The first thing I did when I opened the bottle was give them a sniff, but they didn't really smell like anything at all. Crystallised mimosa flowers are small, round and yellow, about the size of a baby pea (which, as an aside, I really really like, not only because they're delicious but also because there is something thrilling about eating a baby).
I nibbled at one, and it was surprisingly hard to bite into. The texture is kind of like a musk stick or those lolly cigarettes you used to get as a kid, 'Fads', the candy formerly known as 'Fags'. The name change always amused me. God forbid your child would be so un-PC as to be caught dead with a 'Fag'. But hang on here, why is there even a candy cigarette? FADS. Keeping oncologists in business since 1967.
The flowers have a sweet musky flavour, mildly floral, kind of like talcum powder, and have a small black seed in the middle. I tried to taste the seed on its own but in trying to extract it from the flower I dropped it in between the 't' and the 'y' keys on my keyboard, and lost it forever.
To be honest, the whole experience made me think of my nanna. The thought of eating my nanna has never really crossed my mind before, but I'm sure she'd be relieved to know that if I ever did feel such a compulsion, then I would have a satisfactory alternative in the crystallised mimosa flower.
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| Figure 2.1. Me with my Nanna Mimosa |
I googled Mimosa. Wikipedia describes a "torturous history, having gone through periods of splitting and lumping."
Wow. Way to be dramatic, Wikipedia. It's a plant, not a sexually transmitted disease.
Apparently these little doobies are actually crystallised silver wattle or Acacia dealbata, of the Fabaceae family (Mimosoideae subfamily; hence, I suppose, the 'mimosa' title). Mmm. Edumacational.
So, what to make with this ingredient? It's a tricky one, as it seems to be eaten on its own, or a compliment to desserts, rather than used as an ingredient in a recipe. I decided to stick with the Australian theme and make a sorbet using another Australian native, lemon myrtle, or as I like to call it, "bogan's lemongrass", to enjoy with our crunchy little balls of joy.
So, on the penultimate evening of January (how very 'me' to leave it to the last possible minute), the Clayson and Garthanie crew dribbled into Colchester Hall to sample the first of the 12 Bottles creations.
Being about 300 degrees in my tiny apartment, it was perfect weather for sorbet. Without wanting to blow my own flΓΌgelhorn, I have to say that it actually turned out pretty well considering I don't have an ice cream maker. The lemon myrtle flavour was an interesting and refreshing addition to a typical lemon sorbet, and the crunchy sweetness of the mimosas cut through the tartness really nicely.
Lemon Myrtle Sorbet with Crystallised Mimosa Flowers
So, on the penultimate evening of January (how very 'me' to leave it to the last possible minute), the Clayson and Garthanie crew dribbled into Colchester Hall to sample the first of the 12 Bottles creations.
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| Figure 2.2 Lemon Myrtle Sorbet with Crystallised Mimosa Flowers |
Being about 300 degrees in my tiny apartment, it was perfect weather for sorbet. Without wanting to blow my own flΓΌgelhorn, I have to say that it actually turned out pretty well considering I don't have an ice cream maker. The lemon myrtle flavour was an interesting and refreshing addition to a typical lemon sorbet, and the crunchy sweetness of the mimosas cut through the tartness really nicely.
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| Figure 2.3 "Nom" |
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| Figure 2.4 We love them because they're special. |
Then, because we hadn't eaten enough dip and bread and olives and stuffed peppers and gnocchi and caprese salad and roasted veges and exotic fruit and lemon myrtle sorbet with crystallised mimosa flowers, we tucked into Stephanie's delicious red velvet cupcakes which turned our tongues red (see figure 2.5) and made our hearts happy and wouldn't you know it, not one cochineal bug was harmed in the making of them.
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| Figure 2.5 That's how we roll. |
1.5 cups lemon juice
1 cup caster sugar
2 egg whites
2 tsp powdered lemon myrtle
Splash of vodka
Zest of 1 lemon
Crystallised mimosa flowers, to serve.
1. Dissolve the sugar in 2 cups of water over a medium heat. Add the lemon zest and let simmer until the mixture becomes slightly syrupy (about 10 mins), then remove from heat and allow to cool before straining out the zest.
2. Mix the lemon juice, lemon myrtle and vodka in with the sugar syrup (at this point you are allowed to drink some of said vodka), pour into a shallow baking dish and freeze for an hour or so until the mix is nearly frozen.
3. Go do something productive for an hour rather than standing by the fridge like I did, checking every few minutes to see if anything is happening and imbibing more and more vodka to help ease the boredom.
3. In a large bowl whisk the egg whites 'til kind of fluffy then add the frozen mixture and whisk till well blended. Refreeze.
4. Check on the mixture once an hour for a couple of hours, whisking each time. If you're as weak as I am in the arms, you're permitted to mutter under your breath as you whisk. It helps.
5. Serve with a few mimosa flowers on top. Eat with face scrinched up, the way small children look when you feed them lemons, but without the subsequent tears and accusatory glare whilst mum pisses herself laughing.
What, me? Bitter?
Completed with 26 minutes of January remaining.
Good job Christie Bee.
