Tess of the Galaktoboureko

It’s funny to have a cookbook in your heart, in that special place tucked way down in the subconscious deep; alongside pop songs from your youth that make you ache a little and next to the scents that wham you right back to that place in your history. To have such a cookbook destines one to have it work a profound and lasting effect on the trajectory of one’s lifelong love-affair with food.

For me, this cookbook was by Tess Mallos and upon being introduced to me she became the part-scary Aunt, part high priestess, of cooking.

It was simply titled “The Greek Cookbook”.

Yes, I know. It’s a no-brainer right? You’re probably thinking, ‘Wow, she’s a Greek chick and her first connection with a cookbook was with a Greek one. Wow… how unusual… NOT!’

But bear with me for a second. Tess was one of the first people of Greek origin I had ever seen on Australian television. Lex Marinos was there too, being called a ‘wog’ and being told to ‘leave the money on the fridge’, but the uproarious canned laughter never quite made sense to my young witnessing of nationally transmitted racism against one of my own.

Tess was a Greek woman on television. And not an actress like the beautiful, talented and glamorous Chantal Contouri (who also has a passion for food). She was a woman who was on television to teach people how to cook Greek food. It was amazing.

In this time there was Bernard King, Peter Russell Clarke, Margaret Fulton of course, and a few more. Nothing like the plethora of Celebrity Chefs we have rammed down our gullets like foie gras geese today.

And then suddenly, out of this “meat and three veg” cultural culinary landscape, there emerged, in the distance, festooned with oregano, lemons and a hint of garlic, Her Majesty Tess Mallos.  And long may she reign!

Mum and I would sit in front of our HMV TV set and watch The Greek Variety Show with Harry Michaels. There’d be singers doing traditional Greek songs and Greek language versions of current hits. The Bee Gees tune ‘Staying Alive’ was translated into “Pio thinata”, which means “More Hard”…..

Anyhoooo….

And then Tess would come on and show us how to make Yemista, Pastitsio and Baklava. She was poised and capable. It was like having her in our own home. It was an occasion. But mostly, it was comforting to see ourselves reflected back at us in a context that was simple, honest and practical all at once.

Mum has the first edition of her cookbook (1976) and I have the 1992 edition. It has been reprinted and republished – once in a ‘limp edition’ – around 20 times. I know that my copy is just one of the countless copies that have tomato stains and syrup spills through the pages all across Australia.

Tess has published other excellent cookbooks as well, and my other favourite Greek cookbook is by another Tess – Kiros. Her book ‘Falling Cloudberries’ contains gorgeous photography and good recipes.

The worst cookbook title ever ,  would have to be “Easy Greek-Style.” I mean really…. What were they thinking?

The following Tess Mallos recipe has allowed me to secure my place amongst my friends as ‘Maker of Many Excellent Greek Things Woman’.  It's called Galaktoboureko, a dessert I describe to my Aussie mates, somewhat condescendingly… sorry… I gotta watch that… as, ‘a sort of Greek vanilla slice’. It’s nothing like vanilla slice. It is creamy sweet and golden and sublime. Vanilla slice is like sweet snot with biscuity bits.

Thank you Tess Mallos. You are my Julia Childs and the scary aunty I had but really wanted more of.  xxxx

Custard Pie – from The Greek Cookbook

Galatoboureko

Serves 12

Cooking Time 1 hour

Oven temperature 180 degrees

4 cups millk

¾ cups sugar

¾ cups fine semolina

60g butter

grated ring of ½ lemon

8cm cinnamon stick

Pinch of salt

5 eggs lightly beaten

1 teaspoon vanilla essence

12 sheets fillo pastry

185g unsalted butter, melted

½ quantity sugar syrup – to follow

• Mix the milk, sugar, semolina, butter, lemon rind, cinnamon stick and salt in a heavy based saucepan and heat until thickened, stirring constantly. Let custard bubble gently over heat for 5 minutes.
• Take from heat and remove cinnamon stick. Cover with a piece of buttered paper to prevent skin forming. When cool, mix in eggs and vanilla.

• Butter a 33x25x5cm metal baking dish. Place half the filo pastry sheets in the dish, brushing each side with the melted butter. Pour in the custard and top with the remaining sheets, again brushing each with butter as it is placed into position.

• Brush top with remaining butter and score through top three sheets of fillo in 8cm squares or diamonds. Trim edges 1cm above top of pie. Bake in a moderate oven for 45 minutes until golden brown and custard is set when tested with a knife. Remove from oven and cool thoroughly in the dish.

• Make syrup and pour over the pie. Leave until cool before serving.

Electra’s NOTE: Either hot fillo/cold syrup or cold fillo/hot syrup is the golden rule of golden fillo.

Syrup

2cups sugar

2 cups water

3 whole cloves (optional)

5cm cinnamon stick

1tbs lemon juice

thin strip of lemon rind

Place ingredients in a heavy based saucepan and stir over heat until sugar dissolves. Bring to the boil and boil over moderately high heat for 20 minutes.

                                                                                            

Poh Faced and The Soup of Love

So, recently I was on the telly. I’ve been on the telly before. It’s fun being on the telly. People watch you and send text messages and mum and dad get all super-proud and momentarily forget the hell their troublesome daughter has put them through for all of these years.

This time was different. I have never had so many people so excited about me being on the telly. Ever. My Facebook page was busier than my birthday. There were text messages, emails and tweets, people who sorta knew me stopped me in the supermarket and jumped up and down. It all went a bit crazy. And I was only on for two minutes! Other times I’ve been on the telly, people have been well… nice… enthusiastic … complimentary even… but not like this.

No. And why? Because I was on a cooking show. And not just any cooking show. I was on Poh’s Kitchen!

I loved it. Poh was actually in my kitchen. She and the lovely crew hung out, filmed me making Avgolemono Soup and then put the clip on the telly. Which you can find if you click on this link, here:

The clip of me on Poh's Kitchen: A Greek Breakfast

So.... a secret....

What I didn’t say on the show was that this soup is something I make when I seek comfort. When I’m feeling isolated or anxious, making this soup restores me, the action of assembling the flavours within that delicate broth brings me back to my senses. And when my friends are feeling poorly with no mamma or are holding a lingering sadness in their heart, I know the one thing I can do to make them feel better is make them this soup.  It’s a beautiful thing.

I also know there will come a day however, when I will discover someone I love is in the most agonizing state of pain. When I have to face the fact that all the soup in the world is not going to make that person feel better. There will be nothing I can cook or do or say that will make everything alright. This really terrifies me. What will I have left? Just me. With no tricks. No answers and a whole lot of fear that if I can’t channel my energy into doing something practical to help, like making soup, I’ll be reduced to being a reminder of how feeble humans can be.

Or… I’ll just be me. With no bowl of soup in my hand or words of comfort to offer.  Put simply, I will go to this person and be with them. I’ll be me saying silently, I’m here because I love you. I hope that will be enough.

Avgolemono Soupa

To make stock:

Place a whole free range chicken in a pot and cover with cold water. Bring to the boil, then reduce the heat. Do not allow the water to bubble furiously or the stock will be cloudy and the flavour will be compromised. Skim any scum that rises to the surface. Season with a good pinch of salt. You can also add a bay leaf and some pepper corns if you like. Simmer gently for an hour or so, or until the chicken is about to fall apart. Remove the chicken, reserving it for later, and strain the stock.

For the soup:

You need:

At least 6 cups of stock

3/4 cup short grain rice, rinsed under cold water

3 eggs

juice of one lemon

Salt and white pepper

More lemon juice to taste

Shredded (reserved) chicken meat

Heat stock til its simmering in a large saucepan and add the rice. Stir until the stock returns to very low boiling point, and then simmer gently for about 15 minutes or until the rice is cooked. You may need to skim the soup during this process as well.

Separate the eggs. In a bowl beat the egg whites until soft peaks form, then fold through the yolks, being careful not to flatten the egg whites too much. Gradually drizzle in the lemon juice.

Then you need to ‘cook’ the egg mixture, by slowly ladling in the hot soup a ladle at a time into the egg mixture, while whisking well. Add the hot soup slowly so that the eggs don’t split.

Add the warm shredded chicken meat (about 2 cups worth) into the stock and rice. Remove the soup from the heat and stir in warm egg mixture. Adjust seasoning and serve immediately, adding more lemon juice to taste.

When It Doesn't Love You Back

There is nothing so heartbreaking, so definitively humiliating and debilitating than that evil bitch of life called ‘Unrequited Love’.

Really, it should just be called ‘Thanks For Nothing, Love’, because let’s face it when it hits you square in the soul it makes you wish you’d never even discovered it’s giddy passion.  Never become aware of that deep place that makes you stand in awe and then brings you to your knees. Because once it is denied you, there is no going back. You have experienced a temporary gift from life, a promise that was all too soon taken away.

And this, my friends, is how I feel about pasta.

Pasta’s simplicity, its versatility, and ability to taste absolutely freaking delicious makes me want it; want it bad. From when I was a kid, when my yiayia would serve up tubular noodles covered in nutty burnt butter, a mountain of soft grated haloumi and dried mint, I have adored this sexy staple. It can be turned into amazing meals with the barest of help from the ingredients out of a dwindling fridge. But it can also be the star of Michelin standard dishes by the artistry of the true masters. If I could, I’d marry it. Or at least try to sustain a long-term relationship with it.

Sadly, pasta does not love me. Not even close.

You see, getting in the way of our love, there is a new four letter word. And it’s spelt C-A-R-B-S.

Freaking carbs. One minute there’s 8 serves at the bottom of the food pyramid and then next thing those serves are collecting on each sides of my arse. And there can only be one hot, big arsed woman in the food world and it is Nigella.

It’s mean. It’s just plain mean that something so delicious and endlessly available, could be so unrequiting to me. To you pasta I say this: ‘Screw you and your arse expanding ways. I’m gonna love you til I die.’

My Marinara – Serves 2

Olive oil

2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped

1 cup of chopped Continental parsley

Dried chillies (To taste)

Finely sliced rind of ½ a rinsed preserved lemon / blanched lemon rind

White wine

2 diced fresh tomatoes

Black pepper

350g black local mussels, scrubbed beardy-weirdy bit removed

10 whole prawns, peeled with heads and tails       on, and deveined

8 scallops (meat only)

250g spaghetti

Prepare all your ingredients and have them ready to go.

Cook the spaghetti, drain, return to the pan, slather in butter, put on the lid and keep warm.

Heat a frying pan to medium high heat. Swirl in oil and throw a third in each of the garlic, parley and sprinkle of chilli. Coat in the oil, being careful not to burn the garlic. Throw in the lemon rind, give it a stir. Add the mussels and turn up the heat. Add 1/3 of the tomatoes and shake the pan. Pour in at least ¼ cup of wine, coat the mussels, and then jam on the lid and allow the mussels to steam open. Shake the pan a few times to encourage their hinges. This should take a couple of minutes, but lift the lid from time to time to check. Once they’re open, stir the juices and the aromatics together, and pour the whole lot into the cooked spaghetti pot.

Return the pan to medium heat, add more oil and start the process again. Garlic, parsley, chilli. Then lemon rind. This time add the whole peeled prawns to the pan. Turn up the heat to allow them to caramalize quickly on one side, and then flip them over. Add the tomatoes, fry them off for a bit, and then drizzle in a little wine. Swirl the ingredients together and when the prawns are just cooked, pour them into the spaghetti pot.

And last, the scallops. Return the pan to medium heat…. Etc etc…. garlic, parsley, chilli …. Rind… up the heat and then when its hot, add the scallops. They should not take too long to cook, about 45 seconds on the first side, depending on size. Flip them over and finish with tomato, and wine. Add to pot.

Sprinkle the pot with any remaining parley and season with black pepper. Gently toss the seafood through the pasta.

Serve hot.

As revenge to pasta, I eat this Marinara with grated romano cheese.

A word to the wise....

This is how it is. I love food. Have for years. Yeah, I know, so does everyone, don’t they? Food is the new black and all that. “We ALL love food… whatevah….” 

But you don’t understand. I’ve always loved it. Not just now that it’s become popular.

I feel like someone who’s been following and supporting… let’s say … a band, a not very well known and obscure band, for years and years. Who’s made mixed tapes of their music and stayed up to video their film clips on Rage at 3 o’clock in the morning. Who kissed the poster of their androgynous lead singer secretly when they were a little bit drunk. And suddenly after years of dedication and obsession, one day EVERYONE loves them. And people are coming up to me going, “oh my God! Have you heard of (insert name of band)? They are just AMAAAZING!”

Whereupon, I smile politely and say, ‘Yes. I have.’

I am ashamed of my bitter heart. Food belongs to no one. It’s not a fad or a fashion. It’s a blessing and necessity of life. We need food to survive. We have to have it. And yet this weird renaissance of food madness, well… it kinda shits me. And it shits me that I’m all uppity about food that its surge into popular culture shits me.

You see, for years, women have been slaving over hot stoves, woks and tandoors, turning out the most amazing food for their loved ones with merely a ripple of appreciation for their effort or their talents. Apart from other women. This secret sorority has operated quietly, toiling under the pretense that when a woman cooks it is merely one form of her household duties, like dusting or having sex with her husband. Women have swapped recipes, complimented one another and exchanged secrets while those who ate her food patted her on the head and said, ‘What’s for dessert?’ When a woman cooks, it’s ‘cooking’.

But… put a man in the kitchen and it is not cooking, it is CUISINE. By rights of his having a willy and having the balls big enough not to feel emasculated by doing women’s work, and by taming beasts and flora with steel blades and forging them in fire… we have the serious side of cooking.

Case in point: who are the 3 judges on Mastercook? George, Matt and The Other One. Three blokes with the occasional female guest. The people deemed the most qualified and deserving to sit in judgement are men. They throw a woman in when the kiddies are in – you know, cos it’s with kiddies and the ladies are in there for the soft touch.

But let it be known in this very public (albeit not very widely read forum), that I think guys who cook are FREAKING HOT. See how tormented I am?

Moving on…..

Not only am I miffed by the whole, ‘women’s cooking ain’t as good’ attitude, but also by the fact that because its now on TV and dominated by men, cooking and food are now being taken seriously.

Again, let me stress how wonderful it is to have people of all ages now really interested in food. My question is: what was everyone thinking before the blokes on the telly told us to do so? Because food is something you prepare to nourish the body and cooking is the ultimate trust exercise. Serving food to your family, friends, guests, customers, whomever, is a huge responsibility because it has a direct correlation to the physical effects of the food on each person’s body.

So it is in the spirit of the love for all the people I’ve cooked for, some I’ve known well, some not so well, that I have begun this blog.

I love food. Pretty soon I’ll post some of the food I made and we can really get to know each other.

Thanks for reading my first introductory post. Hope you’ll be back.