Babe, You Turn Me On.

Something happened to me when I turned 30.

I began to crave something I’d never craved before. Don’t get me wrong, I’d liked it before, but not like this. It was like a switch had been turned on that made me a bit crazy. But it was powerful and such a freaking cliché that I was mortified at my un-uniqueness. Surely I was above all this, “Oh honey, when you hit 30 you get really tetchy if you don’t have it EVERY SINGLE NIGHT!” crap. I wasn’t a sassy ‘Sex in the City’ type chick. No! I was edgy and cool (I hoped) and not a cliché at all!

Boy, was I proved wrong. Just when I’m starting to congratulate myself on the imaginings of my aforementioned alleged cool (think Kurt Cobain, but a girl and happy) it happens.

30! And in a flash…

…I was gone. Deep within the grip of a most powerful desire. The grip belonged to chocolate and the flash was a Cherry Ripe wrapper flying past me as I ripped it off of my delicious beloved inside.

(SATC - That's them, isn't it?)














I’ll tell ya, it was spooky. I could feel it shift in my DNA. My tastebuds opened up and discovered the warmer, more bitter, darker, more lingering flavours on my palate. I kept trying to resist it, but I started to get a new found amazement for chocolate. Maybe it was because I stopped eating just Cadbury’s and started to eat more complex assortments. The first time I had a Haigh’s chocolate frog… well, it wasn’t pretty I can tell you. My eyes pretty much rolled back into my 30 year old head and I think I drooled a bit.

Yum.

Yum, yum, yum, yum, yum, yum, yum.

Yum.

Fast forward.... a certain amount of years....  I’m hooked.

Unlike pasta, chocolate regularly manages to make me loosen my grip of my sensible eating sword, drop it and have a nibble on a Giant FruiChoc.  God, those things are evil. But good evil, like Jack Nicholson. They are delicious and massive, so you eat one and convince yourself, “oh, I’ve only had one”, and then end up eating another 4, which pretty much equates to an entire packet of regular FruiChocs.

Remember: There is no ‘T’ in FruiChocs.

And this, my friends is a recipe for Dark Chocolate Sorbet…. Oh don’t get me started on ice-creams…..

250g castor sugar

60g Dutch Cocoa

½ tsp ground Greek Coffee

pinch of ground cinnamon

3 cups water

Mix the dry ingredients to a smooth paste with a little of the water in a saucepan. Add the rest of the water and whisk the paste through. Bring the mixture to the boil, stirring until dissolved.

Simmer for 5 minutes and then allow to cool completely for at least 5 hours, better if its overnight.

Then churn in an ice-cream machine according to instructions.

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.