Greed, gluttony and sloth

You know you’ve had a great weekend away when you've managed to commit most of the fun Deadly Sins.

Despite my love of food and piggish appetite, the thought of getting fat horrifies me so I generally employ a fair degree of self-control with respect to eating and exercise. That is, until I go on holiday. For some reason, holidays bring out my inner fat slob and this weekend was no exception.

The kids and I spent the weekend at Mangawhai with our friends Lindsay and Freeman, and their two kids. In addition to being good company, Lindsay and Freeman are avid foodies, so I knew it was going to be just my kind of a trip.

Mangawhai is only an hour and a half’s drive from Auckland but we managed to take nearly four hours getting there, thanks to two foodie stops and some grocery shopping en route. The Ginger Cafe in Warkworth’s main street turned out to be worth a visit, and a trip north is never complete without stopping for cheese and salty liquorice at the Dutch cheese shop in Kaiwaka.

Upon arrival I opened some absinthe. I’ve heard all about the Green Fairy, but have never had occasion to try it and never been willing to commit to buying a large bottle just in case it was revolting. The perfect opportunity presented itself when I recently spotted a miniature bottle in my local liquor store.

At 60 per cent proof, it was - unsurprisingly – very strong. As for the taste; herbal probably best describes it. It was okay, I guess, but I can’t say I’ll be hurrying to buy more.

Our post-arrival dinner comprised vast amounts of potato crisps, cheese, even vaster amounts of red wine and cognac, and – late in the evening – a lamb tagine. I couldn’t face breakfast the next morning.

Although it’s a small place, with a permanent population of around 900, Mangawhai’s beachside location and relatively close proximity to Auckland has enabled a small yet vibrant food culture to develop.

First on our ‘to do’ list was checking out the Saturday morning market in the village hall. The foul weather resulted in there being fewer stalls than usual. I had to admire the owners of one of only two outdoor stalls, huddling in a sodden tent mired in a sea of mud, and I felt a bit mean not at least buying a handful of curly kale or a bunch of fresh violets.

There were maybe 20 stalls inside, selling an interesting range of (mostly) food items: freshly roasted coffee; locally grown olive oil; crusty sour dough bread; home-baked cakes, savouries and morning teas; locally made sausages, pates and salamis; cheeses; pickles and jams; and a range of fruit and veges.

From there it was off to the fabulous Bennetts complex across the road.

Even if you’re not a chocoholic, the chocolate shop is well worth a visit. True to form I went for the most unusual flavours I could find and can pronounce that thyme chocolate tastes surprisingly good, as does cardamom chocolate. The fresh coriander chocolate was disappointingly bland.

After buying up large, we headed upstairs to a delicatessen, where I zeroed in on a display of chilli sauces. The man behind the counter advised me that the top of the range was New Zealand’s hottest sauce, made from the world’s hottest chilli, Bhut Jolokia.

I couldn’t resist asking for a sample. Warning me that it was unbelievably hot, he cautioned Freeman and I to taste only the tiniest bit.

Actually, it was okay and we both guzzled the sample and hoovered up seconds. I didn’t even have to pretend that my eyes weren’t watering. The sauce was actually pretty hot, but I’ve had far worse in the form of an almost unbearably firey Mexican chilli sauce I bought at Auckland market some years ago.



I won’t bore you with all the details, other than to say we ate a lot on Saturday.

  

It might have only been

10 degrees but it's never

too cold for ice cream.

Undeterred, we returned to Mangawhai village that evening to try dinner at Bennetts Cafe. It was a lovely meal. The setting was charming – Italianate, complete with a large open fire. The service was friendly and very obliging. And the food was nice too. I sampled the lamb shank in a tomato stew, which was meltingly good. My roast chicken with Puy lentils and watercress aioli was very nice, although I’d have preferred the chicken to be falling off the bone.

Despite being full, Miss Piggy couldn’t resist concluding the meal with cinnamon doughnuts and rich chocolate dipping sauce topped with a large pillow of whipped cream. Yum.

The weather remained foul on Sunday so I barely moved from the couch. Most of the day was spent lazing about reading, doing the crossword, talking and eating: chocolate, coffee, cheese, crisps, bread, leftover tagine and anything else we could lay our hands on.

 

We dragged ourselves out for a bracing and rather sodden walk along the beach after lunch, warming ourselves up with instant soup, chunks of ciabatta and the last of the cheese upon our return.

All too soon, it was time to return home. As I got in the car it dawned on me that a weekend of gluttony, a longish journey and skin-tight jeans and were not the best combination.

Rory's roasted marshmallow.

And no, I didn't eat it.

Surreptitiously, I pulled my jersey down and undid my trousers so I could drive home without passing out. 

Non sequitur

It won't surprise you to learn that I’m a “live to eat” kind of a gal. No sooner do I finish a meal then, chances are, I’m thinking ahead to the next repast. Some people count sheep when they can’t sleep; I plan my next food foray.

People who don’t care for food perplex me. I happen to be married to one of those and it took me years to accept that, no matter how many weird and wonderful things I tried to tempt him with, Don prefers plain food.

To his credit, he will at least try things (in an early victory, I managed to convert him to olives) but give him steak, chips and peas over foreign muck any day.

As much as it pains me to admit it, I’ve recently joined the plain food brigade.

I’ve felt unwell all week, which probably came about because I've had one or other of my kids home sick from school for most of the past fortnight. It might not actually be their fault because my lurgey seems different to theirs, but I’m going to blame them anyway.

Even though I haven’t been bedridden beyond needing to lie down from time to time, I’ve been off my food. Weird and wonderful food holds no appeal. Worse still, any kind of food fails to interest me in the least.

I've managed to work up an appetite a few times, only to feel over-full almost the instant I started eating. Cooking for the family has been a pain and my minimal efforts have been plain in the extreme (“Yay!” say Don and Rory).

My love of weird and wonderful food helps to define who I am, and finding I don’t give a damn is exasperating, boring and dislocating.

I miss the adventurous, gluttonous, food-obsessed Anna and I hope she comes back soon!

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.