Bottle 3: Dried Rose Buds

This month's ingredient makes me think of a story. Years ago my family would go fairly regularly to this local Indian restaurant. At the end of the evening us kids would be hanging around the front of the restaurant while the adults squabbled over who got to pay. This restaurant always had a little dish by the cash register with little sweets in it, usually those sugar-coated fennel seeds (another of the 12 bottles ingredients) or sometimes what looked like little coloured cubes of sugar (and taste like little coloured cubes of sugar; I'm sure if we had asked what they were, the response would have been "they're coloured sugar cubes"). On one particular evening Ben (the cousin) and I had stuck our hands in the little  dish and were munching away.

"These taste shit."

"Yeah."

"I think there's a stick in my mouth."

"Gross, it's all dusty."

"What's that blue thing?"

"Is that a rose bud?"

Almost at the same time, we both paused with our jaws frozen open in our closed mouths, staring down at the contents of our hands.

"Ben, I think we're eating the pot pourri."

"Yeah."

I think we can all take a little something from that story.

So this month's ingredient was dried rose buds. What was that I heard you say? Did you say easy? Did I hear you say that would have been easy? Would you like to write this blog then smartie-pants? 

(mmm, smarties)

Anyway what I'm trying to say is that it was actually pretty hard to come up with something delicious to make with this ingredient. They don't smell or taste like anything. Aesthetically pleasing, yes. But that's about it. It's kind of like that time Sarah (the lady friend) and I got served chocolate truffles sprinkled in gold dust. I mean, fuck you, poor people, I'm just going to eat some of this tasty tasty gold. Wait a minute.....

My first idea was a tea. Because when I was in Melbourne earlier this month, every night Angeline (the smile of my soul) would serve me up a lovely pot of rose-containing "nighty night" tea (which she charmingly nicknamed "smackie tea") right before bed. I've never slept so well in my life. Then I actually thought about how thrilling it would be for my guests to come around, to be served up some kind of narcolepsy-inducing brew. Yep, great idea for a party Christie Bee.

My second idea was to infuse the roses in vodka, because hey, if you're going to fall asleep during one of my 12 Bottles dinners, you might as well be drunk too. It didn't work. The vodka turned pink, the rose buds turned white, and it tasted like...well, like vodka with pink colouring in it. So smartie pants here (mmmm smarties) decided to cheat by throwing in some chunks of turkish delight. It didn't work. The vodka got pinker, the turkish delight took forever to strain out, and it tasted like...well, like very sweet vodka with pink colouring in it.

I can't take credit for this month's concoction, the idea came entirely from Adam (the boyfriend), who suggested I freeze the rose buds into ice cubes and serve them in some kind of rose flavoured cocktail. I had to begrudgingly admit it was brilliant. And that I was cranky that I hadn't thought of it first.

I only made 7 ice cubes so I invited 7 guests. They looked so pretty. The ice cubes, not the guests.

The cocktail was delicious god dammit. Like a tangy liquid turkish delight.

Some discussion went on during the meal about what we should call this cocktail. I thought, by golly if Barbara Streisand can have a rose named after her then Jason can have a cocktail named after him. Somehow though, 'The Jason' didn't seem suitable.

The "Rose Dixon"

1.5 shots gin
1 shot lemon juice
1 shot sugar syrup
few drops rose water
5 cardamom pods, smooshed a little
sparkling wine
rose bud ice cubes, to serve

Mix gin, lemon, sugar syrup and cardamom pods before straining into a glass. Add rose water and ice cubes and top with sparkling wine.

On the way home this evening I commented to Adam on the phone that I was heading home to finish my blog. He asked if there were any references to death in this entry. Can you believe the nerve? Well, my dearest, I wasn't planning on it, but if you insist...

ENTRAILS!!!

Bottle 2: Dried Mace Flakes

Ok, so it's the last day of February meaning I'd better get cracking on this post. To be honest I'm a little unhappy that February only has 28 days as I've had less time to procrastinate. And I do love a good procrastination.

Now. Mace flakes. Not to be mistaken with Mace Spray, because Mace Spray is for baddies (eg people with axes loitering outside radio stations) and Mace flakes are for goodies, like me.

In an ideal world I would have liked to have done an experiment with my mace flakes, to see if they do in fact have a similar effect. I would have done this by taking a number of people, and introducing Mace Spray to the eyes of half of them, and mace flakes to the eyes of the other half. Then I would ask my "participants" to fill out a short questionnaire and I would note down some observations about their reactions, eg screaming, crying, begging me to stop, saying, "why, what did I ever do to you, I don't even KNOW you", etc.

To make it ultra scientific, I would control all the variables - for example, I wouldn't just rub the dried mace flakes in peoples eyes (then I would never know if their reactions were the result of the irritation caused by hard dried flakes being scraped up against their eyeballs) - I'd make Mace Water (by soaking some mace flakes in water for at least 48 hours) and spray this directly into their eyes.

To make it ultra ethical, I'd only use participants who are likely to have Mace sprayed in their eyes at some point in their life anyway. Like people with southern cross tattoos, and people with Bipolar.

Unfortunately I didn't have time to do any of this because February only has 28 days.

Ok, I hear what you're saying, "we didn't come here for a lesson on research methods, take us to the food". Greedy fucking bastards.

Mace is the outer covering of a nutmeg seed. It's bright red and attracts birds so that birds will nom the seed and carry it far far away. This is a very very clever and sneaky plant, that will manipulate birds into assisting it to travel across the land for free.

Apparently mace and nutmeg taste similar, but to me the mace tastes and smells more like eucalyptus (not that I've eaten eucalyptus - I'm not a koala, aka stoner bear). The flavour remains in my mouth for a really long time and kind of makes my tongue numb. If I were to hazard a guess I'd say nutmeg would be used more frequently in sweet dishes and mace more commonly in savoury.

This month I've decided to make a nonya achar - which is a pickle I used to eat as a kid. In my memories I imagine that my grandmother made it (my ma ma - mum's mum) but mum tells me no, it was my friend's ma ma. Perhaps as a kid I wished so badly that my ma ma would make achar that I just invented that memory. Like that 'memory' I have of my sister being eaten by a panther in the backyard under a Bridgestone Tyre neon sign, which clearly didn't happen because my sister is still alive. And because why the hell would ANYONE have a Bridgestone Tyre neon sign in their backyard.

As a kid whenever we had achar in the fridge I would get some straight out of the jar (with a utensil of course, mum would have killed me if she had seen me sticking my fingers in a jar) and walk around the house sucking on whatever morsel I had scored (usually a carrot or a cucumber, but I vaguely also remember cauliflower). Due to the extreme spiciness of the pickle my lips would swell up Sophie Monk-style, my tongue would go completely numb, and little tears would form at the corners of my eyes while I wandered in a euphoric haze. Oh, sweet sweet salty-spicy agony. My first friend.

So last week I whipped up a little achar which is happily soaking away in my fridge. A lot of it has already been given away and a lot of it has gone into my belly on a little bench of cheese on a cracker boat on an ocean of white wine.

I think it's pretty delicious and the mace is very distinct. The only comment I've had so far from someone who knows what it's supposed to taste like was from mum. "The cucumber is too salty." But it's supposed to be salty, it's a PICKLE. Sheeeeez.

The best thing I discovered about mace (apart from it looking like dried human skin) is that in large quantities it's apparently a mild hallucinogen, owing to containing small amounts of elemicin and myristicin. I was unable to test this out either - 28 days in February and all. Sorry.

The jar is for you Jase - come pick it up soon. xo

Achar

3 carrots - cut into chunky sticks
3 cucumbers - cut into chunky strips, seeds removed
1 chinese cabbage
Handful of green beans
2 spring onions, chopped
4 cloves garlic
Thumb sized piece of galangal
3 fresh chillies
20 dried chillies
Tbsp dried mace flakes
Tsp serai (lemongrass powder)
Tbsp turmeric powder
2 cups white vinegar
Half cup rice wine
Juice of 3 limes
2 cups crushed roasted peanuts
Half cup roasted sesame seeds
Half cup sugar
Peanut oil


1. Rub salt into the cucumber and carrots and let them sit for half an hour before rinsing and drying well.


2. Boil the beans and cabbage very quickly but don't cook them through. Drain very well.


3. In a food processor, blend together the garlic, spring onions, chillies and galangal with half a cup of water. Alternatively, if you, like me, don't have a food processor, you could just cut everything into miniscule little pieces and beat it to a pulp with a mortar and pestle - it only takes like, four hours.


4. Fry the stuff that you just mooshed up in peanut oil with the turmeric and serai until it starts to smell delicious and the spices start to separate from the oil.


5. Add in 1 cup vinegar and the rice wine, 1/2 cup sugar and some salt. Stir and remove from the heat. 


6. Mix in all the veges and add the lime juice, then the peanuts and sesame seeds. Finally add the mace and mix through. Taste the juicy goodness and adjust according to taste, adding more sugar/salt/vinegar.


7. Refrigerate in large pyrex or casserole dish.


8. Make sure you wash your hands before rubbing your eyes or genitals. Chili can be a bitch.

Bottle 1: Crystallised Mimosa Flowers

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.

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.

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 flügelhorn, 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.

Figure 2.3 "Nom"

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.

Figure 2.5 That's how we roll.

Lemon Myrtle Sorbet with Crystallised Mimosa Flowers

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.

An Introduction to Twelve Bottles

Every year on Christmas Eve Eve, a few friends of mine get together to celebrate Lesbian Christmas. Now despite what you may think, this is not the one day of the year that we forget all of our inhibitions and have an all-out orgy (believe me, this disappoints me too). In fact, I'm fairly sure Lesbian Christmas has never actually been attended by a real lesbian and there seems to be an awful lot of penis involved. That being said, this Christmas just past seems to have come closest to the essence of lesbianism, with our hosts' female dog Stella developing a taste for my inner thighs.

Moving away from its humble beginnings in an Erskineville share house inhabited by my favourite inter-racial couple Steph and Garth (have cute kids already would you. I need something to poke), Lesbian Christmas 2010 was hosted by 'Clayson' in their highly enviable and trendy Surry Hills terrace.

To rival last year's Duckencock (the younger, more attractive sister of the Turducken), and thanks to an amazing kitchen with two, yes TWO ovens, Jason managed to rustle up a mighty meatcake (see Figure 1.1). An iron deficient's dream dessert, it stood as a four-tiered Fuck You to vegetarians and poor people.

Figure 1.1. Mighty Meatcake

Beef, check. Gravy, check. Pork, check. Apple sauce, check. Chicken, check. Cranberry Sauce, check. Turkey, check. Mashed potato icing, check. Both gluten AND dairy free? Priceless.

Figure 1.2. Inner workings of Meatcake revealed

I consumed enough meat in one sitting to ensure survival until next Lesbian Christmas' Fondue-B-Q, anticipated to be a range of barbecued meats with a gravy fondue fountain.

Now to the guts of the evening and the reason for this blog. Following Christmas dinner it's tradition for the guests to exchange Kris Kringle presents. Opening mine, I discovered 12 small corked bottles with hand-drawn labels and the following instructions:

Figure 1.3. A cryptic note

Knowing my love for food and all things unusual, my KK had filled each bottle with weird and wonderful ingredients, some I'd never seen before and others I'd never even heard of. And so begins my journey, to use one ingredient a month for the next 12 months. Also thought I would take you all along for the ride, making it an interactive experience (some of you will get to taste my concoctions along the way) and one that I'm actually accountable for. And also because I thought I could make something hilarious out of what is possibly the most thoughtful and touching gift I've ever received. So I dedicate this blog to Jason, who is one of my favourite people, not least because he always falls asleep whilst laughing, like so:

Happy New Year all!!