no california rolls served here

Not every sushi place you go to are all together happy about knocking up a few California rolls. That said, you master this and make them at home, you quite probably will impress everyone you know.

 

1 piece Makisu (bamboo rolling mat)

Dark green nori sheets

Sushi rice, cooked and seasoned

Crab sticks

Thinly sliced avocado

Cucumber (Japanese if available), thinly sliced

Toasted sesame seeds

Japanese mayonnaise

Fine salmon roe

 

Firstly, and in order to keep your rice from sticking to the Makisu and making a God awful mess, carefully wrap the Makisu in cling film.

 

Fold the nori sheets in half to break them, then lay them on your work surface and cover each sheet with about half a cup of sushi rice. To do so, first set the rice on the end of the nori sheet closest to you, then working with the fingertips, gently spread the rice over the surface of the nori.

 

With your California rolls, the rice is generally on the outside, so to continue, flip the rice coated sheet so that the rice side is down, carefully position the sheet horizontally so it will roll lengthwise.

 

Next, place a single row of crab across the middle of the nori. Then, place slices of avocado end to end right against the crab. It’s best to use an avocado that’s ripe but still quite firm. A generous squeeze of Japanese mayonnaise along the length of the roll comes next. Lastly, lay the very thin cucumber slices end-to-end right alongside the crab and avocado.

 

To roll the sushi, carefully lift the edge of the mat closest to you and begin rolling away from you, pressing lightly to keep the roll firm. At this point, the nearest edge of the roll has gone upwards and away from you and the pressure should guarantee a tight roll.

 

Next, lift up the end of the rolling mat and pull it away from you, allowing the roll to roll the rest of the mat. Then carefully remove the roll from the mat and place it on a cutting board. Lay the mat over the top of the roll and exert gentle pressure once more to make sure it’s all secure.

 

Hold the roll on the mat and sprinkle the top with toasted sesame seeds. Dredge the roll through the fine salmon roe to complete.

 

Slice the rolls using a very sharp knife with a smooth wet blade. Begin by slicing perfectly in half. The set the two halves side by side and slice into individual pieces, this ensures each piece is uniform in size.

 

three day marinades really do work

Recipes, blah blah, marinade for 2 hours, blah blah, preferably overnight, blah blah, just enough time to get the flavour in, blah blah.

I'm telling you now, leave it for three days and you'll really see where depth of flavour comes from.

As for a recipe, here's the time when you can let your senses be your guide, the touch, smell and look added to the taste is all the quantity directives needed, really.

I had some pretty lean pork loin, which does need a little assistance unless it's going to be basted with copious amounts of fat, so maybe the three day thing also worked particularly well for a cut of meat that may otherwise have come out a touch on the dry and chewy side of affairs.

It's no secret that the Thai way of balancing flavours is one of the darlings of the global kitchen, and a massive favourite of mine in a way that it is more often than not cobbled together through trial, error and success. I've had charcoal grilled pork neck in Bangkok where I am reasonably sure that I have NEVER tasted barbecued meat so perfect, so innocently prepared, aggressively seasoned, moist, juicy, tender, and still shimmering with perfectly suspended internal strokes of fat.

My pork sat in a happy bath of soy, fish sauce, red and green chilli, bashed lemongrass, galangal, shallots, lime juice and rice vinegar. Dry roasted in a pan with a lid on after the colour was achieved for no more than 10 minutes, rested then sliced and folded back through the marinade which was tipped into the roasting pan and brought to the boil before being switched off.

A few flecks of fresh red chilli and another squeeze of lime juice was all that was needed to round the show out.

The ever so slightly unconventional bit. Found a great new bakery that's just opened around the corner and the call of their sourdough was way too good to ignore, so a slice of that lightly toasted topped with a crisp shredding of romaine lettuce, smothered with the meat and her pokey marinade.

One more squeeze of lime atop my open sandwich of sorts and my work here is well and truly complete.
 

the sandwich that lit up the hinterland

All things considered, there's precious little that hasn't been thrown together in the shape of a sandwich that hasn't worked out well in the end.

A sweet little weekend break in the Hinterland has so much to offer, including pies, great markets and legendary sandwiches. There's so much more to add, but just for now the sandwich gets the credit it deserves though.

This beautiful monster should really have served two people and kept them going for a day, but with a cold beer or two it really only took care of lunch for one in the sunshine. A work of double handed genius in a symphony of pork, egg, fried bits and dough.

A proper work of art that simultaneously appetizes and satisfies.

Rock on the sandwich...
 

gyoza last thing on a Brisbane Sunday night

There’s always a right time to leave the last dumpling on a plate. Any dumpling. No matter how good it is. Some examples of when, quite exactly, one might consider the notion that one has hung around a litle too long could include, but not confined to:

 

1) Your host has to ask you to pay your bill and leave now

2) You’re actually properly tired

3) Eat another gyoza and you'll take someone down with you on the way out

4) You’re properly drunk on great Japanese beer and well on your way to memorably embarrassing yourself and anybody associated with you

5) You’re heading up the last straggle of diners and staying longer would make you seem tragic or desperate

6) Someone slightly more tragic looking than you has just arrived and no possible good can come from you being in the same restaurant with them

7) There’s better gyoza at a new place just opened up down the street

8) Someone really smart kicks the karaoke system into life

9) There is more than one left on the plate

 

all I want is yakitori tonight

I'm absolutely sure there's no-one who has come anywhere close to working out a more beautiful relationship, and I for one, am yet to imagine any possible food that goes better with a really cold beer.

 

 

Any perfectly grilled skewer of bite-sized anything with a bit of a kick and a chilled beer has some beating, and the discovery of a place where these are the only two things on offer is like stumbling upon Nirvana. Truly, when a really popular restaurant has but the one offering, you have to assume they are absolute perfectionist in their field.

 

 

It tends to be the charcoal gives yakitori its unique and irresistible scent and I guess the taste is developed on from the grill through the exact seasoning generally offered. 'Shio' which simply means that it's served with salt, or 'Tare' a salty-sweet sauce, which is basically made from soy sauce, sugar, and mirin. Whatever is on offer, the whole idea of cook to serve without the need to plate up with accompaniments and frills has always appealed in a big way.

 

 

In the event of not being heading to Yurakucho, Shimbashi or Shinjuku tonight, having some of those incredible pickled bamboo shoots with my first beer before the first skewers come off the grill, I now know what I'm having for dinner at home later, whatever happens...

blue marlin, in a bag, on the beach

Cooking something en papillotte means that you encase it in a wrapping of parchment and essentially steam it in its own juices. Just recently, blue marlin caught that morning in the waters off the south coast of Sri Lanka and baked with a piquant combination of Maldivian dried fish, pickled onions, aubergine, burnt lime, tomatoes, black olives, capers and herbs. This recipe can be made with a wide number of fish, as long as the fillets are the same size and thickness; try tilefish, halibut, cod, haddock, salmon, or sea bass.

 

Blue Marlin en papillotte with tomatoes, olives and a bit of Sri Lanka

 

Serves 4

4 (150 gram) marlin fillets (1 inch thick), skinned
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 medium tomatoes, seeded and diced
8 Kalamata or other brine-cured black olives, halved

a small handful of capers

1 medium onion sliced thinly and pickled in the caper brine
1/2 tsp local masala

8 wedges of grilled lime

8 baby aubergines, halved and roasted in olive oil
2 tblsp unsalted butter, cut into bits

8 leaves of basil

 

Put a rack in middle of oven and preheat oven to 220°c. Cut four 12-by-15-inch sheets of parchment paper (or foil)

 

Fold each sheet crosswise in half to crease, and then unfold. Season fish with salt, pepper and a pinch of the masala and put 1 fillet to the right of the crease on each sheet. Top each fillet with the diced tomato, one quarter of the capers and olives, one quarter each of butter and the basil

 

Working with one package at a time, fold left half of parchment over fillet. Starting at one corner of crease, fold edge of parchment over in triangles (each fold should overlap previous one), following a semicircular path around fillet, smoothing out folds as you go and tucking last fold under to seal papillotte completely.

 

Heat a large baking sheet in oven for 5 minutes. Put the papillotte on hot baking sheet and bake for 9 minutes.

 

To serve, transfer packets to four plates; with a knife, slit top of each packet and tear it to expose fish (use caution: steam will escape). Slide fish and sauce onto plates and discard paper.
 

the magic of the biryani of the dubai

Honestly, we all know the biryani isn't precisely local here, but really what actually is? This is by no means an ultra traditional number and I'm not here to divide nations and have battle lines drawn up, I just kind of know what I like. I think it would be proper to have it cooked under a pastry crust, which I'm not going to, so there's my first group offended. Here is simply my take on what has long been a downtown Satwa favourite. If you can do anything which might offer some authenticity to your buryani, do marinate the meat overnight as this helps massively to tenderise it

 

A Mutton Biryani

 

Serves 4-6

 

500g mutton, diced into bite-sized pieces

15g Greek or natural yoghurt

1 tblsp freshly grated root ginger, plus a 2cm knob of fresh root ginger, peeled

1 crushed garlic clove, plus 2 cloves, peeled

1 tsp mild chilli powder

1/2 green chilli, seeded and roughly chopped

1 tsp coriander seeds

Pinch of ground turmeric

2 tblsp olive oil

1 small onion, sliced

100ml single cream

Squeeze of lemon juice

Few drops of rosewater

Handful of coriander leaves

 

1 large onion, finely chopped

3 tbsp olive oil

250g basmati rice, rinsed

2 cinnamon sticks

4 star anise

4-5 cardamom pods, lightly crushed

Peel of 1/2 orange and 1/2 lemon

600ml hot lamb or chicken stock

Knob of butter

 

Marinate the mutton in the yoghurt, grated ginger and crushed garlic for at least 2 hours or preferably overnight.

 

Place the remaining ginger, garlic, chilli powder, chilli, coriander seeds and turmeric in a food processor and whiz to a fine paste. If necessary, add a little olive oil or water to get the paste moving in the processor.

 

Heat a large heavy-bottomed pan or a cast-iron casserole with a little olive oil. Tip in the onion and cook over a medium heat for 4-5 minutes until softened. Stir in the spice paste and cook for 2-3 minutes until fragrant. Add the mutton and yoghurt to the pan and season well. Stir in the cream and cover the pan with a tight-fitting lid. Cook over a low heat for 11/2-2 hours until the mutton is tender. Stir the mixture occasionally and add a splash of water if the mixture looks too dry.

 

Now start preparing the rice: preheat the oven to 200C/Gas 6. Sauté the onion in the oil in an ovenproof pan for 4-5 minutes until soft. Tip in the rice, cinnamon, star anise, cardamom and peel. Season and stir over a medium-to-high heat for 30 seconds. Add the stock, bring to the boil and cover with a tight-fitting lid. Transfer the pan to the oven for 20 minutes.

 

Remove the rice from the oven and leave to stand for 5 minutes. Mix through a knob of butter and season, fluffing the grains of rice with a fork to separate them.

 

Pile the rice on top of the mutton and sprinkle over the lemon juice and rosewater. Cover with a tight-fitting lid and return to the oven for 10-15 minutes to warm through.

 

Bring the pot to the table to serve. Stir through the coriander leaves and mix the rice and mutton together before piling on to individual plates.