Slowly does it!

I have recently found myself involved in a conversation over slow cookers and their amazing ability to make meal times in the kitchen a pleasure instead of a chore. I was at ore of the idea of placing raw ingredients into a pot, leaving for work and upon my return eight hours later having a flavorsome creation waiting for my family to consume with no fuss attached.

Being the compulsive person that you may be discovering that I am I found myself the next day standing in the kitchenware section of Myers staring at a large range of slow cookers all with different volume capacities and all offering something a little different. After speaking with the well presented salesman and weighing up my options I found myself leaving the store with a giant box, hiding within it a mythical tool of which promised to make dinner times in my house simple and fuss free. Never owning such a piece of equipment before I also purchased "Slow" a cookbook filled from start to finish with slow cooker recipes, the tool to accompany my new and exciting play thing.

Desperately wanting to road test my toy, I dropped into my local butcher and purchased some stewing meat, as if a murderer plotting his next kill I drove home and buried my nose deep into my new cookbook for ideas on how to master my new kitchen gadget. Full of inspiration and eager to see my slow cooker at work I plugged it into the power point, turned it on to high, and loaded it with onion, lamb, garlic, egg plant, tinned tomato and white wine, I mixed together the ingredients with a wooden spoon, placed the lid back on the cooker and as if a woman possessed I stood over my slow cooker, waiting for something to happen, forgetting that, it is after all a "Slow Cooker" and no matter how long I stood over it looking intently through it's lid I would be waiting all day for my meal to cooked, yet as if hypnotised I found myself returning to it, opening the lid and looking, hoping that something had changed.

After visiting my friends at their humble abode I returned home, as I turned the lock and entered the lounge room I was greated by the smells coming from my kitchen, it was alive with the aromas of stew,  awakening the sensors of my family, prodding at our bellies following us through our tiny home and becoming trapped in all the nook's and crannies, urging us to sit and eat. I am pleased to say that my first slow cooking experience was a success, and as like all stews it was even better the next day.

I have since cooked many things in my cooker, Corned Beef, Spaghetti, Apricot Chicken and Beef Curry just to name a few. All of these meals were delicious and a delight to come home to after a massive day at the office. It is true, slow cookers are a marvel for busy working class families, and I am sure that I have many more very slowly cooked meals to look forward to preparing and devouring in the future.

If you are reading this and have a slow cooker why not plan to slowly cook a meal some time in the future. Tonight I made Korma Curry that we ate with Nann bread and Poppadom's, delicious! I am looking forward to reheats tomorrow, delicious delicious!

Enough rambling from me, enjoy creating and eating your delights, get slowly cooking and remember simple meals are effective meals.

Chicken Soup for the Soul!

There are some foods that hold magical and wondrous powers, chicken soup would be the Yoda of these foods "Delicious and nutritious it is hmmmm."

 At some point of time in most of our lives we have been ill and a friend or family member has nursed us back to the land of the living through the healing powers of chicken soup. I am not sure weather it is the nutrients that we boil from the frames of chickens whilst making the stock or the love of the individual that prepares it for you, I do know however that when I eat a mouthful of hot chicken soup and slurp the fluid into my mouth a healing process takes place instantly, as if every mouthful that I consume is absorbed by the virus or flu that I am battling and an army of powerful healers attack and destroys the now weakened and vulnerable illness.

The warmth of the soup as it slides down our throats and trickles into our belly's is unique, it leaves us craving more and as we sniffle and cough from our unwelcome cold, we can not help but to smile between mouthfuls, wiping our sore, swollen nose before going back for another bite.

I made chicken soup for a family member just yesterday, feeling god awful and spending the day on the couch I offered those magical words to him "Would you like me to make you some chicken soup for the soul" he rolled over looking up and replied by saying "Yes please". I then ducked down to the supermarket in search of chicken frames only to learn that they do not sell them in the deli any more, apparently they are now a butchers line, that is fine by me, I am not fussed by who's line the frames may be on, what I am fussed about is finding those frames so I can keep a promise to an unwell member of my family, Lenard's chicken to the rescue! I purchased four chicken frames for the bargain basement price of $1.50, spending such little money on a miracle is glorious yet it did leave me feeling cheap and nasty.

When I returned home I placed my chicken frames into a heavy based pot, along with them I added enough water to cover and a great dose of white wine. From my garden I picked an assortment of fresh herbs, basil, thyme, oregano, Spanish sage and parsley, I bind them together with cotton and placed them in the pot, to follow I added a chopped onion, garlic and ginger, the leafy tops of celery, a carrot, some salt, pepper and bay leaves. I then left them together to boil away in their own party in a pot for an hour and a half. When the bone begin to crumble I then remove all of my then soggy ingredients and discard them. I add what ever vegetables I find lurking in my crisper, a carrot, swede, a potato, celery, corn kernels, sweet potato and some tomatoes, I dice them all into chunky cubes and add them to my pot of wonder, I pull from my pantry a tin of four bean mix, strain it and then add it to others boiling away, I add pasta, I used spaghetti that I broke into tiny pieces. Don't forget to add the star of the show, that of course being the chicken, I add half a dozen lovely leg, I boil my soup until the chicken falls from the bone and the pasta is soft, I then ladle it into soup bowls and serve with fresh buttered bread.

My usually loud house hold becomes silent as my family sips, slurps and bites into the magical, blissful creation. You do not need to be sick to enjoy chicken soup, you can create it and enjoy it when ever you feel the urge. I am about to reheat a bowl for myself now, I invite all of you who read my blog to join me in creating your own version of the Yoda of the food world, so don't just sit there, get to it, go on, shew and most of all enjoy it!

Devonshire Tea!

I can remember as a child watching as my mother gathered up ingredients for scones from the pantry, all her baking ingredients were stored in large old Pablo coffee jars and were labeled appropriately with old fashioned labels and stuck onto the jars with tape. She would tell me that scones don't like to be handled, that the less you handle them the fluffier the scone would be. She would measure the flour and sugar into a bowl and rub in the butter using only her finger tips until the flour resembled fine bread crumbs. Next she would make a well in the flour and add both the milk and water at the same time. Using a knife she would then work the flour into a sticky dough, after turning the dough onto a lightly floured bench she would gently kneed the mixture for only a few moments, she would shape the dough into a square and cut the scones into shape from from it, she would place each scone as if pieces of a puzzle onto a greased tray, glaze them with a little milk and then bake them in the oven until golden in colour and heavenly in smell.

As I grew older and I became an independent youth I would attempt to bake my own scones, I would try different recipes from different cookbooks, some of them were successful, others were disastrous. I once made lemonade scones that, once baked could have been used as weapons of mass destruction, needless to say they ended up in the rubbish and I was left feeling deflated, yet as the saying goes, if you fall off your horse you've got to get straight back on again.

After many years of trials I have now mastered the art of baking scones, my competitive streak shining through as I bake my scones and share them at family events, waiting for my mother to comment on my efforts, needless to say her scones are always better in taste to mine in her books, although, I know that my scones are the "bomb!"

Yesterday morning I treated the girls in the office to Devon shire Tea, I placed 2 1/2 cups of Self Raising Flour into a bowl with 2 Table Spoons of Caster Sugar and using my finger tips I gently rubbed in 30 Grams of Butter. After my mixture has morphed into fine bread crumbs I made a well in the center and add 3/4 of a Cup of Milk and 1/2 a Cup of Water. Using a knife I formed the dough by working the mixture from the sides to the center of the bowl, I turn the dough onto a floured surface and as not to upset it and cause it to become tough, I kneed it sparingly and then cut my scones from it using a scone cutter, I place them onto a lined biscuit tray, I bake them in a moderate oven as my mother did until they are golden brown.

Once cooked I wrap my scones in a clean tea towel and journey them with me to work, stopping at the local shop along the way for a fresh tub of double dollop cream and a jar of strawberry jam, I also packed some of Lady Flo's lemon butter that I had made last week.

Needless to say my scones were a hit and a well earned distraction at work, they disappeared one scone at a time, and the lemon butter was a popular topic of conversation. Another successful morning in the kitchen, leaving me feeling self satisfied and truly happy.

You now have my recipe for delicious golden scones, don't just say "ONE day I will give that recipe a go." Do it now, there is of course no time like the present. Enjoy it, and remember, if at first you don't succeed try, try again!

Little Cakes

Cupcakes, or as they were called when I was a little girl Patty Cakes are a delightful substitute to the common birthday cake, when arranged on a tower they look magnificent and have those that admire at them "oohing" and "Arhing" at the sight of them.

I woke at 7am yesterday morning and baked four dozen butter cup cakes for my friends children's birthday parties, I used a foundation recipe that I had originally taken from the "Cookery the Australian Way" cook book which was first published in 1966,  being over forty years old the recipes in this book are easy to follow, with the sweet treats simple, delicious old fashioned delights.

I beat into a frenzy 185 grams of butter with 3/4 a cup of caster sugar using an electric mixer until it is a delightful creamy texture, I then add three lightly beaten eggs a small amount at a time, until the mixture is as smooth as a babies bottom, this is an ideal time for tasting, the smooth, rich buttery mixture can't be topped in my books for taste. Using a wooden spoon I then add 2 1/2 cups of self raising flour a small amount at a time alternating with 1/2 a cup of milk, the batter will be thick yet smooth in texture, I add extra milk allowing the batter to fall from a spoon if held in the air, it should still be thick enough for a wooden spoon to stand in it. I then spoon the batter into prepared patty pans and bake in my tired old oven until they are golden at 160 degrees. Once cooled I pipe butter icing onto my little cake creation and decorate them with pride.

After decorating my brightly coloured creations I packed them into my new best friend the cupcake carry container and my husband and I then travelled to our friends place for one of the most extremely high energy children's parties I have ever experienced. As we pulled into the driveway on arrival we could hear the children's squeals of delight as they played. We had an adult cause a diversion to distract the kids as my husband and I along with some friends smuggled containers of brightly coloured little cakes into the kitchen.

After dinner we arranged the little cakes on a four tier cupcake stand, we surprised the birthday boys and girl with an exciting assortment of delicious morsels, their eyes widened and fingers twitched as they belted out "Happy Birthday" at the top of their lungs before diving at the cakes with haste.

Cupcakes are a perfect mouthful of cake for children, keeping their sugar intake to a minimum whilst at the same time wowing the kids with their presentation. Not only are they delicious and moreish to eat, they are fun to create, I challenge you to take the plunge and bake some "from scratch" cupcakes today, if you can tear open a packet cake sachet and pour powder into a bowl you can definitely bake a butter cake with no added preservatives. Go on, get to it, happy baking, I promise that you will love it!

Lemon Butter Memories.

My dear old gran who died two years ago three days before her 90th Birthday was a Zen Master in the kitchen, she, as she would tell it raised five children post second world war and learnt to make do with what she had when it came to meal times as food coupons were scarce.

 I can remember standing at the stove top at my parents place watching as gran would turn the mutant bush lemons that grew outside the kitchen window into jars filled with sweet yet sour lemon butter, it was rich yellow in colour and deffinately rich in taste, as you ate it your lips would automatically smack together and you could feel your gums tingling with delight at every mouthful.

She would bottle up her creation in odd shaped jars from the collection in mums pantry and then with all the love in the world she would travel some days by foot to the local nursing homes and share it with who she would call her oldies, some of these oldies being ten years her junior. She was a selfless woman, doing things for others and leaving herself last to be served.

Two years after my grans death and over thirty years since I would struggle to look over the stove top as she would stir the ingredients in the saucepan gently wth a wooden spoon I can still remember this delightful memory, I can taste the freshly squeezed lemon in the air and I can remember gran wacking my hands with the spoon as I attempted to sneak a preview of the best lemon butter I have ever tasted.

After a visit to my dads and being gifted with a coles bag filled with large ripe lemons I decided to attempt making lemon butter in tribute to my gran. One thing I must stress to anyone out there that may be reading this is to remember to remove the sticker from the fruit before you attempt to finely grate the rind from it.

I decided not to use my grans lemon butter recipe, instead I used a recipe out of one of the cook books that she left to me when she died. Lady Flo Bieke-Petersens Classic Country Cooking, I whisk the eggs, grated the rind and juiced the lemons, I placed all the required ingredients into a heavy based saucepan and like my gran would do I stood at the stove with a wooden spoon in hand and lovingly stired the mixture as it thickened into what I know lemon butter to be. I then poured it into warm, oddly shaped jars and stored it in the fridge to chill.

This evening when I returned home from work with a loaf of fresh bread I smoothered it with my lemon butter creation and ate it with passion, my lips smacked and my gums tingled, a memory had been reborned and I found myself wanting to eat it tll it was gone.

An introduction

I was once told that to be truly happy you should participate in an activity that allows you to feel truly alive. I can not explain how baking makes me feel, I can however tell you that watching a person bite into one of my creations and smile as they wipe their chin is a feeling of not only great joy for me, but for the individual that takes that bite it has allowed them to eacape for a fraction of a moment from the hype of the world that sourounds them.

Baking has always been a fetish of mine, in primary school I would enter my baking attempts into the local show, back then the show was more of a country fair with baking still being quite the done thing. I was once named the Junior Boild Fruit Cake Champion, I still have the ribbon yet the date of my win escapes me, I am possitive it was in the early 1980's, I was in grade seven and very proud indeed. My Chocolate Fudge also raised eyebrows with a white card printed in blue was placed by the plate I submitted it on, 1st place, an acheivement to be proud of, and something that I was truly great at.

To this day baking releases a ray of sunshine from within me, I not only enjoy the process of baking, I succeed at it. Tonight I baked biscuits for the girls at work, a plain biscuit rich in butter and brown sugar, I pushed a jube onto some of them and chocolate freckles onto others, the sampling process is vital, without tasting your product you will never know just how delightful it is, besides, if you don't eat your fatty foods, you will never acheive quality cellulite.

My name is Bronwyn, I am a compulsive cook and I wish to share my baking adventures with you.