Egg flip fantasy

I've had something of a Pavlov's dog experience with alcohol this year. The last few times I've had a tipple, I've come down with some freaky-deaky illness. 

We're not talking the two day vapors, but 7 days of cold sweats, body aches and weight loss. And not the good kind of weight loss, just pure lean muscle. Thanks illness - so thoughtful!

So you'd understand that since my last bout of craziness, I've laid off the booze completely. Not even a cheeky sip on my own in the dark of night ( or especially?!). It's been so long now I'm starting to get judgemental. I'm just the kinda person to liven up your next party. I'd sit in the corner and sulk, spitting advice at people who don't want or need it. Delightful!

But some things haven't changed in the least. As a part of my egg series recently, I thought I'd whip up an egg flip of fantastic proportions. One to knock Big M off its perch. So calorie-laden it's like we're surgically removing all goodness that ever existed in the egg. And so fiddly you'd almost never choose to make it at home - cos that's the kind of recipe you want to see on a food blog, amirightladies?

How did I know that, deep down, my old-lady-screaming-at-passers-by-surrounded-by-cats-pushing-a-trolley-filled-with-crap alcoholic tendencies still lurked beneath the surface? Because everyone knows a good egg flip has a nip of something strong included. And my pouring arm has not weakened. 

I had a sip of the flip (yep, been trying to work that line into a post for a while now) and it packed serious punch. So much punch my eyes rolled back into my head. I may have started krumping on the spot. But I knew this one had to go down the sink and whip up a new batch. The recipe below is the safe version. Depending on your definition of safe.

Ingredients

2 eggs

1 cup milk

1/4 cup caster sugar

1/4 cup water

1 shot brandy or your poison of choice

1/4 tsp vanilla paste

Mix the sugar and water in a small saucepan and dissolve over low heat. Bring to the boil and heat to the soft ball stage (once a few drops of the syrup are dropped in a glass of cold water, they should form soft balls).

Meanwhile, separate one egg and beat the white in the bowl of an electric mixer until soft peaks have formed. Slowly add your sugar syrup and beat until cool.

In a blender, combine the remaining yolk, the extra egg, milk, vanilla and alcohol. Blend for 20 seconds and pour into a glass. Top with your meringue mixture and serve.

Eclair ecstasy

I'm really giving my horn a good ol' toot today, aren't I? But I can't take all the credit for these suckers. The grand ol' dame of Australian cookery, Margaret Fulton, is responsible for the choux recipe. And Shannon Bennett, chef from Vue De Monde (do yourself an expensive favour), created the creme patisserie (I've modified it here). Pretty reliable stuff.

I had planned on posting about these a few months ago, but my piping technique was a little, shall we say, phallic. Bulbous on one end and peaked on the other, I had managed to whip up some crisp golden doodles for dessert. Not really suitable for the office.

It reminded me of a time growing up when we were served sausages and mash. As soon as Mum's back was turned, my brothers were plastering their food into an exact replica of David's most valuable assets. Bennetto's are a classy bunch.

On this occasion I managed to make a far less offensive dish. The eclairs are fairly uniform in shape and there'll be no awkwardness polishing them off in front of your colleagues.

The shining star of this is honestly the pastry cream. This is a new level of richness that just won't quit. The vanilla is so pronounced: it doesn't play second fiddle to the chocolate. It's a good idea to fill these as close to serving as possible. Sog reduction is key.

I've probably made about a thousand different chocolate sauces on this blog before, so at the risk of repeating myself, I've linked back to the crazy old baked cheesecake from a few months ago. You won't be sorry.

So I promise my next post will be far less bawdy. No more references to anatomy, puerile humour or titter-worthy gags. This is a once-off. I don't usually do this.

That's what she said...

Ingredients

1 cup water
125g butter
1 cup flour
4 eggs
1 tsp sugar
1 pinch salt

Preheat oven to 200ºC. Line a baking sheet with baking paper.

Bring the water and butter to the boil slowly, melting butter. Reduce heat and add flour, stirring until the mixture comes together in a ball. Remove from heat and add the mixture to the bowl of your electric mixer. Mix on high, adding eggs one at a time. Make sure you mix thoroughly to ensure the dough does not split. Add the sugar and salt and mix until incorporated.

Place the dough in a piping bag. Pipe onto a lined baking sheet in 10cm lengths. Bake for 20 minutes, then reduce heat to 180ºC and bake for a further 10-15 minutes, or until golden.

Creme patisserie

1 cup milk
1 cup cream
1 tsp vanilla paste
6 egg yolks
1/2 cup sugar
4 tbsp cornflour

In a medium saucepan, combine the milk, cream and vanilla and bring to the boi slowly. In the meantime, whisk together the sugar and egg yolks until pale and fluffy. Add the cornflour and whisk to combine.

Add 1/2 cup of warmed milk to the yolk mixture and stir to combine. Add to the remaining milk in the saucepan and return to a low heat. Stir constantly until the mixture thickens. You may wish to whisk the mix if it thickens to quickly. Once the creme has thickened and just boiled, remove from heat and strain into a bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and cool in the refrigerator.

To fill the eclairs, fill a piping bag with the creme patisserie. Poke a small hole in the ends of the eclairs and pipe in the creme.

Top with chocolate sauce.

Scrambled eggs with asparagus and mandarine juice

Everyone hates a grandstander. You know the guy: arrives 10 minutes late to a meeting, dominates conversation, argues for the sake of arguing and has an opinion on everything. Mostly stuff they have no clue about.

I also like to call them time vampires. They suck the minutes from your day, using 20 words to explain a 5 word concept. I'm guessing their motivation is to hear the dulcet tones of their own voice. Meanwhile, I'm imagining climbing across the table and socking them in the throat just to. make. it. stop.

Before you quickly delete your Pretty Tasty bookmark and back away slowly from your computer, let me explain. My calendar, both personal and private, is pretty chockas. I spend my day running from one meeting room to the next and I naturally develop a little bit of hatred for people that cause me to run late. I do a good enough job of that myself.

So I like my meetings short and sharp. Get to the point, show people the courtesy of assuming they understand ideas without explaining every last point. The only exception to this would be when we're discussing our latest meal. Wax lyrical for hours. Tell me where you bought that hanger steak! You did WHAT with a an artichoke? I can hardly believe the size of that turkey leg! I'm captivated for hours and my responsibilities float away on a cloud made of Persian fairy floss and marshmallow. Rose flavoured.

This happened yesterday. About to launch into a quick meeting and a colleague mentioned her breakfast that morning. Steamed asparagus topped with orange juice and scrambled eggs. I was intrigued: I'm normally not into scrambled eggs. I find them just a bit too much. They're often loaded with butter or cream and the serving sizes just do me in. I'm more of a poached egg lady myself.

But the addition of orange juice? It could be either really great or bin-worthy. A risk I was willing to take, particularly in asparagus season. I'm in, feet first.

I had no oranges in the fruit bowl, so mandarines were a happy substitute. I gotta say, this recipe is now firmly in the regular rotation. The juice is subtle (if you go easy in the first place) and adds a nice background of sweetness to the fluffy eggs. And asparagus? No brainier at this time of year. If you want to up the fatty ante, you could sizzle some strips if streaky bacon. This soon-to-be bride opted out of that situation.

So my thanks to Sue for holding up our meeting describing this dish. It was worth the five minutes of running around and apologising at my next appointment. Though that could have been my incessant grandstanding. I never said I'm perfect.

Ingredients

5 asparagus spears
1 shallot
1/2 tbsp olive oil
2 eggs
juice one small mandarine

Steam asparagus until cooked to your liking. Slice the shallot and saute in olive oil until translucent.

In a small bowl beat eggs until yolk is broken up. Pour into the shallots along with the mandarine juice and stir to ensure they cook evenly. Remove from heat when mostly cooked but still slightly runny. Season well and serve over the steamed asparagus.

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 eggs with pumpkin, cauliflower and kale

My Saturday morning normally starts something like this: I wake up at 6am to Kitty mewing at the window. I’ll stumble out of bed, panda-eyed and stinky-breathed, let her in and climb back under the covers to return to a peaceful slumber. That slumber never eventuates because I’m too busy deciding which café to visit for breakfast.

Matty’s Saturday morning? Sleep. When it’s a reasonable time to wake up, sleep some more. Ignore your girlfriend’s subtle elbows in the side. Instead, continue sleeping your mouth open and breathe all over her face until she’s forced to roll over. Once it hits 12pm, start reading the news online in bed. Reject any suggestions for breakfast at a local café.

Broad bean risotto with asparagus and egg

After a week and a half of a funky tummy, I'd had a gutful of potatoes and rice. Pun intended. A limited diet couldn't have happened to a worse person. The first meal back was a big deal: ideally it would consist of some kind of trough arrangement with different kinds of pastas, roast meats and dumplings all ready to be gorged upon. Shit was about to get real.

In the end the pressure was too much. Anything with chilli, dairy or caffeine and I'd be back in Toilet Town. And I couldn't play favourites with my roasts, so I decided to keep it simple. A poached egg on toast. A better choice couldn't have been made. The yolk was runny, the white just set. A sprinkle of sea salt and a grinding of pepper was all that little beauty needed.

Savoury porridge with pancetta and poached eggs

For a long time, my only interests in travel were to Europe. Soak up the western European culture, feel all fancy-like with my croissants, cacio e pepe and jamon iberico and head back home to Melbourne to pay off my severely depleted credit card. Not a bad life, but not exactly adventurous when it comes to travel.

Don't get me wrong, my visits were amazing and a great eye-opener. But it was not exactly the greatest test to visit countries with similar food, accessible transport and a fairly decent grasp of the English language to fall back on. I needed a bigger challenge. Flights were cheap to Vietnam, so guess where this tightarse chose to travel next?

I was the most immersed in a culture I have ever been in my life. The people were beautiful, the streets were loud and pungent and the food crazy, crazy, crazy good. Everything was so fresh and full of amped up flavour.

The one area I really struggled to throw myself into their culture was breakfast. Instead of a giant bowl of pho or the odd bowl of congee I'd see around the traps, I did as many tourists did and ate the banana pancakes. It was a little embarrassing for a food-obsessed person, but I stopped short of buying a "Same Same but different" muscle top to cement my shame.

On my last day in Saigon, I decided to throw caution to the wind and dig into a bowl of pho. Beefy, soupy, noodley, amazingy. Herbs, chilli and lime were added according to your own tastes. It's no wonder Bill Clinton had eaten three bowls (or so said almost every pho shop in our quarter).

It's only recently I've gotten into the savoury soupy breakfast. I woke one recent weekend and decided this was it: my days of sweet porridge were coming to an end. It's the kind of revelation truly deep people have these days. I'd begun my transition with a visit to St Ali trying their salted butter porridge with brown sugar: kinda half and half sweet and savoury. Good, but not whole savoury cigar.

I definitely had my savoury pants on this day. That doesn't sound appetising does it? This was a rich, deep, meaty porridge. It was almost like a risotto made with oats - and the pancetta gave it the smokey kick up the backside it so deserved. The drizzle of egg yolk through the mix on served to enrich the sauce even further.

When I decided it couldn't possibly get any more rich, I decided to shallow fry some truffle polenta to enjoy on the side. Subtlety is certainly not my strong suit. Actually, I don't think I own that suit. If I do, it's crumpled up in the bottom of my wardrobe. Or left at the cleaners for the past 6 months.

I'll be perfectly honest: I couldn't eat a whole serving of this dish. It was filling and intense and I enjoyed every mouthful. But I know my limits and this one defeated me. No matter. More for Ron.

So while it's not Vietnamese in style, this breakfast was a definite break in tradition for me. It wasn't porridge with bananas and it wasn't eggs on toast. And it was totes delicious. Bill Clinton would have eaten four servings, I know this much for sure.

Ingredients

1/3 cup oats
1 tsp olive oil
3 thick cut rashers of pancetta, cut into lardons
1 shallot, finely diced
1/2 carrot, finely diced
1 1/2 cups chicken stock
1 cup kale, finely sliced
2 tbsp dried mushrooms
1/2 cup hot water
1 egg
1 tbsp white vinegar

Soak mushrooms in the hot water and cover for at least 10 minutes. Remove from the water and slice finely.

Heat olive oil in a frypan and saute pancetta until just colouring. Add the shallots and carrots and saute further until the vegetables have softened. Add the oats and toast for a couple of minutes, stirring regularly to ensure they don't burn.

Add the stock and simmer, stirring occasionally, for around 5 minutes. Add the kale and cook for another 3 minutes.

To poach egg, bring water to boil in a saucepan. Reduce to a simmer and add the vinegar. Crack the egg carefully into a mug and lower into the water, tipping the egg out gently. Cook for around 3 minutes, or until the white has set but the yolk is still runny. If you like the yolk firm, I'm not sure we can be friends anymore.

To serve, spoon the porridge into a shallow bowl and top with the poached egg. Season well and serve with some crusty bread or fried polenta on the side.

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.

Truffled egg on polenta with parmigiano reggiano

When I lived in North Carlton, I conveniently lived ten steps away from a fish and chip shop. The hidden (read: totally lapsed) Catholic in me didn't feel bad about making a visit every Friday night. A piece of fish, potato cake and minimum chips. Wander home, soak it in vinegar and Bob's your morbidly obese uncle.

A few months and a few kilos later, I began to peel open the white paper to find hidden gems in my order. It might be a fried dim sim or a crab stick - sometimes a couple of extra potato cakes. Smiling to myself, I knew I'd formed a bond with my chippy that went beyond the customer-shopkeeper relationship. He loved me. He really loved me. Then one day, I opened it up and found a giant fried spring roll. This startled me. No, they weren't giving me, a single person, a little gift. They thought they were feeding another person. It was any wonder I couldn't squeeze into my jeans anymore. This was a dependency I had to break.

More recently, I've been visiting my lovely butcher at Skinner and Hackett on a pretty regular basis. Every piece of meat I buy has a history, a story and a great chance of being a memorable meal. I always walk out knowing the best way to handle the meat and usually have new ideas for serving it up. This is a healthy relationship worth preserving.

Canelles - the epic meeting treat

Ever sat in a meeting, nodding along like "Aw yeah, I'm with ya, I'm hearing whatcha bleatin'." But really, it's all in one ear, swirling about an empty cavity and out the other side? Ya, that's me on a semi regular basis.

Thankfully, I shed my inhibitions a long time ago. That, and the shame that goes with asking, "What? I totally wasn't listening." Today was one of those days.

I regularly daydream of winning tattslotto and what I'd say to my colleagues if I did. Truthfully, it's something along the lines of, "You guys were actually fun to work with and, I'm not yanking you chain when I say this, I really did learn a lot." I actually like my job.

Poached egg with carrot and parsnip latkes and hummus

I wake at 6.30am every Saturday without fail. It doesn't matter what time my head hit the pillow Friday night. I know the time before I even look at the clock - give or take 10 minutes.

It may have something to do with Kitty meowing at our window at the crack of dawn. I know I need to let her in or it will be a constant, pained mew for the next hour. I'm up and there's no more shut-eye in this town.

I try in vain to head back to bed. The cat has other ideas. Kitty will scratch at our feet under the doona - head in, tail out. You can only lie there and wait for it to begin. No matter how many stern admonishments, it's only a matter of time before you feel the doona move and the clawed-up paws venture in. I give up and head to the kitchen to start making breakfast.

Pistachio custard in green egg shells

So you've seen the glory that is pink egg shells. Today we have green - it's like the adult version. Totally way more mature, this green variety. Ok so maybe the shells are a touch childish, but I can guarantee you the custard inside will kick butt.

I'm not sure about you, but my favourite nut is the pistachio. I brought home a packet for a Christmas treat one year (I know, so generous). I poured a bowl and sat them next to my Dad and wandered back into the kitchen. I heard behind me "CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH." I turned around to see Dad with his face screwed up. "Emma, these are disgusting". Yep, they certainly are disgusting with the shells on...

Chocolate custard in pink egg shells

Good morning my pretties. If you feel like making a labour intensive, cutesy, impractical Easter gift, have I got the dish for you. These took a little over two days to make. They took around six minutes to devour. But in terms of sheer cute-factor (it's real measure. Disney invented it), they're the gift that keeps on giving.

I've been seeing countless images on Pinterest recently of dyed eggs. I knew they were all hardboiled, but that seemed like such a waste. I remembered my second visit to Vue de Monde - I'd been served little flavoured custards in eggs shells, sitting inside a carton. It's just the thing you expect (but totally didn't see coming) from the restaurant.