The one thing about having foodie friends is that you know that when you ask them to sample butters, they won’t ask “Why?”. It’s taken as a given that you might want to compare the subtle tastes of butters and see whether country of origin or price plays a part in the enjoyment of the butter. Imported butters in Australia are astronomically priced, either due to the cost of importing them or sheer profit, indeed you can pay from $7-$10 for an imported butter that will retail overseas in London for £1-£1.70. So it was pre-planned with my sister that when I came to London we would do a butter taste test in order for the bank balance to not run dry.
We purchased butter from Waitrose (for the wider range) as well as Tesco (who also had some decent imports) from a variety of countries: English, French, Dutch, Irish,Welsh and Italian (unfortunately no Australian or NZ butter was available). The most expensive per weight was the Echire French butter in a basket at £13.80 a kilo or £3.45 per 250g basket. This was followed by the Italian butter, the Beppino Occelli at £1.52 per 125g which was also one of the fanciest in terms of packaging with a rivet seal and an imprint on the butter and instructions on how best to enjoy butters like a connoisseur and details of the 2 awards they won. We also had at the cheapest end, Tesco’s English butter. We wanted to try only salted butters (to eliminate the variability when salting a butter yourself) but there were more unsalted butters available so it was a mix. When tasting, we spread them on a freshly baked still-warm crunchy French baguette cut in 1cm thick slices, spread thickly with butter and then sliced up so that each taster got a bit of crust as well as the inside of the bread.
Beppino Occeli’s fancy pants butter
Our lineup:
1. President lightly salted butter: France £4.76/kg
2. Beppino Occelli butter: Italy £12.16/kg
3. Tesco English lightly salted butter: U.K. £3.76/kg
4. Maydew Kosher unsalted butter: Netherlands
5. Rachel’s Organic lightly salted butter: Wales £5.56/kg
6. Tesco Brittany butter with sea salt crystals: France £4.08/kg
7. Bridel Brittany butter: France £6.60/kg
8. Ste Mere D’Isgny Demi-sel extra fin butter: France £6.48/kg
9. Goat’s Butter: U.K. £5.16/kg
10. Yeo valley organic salted butter: U.K. £5.04/kg
11. West country salted butter: U.K. £5.16/kg
12. Kerry Gold salted butter: Ireland £4.48/kg
13. Echire butter: France £13.80
Our tasters:
1. Blythe
2. Candy
3. Kathy
4. Marc
5. Mr NQN
I wasn’t tasting this as I was administering the test.
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August 11th, 2008
by Not Quite Nigella
When I come to France, all I want to do is eat pastry. Should an immigration officer ask me my reason for entering France, I’ll simply say “To eat pastry”. Forget chocolate, I can always get good chocolate in Sydney, Tokyo, London or anywhere else I travel. However pastries like this are much harder to find. Poilâne is an institution, their sourdough bread of miche is said to be legendary. Using stone-ground flour, sea salt from Guérande and a wood-fired oven they set about conquering the world, one loaf at a time.
So a visit to Paris isn’t complete with a visit to their flagship store on the rue de cherche Midi. I have tried Poilâne bread before as it is available in London so we visited just to “take a perv” at the store and buy some pastries and some other breads. It’s an unusual set up. The shopfront is in a small street and hints not at the auspiciousness of the bakery. A stern looking unsmiling woman sits at the counter taking money while a group of older and younger woman flutter about backs to the wall watching customers and straightening displays of bread.
There is a small selection of breads and pastries and a sample box of their flower petal shaped butter cookies. The miche is sold by the weight and you can choose the amount of thinly sliced bread that you want. One woman offers me a sable biscuit from the box while I am browsing and a friendly young woman, a dead ringer for Natalie Portman offers her help. They package up the items for you, you don’t help yourself, and they wrap it and write the price on the paper bag and hand it to you and you then pay the stern madam behind the counter.
Le haul
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August 10th, 2008
by Not Quite Nigella
I’ll caution you that I was going to do Olympic cupcakes. But that time it rolled around, the last thing I felt like doing was fashioning Olympic rings in the various colours out of chocolate. Let the athletes train for it, I’ll just stay on the lounge and watch. So these are my little shout out to the Olympics.
My mum rarely gives out recipes. For some mums, revealing their best recipe is akin to a magician revealing how they have done their tricks. They prefer to keep these close to the chest and leave a bit of mystery. It’s not restricted just to mums and I’ve seen it in people my age too. Not that I blame them, they’ve probably been asked to keep the valuable family recipes a secret, a physical or mental “vault” if you will.
It seems that everyone is dumpling mad lately and sometimes you just want to whip up a batch of soup with some greens and dumplings without having to leave the house. And at night temperatures in Sydney reaching -1 degrees (aren’t we supposed to be the sunburnt country?) the thought of going out some nights just pushes me towards the heater and the snug quilt. So for these nights, my mum has open up her recipe treasure trove and revealed her famous Wonton recipe (ok famous among her friends and family) which can also be adapted to make Siu Mai. These are excellent to freeze (use greaseproof paper between single layers) and popped into boiling water to cook.
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August 9th, 2008
by Not Quite Nigella
I had told a friend of mine, M, about Una’s at Double Bay and how their Schnitzels came with sauce. “PFfffttt!!” she said indignantly “Schnitzel should never come with sauce!!”. As a proud Austrian, she is highly opinionated on the foods from her native land. And I in turn, vowed never to serve her Austrian food, should I get in trouble for fiddling with it.
We walk into The Austrian Club this cold, Wintry night, our stomachs happily anticipating a large meal full of meat and potatoes and various other ingredients that make up Austrian cuisine. The Austrian Club is situated in Frenchs Forest, close to other National clubs such as the Czech club and the Danish Club. Of course we are going here with M and her monkey-toting son I. After 15 years in Australia, this is her first time to the club. On the outside she says that it is much like a typical Austrian building, white with brown trim and a fire bell at the top. And the sign outside proudly sports Gösser beer, the popular Austrian Beer. So far so good.
Inside, it looks quaint and is comfortable like a hall with checked tablecloth covered tables and we are reassured by M, that it looks just like back home. She point out the various details, from the curtains to the wall plaques and the signs that would separate foreigners from natives.
Stammtisch-VIPs only!
For example there is the “Stammtisch” sign above a table which reserves that tables for the elders or regulars. An Austrian would never sit at that table unless they were one and each club would have one of these tables put aside for their special patrons. The fixtures above the lights she says are based on the equipment that they use on the oxen that plough the fields in Austria.
Hoof hook
Food orders are taken at the table by the wait staff and drinks are ordered a the nearby bar. And it’s cash only for both (which threw us a little and had us hurriedly counting cash in wallets and nominating people to wash dishes).
Almdudler
We order with the advice from M as to what is typically Austrian and then she comes back from the bar with cans of Almdudler, a popular Austrian soft drink flavoured lightly with herbs (much like a Chi drink). The red can features an Alpine looking couple and it’s said to be their National drink, second only to Coca Cola in sales, although it doesn’t contain caffeine and the taste is light and refreshing.
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August 8th, 2008
by Not Quite Nigella
OK I’m not being serious, this is not only just for Shut Ins although sometimes during the cold of Winter, I definitely feel as though I qualify. I am not sure why there is such a stigma to hibernation, the bears do it and you hardly hear cries of “anti social bears” and mutterings that there’s something wrong with them. If you feel like the world is just too cold or cruel a place and that stepping out the door would be as appealing as sawing your own arm off, these recipes are for you. And I don’t want to hear from people who say that they’ve never felt like that and that they love socialising and interacting. Don’t get me wrong I do too. But there are just some days that you just want to barricade yourself indoors. An example of why everyone at some stage has felt this way is the great Australian tradition of a sickie. Sometimes you just cannot be bothered and slobbing around the house is the best you can do.
I like to celebrate my shut-in days by making the most of them. I watch the DVDs I’ve never gotten around to, read or at least start the books I’ve got gathering dust by the side of my bed and read trashy magazines *ahem* … I mean keep up with current affairs.
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August 7th, 2008
by Not Quite Nigella
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