Roasted chicken breast with corn, potatoes and green garlic sauce

My ugliest habit in this world is talking over people. More specifically, finishing sentences for people that are perfectly capable of wrapping it up for themselves.

The worst thing is, 99% of the time I get it totally wrong. Like, radically wrong. "So I went out on the weekend and bumped into my friend from school. She told me she's...." I jump in: "Pregnant and has cancer and is deciding whether to have chemo because it's risky for the baby?" (All my guesses are Steph Scully storylines from Neighbours). "No, she's starting a new job on Monday". Oh. Right. Sorry.

Most people are pretty patient with me in this regard. But to be totally honest, I wouldn't blame them for getting a bit ticked off. I'm displaying total impatience for people just trying to finish their thought, and total arrogance to think I am soooo insightful I can glean every piece of information they were hoping to express from the first three words of a sentence. Like I said, pretty ugly.

My second ugliest habit is being fairly inflexible when it comes to cooking techniques. I remember have a conversation with my buddies Nellie and Nadia. Nell and I were saying we thought chicken thighs were the best eating, but Nadia insisted a quick pan fry and bake for a chicken breast was the bee's knees. "Hurumph! Outrageous! Never!" was my response. (Now I've morphed from Steph Scully into Harold Bishop. And over cuts of chicken.)

I now have to eat my words. And my chicken breast. These babies were out of this world. I picked them up at the Coburg Farmers Market one fine Saturday morning from a mob out in Mirboo North (in Gippsland). It was their first pass at the market in Coburg, and I'm pretty glad they took the leap. This was some seriously good chicken - moist and tender, but a beautiful deep chicken flavour that you just cannot get in a supermarket bird.

Right nextdoor to the chicken stall were some fabulous looking veg. One pile caught my eye. Long, grassy, green stems attached to slim white and purple bulbs. I thought I'd seen these on some food blogs from the States. Ramps, maybe? I asked the friendly chap across the table and he advised they are similar to ramps, but really, they're just young garlic. They hadn't formed bulbs yet and were still quite sweet. You could simply chop them raw (but pretty finely) in salads. I chose to roast them instead and make a brilliant green sauce from the full plant. There'd be no smooching in our house that night.

I haven't totally overcome my interrupting habit. I'm working on it though. This weekend, I listened to an old man tell a story about his family and it went for at least 5 minutes and I didn't say a word. The intolerance for alternative cooking techniques? Well, today I told Matt he was stirring the pot of bolognaise wrong. Seriously guys. He was stirring. There's not that much that can go wrong. Let's just say I'm a work in progress.

Ingredients

2 chicken breasts
1/4 cup olive oil
2 tbsp duck fat
3 nicola potatoes
3 corn cobs
2 stems of green garlic
1/2 bunch parsley
1/2 bunch coriander
1/2 bunch mint
1 lemon
1/2 tsp salt
freshly ground black pepper
1/3 cup olive oil

Preheat oven to 200ºC. Scrub and wash potatoes well to remove all dirt on the skins. Chop into even sized pieces, around 2cm square. Add to a roasting pan with the corn cobs and green garlic. Roast for around 45 minutes, or until crispy and golden.

In the meantime, season chicken breasts and rub with a little olive oil. Heat the first quantity of olive oil in a heavy based pan and add the chicken breasts, skin side down. Cook on each side until a deep golden brown in colour. Add to cook for around 10 minutes in the oven, on top of the potatoes and corn. Remove and rest for around 10 minutes in a warm spot.

To make the green garlic sauce, remove the green garlic from the oven around 20 minutes before the potatoes and chop roughly. Add to the food processor with the remaining ingredients and blend until roughly combined and saucey-like.

To serve, remove kernels from the corn cobs and mix with the potatoes. Slice the chicken in 1cm thick slices and fan over the top of the potatoes and corn on a plate. Top with a drizzle of the green garlic sauce.

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.

Corn and barley risotto with quick grilled chicken

They call me Thrifty Bennetto. Correction. They almost never call me Thrifty Bennetto. Even if my friends came up with such lame nicknames, it would be one of those ironic ones, like when they call a fat guy Tiny. Apologies to all the Tinies of this world that are now just realising where that one originated. You'll live.

I've mentioned before that Matt is endlessly throwing out leftovers from our fridge because I cannot bear to eat the same thing twice. I'm a work in progress in that regard (and many others). I have taken to refashioning leftovers to create a whole new dish. To be honest, it's a pretty great test of my creativity, because the main ingredients are already chosen.

The creamed corn was whipped up for our engagement party when I was making the chicken and corn wonton tartlets. It was pretty sublime in that dish, so I knew I needed to give that corn the send off it deserved. Yes, I was sending that vegetable to food heaven: my belly. It's where every cob dreams of ending up.

Chicken with forty cloves of garlic

I was fortunate enough to be selected for a crazy week-long retreat at work late last year. Normally, I hear the words "work retreat" and start shivering with cynicism. I hate the touchy feely crap and can't stand networking. My beautiful friend Melanie had possibly the worst experience at one event. She was stuck with women she didn't really gel with and had completely run out of questions for a totally bland companion. "Emma", she told me, "I asked her if she liked sports. Sports, Emma."

I went and was surprised. It was amazing. I was challenged physically, emotionally, professionally. There was one aspect I don't think I'll ever forget. We made the trek out to a gorgeous wooded area. The trees were tall and connected by a series of ropes. This did not bode well for someone with a deathly fear of heights.

Panfried chicken with capers and sage

So it was my Mumsy's special day on the weekend. I know you all think you have the best Mum in the world, but you'd be wrong. Who's Mum spends the weekend with you at the beach and indulges in your secret desire to ride a giant lawnmower? Mine, that's who.

I made the trek to Portarlington this weekend to hang out with my Mumsy. A bunch of beautiful flowers and a basket of goodies in hand, I was ready to head off. Until I noticed a seemingly flat tire on the car. Freaking out, I drove to a series of friends' houses for help, all of whom were out. Eventually I ended up at a servo and asked a kind gentleman if, in his opinion, my tire was flat.

Chicken ribs with lemony pea puree

So Matt and I have finally decided the month to hold our engagement party: June. Seriously, this party is more complex than the wedding itself. I've almost planned a menu and today, you get to see the fruits/ribs of my labour.

This is one addition that Matty can get behind. Fried chicken. I whipped these up one Saturday afternoon. They were arranged artfully on the bamboo platter, designed to be nibbled on over a glass of bubbles, a cute napkin in hand. Sexy fried food doesn't happen too often, but I thought I'd nailed the genre.

Then we tried one. So good. Maybe too good. We stood over the platter, shovelling ribs and purée into our gobs as like we hadn't eaten for months. Dead unsexy.

These ribs are an absolute cinch to make. The most complex part is frenching the rib. Before you start making out with a piece of chicken, frenching is a culinary term used to describe the trimming of a bone. I'm not making this any less erotic, am I?

The pea purée is a gorgeous, simple dip for the ribs. It takes a little over 4 minutes to whip up - all while the chicken is frying. Make sure you taste the dip before serving - it needs plenty of lemon juice to elevate it from baby food to sexy, sexy purée.

It takes a lot to get included on my engagement party menu. The delicate balance is hard to achieve: easy to eat standing up, simple to whip up in minutes but still visually appealing. Being delicious goes unsaid.

So my problem with my engagement party menu? I have almost nothing vegetarian. That would be OK, but my meat dishes are exceptionally meaty. I will never want for protein in this lifetime. Every restaurant or bar we visit, I'm scoping out veggie based dishes, but each time I spy a good one I think to myself "Oh, this would be awesome with bacon". But then, really, what would be improved with bacon? And, ladies and gentlemen, that's about as philosophical as I get.

Ingredients

20 chicken ribs
1/2 cup cornflour
3 tbsp chilli powder (or your favourite spice mix)
2 cups peas
1/4 cup water
2 tbsp olive oil
grated rind of 1/2 lemon
Juice from 1 lemon

Take a small sharp knife and trim one end of the chicken ribs to about half way up the bone.

Heat the oil over a high heat. Drop a cube of bread in - the oil is hot enough if it sizzles and brown in 20 seconds.

Combine the flour and spice mix. Season as required. Coat the chicken ribs in the flour mixture. Drop the ribs in the hot oil and fry until golden brown. Drain on a baking rack.

To make the pea purée, bring a small saucepan of water to the boil and and the peas. Boil for around 2 minutes, drain and rinse in cold water until the peas are cold. Add to the bowl if a food processor with the rind, juice, water, oil, salt and pepper. Blend briefly until combined but still chunky.

To serve, spread the pea purée over your platter. Place ribs on top and squeeze some lemon juice over the top.

A sniffly soup

This morning I woke at 4am. Blocked schnoz, dry throat and dodgy tummy. Fun fun fun! The day before I'd ridden to work sans gloves. It felt as though someone was driving pins into my fingers. I'm going to blame that because my constitution is a bit like a delicate flower - a slight breeze and I'm wilting, pleading for my smelling salts.

I lay in bed grumbling for an hour or two (that Matt, he's such a lucky guy to end up with a gal like me!) and decided work was not going to happen. I'm that person who chastises sick people for coming to work, spreading their nasties around the office. It probably wouldn't be cool for me to do the same.

Wonton tarts with corn, chicken and celery

I'm marrying a man with a taste for the cuisine of the 1970s. Chicken kievs, apricot chicken and spag bol are all among his favourites. I've never seen him so excited as the night a friend suggested he combine his two besties and make apricot chicken kiev. He couldn't whip the french onion soup out of the pantry quick enough. That dish was a bit of a letdown (garlic butter leeching into the apricot sauce may have had something to do with it) but it hasn't quenched his thirst (hunger?) for all things retro.

Recently on a lazy night of no cooking enthusiasm, Matty and I visited our local Chinese restaurant for a quick, cheap meal. I spied chicken and sweet corn soup on the menu and decided that I too would venture into the retro zone. It was just as good as I remembered - sweet, gelatinous and as hot as the fires of hell.

Chicken and sage sausage rolls

By the end of this week, you'll be full to the brim of recipes for your football shenanigans. You'll also have more than one use for pork fat pastry, because today, you get a second run at it with these tasty little treats.

Chicken and sage are a pretty brilliant combination. Even better when you add a little something-something with... pork fat! Yep, more animal fats. More clogged arteries. More deliciousness. Can't say I don't push the fatty boundaries.

But seriously, just mincing up chicken will surely lead to Dry-Town Chicken Mince, population: You. It needs more moisture than chicken fat alone can deliver, so the pork fat is just providing a little bit of a helping hand. A nudge in a tasty direction. Nothing bad can come of this.

Rice paper rolls

It's arrived! It's arrived! Melbourne, your cool change has hit and we're all on speaking terms with Mother Nature again. I can use my kitchen, ride my bike, walk at lunchtime. I can go to bed not dreading another night tossing and turning. It's cooled down (chilly even) and we're all walking around with foolish grins on our faces.

When it's as crazy hot as it has been and for as long as it has been, no one feels like lighting an oven. We fired up the barbie and grilled some chicken and steaks (though I realise in hindsight I shouldn't have even done that, being a total fire ban and all). Rice paper rolls are my hot night go to dish of summer - they're refreshing and cooling but you still get to knock up a nice meal (and I don't mean get it pregnant).

Fried chicken fiesta

I'm not sure what the Bureau of Meteorology says, but it feels like it's been over 30 degrees for the 30 days straight (if we were a fancy restaurant, we'd be called 30'30' humans or something). With no aircon and 1970's insulation (ie. none) our flat has a tendency to become something of a hotbox. It's not fun to cook inside these days, so we've been barbecuing our little hearts out recently. So you can imagine how it felt to stand over some sizzling hot oil on a particularly scorching day. To say my forehead was a little shiny would be something of an understatement.

I knew I wanted to do a fried chicken cook up for our friends, but to be honest I hadn't mastered a recipe. No matter - I found some good sources round the traps who knew a thing or two about chicken of the fried variety. Matt Wilkinson, from this post, recommended soaking in buttermilk and mustard. I can't deny he's onto a winner there. He also suggested a quick dredge in breadcrumbs or flour and frying. I went with flour, because another learned meat man, our lovely butcher from Skinner and Hackett, had kindly passed on a chicken spice rub from Peter Watson. It was a cracker when paired with flour, salt and pepper.

My latest purchase: Mr Wilkinson's Favourite Vegetables

Matty is an avid reader. If we had his books alone, they'd fill a pretty decent bookshelf. He'll read a book a week, but is generally pretty good at passing them on when he's done. Sharing the literary love. The real problem is my complete inability to say no to a cookbook. I don't hear voices in my head, it's more that the cookbooks grow legs and jump into my hands, take out my credit card and pay for the purchase. They even know my PIN for heaven's sakes!

There was no buyer's remorse with this one. Mr Wilkinson's Favourite Vegetables has actual recipes you'd reasonably believe you can cook and won't stuff up. They're also interesting and creative without being naff. It's one of those cookbooks you open and instantly feel a connection to the dishes: approachable but impressive.

Tabouleh, white bean dip and grilled chicken

I feel like a broken record. After a weekend of indulgence, I need clean food. I'm trying my hardest to keep it simple over the weekend, but I normally take simple to mean butter, flour and eggs with some kind of fruity/chocolate/sugary flavour profile. I don't do healthy well.

Chilli Jam and chilli chicken stir fry

Before I moved to Melbourne, my style of cooking was fairly simple. Little spice, old classics and no deviation from the recipe. Nothing wrong with that approach, mind you. You've got to get the basics right before you start gussying up dishes. I made lasagne, bucatini amatriciana, stir fries and enough sponge cakes to sink a ship (a small ship - a dinghy maybe - but a ship all the same). My Mum showed me the kitchen ropes and I hit the ground running.