here at photographs from an exhibition of cakes held recently at the Pathology Museum, St Bart's Hospital in London. And on the subject of cake you may remember that back in June I mentioned the Endangered Cake Museum - well I am very pleased to report that it will have a new home, which you can read about here.

Month in Review - September 2012

Celebrating Spring

 

Donald Rumsfeld managed to get himself into trouble over the question of what we know, what we know we don't know and and what we don't know we don't know. The things we know we don't know much or anything about are those which, in my case at least, I have studiously avoided attempting to learn - quantum physics, rocket science, brain surgery all come to mind. The things I don't know I don't know are legion. So much of what goes on around us we just take for granted until someone asks a question or you come across a snippet of information which challenges your previous assumptions. All of a sudden you realise there a vast holes in your knowledge of the world that, now you've identified the void, you must work to fill. And then of course there is the gaping chasm where lie all the things you once knew but now struggle to remember.
 

As a child I had a passing acquaintance with Pontefract cakes. My parents I think considered these hard discs of liquorice an important part of my English heritage. If you had asked me a few weeks ago why these sweets were called Pontefract cakes I would have told you that they were named after the town where they were manufactured and, if I had thought long enough and hard enough I might even have remembered they were made by Bassetts and that they had a castle image stamped on them. What I didn't know then, and would never have guessed, was that the liquorice used in their manufacture was actually grown in Pontefract. Who would ever have imagined that something as exotic as liquorice would, or indeed could, grow in Yorkshire?

Another question which arose this month was why are hazelnuts called filberts? I still don't feel confident about the answer to this one. According to the Oxford Companion to Food 'filbert' is the name of a type of cultivated hazelnut, as distinct from a cob hazelnut. All wild hazelnuts are just hazelnuts in Britain but in America both wild and cultivated hazelnuts are called filberts. The name filbert is thought to come from St. Philibert, whose saint's day, 22 August, falls at around the time hazelnuts ripen. So hazel nuts are one of those things that I can no longer claim to know nothing about but I still feel they have only moved from the unknown unknowns to the known unknowns.

A while ago I drew your attention to  this post on Edible Geography about lunch.
Lunch is a very serious business for some as this piece 'A day in the life of a Mumbai sandwichwallah' makes clear. Armed with this knowledge a sandwich will never be the same again.

Monthly Catch Up

 

The Restaurant Reviewer at Work?

 



You may well be wondering what happened to July and August - let's just say they came and then they went. So before the end of September rolls around I thought to follow up on the last post about restaurant reviews.
Before there were Internet sites like Yelp and UrbanSpoon there were restaurant guide books and of course there still are - the Sydney Morning Herald Guide, Michelin and Zagat for example. One of the criticisms of these guides is that they tend to grade restaurants by arbitrary and mysterious criteria and concentrate too much on high end dining so that they don't really reflect where real people do actually eat. Two articles from the Guardian (here and here) discuss the latest Zagat Guide to London which rates places like the Ledbury, Dinner by Heston and two of Gordon Ramsay's restaurants in their top ten. Do restaurant guides promote intelligent appreciation of food and informed criticism of eating establishments? Do they help to set standards on which that criticism can be based? What criteria do they use to judge the cooking? How do they choose which restaurants will be included? The Michelin guide in particular is notoriously secretive about their methods yet three stars is still regarded as the mark of excellence never mind what it may really represent.
There can be no doubt that the anonymous voices who rate restaurants on the Internet are both more opinionated and more egalitarian than the majority of 'official' guides. So whilst sites like Yelp may give you a better idea of what to expect from your local Italian or Thai they would appear to contribute little to an intellectual gastronomic dialogue. Research has however led to the conclusion that social media sites do have an influence on 'how consumers judge the quality of goods and services' and they do influence a restaurant's takings. It's also worth remembering that not all social media sites are created equal, so, just as in the case of the more established printed restaurant guides, it is worth knowing what you are dealing with before you make any sort of decision based on their recommendations. Oliver Thring discusses Trip Advisor here and it is instructive to read some of the comments on his post eg.'I would much rather read a restaurant critic's review of a fine dining restaurant, but when it's a local chinese, indian or italian, and I care just as much about the service, cleanliness and atmosphere as I do about the food and price, tripadvisor works for me'.
And for the final word, this piece from Bruce Palling who calls homself 'Gastroenophile'. Mr. Palling has a foot in both camps - he is a journalist (he writes for The Wall Street Journal) and a blogger. He believes that 'we should all be grateful that there has never been such a profusion of fascinating accounts of fine dining so available - and provided free of charge'. Does he mean that we should be grateful that there is now so much information freely available or should we be grateful that there was a time when we were free of other people's gratuitous opinions no matter how fascinating?

More Blogs and Blogging

Le déjeuner des canotiers, Renoir.

 The Phillips Collection, Washington, D.C.

How many of these diners are going to write a review of their lunch on their blog when they get home?
At dinner a few weeks ago the conversation ran to restaurant reviews and to blogs, blogging and bloggers. And given my interest in the latter (that is blogs, blogging and bloggers and the hows and whys of the dissemination of information about restaurants and fine dining) it was suggested that I might furnish a list of blogs that were worth following.
Well I'm not going to do that per se but I am going to point any one who is interested in the direction of some further reading in this area.
Who you might like to 'follow' depends very much on what you want to know, what information you are hoping to gain from reading someone else's thoughts/ideas/opinions. I don't 'follow' blogs so much as watch them. In the interests of my research I track a group of individuals who post fairly regular and very detailed restaurant reviews. I'm not reading these reviews because I want to eat at the restaurants myself but I am interested in the what, when, where, how and why of these dining experiences. None of the bloggers I watch ( and yes it is all a bit voyeuristic) have any credentials as such - they are  not professional writers and they don't have any qualifications as chefs or restaurateurs - they are in the main young people with healthy appetites and plenty of disposable income.
One of the criticisms of the 'amateur' critic is that they have no knowledge of how to cook and because they only know how to eat aren't really in a position to judge whether what they are eating is any good or not and certainly have no way of telling good from better or best. Now that is a criticism that could be laid at the door of many a restaurant reviwer (see below for example) and might be true for those who write  the short reviews on sites such as 'Eatability' and 'Urbanspoon' but certainly isn't true of all bloggers. It probably is true that few food bloggers are professional journalists, although of course there are exceptions to that rule too. Nor is it fair to tar all food blogs with the same brush. For one thing not every food blog concentrates on restaurant reviews (yours truly for one) and not every blog is all about self-promotion.
So let's start with some local food people and their ideas on the restaurant reviewer.
Claire, who calls herself Melbourne Gastronome, recently posted this piece entitled 'Online reviews and the race to be first' which among other concerns raises the question of reviewing etiquette, an issue which is also considered here and here.
Phil Lees, whose blog is called The Last Appetite, has some interesting observations to make about the influence of bloggers. The audience for a particular blog is hard to determine but certainly Phil's statistics and my own analysis of  the blogs I have been studying suggest that the reach may be fairly limited. However the influence of on-line reviews on sites such as Urbanspoon for example is another matter altogether, as Phil discusses here and here.
What do we expect from a restaurant review? Does it really need to be a literary masterpiece? In a recent post of her blog Will Write for Food, Dianne Jacob discusses the James Beard Award nominees including Alan Richman. Richman is perhaps not well known in Australia but he is very much the master of  the long form, the review that tells a story, and his work is usually very funny. His book Fork it Over is a great read. So Richman is a good writer who happens to review restaurants and like many well regarded restaurant critics he is a journalist first. As he says of himself

I am a restaurant critic. I eat for a living.

Chefs complain about people like me. They argue that we are not qualified to do our jobs because we do not know how to cook. I tell them I'm not entirely pleased with the way they do their jobs either, because they do not know how to eat. I have visited most of the best restaurants of the world, and they have not. I believe I know how to eat as well as any man alive.

 

Not every reviewer can be as eloquent and entertaining as Alan Richman, nor do they need to be. The success of Yelp for example rests on the simple fact that most people, deciding where to go to a particular restaurant on Friday for dinner, simply want to know whether or not the people who ate there enjoyed themselves. The fact that you don't know any of these people is immaterial - you don't know Alan Richman or Terry Durack either - and whilst there might be some common ground when it comes to over priced or undercooked and what constitutes unacceptable service no one can tell you whether you will enjoy the taste of the food, that much you have to find out for yourself.

 

One of the things, to my mind one of the good things, that an on-line review can do that a newspaper piece can't is give you a proper look at the food and in some cases at the interior of the restaurant and of people actually eating the food. There are any number of videos on YouTube of people eating at El Bulli or The Fat Duck or Alinea for example which help to make sense of some of the more esoteric offerings which don't sound all that flash when reviewers try to put them into words. Of course it is also true that many on-line reviewers fall back on photographs rather than even attempt to describe what they are eating although in fairness some modernist cuisine creations do transcend the normal culinary vocabulary. The downside of course is that not all bloggers know the first thing about taking photographs and there has to be some limit to the number of pictures any one person can take while they are eating dinner. Would you trust the opinions of anyone who could post more than 200 photographs of any one meal?

 

Like it or not on-line reviews are here to stay and this may not be altogether a bad thing. We might hope for example that the demise of print media in general will mean that those magazines and newspapers which survive will offer a higher standard of journalism and perhaps a return to the long form assuming that there is still a readership for the likes of Alan Richman. Time will also, one hopes, weed out those who have something to say from those who only want to say something on-line. To cite Alan Richman again, his reviews read just as well on the computer screen as they do in GQ magazine.

 

And finally just to go back to what we want from restaurant review here's a comparison between three reviews of l'Enclume, Cumbria. Chris Pople calls his blog 'Cheese and Biscuits' and has earned quite a reputation for his reviews (you can read more about him here). His review of l'Enclume is here. John Lanchester, in his final column for the Guardian reviews l'Enclume here, and Jay Rayner's review is here. The latter may be more 'professional' but there is a lot to be said for Chris's pictures. Perhaps what we should really hope for is less emphasis on restaurants and reviews and more time and thought given to food writing which goes beyond talking about eating.

 

 



Month in Review - June 2012

Grace Cossington Smith, The Lacquer Room c.1935-36 (Art Gallery of New South Wales)

The June highlight for me was attending the Third Annual POPCAANZ Conference in Melbourne (27th-29th June) where I presented a paper on my latest obsession, lamingtons, and had the pleasure of mixing with other food people and hearing about their research.
POPCAANZ is the Popular Culture Association of Australia and New Zealand so you can imagine the conference covered a huge range of interests - animation, architecture and design, comics, anime and manga, fashion, fiction, film, music, gender, performance, toys, romance - and food. Unfortunately I was only able to be in Melbourne for a day and a half so didn't get to do more than attend the food sessions on the Wednesday and on Thursday morning but that gave me quite enough to think about. Aside from my scintillating discussion of the lamington the food sessions included

• Carmel Cedro from Monash University who presented a paper on the Dolly Varden cake tracing its evolution from the first recipes of the 1880s to a modern incarnation as an Amy Varden cake, dedicated to the late Amy Winehouse.
• Toni Risson, who some of you may already know from her book Aphrodite and the Mixed Grill which has just be reprinted, talking about children's birthday cakes and in particular The Australian Women's Weekly Children's Birthday Cake Book. With my interest in cake this paper set me thinking about how we have transferred the time and energy and emotional commitment which might once have gone into the making of the cake to the decoration of the end result of adding egg to a packet cake mix.
• Donna Lee Brien from Central Queensland University whom I met last year at the Gastronomy Symposium in Canberra, introduced us to Maria Kozslik Donovan. Mrs Donovan was a cookery writer who began her career in Melbourne in the 1950s writing in The Age and published several books including The Blue Danube Cookbook, Astrology in the Kitchen and Continental Cookery in Australia. She had a fascinating life and her writing certainly puts a new perspective on the idea that Australia was a gastronomic desert in the 50s and 60s.
• Jill Adams, who is working on her PhD with Donna Brien at CQU, spoke about Mrs Dione Lucas. I wrote briefly about Dione here. Jill has not only found out more about Dione Lucas and her visits to Australia but has also met her eldest son and learnt a lot more about the real Dione.

There were also two papers about wine, one from Felicity Ameron on the role of Mary Penfold in the establishment of the Penfold winery and one from Lloyd Carpenter on the use of nostalgia to market wines from the Central Otago area. New Zealanders were well represented with Lindsay Neill, from Auckland, talking about kiwiana (that is the NZ equivalent of Australiana) and in particular the White Lady pie cart (which is a fixture in Auckland, imbued with all sorts of cultural and societal importance and is a significant tourist attraction), Lorna Piatti-Farnell talking about food in Katherine Mansfield's fiction and Rowan Holt arguing that the home economics teacher is a better role model for young people than the celebrity TV chef.
Tania Splawa-Neyman from RMIT (School of Arichitecture and Design) gave a terrific presentation entitled 'Food and fashion on the web: the cultivation of culture' which explored connections between food and fashion, asking questions such as - Does food design fashion, or does fashion design food? What does this linkage say about our culture? Is society predominantly concerned with the basic need to be clothed and fed? Or is popular culture shaped by how we wish to be seen while clothing and feeding ourselves? In particular the images Tania showed generated some lively discussion. Have a look at wardrobevpantry here. I particularly like this one, this one and for something to really make you think, this one.

Unfortunately there were two papers I missed altogether - Michelle Phillipov (lecturer in journalism, media and communications at the University of Tasmania) talking on the way Master Chef offers insight into debates about food and health and the limitations of current public health strategies, and Charmaine O'Brien whose paper examined 'how we might take some lessons from the eating habits, and culinary etiquette, of our aristocratic ancestors to learn how to take an approach to food that is more restrained and that might assist us to reduce our collective waistlines and develop a more respectful sustainable relationship to food'.

POPCAANZ produce a journal The Australasian Journal of Popular Culture the most recent edition of which includes articles by Toni Risson, Carmel Cedro, Lorna Piatti-Farnell and Lindsay Neill as per the above as well as papers on The Bushells tea advertising1998-2006 (Susie Khamis), the early days of coffee culture in Australia (Jill Adams) and royal wedding cakes (Adele Wessell). You can find out more about the association and the journal here.

I chose this month's illustration because it seemed to fit in with a general theme of cake and afternoon tea and perhaps even lunch. So first up here is a link to an article about a new exhibition at New York Public Library (why wasn't this on earlier in the year) which is all about Lunch. And here is another from Nicola at Edible Geography which fits in with all the talk above about cake and icing. With Dione Lucas and Maria Kozslik Donovan in mind you might also be interested in this article about another forgotten woman and her recipe book.

Month in Revue - May 2012

Both May and now June were busy months with many distractions. Nonetheless I did have a plan for what I would have written at the end of May, so here it is.
I thought this month we should concentrate on people.
For some time now I have tried to convince myself that my life will only be complete when I have either a Kenwood Chef or a Kitchenaid mixer in my kitchen. There are two reasons why I don't have either -
1.  I can't make up my mind which of the two would make my life completest and
2.  I have a perfectly decent Sunbeam mixmaster which was given to me as a wedding present along with the juicer and blender attachments and hasn't missed a beat (if I can use that term) ever and has been part of my life for so long that it is part of the family. I could not in all conscience cast it aside for a younger, showier model.
What I did not know was the the Kenwood Chef was in fact the invention of a Mr. Ken Wood who went on to become very rich. Read about Mr. Wood here and about an exhibtion to honour the mighty mixer here.

Not only was I less than well informed about the origins of the Kenwood I also didn't know very much about Mr. Craig Claiborne other than that he was an American and his name seemed to get dropped a lot by food people. A book entitled The man who changed the way we eat: Craig Claiborne and the American Food Renaissance by Thomas Mcnamee sounds worth reading to fill in what appears to be a huge gap in my knowledge. Two reviews here and here give a clue to the influence Claiborne had on the American, and international, food scene.

I mentioned Mario Batalli last month but here he is again in a piece which is a though provoking contrast to the articles on Claiborne. And while we are on a roll with clebrity chefs here is a piece by Mark Bittman on Thomas Keller and the influence of Fernand Point. Fernand Point was born in 1897 and died in 1955 and trained chefs with whom we are perhaps more familiar today - Paul Bocuse, Alain Chapel and the Troisgros brothers for example, chefs who went on to promote French cooking in the '70s. Point was not a celebrity chef as we understand that term today and he didn't leave behind a shelf of his recipe books but he is known for his aphorisms, his rules which guided his cooking. Gay Bilson in Plenty. Digressions on Food  includes a chapter where she translates some of these and updates them and they make fascinating reading if you can get your hands on a copy of Bilson's book.
I especiallly like
'A cook who thinks every action makes him a great chef is like a man who repaints his garden gate and thinks he is an artist'
and I like his distrust of anyone who is thin
'The first time I dine at a restaurat, I always shake hands with the chef before I order. I know that if he is thin I will eat badly. If he is not only thin but unhappy, I flee.'
'Before judging a thin person, however, one must ask about his past: he may once have been fat.'

And to end on another food writer about whom I was almost totally ignorant, I was interested in Mark Bittman's piece on Colin Spencer (here), described by none other than our Germaine as 'the greatest living food writer'.

Month In Review - April 2012

Although I hadn't planned to have a theme for each month for want of any better idea this month will have a New York flavour.

Since as always I can't resist a bit of a mix of food and history I should first recommend Mark Kurlansky's The Big Oyster. A Molluscular History of New York. This book provides a very readable history of the city from its earliest European settlement, some interesting oyster recipes and a very good bibliography for further investigation.

One of the new attractions in New York is the High Line Park a disused raised freight line which has been turned into an elevated park land. The High Line sits 30 feet above street level and runs through three now quite trendy areas - the Meat Packing District, West Chelsea and into the southern section of Hell's Kitchen. A street level railway had run through this part of town from 1847 but by the late 20's there was so much traffic in the area, bringing goods to and from the slaughterhouses, meat packing houses, factories and warehouses and the docks on the Hudson River, and so many accidents between trains and other street level traffic that it was decided something had to be done to make the situation less dangerous. Hence the West Side Improvement Project of which the High Line was a part. The first trains ran on the line in 1934 and took freight directly into some of the buildings including the huge National Biscuit Company complex (home of the Oreo) part of which now houses the Chelsea Market. Partly demolished in the 1960's the last train ran on the remains of the line in 1980. Concerted and determined efforts saw what was left eventually transformed into public space - the first section of the park opened in 2009 and a further section opened in June 2011.
A walk along the High Line offers an interesting perspective not only on the New York of today - you get up close to the only Frank Gehry building in New York as well as great views of other modern buildings and the vast housing projects in this part of town, and on a good day you can see right up along the river to the theatre district - but also an insight into the city's history - what must it have smelt like, looked like, sounded like when this really was the meat packing district and Nabisco were churning out Oreos?
For more information on the High Line see here and for the history of the National Biscuit Company in New York see here. And for some of the modern antics on the High Line see here for an art event with a food theme.


The Meat Packing District is home to many restaurants of one sort or another including Del Posto which is a very posh Italian restaurant (you know it's posh because they even give your hand bag a footstool to sit on) across the road from the Chelsea Market in the bottom of what was once also part of the biscuit factory complex. Posh or not they offer a $39 lunch which is sensational. The most memorable course was dessert - Sfera di Caprino ie. spheres of goat's cheese rolled in salty, sweet, crispy, crunchy bread crumbs and served with shaved celery, fig agrodolce and celery sorbetta. For someone who would not normally give celery very much plate space this was a revelation.

This photograph of Sfera di Caprino is from the Serious Eats review which you can read here.
Mario Batalli, one of the people behind Del Posto,  is quite a celebrity (see here for example and for his own site see here) and has a finger in more restaurants than I can remember. He is also involved with Eataly an enormous market hall cum eatery, 'the largest artisanal Italian food and wine marketplace in the world', which almost defies description. Best to go and have a look at their web site here. Like Del Posto, this is a multi-million dollar fit out of an old building in this case the Toy Building, once the home of the annual American International Toy Fair. The building, situated right at the Flat Iron Building and Madison Square Park, has an interesting history which you can read about here,  With 50,000 square feet of floor space devoted to everything Italian, well everything Italian you can eat, you could probably spend all day at Eataly - they certainly cater for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It's all a bit over the top but oh so tempting and the only time I have seen anyone shaping balls of fresh mozzarella outside a cheese factory.

There is more to New York than food. The Cathedral Church of St John the Divine is one of the non-food sights of New York so  an excuse for this article about fabric conservation there.

Think New York and you think The New York Times and The New Yorker - well I do anyway.
So from the Times  an article by Mark Bittman on Wendell Berry (here) American academic, writer and farmer , advocate of the simple life and traditional values of fidelity, frugality, respect for one another and the land. To find out more about him and to read his 2012 Jefferson Lecture ('It All Turns on Affection') see here.
And finally from The New Yorker an article by Daniel Mendelsohn  on the myth of the Titanic to mark the anniversary of its demise.

Month in Review - March 2012

According to Gretchen A. Hirschauer and Catherine A. Metzger in Louis Meléndez, Master of the Spanish Still Life  (Yale University Press, 2009) this painting combines several of Meléndez favourite props. The wine cooler appears in at least ten other compositions, the large spoon, the basket, the kitchen cloth and the ceramic bowl with the iron lid all appear elsewhere.  Apparently only the group of three spoons in the plate on the left is unique. Even the melon turns up again in Still Life with Melon, Jug, and Bread. But what a magnificent melon!
The inclusion of this painting here is for no other reason than I thought some sort of illustration was long over due.

This month there is no particular theme, just a collection of interesting bits and pieces.
In February the Australian Government published Foodmap:An analysis of the Australian food supply chain. The aim of this study is 'to identify the scope for improved performance of the food industry in the face of changes in consumer preferences, pressures from the global food market and the strategic responses of major food sector participants'. The report, full of graphs and tables, makes for interesting if not inspirational reading. It will perhaps come as no surprise to learn that supermarkets account for 63% of household food expenditure of which 80% is controlled by Coles and Woolworths. Nor is it any surprise that the private label brands share of grocery categories has increased dramatically since 2002 and most of the brands we buy in the supermarket are foreign owned. Pasta and margarine are the only two categories where the brands are more than 70% Australian owned, and you can add to them bread, rice and smallgoods for those categories more than 50% Australian owned. Biscuits, canned fruit, cheese, canned fish, fresh dairy, frozen vegetables, milk and sugar are all less than 10% Australian owned.
The good news is that the report concludes that Australia has relatively high food security. That is  food security,as defined by the FAO - 'a situation that exists when all people, at all times, have physical, social and economic access to significant, safe and nutritious food that meets their dietary needs and food preferences for an active and healthy life'. 
So the devil is in the detail somewhere - but perhaps not in this report.

Because I like my food with a bit of history here are two links to the past - How tea was picked in the late nineteenth century here and Salvador Dali and friends dining at a 'Night in a Surrealist Forest' here.

There is also another new journal, the 'International Journal of Gastronomy and Food Science', the first issue of which includes an article by our very own Neil Perry on dry aging beef. This isn't exactly light, bedtime reading but might be worth keeping an eye on in future. And another new and rather more scientific journal is 'Flavour' which you can look at here.

On the subject of reading, Claudia Roden has a new book out on the food of Spain - see here. You can read a recent interview  here and a much longer and very interesting piece by Jane Kramer for The New Yorker here.

Finally, some links on my special topic, eating out -
on taking photographs in restaurants here
on eating in the restaurant where you work here
on Mietta O'Donnell here
and finally this on what might be the newest trend in fast food.

And before I forget, the 19th Symposium of Australian Gastronomy will be held in Sydney over Easter 2013 (29th March to 1st April) and the theme will be 'The Welcoming Table'.

Mobile Food

My last post elicited a number of anonymous impassioned comments taking me to task on my review of Alain Ducasse's Nature. I have chosen not to publish those comments here because I think they would be best read in the context of the complete review. So for a different take on M. Ducasse's book please have a look at what Nikki has to say here where you can also scroll up and read my thoughts.
And while you are over at The Gastronomer's Bookshelf have a look at my latest offering, a review of Anissa Helou's Mediterranean Street Food (here). I've mentioned her blog before where she often discusses something unusual, like a recent post on Middle Eastern sheep and their fat tails (here). One of the things I like about Mediterranean Street Food is the way it celebrates the exuberance of street life and those cultures where the preparation of food, and the sight and smell of food are a not just part of the everyday but very much part of the public domain.

Ready to go in Jame' el Fna, Marrakesh

 Snack time near the spice market in old Delhi.

For the outsider though street food carries with it that hint of danger and the prospect of holiday disaster. I have to admit that we weren't game enough to actually eat any of the food in either of the situations photographed above although we came under a lot of pressure to do so. And I am sure this is not the sort of thing that  is intended when the food trucks finally roll out on the streets of Sydney.

The concept of mobile food is not new although the food truck idea might be the latest trend. Horse-drawn tamale carts worked the streets of Los Angeles more than a century ago. New York City has long had its share of mobile food -for ice cream and hot dog carts see Edible Geography here  and for the results of last year's annual awards for street food see here.

 India is perhaps one of the most exciting places for food let alone street food. For some fabulous photos of  'bicycle based commerce' in Mumbai here and for the top ten places to eat on the street, also in Mumbai see here.

Even Paris has caught the food truck bug with the delightfully named 'Le camion qui fume' which you can read about in French here or in English, albeit with an American slant, here.

Last time I mentioned the French post office style bread box which seems like a very good idea. The cupcake ATM however (which you can read about here) does not have the same appeal.

Month in Review - February 2012 .

There has been a bit of a French theme this month - by coincidence rather than by design.
First up there was my encounter with Alain Ducasse, well with his book  Nature. Simple, healthy and good which I reviewed for The Gastronomer's Bookshelf (here). I didn't know much about M. Ducasse but there was something about this book that made me think he was trying, perhaps a bit too hard, to be sort of modern and with it, to be more one of us rather than a super chef. It's all a bit cutesy and clever and somehow doesn't manage to get away from being, well for want of a better description, very French. For one thing I suspect he has shares in a company producing Piment d'Espelette (his seasoning du jour). Can you imagine going to your local green grocer and having a choice of different varieties of turnip? Still not to bother because I won't be cooking up 'Poached foie gras with turnips' any time soon. And I am forever going to wonder whether a pumpkin gratin tastes better made with a Queensland Blue or a Muscade de Provence or a Courge Longue de Nice  or even a humble potimarron.
M. Ducasse deserved a better editor and/or a more thorough translation to make this book both more appealing and more user friendly but what struck me more than anything was the implication that there was something new or revolutionary about his approach to food

Plenty of fruit and vegetables, raw and cooked, cereals, preferably wholegrain, a little meat or fish, and all cooked in olive oil. That's the basis of my cuisine and of the recipes in this book

Is it just that M. Ducasse isn't normally associated with the sort of food you and I might cook at home or is this enthusiasm for simple, healthy food meant to come as a surprise to the French? I'm still not really sure of the answer to that question but it did send me off on a quest for more information.

Which meant that I finally got around to reading Michael Steinberger's Au Revoir to All That. The Rise and Fall of French Cuisine. According to the blurb Marco Pierre White considers this 'one of the greatest books I've read' which perhaps says something about the amount of time Mr. White spends reading. This is not a great book - no book which includes a sentence which begins 'One hundred years later, it was déjà vu all over again,' could ever be called great - but it is a jaunty journey through French culinary history and the political, economic and social issues which have contributed/are contributing to the current malaise in France in general and French cuisine in particular, and he devotes a whole chapter to Alain Ducasse. Hot on the heels of Skye Gyngell's decision to throw in the towel at Petersham Nursery now that she has earned a Michelin star Steinberger's stories about the scandalous influence of the Michelin Guide made for very interesting reading.
If nothing else Au Revoir to All That gave me a clearer appreciation of the influence of the French and the changes in the restaurant business over the last twenty years or so and I would recommend it as an easy and sobering read especially for those of us far enough away to be pretty well insulated from the nuances of European life.
Depressed by the news that la malbouffe has been not so much warmly welcomed as enthusiastically embraced by the French (France is McDonald's second most profitable market and their latest promotion sees hamburgers served on a baguette and topped with POD (that is Protected Designation of Origin) cheeses such as Cantal) it was another cruel blow to read about the French bread crisis! But all is not entirely lost. This little piece (here) about an entrepreneurial French baker bringing fresh bread back to the village suggests that there is some hope for  the future.

I also have to thank Mr Steinberger for introducing me to a new word - zaftig. This looks for all the world like one of those desperate combinations you come up with in Scrabble and then reject because it seems so unlikely, but  no, it is in fact an adjective which describes women who have a full figure -and as such should be used with some care.

Month in Review - January 2012

It hardly seems possible that the first month of the year is over - and with precious little to show for it. When not hacking away at the garden with a machete (so much rain, so much greenery, so little of anything else - tomatoes taking weeks to even turn pink and then being picked off by the possums, eggplants staunchly refusing to do anything much more than look attractive, and who knew that possums also have a liking for broccoli?) I have had my head buried in old recipe books by the likes of Harriet Wicken and Amy Schauer. Never much of a cake maker I am more than happy not to have had to follow recipes which call for the amount of baking powder you can fit on to a sixpence and give no information at all about tin sizes but do suggest you beat the mixture for 20 minutes! Even my poor old Sunbeam Mixmaster would draw the line at beating for 20 minutes. Authors like Wicken were big on advice and short on the sort of precision to which we have become accustomed. I hope I never need to remember this but you might like to know that you can check the oven temperature by placing a piece of paper in the hot oven for three minutes and then investigating what colour it has turned - if dark yellow the oven is hot enough for large cakes, light yellow and you are ready for small cakes.

Australia Day always generates some press about our lack of a national cuisine.  Coles supermarkets took on the challenge this year and rose to the opportunity to, and I quote from The Sydney Morning Herald, 'turn our jingoism into the jingling of coins in the till'. Among other things they managed to persuade Masterfoods to package tomato sauce in blue plastic bottles (instead of the usual red) and talk Arnott's into producing Australia-shaped biscuits (but not, of course, Tasmania shaped biscuits).
For a glimpse of what a visiting American foodie had to say about Australia Day see here.  And for a laugh from Sam Kekovich if you haven't already you should have a look at his "Barbie Girl" video with lines like 'be my mate while the chops marinate' and 'marination leads to salivation' and his rant as Lambassador where he complains that a 'lack of lamb has led to a littany of lamentable behaviour'. Both videos are here at his official web site and the 'Barbie Girl' is also here.

Ever since seeing 'Jesus Almagro and the Golden Bocuse' (which you can read about here) I have had a fascination with the Bocuse d'Or competition (I wrote about it again here too) so I was pleased to see that the Americans are back in the race for the event next year. You can read about the USA finals here. The Australian bid, if there is one, doesn't seem to get anything like the same amount of attention, which is perhaps not altogether a bad thing.