Monday. Baking Day.*

It's sleeting, there's eight inches of snow outside, and my giant snow head is looking increasingly like the Toxic Avenger or the guy with half his brain on the outside in Total Recall. The pub across the road is closed, so our options are limited to do work, study, or bake. Or watch Rachael Ray. Bake it is.

I think that lots of people can't or don't bake because they are put off by that one time in Year 9 when everyone in home ec had to make muffins and they were awful, and they were awful because there is a good deal of terminology and lots of sneaky insider tips that aren't always made explicit. Hopefully these recipes are a bit easier to decipher. Like most baking, they boil down to add wet stuff in Bowl B into dry stuff in Bowl A, mix just enough to combine the two, and then cook (and lick the bowl).

* Dear advertising people: I would love to have this TV ad back again. That and the ones about hairy, garish, mannish Marge.

For the baking impaired: Golden Flapjacks

If an ANZAC biscuit and a muesli slice had sweet sexy times, then this would be the offspring. This recipe requires no special secret baking knowledge.

Bowl A (Dry)
1 cup rolled oats
¾ cup white flour
½ cup coconut
1 cup soft brown sugar, packed down
½ cup chopped dried fruit, like dates or apricots (optional)
1 teaspoon cinnamon (optional)

Bowl B (Wet)
125 g butter
3 tablespoons of golden or maple syrup (a bastard to measure; I usually guesstimate)
1 tablespoon water
½ teaspoon baking soda

Preheat the oven to 160°C. Line an 8 x 8 inch baking dish with baking paper – or you can just grease the dish and risk it. In a large bowl (Bowl A) combine the dry mix ingredients and make a little well in the middle. Put the butter, the golden syrup and the water in a saucepan (Bowl B) and heat gently, stirring occasionally, until everything has completely melted together – alternatively, do this in the microwave. Add the baking soda to the butter mix then stir until it's dissolved and somewhat frothed up, which will help the slice rise a little. Pour the wet stuff into the dry stuff and mix thoroughly – it can get a little dense, you may like to use your hands.

Press the mix into the prepared dish and bake for 35 – 40 minutes. It will wobble a little when you pull it out but will settle down once it sets. Good wrapped up in individual bits and stored in the freezer for school lunches, just like your Mum used to do.

For those who like licking the beaters: Banana Bread


I like this recipe because we never have milk in the house but there are always a couple of dodgy bananas. This also tastes very good the next day.

Bowl A (Dry)
2 cups self-raising flour (or 2 cups plain flour + 2 teaspoons baking powder)
1 teaspoon mixed spice or cinnamon

Bowl B (Wet)
150g butter
1 cup soft brown sugar, packed down
2 eggs
2 sad bananas, mashed

Preheat the oven to 180°C. Line a large loaf tin with baking paper, or grease it up and hope for the best. Combine the flour and the mixed spice in a large bowl (Bowl A). Make a little well in the middle. All this baking is exhausting, have a wine – hello, Countdown Wine Sale.

In a medium sized bowl (Bowl B), soften the butter in the microwave – go slow, you don't want it melty. Add the brown sugar to the butter and using an electric beater (or your impressive Popeye arms) cream the butter by whipping it on a high speed until it looks fluffy and has turned lighter in colour. Add one egg, beat thoroughly; do it again. Add the banana and mix everything up thoroughly.

Tip the contents of Bowl B into Bowl A and mix slowly but thoroughly – this will be a very thick mixture. Blob it into the prepared loaf tin. Bake for 35 minutes, then pull it out and stick it with a skewer or a sharp knife – if it comes out clean, you're good. Otherwise, stick it back in the oven for another 5 or 10 minutes. Let it cool before you slice it or it will crumble everywhere, what a waste.

I can never let well enough along so I tend to top loaves or muffins like this with a sugary sprinkle – in a small bowl combine 1 tablespoon of granulated sugar, 1 teaspoon of cinnamon, a little bit of lemon zest and some very finely chopped or ground nuts and sprinkle over the top of the loaf before you cook it.

A word about bananas: Sad bananas can be stored in the freezer and are good for loaves and muffins. The skins will go a horrible dark brown, but the insides will be wonderfully mushy. If you are of the opinion that eating animal products is bad, mmkay, mashed banana can be used as a binder instead of eggs in cakes and breads – use half a mashed banana per egg, plus ¼ teaspoon of baking powder if you want something a little fluffier.

The way of the toastie, or, a meal greater than the sum of its parts

In the senior common room at my high school the toastie maker held pride of place. It was a fetching 70s burnt orange, thick with desiccated cheese meltings, and had lost its non-stick surface, flake by tasty flake, years ago. Arguments ensued as to whether it was acceptable to use canned spaghetti as a filling as the gross tomato sauce got stuck to everything, including the handle, and could only be removed with steel wool. In winter, if you didn’t get in early to use the toastie maker, you were stuck without lunch until your next free period or had to suffice yourself with whatever tepid pie-related product was left at the tuck shop. In summer, it would start to smell and we’d all get kicked out until we promised to keep the common room clean, Miss. This was all Very Serious Business.

 I did a quick ask around recently to find out people’s favourite toastie concoctions, be they made in a machine, or with a toastie press, or in a frying pan as below. Perhaps you might like to try:

• The Sunday Roast – roast meat, smooshed up roast vegetables, a dollop of gravy, quince jelly or mint jelly and lots of pepper on wheat bread
• The King – bacon, peanut butter, banana and maple syrup
• The Dad – cheese, chopped and drained pineapple, chutney (chow chow, piccalilli) and a side of bad jokes
• The Primary School Holidays Special – baked beans and grated cheese on white bread with a big glass of Fanta on the side
• The Hilary – gouda and thinly sliced pear, dipped in something nice like aioli with a sprig of parsley, because parsley makes everything fancy
• The Willy Wonka (with apologies to Katherine C’A, whose adventures in extreme toastie making cannot be surpassed) – confectionary of your choice, for instance, Creme Eggs, eskimos, candy or K bars

.... or you could just have a two course toastie meal?

The Americano

This is the original – bread, cheese and butter. If you like appliances, use a sandwich press or Panini maker 

rather than a frying pan.

• White bread
• Actual, proper butter
• Cheese(s) of your liking – a sharp cheddar is good

Butter the bread. If you like extra flavour, put a scraping of mustard or mayonnaise on the non-buttered side of the bread. Slice the cheese thinly. Warm up a frying pan, adding a bit of butter if it’s non-stick (or if you just really like butter). Place a slice of bread butter side down in the pan, arrange the cheese pleasingly on top, and put the last bit of bread on top, butter side up. Cook on a low temperature so that the cheese melts but the butter doesn’t burn. Chop it into triangles, serve with a big slice of pickled gherkin, a little toothpick flag stuck in the bread and one of those paper napkins with red and white checks.

The Dessert Toastie

This is best made in a proper toastie maker so that all the lovely squidgy bits stay inside.

• Bread – white or cinnamon
• Cream cheese
• 1 tablespoon brown sugar
• A liberal sprinkle of cinnamon
• A sad banana
• Chocolate chips
•  Red jam – plum, raspberry or similar – or a few frozen berries

Butter the bread. Mix the cream cheese (amount of your choosing, depending on how much you care about your weight) with the sugar and cinnamon. Mash the banana with a fork, and stir through the chocolate chips. On the unbuttered side of one slice of bread spread the cream cheese, the fill with the banana goop, and put a little dollop of jam or a few frozen berries on top. Cook to the desired level of crunchiness.

A word about hot things: hot toasties burn. Molten cheese draped across your lower lip is a less than ideal situation. Even worse are the burns you get when you heat up sugary items beyond their usual level of tolerance – eg, jam. Go slow, don’t be greedy and definitely don’t overfill, and you will emerge whole and unscathed.

Winter soups, or, something that’s good for what ails you

Having spent the vast majority of the university holidays sick – how unfair is that - I have eaten very little except for soup, because soup is easy to make and cheap and good for the soul and with enough chilli and onion will kick the crap out of whatever is living in your chest and head. NB: Chicken Soup for the Soul is not very good for the soul or the temper, but quite good at propping up the ad-hoc media centre when the earthquakes have left your house on a lean. Did you know they have trademarked the term “where people come to help people”? Self help books make me want to spew.

Soup, especially soup of the ‘throw it in a pot and leave it for a bit’ variety, is helpful on winter nights or afternoons when you need to heat up the house and the belly. It freezes very well, which is handy when it is far too cold to cook and the prospect of Big Gary’s for the third night in a row is a bit daunting. 

Protip 1 – if you add lots of things like lentils or barley, keep an eye on the pot as they will absorb lots of water and may end up burning on the bottom. When left overnight, the pulses with swell up and leave you with gloopy stew so upon reheating you might need to add more water.  

Protip 2 - if you over-salt the soup, you can somewhat fix things by adding grated or diced potato, or by adding a little sugar or acid (vinegar, lemon juice) to balance out the flavour.  

Protip 3 – for those of you who are super lazy, the cheap packets of King brand soup mix, with the addition of frozen vegetables, will feed a flat for less than $5.

Hearty beef stew

500g cheap stewing steak, sometimes delightfully called ‘gravy beef’

2 onions

1 carrot

2 sticks of celery

1 small swede OR 2 big potatoes

1 medium parsnip

¼ cup barley, rice or lentils (uncooked)

1 litre stock OR 1 litre of water + 2 stock cubes of your choosing

1 or 2 bayleaves (optional)

Chop the meat into 2cm cubes. Trim off all the fat and any gristly bits and throw them away – seriously, they’re gross and add nothing to a good stew experience. Wash and, if you can be bothered, peel the carrot, swede (or potatoes), and parsnip. Chop all the veggies into whatever sizes or shapes you think are nicest. Dump everything into a pot. Bring to the boil then reduce the heat and simmer for 1 ½ hours or until the meat is nice and tender. Make sure you don’t boil the crap out of it the whole time or the meat with go chewy and yuck instead of tender and lovely.

Curried pumpkin soup

500g (ish) pumpkin – add more for a thicker soup

2 onions

2 cloves of garlic

2 T butter or oil

2 t cumin

2T red curry paste

1 can coconut cream or milk

1 litre stock OR 1 litre water and 2 stock cubes

Peanut butter (optional)

Remove the skin and seeds from the pumpkin. You will need to do this with a knife, not a peeler. If you have a terrible knife you will now want to take a break to nurse your blisters and the bit of finger you just chopped off. Chop the flesh roughly into cubes. Peel and slice the onions and garlic. 

Heat the butter or oil in your soup pot, then cook the onions, garlic, cumin and curry paste gently until the onions have started to soften. Throw in the pumpkin, stir it around for a minute, then add the coconut stuff and the milk. Bring to the boil then simmer gently until the pumpkin is tender.

When it’s ready, add a massive spoon of peanut butter and stir until it has become one with the soup – it will bring out the nice nutty flavour of the pumpkin. Take the pot off the heat then mash the crap out of it with a masher, or zap it with a stick blender – be careful though, you don’t want the nurses laughing at you when you arrive at the 24 Hour Surgery with molten orange goop on your face. Return it to the heat, taste it, add more curry paste or cumin if you want, then keep it warm until you serve it.

A word about bastard pumpkins: Taking the skin off a pumpkin is a nightmare with a crappy knife. A sneaky solution to this is to remove the seeds, pierce the skin a bit with your knife, then microwave the pumpkin for 3 - 5 minutes. This should make life much easier. Pumpkin seeds also grow very well – throw them on a compost heap and chances are in a few months you will have a bounteous supply.

Mulled Wine and Brownies – or, distraction from the base realities of a Christchurch winter

Congratulations on making it through what must be the worst assessment period and most hotly anticipated holiday period in UC history. By now, you will have had time to realise that your student flat isn’t all it was (ever?) cracked up to be – mouldy wardrobes, windows that don’t quite shut ever, and appalling hot water pressure. The earthquakes have no doubt buggered up any intention you had of lighting the fire, never mind those massive holes in the plaster. My personal low – waking up in the middle of the night because the condensation had frozen to the inside of the window and then fallen onto my duvet and was slowly melting onto my legs. Good times. I’m not quite sure why living in a damp, musty Petri dish is considered a rite of passage but there you go, hopefully our immune systems are better for it.

Consider these some winter warmers to be enjoyed by the dusky light of a two bar heater as you wear your polarfleece onesie and fingerless mitts and wrap yourself in your poly-fill Warehouse duvet, wishing that you had never told your Mum and Dad that you were independent enough to go flatting but would still to be sent a monthly Pak’n’Save voucher please. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that lighting a roll your own cigarette off the heater element isn’t all class.

Mulled wine

This is like sangria for wintertime, and another good example of kitchen bucket chemistry. You can make it however you like (at home the recipe depends on what’s in the cupboard) but here’s a good place to start. Mulled wine doesn’t have to be drunk all at once (honest) – if you leave it out overnight, or drain off the wine and store it in the fridge, it’s reheated quickly in the microwave or on the stovetop. Just don’t ever turn the heat up too high – you don’t want to boil the alcohol off, do you?

• 2 bottles (1.5 litres) of cheap, full-bodied red wine (eg shiraz, merlot or cab sav, or dodgy cask stuff)
• 2 oranges, juiced then chopped
• Peel of 1 lemon
• Two sticks of cinnamon
• 1 cup of sugar (the darker the better)
• 5 - 10 whole cloves (optional)

Easy but longer version for people who have a tendency to forget what’s on the stove: Throw everything in a big pot. Heat gently, without boiling, for at least half an hour. Taste, and add more things if you feel like it – you may need more sugar, I’ve been a bit stingy in the above list as if it’s oversweetened it’s a bit rank and hard to undo. Serve. Easy.

Slightly more labour intensive but quicker and nicer version: throw everything except for the wine in a pot. Add just enough red wine to cover the sugar. Heat it gently until the sugar has completely dissolved, then turn up the heat and boil for 3 or 4 minutes. Turn down the heat, add the rest of the wine and heat gently without boiling for 5 or 10 minutes.

Other spices that you can use in a mulled wine include star anise, whole white or black peppercorns, allspice, pieces of ginger and / or a couple of bay leaves. Chai or orange herbal teabags are good too.

Mug Brownie

More like your soft, squishy American brownie than anything firm and slice-y, these totally eliminate the need to wash up any bowls and spoons.

• 4 tablespoons plain flour
• 4 tablespoons sugar (any type, but darker = richer)
• 2 tablespoons cocoa powder (the baking stuff, not the hot chocolate stuff)
• a pinch of salt
• 2 tablespoons oil (eg sunflower, canola, nothing too strong tasting)
• 2 tablespoons water
• ¼ teaspoon vanilla essence (optional)

In a mug, combine the flour, sugar, cocoa powder and salt with a fork. Make a little well in the centre add the water, oil and essence. Mix it all up thoroughly, making sure there are no dry bits or lumps. Microwave it on high for a minute; you may need to go longer depending on your microwave, but you want it to be wettish in the middle. Let it sit for a couple of minutes, then nom.

Extra for experts – swap out the vanilla essence for something else, like peppermint essence or a tiny bit of orange peel. Or, add a few (a FEW) chocolate chips to the mix before cooking. Or, splash some milk or cream over the cooked brownie. I have heard tell that experiments with peanut butter or nutella can end well. And so on.

A word about measuring stuff: Although I’m sure someone along the line told you, it’s worth reiterating that when measuring dry ingredients you need to make sure that the measurement is level. Add four heaped tablespoons of flour to the brownie and you are likely to end up with chocolatey playdough or a smouldering heap of brown, nice-smelling glue.

Midwinter Christmas part IV – We’ve had the ‘eat’, so let’s drink and be merry

One of the downers about having Christmas in summer is that we don’t get to enjoy the wonderfully warming alcoholic treats that our northern cousins treasure with love and quaff with enthusiasm. An ad hoc midwinter Christmas is a great excuse to take the best from the vast northern hinterlands while still having dibs on a warm, summery Christmas brunch come December. Like eggnog. Tried eggnog? You’re about to.

I was introduced to this proper alcoholic eggnog at a work Christmas party. Having sampled the fairly innocuous stuff-in-cartons when visiting family in the USA I was horrified to realise that I had been totally unaware of the true creamy deliciousness of the real deal – and this is coming from someone with a dairy aversion. This is expensive and sweet and very alcoholic, thus perfect for a large gathering of likeminded souses. It is also amazingly thick and smooth, like a custardy milkshake. Follow the instructions carefully and make sure you have enough equipment. Don’t be in a rush and definitely don’t buy cheap shitty alcohol. If you are a bit cagey about eating raw eggs (har, har) then that’s your loss – although if you are pregnant you should probably avoid. Actually, if you are pregnant you shouldn’t be having anything with this much bourbon at all. Someone call CYFS!

All good uni students know to reference their sources: this recipe is based on one from a 1997 Salon article, which in turn is based on a recipe in the 1967 edition of The Joy of Cooking. The original was accompanied by this wonderful epithet from Mark Twain: “too much of anything is bad, but too much whiskey is just enough.”

NB When I made this last, I’m pretty sure I increased the quantities by half again. I forget. It filled an entire 9.6 litre bucket, though – in any case, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.

A bucketful of Nog – serves about 20

• 12 eggs
• 500 grams icing sugar
• 4 – 6 cups (1 – 1.5 litres) of bourbon, whiskey or rum – I used Jim Beam and it was pretty good
• 2 litres cream
• A pinch of salt
• Freshly grated nutmeg, or dried ground nutmeg

You will also need: a perfectly clean bucket (best to buy a new one), a very large clean glass bowl, another big bowl, a sieve, some electric beaters, a whisk or a spatula or something that will do the same job, and possibly a bag of ice.

Separate the eggs carefully – if this is beyond you, find an adult to help you. Place the egg whites in the clean, glass bowl and pass the yolks through a sieve into the other large bowl. Beat the yolks until they are very light in colour. While you keep beating, slowly add the sugar, and when it is all combined, slowly add 2 cups of the alcohol. Cover it and let it sit for an hour – this will get rid of the eggy taste. Pour the eggy mix into the bucket. Add the rest of the liquor and all of the cream, and beat well. Refrigerate (or keep very cold elsewhere) for another three hours.

Ready to imbibe? Beat the whites on high until they are very stiff (but not dry) – test this by stopping your beaters, lifting them out and inspecting the little peaks that have formed. Make sure your beaters and bowl are squeaky clean as otherwise the whites won’t whip properly. When they are ready, gently fold them through the yolk mixture – this way they will just combine and the whites will stay lovely and light, giving the nog a wonderfully light texture. Serve with a sprinkle of nutmeg on top. Wonder why you’ve been missing out all your life and / or die from cholesterol and fat overload.

Unless you have a dedicated beer fridge, you are going to need to find some way to keep the eggnog cold – may I recommend that you fill a sink or a giant chilly bin with ice and keep the bucket in there. You’ll find that over the course of the day, as it sits and warms, the eggnog will start to separate. If it’s worth saving then fold the mix back together with a spoon or spatula, or if it’s getting really runny then give it a whisk or another blast with the beaters to reincorporate everything. The texture won’t be as good as when you first made it but it will still taste bloody nice.

A word about host responsibility: Don’t let people push their limits too far, if for no other reason than it’s bvery hard to get red wine or raw egg and cream out of the carpet.

Addendum: a few weeks ago I said that Worcestershire sauce isn’t vegetarian. I have been reliably informed that there are in fact Worcestershires that don’t contain little bits of fishies, but unfortunately Lee and Perrin’s (which is easily the best) isn’t one of them. 

Midwinter Christmas part III – A sugar coma is a perfectly acceptable way to end the day

There is no way better to follow up an epic roast than with a month’s worth of sugar and saturated fat. Stop worrying about your muffin top and enjoy. Dessert teetotallers are such a downer. Most desserts can be made well before serving – if you have something warm you can always (re)heat it up when you need it.

Crumble is dead simple, and is he sort of thing that still tastes awesome even if you totally fuck it up. You can use lots of things in the bottom of a crumble – canned peaches or pears, fresh or frozen berries, raw or canned apples, preserved plums, or a mixture of fruits. If you are using quite chunky canned fruit, you will get a better dessert if you chop the fruit roughly – this can usually be done while the fruit is still in the can. If there is a lot of juice in the can, it will also pay to drain the fruit first and to then reincorporate it slowly until it’s as wet as you like it, thus avoiding plum soup. I learned long ago that I would rather pay $4.49 for a giant can of apples than spend half an hour peeling and cutting them, but if you like to put in the hard yards then go for it. Go for finely sliced Granny Smiths but be warned, you may need to soften the fruit in the microwave before putting it in the casserole dish as otherwise the fruit may not cook through.

Apple crumble

This recipe makes enough to fill the sort of square 8x8 inch casserole / roasting dish you can get cheaply from the Warehouse. If you have a larger roasting dish, upscale the crumble mix as necessary (2 ½ times seems to work for those standard non stick roasters you can get from the supermarket). The crumble can be quite crunchy and the leftovers are good for breakfast (if you go for that sort of thing).

• One large can (820g-ish) of sliced apples – Watties is a bit more expensive but the nicest
• ½ cup flour + a small handful
• 1 ¼ cups rolled oats
• 2/3 cup sugar (brown is best, raw is second best) + a small handful
• 120g butter, melted
• Optional extras for supreme tastiness: a lemon, spices like cinnamon, ginger and mixed spice

Preheat the oven to 200°C. Place the apples, the handful of sugar and the handful of flour in the bottom of the dish. For bonus points, squeeze a lemon over the apples and add some spices if you’re feeling it – for instance, 1 ½ teaspoons of ginger.

In a bowl, combine the flour, rolled oats and sugar. Some spices are good here too – try a liberal sprinkle of cinnamon and a pinch of mixed spice. Pour the melted butter over and mix everything lightly with a fork until combined. It should look a little crumbly. Press the crumble mix down on top of the fruit. Cook for 30 minutes.

Boozy butter

This is typically made with brandy but who under the age of 55 actually has brandy in the house? Brandy is only good when mixed with dry ginger ale, drizzled over a stored Christmas cake, or hidden on the back of the shelf getting dusty.

• 175g butter, softened slightly
• 1 ½ c soft brown sugar
• 5 – 6 tablespoons of liquor – brandy, dark rum, cognac, whiskey, kahlua, etc

Whisk together the butter and the sugar. This is significantly easier if you have electric beaters, a stick blender or a food processor, but otherwise just use a regular whisk, incorporate the sugar slowly, and get yourself some Popeye arms. One it has gone pale and creamy looking then add the liquor slowly, beating after additions. Don’t add it too fast or it might curdle. When everything is combined and tastes the way you want it, store it in the fridge in a clean container. Serve cold with warm winter puddings or, if you’re an alkie with a sweet tooth, on toast for breakfast.

Gingernut log

This recipe is boozy and sweet, funny to look at and very, very dated. It was a last minute inclusion in our Midwinter Christmas because I like the sort of retro food we’d get served at family dinners when I was tiny. Also, it takes about zero cooking ability. If you’re using a liqueur that doesn’t go with orange juice, replace the juice with something else – for instance, if you’re using a chocolate or coffee liqueur, use some strong black coffee.

• One packet (250g) gingernuts (or chocolate chippies)
• Liquor – bourbon, liqueur, whiskey, or similar
• 4T orange juice
• 300ml cream
• 1t vanilla
• 3T icing sugar (optional)
• Some sort of garnish – shaved chocolate, sliced almonds, whatever you like

Make sure you have a serving dish prepared. You’ll need something long enough to take all the gingernuts lying (upright) next to each other so perhaps measure it by the length of the packet. Serve on two plates if you need to. In a small bowl, combine the orange juice and 4 tablespoons of booze.

Pour the cream, the vanilla, the icing sugar and 2 tablespoons of booze into a large, clean bowl and whip until it forms fluffy peaks when you lift the beaters out. Electric beaters are helpful here – the cream needs to be firm enough that it won’t run all over the place. Warning: doing this by hand may take a long time and give you wanker’s cramp.

Time for messy stuff. Dunk two biscuits in the juice and booze mix, then sandwich them together with cream. Stand the sandwich vertically on the plate – you may need to put some cream on the plate to help anchor them. Keep going until you’ve used up all your biscuits or run out of room – you should have a long log of biscuits all stuck together. Neatly spread cream over the log and garnish. Refrigerate for at least 6 hours, preferably with a loose cover so that the cream doesn’t end up tasting like refrigerator – the biscuits will start to disintegrate and go all fudgey. Eat, enjoy and pretend it’s 1982.  

Next week: BOOZE.

Midwinter Christmas part II – Vegetables are good for you

Like generations before me, I didn’t much like eating half the vegetables I was given when I was small, largely because my parents didn’t cook them they way I (later discovered) I liked them. Newsflash, Grandma, cabbage tastes fine without being subjected to cruel and unusual punishment in the pressure cooker. Also, brussels sprouts are now and shall ever be rank and disgusting. It took me a while out of my meat eating home to be convinced that you don’t have to have dead animal in most meals and the halls of residence didn’t much help. While something like a Christmas nut roast is a bit beyond my ken (also, who wants to pay for a pound of brazil nuts?) past flatmates have shown me the light re: hearty wintery meat-free food.

Field mushrooms, when roasted or barbecued, taste wonderfully meaty and rich – when cooked in garlic butter and a few drops of soy sauce they often taste better than many mysterious meat-dusty sausages (see: Sizzlers) or burger patties. A couple of these giant stuffed mushrooms can easily take the place of the meat course in a roast, and they don’t much resemble their 70s throwback cousins. Hopefully my future hypothetical children won’t disown me and my cooking and decide that the only good sort mushrooms are the sorts they found in Rawhiti Domain.

Roasted stuffed mushrooms

As with most of these recipes you can adjust quantities or ingredients without too much to worry about – for instance, if you hate capsicum, replace it with some courgette. If you hate dairy or want to kiss a vegan, swap the butter for marg and the (admittedly expensive) ricotta for (not as expensive) hummus, cut out the cheese and don’t use Worcestershire (it has anchovies in it, ew).

·       

• 6 of the biggest, widest flat mushrooms you can find
• Soy sauce or Worcestershire sauce
• 3 tablespoons softened butter
• Two cloves of garlic
• Half a red onion
• Half a red capsicum, without the seeds (they make you sick)
• A handful of rocket or spinach leaves
• A small handful (10 or 12 leaves) of basil – adjust to taste – or a teaspoon of dried (but it won’t be as nice)
• 1/2 cup of fresh breadcrumbs
• 1/2 cup ricotta or cream cheese
• 1/2 cup grated cheese
• a little grated cheese or extra breadcrumbs

Sort the mushrooms: Preheat the oven to 200°C Finely dice the garlic and mix it with the butter in a little bowl or on a saucer. Remove the stems from the mushrooms and arrange the mushrooms top-down on a baking dish – it’s helpful to have some baking paper underneath. Juices will run from the mushrooms so prior warning, a tray might get a bit messy. Dot the mushrooms with lots of drops of soy or Worcestershire sauce and little blobs of the garlic butter, saving a small amount.

Make the stuffing: Chop the mushroom stems, the red onion and the red capsicum as finely as you can. Cook them very gently in a frying pan in the remaining garlic butter until the onions start to wilt. Mix it all in a bowl with the basil and spinach. Add the ricotta / hummus and mix it all up – you might need to use your hands. Add the breadcrumbs slowly until you get a good stuffing-y consistency. Divide the stuffing mix between the mushrooms and sprinkle a little grated cheese or some more breadcrumbs on top. Bake for 20 - 25 minutes, until the tops look lovely and golden and feel a bit firm.

Rosemary and garlic roasties

You don’t have to cook roasties at the same time as everything else – they’ll be just fine if you precook them then pop them in the oven for 10 minutes before serving. You can also prep the whole thing the night before, just cover it up with a tea towel to keep critters off. Leftovers can be used on top of pizzas, in toasties or in roast veggie lasagne.

• Your choice of lovely wintery vegetables - potatoes, kumara, swede, pumpkin, yams, parsnip, carrot, beetroot and onions 
• Oil 
• Rosemary (fresh sticks of a large pinch of the dried stuff) 
• Garlic bulbs

Chop the veggies into pieces that are around about the same size, with the exception of the onions (these should be twice as big as everything else) and the parsnip (they take forever to cook and should be a bit smaller). This can be anything from small ice cube sized bits to big quarters or chunks. Arrange them in the largest roasting dish you have available to you – you don’t want all the veggies squished up together. I usually base my quantity of vegetables on what dish I’m using.

Break a head of garlic into cloves and throw as many as you like in with the vegetables, the insides will go sweet and almost creamy upon cooking. Arrange or sprinkle the rosemary over the top. Give everything a small drizzle of oil and shake it about a bit. You don’t want it greasy, just lightly coated. Finish it up with a big crack of pepper and some salt (that smoked salt from the Riccarton markets is ace). 

Cook at whatever temperature you’re cooking your roast, or 180°C if you’re doing this solo. Give them a shake or a stir once every 20 minutes or so. Depending on how large your pieces are, you will need to take anywhere between 40 and 70 minutes to cook – give them a poke with a knife and pull everything out when the knife passes through smoothly, or, when a piece you’ve snuck out tastes about right, watch for burned tongue though). If you’re also cooking meat (and have no vegetarians to cater to), you can spoon some of the roast juices over the veggies for the last 15 minutes.

A word about breadcrumbs: these are a bloody annoying ingredient I’m afraid. The bought ones are dry and mealy and only good for sprinkling on top of pasta bakes before cooking. To make your own, leave slices of white or wholemeal bread out overnight or toast them lightly, then remove the crusts and very lightly grate them until you have the right amount of stuff. You can also grate a stale baguette. If you are fancy and have a food processor to chop with, then make sure your bread is very dry or you will get Bread Lump (TM). If this is all too hard, use those awesome Japanese panko ones.