Last Sunday, B and I came home with a new tomato plant and some Pennyroyal (good for repelling fleas and ants, apparently). The car got cleaned, the plants potted, balcony swept, and as we sat there, feet perched against the railings, there were two options to consider : 1) Drive to Castle Hill or the city, where advanced screenings of Pan’s Labyrinth were showing, or 2) Continue lazing for the rest of the day, booze in hand.

Naturally, we ended up with the latter option. You only get one Sunday a week, so you should be entitled to be as lazy as you want to, and besides,.. the Guillermo del Toro movie would be screening in more cinemas within a few days anyway. So, with glasses of Moscato in hand, we sat there as the sun began to set, nibbling on sandwiches. Someone was on the stereo.. maybe Lambchop, maybe Thom Yorke.

Then a couple of rainbow lorikeets gatecrashed our party (didn’t offer them any booze because you know what THEY are like once they’ve had one too many). They ended up with a more bird-friendly snack, but did initially eye-off our plates of vegetable spring rolls with a soy dipping sauce, and crab and caviar finger sandwiches. These sandwiches were a particular revelation : sweet succulent crabmeat bound with mayonnaise, salty caviar (lumpfish roe, not the real thing, I’m afraid) and crisp, shredded iceberg lettuce. On white bread, of course. Just the thing to take to Blog Party #18’s Black & White theme.

More Sundays like this and I fear I may never leave my balcony!

One of the many cooking related presents I received for Christmas, was a beautiful Ferrari-red Le Creuset pot – something I had coveted for a long time, but never got round to getting for myself. It was gorgeous, and I wanted to use it straight away, but there’s something about the two words, “Summer” and “Braising”, that just don’t seem to gel together. It’s as if Yogi Bear held up the pot against the searing heat of Summer and scratching his head, said, “Hmm.. something wrong here!”

Lucky for me, no one ever listens to Yogi, not even Boo Boo. The original idea for a simple Saturday meal was to braise some octopus, then maybe grill it on the BBQ or have it cold (between two buns? Or does that sound too salacious? And what of the chorizo?). The addition of chorizo stems from my love of said sausage and my willingness to add it to almost anything possible. That, and possibly subconscious messages yelling at me from when I saw it mentioned on Spitoon, which caused me to pick up some chorizo when I was shopping for ingredients.

The best ways to cook octopus are, either really fast over high heat so that the meat doesn’t have time to toughen, or slowly over low heat, which breaks down and tenderises the octopus. Just as a matter of personal preference, I favour the second method. Nothing like little baby octopi paddling around in a rich tomatoey sauce.

This recipe is an adaptation of one that features in From the Boathouse, a collection of recipes from The Boathouse on Blackwattle Bay, when Yvan Meunier was head chef. The sprinkling of gremolata (they use “dried gremolata” in the book) is a great idea because the combination of herbs and zesty lemon really enlivens and puts more of a Summer stamp on the dish.

Braised Baby Octopus with Chorizo and Gremolata:

1 kg baby octopus, cleaned
100ml olive oil
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 spanish onion or 4-5 eschallots (aka shallot or french shallot), diced
generous pinch of dried chilli flakes
1 small chorizo, thickly sliced
1 tin tomatoes (440g)
slurp of Forum Cabernet Sauvignon vinegar

Gremolata:

2 tablespoons chopped parsley
zest of 2 lemons, chopped
1 small clove garlic, finely chopped

For the gremolata, combine the chopped parsley, zests and garlic.

Heat the olive oil in your brand spanking new Le Creuset pot. Lightly fry the garlic, onion and chilli to soften. Add the octopus, tomato, chorizo and vinegar. At this stage, it will look like it might be too dry to be a stew, but as the octopus cooks, it will release some more liquid. Bring to boil then turn down the heat and simmer very gently for 30-40 minutes until the octopus is tender. Adjust the seasoning.

The octopus can now be served straight away, piping hot, or at room temperature, or even cold, with a glass of beer. Today we had it warm, with some steamed potatoes, scattered black olives, and topped with a dollop of aioli and the gremolata.

For more ideas to stew over, check out this new event being hosted over at Spitoon.

This bunch of bright red vine-ripened tomatoes caught my eye at a local shop the other day. I was looking for ox-heart tomatoes, but there were none to be had, so I opted for it’s glossier relative. With the warmer weather upon us, it’s the perfect time to have a tomato salad in the name of Weekend Herb Blogging.

Despite the rise in popularity of heirloom tomatoes such as Kumatos, Green Zebras and Ox-Hearts, the plain vine-ripened tomato that we are all familiar with, is still a thing of great taste and beauty. Although, I must confess.. I didn’t originally start out being such a fan of tomatoes.

When I was about 13, we lived next door to an Italian family. Their daughter Laura, was about my age, and she would come over often to swim with us. One day, she invited me over to her house after our swim for a snack. She showed me around her house and then led me to the kitchen. Unexpectedly, what she did was take a few tomatoes and cut them into thick slices with a serrated knife. Over these sliced tomatoes, she then sprinkled salt and pepper, and drizzled some olive oil, before placing the plate on the table, where she invited me to pull up a chair and eat with her. When I got home later that afternoon, someone in my family asked how the visit had gone, and I remember telling them that it went well, but puzzlingly, we had eaten “just tomatoes”.

Over the years, I have finally grown to understand and appreciate what a treat it is to have a fully ripe tomato. Unadorned, or dressed in a balsamic vinaigrette, a tomato is not “just” a tomato, but something that can remain so simple and yet be so pleasing to the palate. This salad comes from Liam Tomlin’s wonderful book, Season to Taste. Sweet fleshy vine-ripened tomatoes co-mingle with briney olives, sliced eschallots and sprigs of baby basil. A glimpse of summer as it should always be remembered.