(clockwise, from top left corner : chocolate macaron (a strawberry crumble tart hiding underneath), cannele, chocolate brownie, ginger ninja cookie, another cannele)

I was going to tell you about the glorious twice-bitten cannele I had sitting in front of me. Another two bites later however, and it’s suddenly all gone. Caramelised on the outside, custardy on the inside. The stuff deep sighs and satisfied smiles are made from. Today I tried to convince my Wednesday lunch buddy to make the trip to Newtown to visit Christopher The’s new shop, Black Star Pastry. She was reluctant to spend a portion of her precious lunch hour on a train, so we settled on sandwiches and coffee from Luneburger before I said goodbye to her and hello to Newtown and those canneles.

I read about his shop in Good Living yesterday (ah, so that’s what he’s been up to!), and what got me really excited was spotting the little canneles at the bottom right hand corner of the picture accompanying the blurb. In case you’re wondering what the fuss is all about, well, I can’t remember the last time I saw a cannele in a shop in Sydney. The last cannele I had was in Tokyo. We stumbled across a stall selling vanilla and chocolate versions, bought some even though we weren’t hungry, and later were filled with regret at not having bought more. So yes, you could attribute part of their appeal, to their elusiveness. I have never attempted making them myself, and perhaps it’s about time I did!

In the meantime, I think everyone should visit Black Star Pastry. It’s a small shop located on Australia Street, right next to Oscillate Wildly. It has a simple, rustic, pared back (budget friendly) set up that reminds me of sixsevenate in Chippendale, when George Sinclair and Lorraine Godsmark were running the place. I worked with them for about a year, and always longed for a similar sort of cafe/pastry shop in my own neighbourhood. The kind of place you could go to and be assured of decent coffee, a quality pastry or two, and friendly, personable service.

Black Star has the advantage of being in a good location (even if someone apparently told them that the shop was cursed), opposite the train station. Their pastries are reasonably priced and very reasonably sized as well. I like small bites with coffee, and am definitely going back next week to have something savoury, this time with my Wednesday lunch buddy in tow.

Black Star Pastry
277 Australia St
Newtown 2042.

Also inspired by my love of small things, I made these burnt orange and elderflower creams based on a dish by Dan Hunter, which appeared in the Sept/Oct 2008 edition of V.EAT. The pineapple and macadamia polvoron are his recipes, but I based the cream recipe on another one I’ve used before. The original intention was to make passionfruit flavoured creams. I recently ate a passionfruit brulee that was out of this world – and this is coming from someone who isn’t usually terribly fussed about brulees (or passionfruit, for that matter). But passionfruit brulees certainly work for me. Passionfruits were horribly expensive that day, so I used orange juice and elderflower cordial instead. Surprisingly, the end result was quite passionfruit-like!

This is a dish that could easily be converted into a dessert canape, especially if like me, you love the shape of small things. 🙂

I had been waiting for what seemed like an excrutiatingly long time, for my preordered Fat Duck cookbook to arrive. A couple of days ago, I got home to the sight of a huge parcel leaning casually against our front door. I dragged it into the apartment and ripped it open, rather excitedly. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the Fat Duck book, which at the time I thought I actually forgot to order. Instead, amongst the plastic packaging was a copy of Marcus Samuelsson’s Aquavit. Oh, when did I order that?

Flipping through the book (always from the back first, where the desserts are!), the words poppy, seed, parfait, caught my eye. I had never really thought about this before, but I seem to have a certain fondness for most things poppyseed-related. Lemon and poppyseed cake would be the first thing that comes to mind, but I’ve also seen lots of creative ways in which people utilise poppyseeds, such as in a vinaigrette dressing and in pasta dough. My friend Gabby also makes the most amazing Hungarian poppyseed pastry rolls called beigli.

This dish is my interpretation of Marcus Samuelsson’s recipe. The rhubarb in particular was very delicious – rhubarb and ginger are one of those heavenly matches that always leave me reaching for more. With the leftover cooking liquor, I diluted it a little, and froze it to make a pretty-in-pink granita to complement the rest of the dish.

As for the Fat Duck book? Well, I’ve since realised that I didn’t forget to order it afterall, so now I’m the ridiculous owner of not one but two copies of that gorgeous book. How, I ask you, do I manage to do these things!? 😛

Poppyseed Parfait :
(from Aquavit, by Marcus Samuelsson)

1 cup poppyseeds
1/4 cup pine nuts, lightly toasted
scant 1/4 cup honey
3 cups heavy cream
5 large eggs
2/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons dark rum
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise in half

Combine the poppyseeds, pine nuts and honey in a small saucepan and heat over low heat for about 5 minutes, until the honey is liquefied. Remove from the heat and let cool.

In a large bowl, whip the cream until it holds soft peaks. Set aside.

Combine the egg yolks, sugar, and rum in the top of a double boiler or a heatproof bowl. Scrape the seeds from the vanilla bean and add the seeds to the pan. Set over simmering water and heat, whisking constantly, until hot to the touch. Remove from the heat and continue to whisk until thick, pale yellow, and cool. Fold in the poppyseed mixture, then fold in the whipped cream.

Divide the parfait among eight glasses. Cover and freeze for at least 6 hours, or overnight.

Poached rhubarb:
(a variation on Marcus Samuelsson’s recipe for a rhubarb compote)

300g trimmed rhubarb stalks
1 cup sugar
1 cup water
1 stalk fresh lemongrass, lightly smashed and cut into 4cm lengths
1 small piece ginger, peeled and coarsely chopped
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise in half

Cut the rhubarb into 4cm lengths. Slice each piece into 1/2, or 1/4 if they are thick pieces.

Combine the sugar, water, lemongrass and ginger in a medium saucepan. Scrape the seeds from the vanilla bean and add the seeds and pod to the pan. Bring to a boil, turn off the heat, and let stand for 20 minutes to infuse the liquid with flavour.

Strain the infused liquid and return it to the saucepan. Add the rhubarb and simmer for 10-15 minutes or until the pieces are just tender. Remove from the heat. Strain the liquid and let cool slightly before serving.

Come down from the mountain, you have been gone too long
The spring is upon us, follow my only song
Settle down with me by the fire of my yearning
You should come back home, back on your own now

The world is alive now, in and outside our home
You run through the forest, settle before the sun
Darling, I can barely remember you beside me
You should come back home, back on your own now

–Ragged Wood, Fleet Foxes

He’s away, and now I’m in the doldrums.

While he’s in Tokyo, Seoul and Beijing, I read books distractedly, get a haircut^*, put Fleet Foxes on repeat, have dinner with friends. It feels like a weekend spent in an alien vessel. At night as I lie in bed, his pillow silently bares its grey and white teeth, daring me to venture closer. I stick to the far end of my corner. If this were a boat, the balance would have long tipped me into the water. The deep water of sleep. But sleep is light, and the telephone is sulking. The MythTV box is sullen; it won’t play what I want to watch. At this, I flee into the kitchen, and devise a dessert for 2 to beckon him home with.

I’ve always wanted to make an ice-cream sphere, and this one was going to be Cherry Ripe inspired, but cherries aren’t in season yet, so when they are, I might have to revisit that idea.

But for now I don’t want to wait, so this one is vanilla and elderflower flavoured, with a heart of raspberry sorbet. Raspberry and elderflower sauces stroke the plate. Edible flowers from my balcony complete the picture, reminding me that it really is Spring.

So now I wait, and count down the days until he finally returns and we can share this.

(^* My hairdresser told me he used to call a souffle, “soffle”, to which I replied that I wished he hadn’t told that to me just as he had the scissors right up against the side of my face, because I had to do everything I could to stop from laughing. Funny, tall, dark, handsome and SINGLE, ladies! Anyway, I love the new cut. I feel like Anna Wintour, minus the glamorous wardrobe and extra large sunglasses. I took a picture to show B, which I have also included on my About page. Unfortunately, you can’t actually see the hair because I’ve cropped the picture for the sake of anonymity.)