Dawn raiders and raspberry ripples plus pretty portfolio pics

I made ice cream! The first time in years and years, since we used to make it at De Los Santos, where the richest chocolate icecream was served with petite little cinnamon churros.

Amazing, the quality and amount of food we prepped in that small kitchen now that I reflect. We made an unctuous cheese dough for cheese balls that were sprinkled with smoked paprika salt when fried, I gutted buckets of squids every second day, pulling whole fish from their bellies sometimes, before skinning and preparing them for calamari, sinks full of spiky shrimp needed veining and shelling, fillets of salmon had their bones delicately tweezered out for curing, an orchard of lemons were preserved in cinnamon and bay leaves, rabbits came delivered whole for boning to be cooked for hours in stews.

We did it all to the sounds of reggae rocking a transistor radio propped on the dishwasher's window. We'd shimmy around and do the work, singing while stirring, pausing here and there on the back alley steps for coffee or a coke on scorching Melbourne summer days. After work on Saturday nights we'd all go out to an underground club run by one of the casual chef's who was also a DJ and dance to ragga and trance and stumble out to the rising dawn and the Victoria Market fruit and vegetable marketers loading their shelves, the fishmongers and florists starting their day as we headed home for bed before another shift began.

Anyway, I was testing a recipe for a video we are doing at Phood and I am gobsmacked at just how good this icecream is. Phoebe is eating it with a slow kind of bovine dedication, using a tiny teaspoon (the only way to eat icecream).
It's raspberry ripple, or raspberry nipple as 5 year old River hears it. Unbelievably good, and although a little bit of standing around holding an electric whisk is required, it is very very easy. I can't wait to show it off to someone. I feel exalted, clever in a culinary way that I haven't experienced since making bread for the first time.

Rasberry ripple icecream

3 eggs

2 egg yolks, extra

1 teaspoon best quality vanilla extract

1 cup castor sugar

2 cups double cream

350g fresh or frozen raspberries, defrosted

2 tbsp icing sugar

Method:

To make the raspberry ripple place the raspberries with the icing sugar in a food processor and blend until smooth. Set aside.

Place the eggs, extra yolks, vanilla and sugar in a heat proof bowl over a pan of simmering water and beat for 5-8 minutes with a hand-held electric mixer until thick and pale.

Remove from the heat and beat again for 5-8 minutes until the mixture has cooled.

Whisk the cream until stiff peaks form.

Fold the cream into the egg and sugar mixture, removing as many lumps as possible while still being gentle. A figure 8 movement works for me.

Pour into a 2 litre capacity tray and spoon over the raspberry puree. using a spatula or butter knife, gently fold it through the cream mixture to create swirls.

Freeze for 6 hours.

A while back I posted about shooting with Darren Hickson from Shoot the Moon for a food photography competition. We did the shots at the lovely Trove in Levenshulme - well, I can now publish these shots because the competition is over (we didn't win - boo hoo). I love these pictures - the light is natural and warm, the wood from Trove's great table and floor makes a great backdrop and, if I do say so, the food looks pretty good too. The first dish is a salad of ricotta and local lettuces with blood orange, fennel and radish, and the second is baked quail eggs with parma ham.

Deli goods

I don't know what I would do without the Barbakan Deli in Chorlton, Manchester. It's not trendy, but all the hip people go. It makes and sells great food but is not on an ego trip. Sometimes I do wish it had the polished concrete floors and industrial reclaimed benches, the fashionable magazines for browsing on the communal table kind of vibe that makes you think about what you're wearing before you go, makes you watch and be seen, fret that your turn-ups are the wrong height on your wrong-coloured jeans. If this place was in Sydney or Melbourne, or North London for that matter, it would be like this. But it's not. It's in South Manchester, and if there is one thing northerners scorn, it's pretension. So, I humble my inner fashionista and adore the Barbakan for being exactly what it is: a fabulous continental deli, complete with beige/lemon and burgundy uniforms for the staff, no music, a crammed and heady interior of heaving shelves of panatone, aborio, saffron and Polish noodle soup sachets, with a number system for queueing and a freezing outdoor patio of wobbly aluminium tables for dining (but I will never forgive the polystyrene cups for the coffee!).

 It would be a gargantuan job just to open this place each day. There is hundreds of cheeses to portion and display, every kind of continental meat to slice and pack, fresh salads like potato and dill, Russian salad, falafel and parsley to make, caramelised onion and goat cheese quiches to bake, take-home packs of (ridiculously cheap) Greek mezze and antipasto to assemble, and that's not including the bread. The Barbakan makes the best bread in Manchester - from perfect bagels to the lightest, best-toasting German rye and huge flat rectangles of herbed foccacia. On the weekends they set up a barbeque on the patio and cook French and Polish sausages, onions and sauteed potatoes. Needless to say, the place is always rammed. Victor, a Sanskrit scholar and the Barbakan manager, has the measured grace of the theosophical thinker. Victor is never huffy or ruffled, he manages to wax lyrical about Tibetan Buddhist literature, ask about the Aboriginal predicament, listen with calm and total attention as I natter about my work and life, suggest salami or a recipe for baked cheese with thyme and sweet wine (see pics) and play silly games with my son. And if he ever stops stocking my Italian tuna, well, I just don't want to think about that.

These next few shots are ones I did with the talented Darren Hickson from Shoot The Moon for my food styling portfolio. The breads, baked cheese, pasta and deli goods come from The Barbakan.

Orecchietti with sprouting broccoli, anchovy and chilli

(serves four and takes seconds!)

400g orechiette pasta

1 bunch of sprouting broccoli (or 1 medium head of normal if unavailable)

2 cloves garlic sliced

6 anchovy fillets

2-3 tablespoons e-v olive oil

1-2 teaspoons dried chilli flakes (or 1 fresh red chilli finely chopped)

a knob of butter

freshly grated Parmesan

Method:

Place a large pot of cold salted water on to boil. When rapidly boiling, add the orecchieti and stir to avoid clumping together.

While the pasta is cooking, trim the ends from the broccoli stalks and chop into 2cm pieces, including the dark green leaves, leaving the small florets whole (if using normal broccoli, cut the florets from the base of their stem into smaller portions and reserve, cooking them in with the pasta at the last 2 minutes).

Heat the oil in a heavy based frying pan on medium. Add the anchovy fillets and mash with the back of a wooden spoon until they start to dissolve. Add the broccoli, garlic and chilli. Turn up the heat and stir, cooking for a few minutes or until the stalks have become tender, being careful not to burn the garlic. 

When the pasta is done, drain and reserve a splash of the cooking water. Add the orrecchiete to the broccoli with a little butter and a small handful of Parmesan. With the heat on low stir to coat the pasta thoroughly - add a tablespoon or so of the water if it is too dry - and season to taste. Serve with extra Parmesan.