Social experiments

As much as I enjoy trying new foods out on myself, it’s far more fun experimenting on friends.

Don't get me wrong; I enjoy solitary pleasures as much as the next person, particularly when it comes to sneaking the cake mixing bowl leftovers before the kids spot them.  But, as you know, food usually tastes better when eaten in company.

Last year an acquaintance attended the master class at the Melbourne Food and Wine Show and ended up with an extra copy of the recipe book, which she very kindly gave to me.

I’ve cooked a few things out of it – all delicious – but one in particular caught my eye: Melbourne chef Adam d’Sylva’s Vietnamese inspired “crispy prawn and tapioca betel leaf”. It comprised a paste of Vietnamese spiced prawns; wrapped in betel leaf; coated in a batter comprising tapioca, rice and glutinous rice flours; and deep-fried.

Betel nuts, wrapped in betel leaf, are chewed in many Asian and African countries for their stimulating effects. The idea of cooking with betel leaves rather appealed and, although a cursory trawl through my local Indian grocery stores drew a blank, the recipe stuck in my mind.

  

Last week I nipped into my local Spice Invader (love that name) to top up on a few Indian supplies when what should I spot but fresh betel leaves! I bought some and promptly invited friends and willing lab rats, Lindsay and Freeman, over for lunch.



Crispy prawn and tapioca betel
leaf fritters.


And what a success it was. The fritters were absolutely delicious. On their own, betel leaves taste surprisingly spicy and unsurprisingly vegetal – a quality that became virtually unnoticeable when they were wrapped around shrimp paste, battered and fried.

I’d definitely cook this again, using spinach or sorrel leaves if I couldn’t get hold of betel leaves.

The following evening provided another experimentation opportunity when we had Mark and Fiona over to dinner. I'd never cooked any of it before, with main and dessert being drawn from cookbooks. Peter Gordon’s Moroccan lamb shanks were delicious, as was the Australian Woman’s Weekly Dessert Cookbook’s crepes with pears, fresh dates and spiced mascarpone.

Rather than play safe with another cookbook experiment, I decided to cut loose with the pre-dinner nibbles and made this creation – a savoury ‘ice’ cream.

I bought fresh wonton wrappers, brushed them with a little oil and sprinkled them with sea salt and sesame seeds. The wrappers were then wound around cream horn moulds and baked 10 minutes or so until golden and crispy.

Great idea so far, but what to put in them? I’m not sure why, but something about making finger food sends me into a total brain freeze. Hurrah for supermarket dips and pita crisps, is all I can say.

I ended up putting some fried strips of lemony leek in the bottom, then piled creamy spinach moose on top. A blob of harissa provided a colourful finish. The 'ice creams' were edible – but only okay at the best. There was far too much cream in the spinach moose, making for an overly rich and sickly effect. Mark and Fiona politely ate them but I don’t think that creation is ever going to win me Master Chef.




Everyone's still smiling
despite my creative capers.

I think the wonton cones worked well though, so I’ll keep working on the idea.

As much as I love to involve friends in my experiments, some investigations are best left unshared.


While buying the betel leaves, I spotted this rather intriguing looking "eating gum" amongst the packets of whole spices.

When I asked the storekeeper what it was used for, he disconcertingly gave me a really odd look and informed me it was “medicinal”.

He didn’t proffer any further information about what it was supposed to cure, but did volunteer that it needed to be soaked in water and could be consumed when it had gone all "fluffy".

I could, of course, have put it back on the shelf at that point.  But I was feeling bored and buying a $4 pack of mysterious medicinal Indian 'eating gum' provided the welcome diversion of a cheap thrill.

I briefly considered offering some to Lindsay and Freeman when they were here for lunch but decided against it, so they remain blissfully unaware of their narrow escape. After they left, I soaked a few grains in a ramekin of water until, sure enough, it dissolved into fluffy ooze.

Tempted though I was to abort the mission at this point, I scooped up a finger full and tasted; it was gummy, sour, revolting. Ugh!

Who knows what I was trying to cure myself of? Whatever it was, I think I’d rather keep the disease, thanks.