When you find you can’t afford a Chanel handbag of your very own, perhaps the next best thing might be to make one yourself. Better yet, make it edible! That was partly my reasoning anyway, for signing up for yet another Planet Cake cake decorating course. Previous classes I’d attended had always been incredibly fun and enlightening, and this basic handbag course was no different. What I particularly love are the details like the stitching, the zipper and the gold chain interlaced with pink ribbon. The black double C’s are cut out of rolled fondant and after they’ve been pasted on, are brushed with a transparent gel to give them a vinyl sheen. The smaller gold plated C’s and button details are applied straight from a piping bag filled with a gold paste.

The end result almost made me want to pick the bag up and swing it over my shoulder.

—

It might be absolutely pelting down with rain, but armed with an umbrella, there’s no excuse not to stop off at Adriano Zumbo in nearby Darling Street for a sweet treat or two. I’m always telling friends about Zumbo, and they usually express interest until I mention the fact that it’s Balmain, then their eyes kinda glaze over.

This visit yielded some pointy hazelnut chocolate things and a delightful pink macaron creation that’s not too dissimilar to Pierre Hermes’ raspberry, rose and lychee flavoured Ispahan. The hazelnut chocolates were nice (meringue base, ganache inside, covered in chocolate and chopped hazelnuts), if not as fresh tasting as they could be (the nuts lacked a certain crunch factor, though I did like the silky smooth interior). Zumbo’s version of the Ispahan on the other hand, was absolutely fantastic. Dare I say this, it was more flavoursome and perhaps even a tad better than the Pierre Hermes’ classic that I had in Tokyo!

Planet Cake
106 Beattie Street
Balmain 2041

Adriano Zumbo Patissier
296 Darling St
Balmain 2041

It’s probably a bit premature to be launching into superlatives this early in the year, but Rufus Wainwright’s concert at the State Theatre during the week, could well be the best concert I’ll ever see this year. I knew it was going to be a good show the moment he walked out onto the stage in his bright lime green and black patterned suit (bare chested underneath), festooned with huge sparkly brooches; ritz-proportioned jewellery on hands and neck, and his shiny silver shoes. In the background, three disco balls descended from the ceiling. Or maybe it was when the lights dimmed after the first song, and I realised that the suit also glowed in the dark! Yes, absolutely. What a performer, what a voice.

This man I live with, I sometimes look at him and wonder. He has eyes like two blue cat’s eye marbles. His legs are obscured by fine yellow grass and on his face, a landscape fit to scour the dirt off the toughest pot.

This man travelled a great distance, from a home that was green and comforting, to live here with me on this crazy warm and dusty land. In the heat, the leafblowers scream and the flies, moths and crickets dance. Sweaty palms slap with irritation at their conversations against his ear, as he sleeps. When he can, he sleeps with great determination – one hand tucked between face and pillow like a sandwich; one lumbering shoulder rising and falling rhythmically. Every morning, I get the automated reply before I step out the door. It’s whrr *click* goodbyeloveyou – seeyoulater – haveaniceday *click* click* and then the body turns away from me, taking the morning brain with it, signalling that our meagre conversation has been terminated.

In his waking hours, he pushes a pen, presses a key, answers the phone, nibbles biscuits and drinks coffee. Occasionally, armed with only his wits, this man taxis forth to enter mountaineous buildings with security fit for castles, to battle computational demons. In the evening, he returns, recalling the promise of food.

Later he drifts off again into sleep and I wonder where he goes; what battles he fights, that are not under the sun of this Earth. What takes 10-12 hours of firm, enduring slumber (no peeking allowed) in the dark hours (maybe that’s why they’re called knights, but spare me the shining armour – this one barely wears a tie). Sometimes a little bubble of speech breaks through from the other world. Once, he told me that Big Bird was like an ostrich. I laughed out so loud, it woke him.

As he sleeps, I gaze at him and wonder. Then I start to plan ahead the meal I shall make for him when he returns again to my world. The other day, I made him this:

Parsley potato cakes :
(Ah, parsley, as the voiceover from Iron Chef might say. There are two major kinds of parsley; flat-leaf and curly. The ones in the know, use flat-leaf or Italian parsley for it’s stronger flavour. If our house was falling down and I only had time to save one potted herb, flat-leaf parsley would be it. This recipe is from The Art of Handmade Bread, by Dan Lepard)

1 cup (125g) all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp fine sea salt
1/4 cup (60g) unsalted butter, softened
1 1/4 cups (250g) mashed cooked potato
1 medium egg
6 tbsp (100g) milk at 68’F (20’C)
2 tbsp fresh chopped parsley
dripping or oil

In a large bowl, combine the flour with the soda and salt. Break the butter into small pieces and rub it into the flour mixture until no lumps remain. In another bowl, beat the mashed potato with the egg, then beat in the milk and parsley. Pour this in with the dry ingredients and stir until you have an evenly combined, soft and sticky dough.

Take a large skillet, ideally one with a close-fitting lid. Melt 1 tbsp of dripping (or sunflower oil) in the pan, then swirl the pan to coat the base evenly. Place this over a heat-diffusing plate on a low heat, and scrape the dough into the pan. Quickly pat the surface smooth with a spatula, then allow to cook over a gentle heat for 4-5 minutes, preferably with a lid on. As you need to cook the flour out, it is vital to keep the heat low and extend the cooking time. Aim for a crisp, slightly brown base to the cake after about 5 minutes.

Liberally oil a large dinner plate. Place this over the top of the skillet then, using a thick cloth, flip the pan over so that the cake falls down onto the plate. Slide the upturned cake back into the pan, return to the heat, and cook for an additional 4-5 minutes.

To serve, flip the cake out onto the oiled plate and cut into wedges, or simply put crisp bacon, broiled mushrooms, and tomatoes on the top and serve it straight out of the pan – but that might be too piggy!

[Note: This potato cake is particularly delicious with fried kippers and Sauce Gribiche, and is my contribution to WHB #118. For more herbaceous recipes, visit Claudia at Fool for Food for this week’s WHB roundup.]