I Should Be So Lucky.....

There is nothing quite like travel to remind me how freaking lucky I am. Though I spend much of my year dreaming of all the far flung places I’d like to visit, creeping agonizingly through weeks of anticipation and dull drudgery until I’m leaving on a jet plane, one of the first things I experience when I’m somewhere else is how good I’ve got it where I usually am.  In the comfort of an air conditioned cab on the way to some nice hotel cloaked in Paradise, I witness a gazillion lives go whizzing past and wonder where the hell do I get off ever complaining about stuff like my coffee being too hot or that I feel fat today.

Most people in the world don’t have it as good as me. And dare I say it, if you are reading this blog, probably don’t have it as good as you too. Whenever a dark cloud begins to descend after another ironically cruel professional rejection or personal set back, I remind myself I will never be hungry and I will never be homeless. I have a huge and supportive, crazy, loving family. Some of the smartest, warmest and most loyal people in the world have chosen me as their friend. And I found out on the other side of 40 that one of my lifelong best pals was actually the love of my life.

Sorry, I thought I was Elizabeth Gilbert there for a second. Except with out the book deal. Dang.

But you get the drift. Not to trivialize the challenges that confront a modern day Western woman; these can be, as I can personally attest, soul destroying, utterly agonizing and no fun at all. But at least at the end of these challenges I can get all Zen and say to myself, “I learned so much from that experience. I am grateful for the opportunity to evolve. Namaste.”

But not everyone has that kind of luxury. Visiting an orphanage in Bali made me question if those kids will ever be able to say, “Wow, losing both my parents by the age of 2 really blew at the time but I’m grateful for the opportunity to evolve.”

hopeorphanagebali.org

As I write this I am in Jimbaran Bay, Bali, a most exquisite part of the world, home to some of the friendliest people on earth. Last night, Pete and I sat at a table on the balmy beach, our toes in the sand, chose fresh whole fish and some gigantic succulent prawns which were soon brought to us barbequed over coconut husks. It was amazing.

Jimbaran Giant BBQ Prawns

What is more amazing is that we could almost re-create this dish at home anytime we chose to. Because we are from the lucky country, with fresh fish, prawns and every other delicious thing at our fingertips whenever the whim takes us. 

Remind me to re-read this the next time I’m bitching about my wrinkles.

Prawn, Mussel and Fish Stew with Fennel 

(Nothing like Jimbaran BBQ Seafood, but anyhoo...)

Serves 2 hungry people for at least a day and a half

500g fat fresh prawns, cleaned and de-veined, head and tail on

1kg small fresh mussels, scrubbed

1 piece of fish fillet of your liking, cut into chunks

Olive oil 

1 onion, diced

1 big clove garlic, crushed

1/2 bulb fennel, thinly sliced

1 cup good white wine

1 400g tin of good tomatoes in juice

Grated peel of 1/2 lemon

chopped dill

chopped parsley

white wine

salt and pepper

crusty bread to serve

Heat some oil in a thick based pan, large enough to hold the entire dish. Add the chopped onion to medium heat and sweat out til translucent. Add the garlic and fennel and stir for a few minutes til there's some colour.

Turn up the heat a little and add the wine, deglazing any coloured stuff off the bottom of the pan. Then add the tinned tomatoes, lemon peel, a good tablespoon of chopped dill and parsley each, and some pepper. Once it's about to boil you need to turn the heat down and simmer for at least 30 minutes or until the tomatoes have lost the raw quality. Check seasoning and adjust.

Bubble, Bubble....

Then, once the base has a nice consistency and colour add the mussels and turn up the heat.  Jam on the lid to contain the heat and allow them to start steaming open.  Check after a minute or so and once a few of them pop open, add the prawns and fish pieces, carefully submerge them in the broth and whack the lid back on, until most of the mussels are open and the fish and prawns have changed colour. Sprinkle with extra chopped parsley. 

Serve with a ladle in deep bowls, making sure you have some of the fennely juices in there to mop up with good crusty Euro-bread. Have a bowl nearby for shells too.  Handy.

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.