Kale, cheddar and streaky bacon omelette

I wish I could come up with a witty story for you this fine day. But I'm flat broke, imagination-wise. Sucked dry, devoid of all frivolity in my fun-tal cortex. "Why?" I hear you ask. All weekend, my wakeup time has been 5.30am and my brain has been slowing going into meltdown.

5.30 is OK when you hit the hay at a reasonable hour. But I try to extend my bedtime a little later to trick my body into waking slightly later. But alas, my brain is clinging to a time before sunrise. I don't even have to look at my clock now - I know it's stupid o'clock when my eyes open.

So I've been rolling out of bed at this crazy time and hitting the road for a run. Either that or squatting up a storm with some kettle bell swings. Did I ever tell you about my experience in Rebel Sport? I was new to this whole fitness caper and was in search of some equipment. "Do you have kettle balls?" I asked the young salesperson. He quite rightly looked at me like I'd said something reasonably obscene. "Aaahhhhh, over on the far wall you'll find the kettle bells I think you're after." I slunk off and refused to make eye contact with anyone else in the store.

After I've returned from sweating it up, sleepy-style, I've normally got a crazy hunger on. Given my wake time is so early, I've got a bit of time to whip up a cooked breakfast and take the time to enjoy it over a short black. Omelette is my go-to breakfast. Up with protein! Down with carbs! Well, at breakfast time, anyway.

This is a little more indulgent than I'd have on a weekday. I'm a egg-white kinda gal, and don't usually include the cheddar. But now that I have partaken in this delight, it'll be hard to go back to a leaner, meaner version of this dish. There's the salt from the cheese, the sharp bite of the kale and richness the eggs deliver. Smoky salt seals the deal.

So I'm done for today. It's hay time and I've barely lifte a finger. That's a lie. I made an omelette. Time to take a well-earned nap. Toodle-pip!

Ingredients

2 eggs
2 tbsp cheddar cheese, grated
1 cup finely sliced kale
2 rashers streaky bacon, thinly sliced
1 tbsp olive oil
smoked salt flakes

In a stainless steel pan, heat half the olive oil over medium heat. Saute the bacon for 2 minutes, then add the kale. Cook for 5 minutes or so, stirring regularly until the kale is wilted and slightly crispy. Keep warm on a plate

Crack the eggs into a bowl and whisk until combined. Heat the remaining olive oil in the pan and add the eggs. Cook over medium heat until the eggs are set. Sprinkle over the cheese and some cracked black pepper. Over one half, add the kale and bacon, as well as a sprinkle of salt. Carefully loosen the egg from the pan and fold the bare half over to cover the kale. Slide carefully onto your plate and enjoy!

Baked cheesecake with chocolate sauce and poached pear

We lived across the road from a lake in our early childhood. Any opportunity and we were in the water, flicking mud in each other's eyes and painting "dork" on our sister's back in sunscreen. OK, so maybe that was Police Academy, but we did spend far too long in that lake.

Mum spent a lot of her time bribing us to get our homework done or keep up with our chores. Ha! Chores! I make it sound like we were four little chimney-sweeps, toiling away in the hot Mallee sun with cardboard sandals and newspaper for bedsheets. Really all we had to do was pick up our clothes and do the dishes every so often. Do you think we could wrap our feeble brains around that?

So the bribes that worked in our house were pretty simple: television, food or the lake. No swims until all homework was done. That way if Mark was faffing about with his Matchbox cars, he knew he'd cop it from the rest of us for lake-blocking (a more age-appropriate and less sexy version of cock-blocking). No dessert until your dinner plate was clean, which instilled a healthy appetite (read: crazy overeating) from that point on. And of course, no telly until the dishes are done. Pretty effective, that one.

So I've pulled a few tricks from the Pauline Bennetto Playbook of Discipline and Motivation. I knew we had a big couple of days at work and needed something to get the team going, and reward them for their hard work. The team nominated cheesecake as their motivator of choice. Bless their cotton socks.

I raced home Wednesday night and whipped up this treat for the guys. It took most of the night but wasn't really too much of an effort. All the effort was expended getting it to work. First up it was hanging in a plastic bag from my handlebars. It sailed through the air and was kicked a few times by my nobbly knees. I ended up balancing it on top of my basket around 6km to work before disaster struck.

I told the story to my colleagues: "Gee, I feel like I've lost loads of weight, I can feel the road beneath my seat." I look down and realise my back tire is flat. Still plenty of padding on my backside, though.

Once I served up the cheesecake, I made the demand. No cake until at least one piece of work was completed by each person. I can't say I was disappointed when they each chose the simplest pieces of work and knocked them over in 5 minutes. Very Bennetto-esque indeed.

Ingredients

200g butter
100g caster sugar
1 egg yolk
1 tbsp cream
250g flour

500g cream cheese
200g sugar
1 tbsp cornflour
3 eggs
juice of half a lemon
1/2 tsp vanilla paste
400g sour cream

1 green pear
1 stick cinnamon
2 star anise
1 cup sugar
2 cups water

1 cup chocolate pieces
1/2 cup cream
2 tbsp glucose
2 tbsp caster sugar

To make the pastry base, preheat the oven to 180ºC. Place the butter and sugar into the bowl of a food processor. Pulse until combined well and add the egg yolk and cream. Mix until the yolk is incorporated and add the flour. Pulse briefly until just combined. Turn out onto a floured bench. Knead briefly to bring together. Roll until around 4mm thick. Cut around the base of a springform pan and roll across. Bake for around 10-15 minutes or until golden brown.

To make the cheese filling, reduce the heat in the oven to 170ºC. Mix the cream cheese and sugar on high until light and creamy. Add the cornflour and mix again until combined. Add the eggs one at a time until each is incorporated well. Add the lemon juice and vanilla and mix briefly. Add the sour cream and whip until combined. Pour into the springform pan on top of the pastry base and bake for around 1 hour or until just wobbly in the centre. Turn off oven and leave for around 30 minutes.

To poach the pear, combine the cinnamon, sugar, water and star anise in a saucepan and bring to the boil. Add the pear and cover with lid. Poach for around 20 minutes or until pear is cooked through.

To make the chocolate sauce, combine all the remaining ingredients in a saucepan. Cook over a low heat, stirring regularly. Sauce is complete when chocolate has just melted.

To serve, remove the cheesecake from the springform pan. Top with lukewarm chocolate sauce and sliver of poached pear.

Smoked chicken, cheddar and salsa verde sandwich

We used to have sandwiches in our lunch boxes every day at school. Vegemite when we were tiny, then, as a sign of our growing maturity, ham and salad when we moved to secondary school. White bread, margarine, sliced on the diagonal, wrapped in glad wrap. Sandwiches day in, day out.

There are no complaints here - it was a relatively healthy meal and it was kind of dependable. If everything was going wrong in your nine year old life (long division sucked and they'd run out of cheese popcorn in the canteen), you knew you'd be able to reach into your blue plastic lunch carrier and unwrap some of the salty black tar in between two white slices. Strange thing to look forward to, but I've never claimed to be the most normal child.

Every morning, we'd get dressed and the four of us would rush frantically out the door to chase the school bus down the road. On our way out, we'd grab our lunchbox from the bench and scoot. Paul's little lunchbox was blue. So was the container Mum used to keep the cheese.

Leek, capsicum and goats cheese tart

Very recently, some special little babies were born. Two couples, super cool. It wasn't Kim Kardashian (if you thought I would describe her as super cool, I think you've found yourself in the wrong blogtown). And it wasn't Waity Katey (which, by the way, has to be one of the most sexist, patronising "nicknames" the press has ever given a woman, Julia Gillard excluded). Our buddies (two of 'em!) had beautiful little baby boys recently and I couldn't be more smitten with them.

They are both perfect little dudes. That milky beautiful skin, little squeaky noises and the teeny, tiniest fingernails. Fingernails! Gah! Cluck, cluck.

When the first little on came along, I might have gone a little mad with baking. Lasagne, soup, apple crumble, biscuits, a rice gratin. All freezable, all reheatable. All yummable.

This tart also made it on the list. Unfortunately for them, it did not make it to their house. Matty and I loaded up a basket with food and this one, ahem, didn't fit. I may have failed to mention that it didn't fit because it was already in my belly.

We were hungry. There was a fridge full of food and none of it for eating by us. I rationalised that they probably couldn't freeze it. They might have already eaten. The may not like tarts (yeah, right). Does leek make babies windy? Yep, I think I read that somewhere. There's NO WAY I could feed them this tart. What kind of a friend would do that? Not this one, no siree bob!

They were lucky they didn't get it. It was totally gross. Kinda. Almost. If you ignore the flavour and texture and sweet deliciousness. They really dodged a bullet. A tasty, tasty bullet.

Ingredients

75g butter
180g flour
1 egg yolk
2 tbsp water
pinch salt

1 red capsicum
1/3 cup marinated goats fetta
1 leek
5 eggs
2 tbsp cream
2 tbsp olive oil
salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 220ºC. Put the capsicum in the oven straight on the oven rack. Leave until the skin is black and blistered (could be around 20-30 minutes). Once ready, place in a plastic bag and tie up. This will loosen the skin.

In the bowl of a food processor, combine the flour, salt and butter. Pulse briefly until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Add the egg and water, pulsing again until the mix comes together. Tip the mixture out of the bench, knead a couple of times until it has combined. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate for at least 20 minutes.

Reduce the heat in the oven to 180ºC. Grease a 30cm x 7.5cm tart tin (make sure it has a loose bottom so the tart is easy to remove).

Remove from the pastry from the fridge and roll to fit the tart tin. It should roll to be around 3mm thick. Roll it back up the rolling pin. Unroll into the tart tin. Place the pastry into the freezer for around 15 minutes to firm up.

Wash the leek and slice to 5mm wide slices. Saute in olive oil over a low heat until soft and just beginning to caramelise (around 20 minutes).

Remove the pastry from the fridge. Line with baking paper and fill with baking weights (like rice or dried beans). Bake for around 15 minutes. Remove the paper and beans and bake for a further 10 minutes or until nice and flakey-looking.

Fill the tin with the leeks, and break over the goats cheese. Peel the skin from the capsicum, remove the seeds and rinse briefly. Slice into long strips and add to the tart tin. Whisk the eggs and cream until combined and add to the tart tin. You might have too much liquid - no matter, just make an omelette with the remainder.

Bake in the oven for around 25-30 minutes or until golden on top. Serve with a fresh green salad.

Creamy kipfler potato bake

Some nights you need to climb onto the couch and not move until someone brings you food. That food should be stodge-tastic - comforting right down the the soles of your feet.

Tonight was one of those nights. It's rainy and cold and Matty had punctured the tire on his bike. I hurtled across town to pick him up, the spuds baking away all the while. Oh the anticipation - talk about keeping yourself in suspenders!

We arrived home to this little piece of heaven coming out of the oven. We pared it with a little grilled chicken and some green beans, though I have to admit I barely touched them. The potatoes were so melty and gorgeous. It was one of those situations were you start eating and realise 20 minutes later you've consumed the better part of 500g of potatoes. Uh-huh, like that.

Kipflers are a beaut type of spud for this recipe. They hold their shape well on baking, even in liquid. But one bite and they're soft and luscious inside. They also take on the flavours they're baked in: in this case, a little cheesy, a little creamy, a lot yummy.

My word to the wise? Don't have any grand, productive plans for the remainder of the night. For the same reason you decided on comfort food, you will be completely unable to move after this dish. Pull on your fluffy slippers, queue up your favourite television shows and curl up under a blanket. You won't see the light of day for a little while. Food coma commence...... now!

Ingredients

1 kg kipfler potatoes
250ml cream
250ml chicken stock
1 cup cheddar cheese
1 tsp sweet paprika
1 tbsp mustard
salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 180ºC. Chop each potato to around 4cm square in size.

Heat the cream and chicken stock over a low heat. Once the cream begins to simmer, add the mustard, paprika and cheese. Add the potatoes and seasoning and place into the oven. Bake for around 1 hour or until liquid has reduced and potatoes are soft.

The plate

Have I ever told you about my brother Paul? I'm getting like my Mum, I can't remember if I've told you stories before. Paul's my genius little brother. He basically knows, like, everything. What he doesn't know isn't worth knowing (sorry macrame and needlepoint).

When we were growing up, Paul was like our little ginger doll we all doted over. Except for the times we tortured him. Once, when Mum was busy inside, we convinced Paul to hop into a yabby basket that couldn't have been more than 40cm x 30cm in size. We strung it up on the washing line and left him hanging there, running off to play in the front yard, him screaming in our wake. Now that would be evil enough if the washing line didn't hang over a 2 metre drop. To a three year old boy, that's like a sheer 1,000 metre cliff face. Mum looked at us all a little differently after that day.

Anchovy straws

In my wardrobe, I have a black dress hanging that will never sit on my skin again. It's light and billowy and sits just right on my body. Black's my favourite colour, whether it's a colour or not. This dress, to me, has it all.

Unfortunately, no one else seems to like that dress. Too big, too black, the neckline is all wrong. Isn't it funny how you can look in the mirror and see something entirely different to other people? Well, one day, I wish I had listened to those naysayers. It was my beautiful friends Flemmo and Hester's engagement party. Matt and I made the trek over the other side of town for the event.

The bagel

This is short and sweet, as all good weekend lunches should be. We people need to get out and do things! Smell the roses, walk the dogs, visit our loved ones! Or alternatively, spend it hunched over your camera taking shots of cakes and soups, but with not a skerrick to eat. Enter bagel stage left.

We picked up a couple of bagels from the Coburg Farmers Market on Saturday from (relatively) new bagelers (that's what they're called, right?) Five n Dime. They don't have shopfront as such, but pop up regularly at markets in and around the northern suburbs. I'm no bagel expert, but in my opinionated opinion, these are the cat's pyjamas.

Toasty with the mosty

It's been 36 for the past couple of days in Melbourne. Normal people would have a salad for dinner and call it a day. Not I. I decide I can only manage a sandwich, but get carried away to the point I have the stove on for 30 minutes, heating the house beyond any reasonable person's breaking point.

Normally Melbourne is gorgeous in summer. Sure, it gets hot but a cool change usually sweeps in by 7pm and this Sweaty Betty can have a cool shower and sleep soundly all night long. The last few summers have been an entirely different story. We spend our evenings in front of a pathetic fan, wrestling sheets trying to get cool, slipping in and out of consciousness until the alarm sounds at 6.30am. If you think that sounds a touch dramatic, you'd be right. But you've probably also slept more than two hours straight over the past week, so our levels of acceptable drama are probably not equal right now.