lemon heaven

A bee buzzes near my ear.
The grass tickles my neck and the backs of my arms as I lie on my back with my long locks fanned about my head. It’s a sunny day and I am a child sprawled in the cool of the shadows, under the large lemon tree in my grandparents’ garden.

The branches hang down low to the ground and with my head near the trunk I am enveloped by the sprawling tree. Amongst the leaves the bees hover and crawl, and when drunk on nectar, they leave the garden heavy with their bounty bobbing and wobbling on a dipping flight path.

The air around me is heavy with the perfume of citrus blossom.
I studiously watch the delicate white flowers being pollinated. The industrious bees will pave the way for the weeks to come when I will observe the tiny budding fruit swell and ripen until the boughs are groaning with fruit. Grandpa will give buckets of coarse skinned lemons away to the neighbours and there will be shopping bags full for Mum.

I love the lemon tree’s deep green leaves and the little white flowers with their pronounced pistil and stamens. I love the scent of the cool earth mixed with lemon blossom and the hum of the bees so much, that comforted in this hidden corner of my world, I drift off to sleep.

I’m not a baker. People who bake love the precision of weights measures and temperatures. I learnt that when my father studied to be a Pastry Chef at William Angliss during his mid-life crisis.

I am a cook - an intuitive type, with a short attention span - who occasionally succumbs to the need to provide for visiting sweet tooths. It’s not in my nature to bake spontaneously and my baking tendencies are so weak that I don’t have a mix-master, so sweet recipes need
to be simple.

Mr Stickyfingers eats tons of chocolate and is an ice creamophile but he can generally take or leave cake and biscuits on a daily basis. Both of us prefer salty snacks.

But I have discovered a weakness. It is a fondness shared by many people who do not usually eat dessert or cake. This cake is the one I trot out when I need something that will transport well and like the loaves and fishes, is a crowd pleaser that will go a long way. It keeps well too if you need to make it in advance.

The cake is Lucy Rushbrooke and Greg Malouf’s Lemon yoghurt cake from Arabesque. It has proved to be foolproof. I can make it with a spatula or hand beater, and I use fresh free range duck eggs, freshly ground almond meal, the finest semolina I can find, King Island Yoghurt and fresh organic butter to make up for my baking inadequacies. And if the mix is not exactly measured, it still works.

In typical Melbourne fashion, Mr Stickyfingers procures the ten lemons it generally requires to make the cake and syrup, from branches hanging over various neighbours’ fences. Living where we are, the first Greek Migrants left a legacy of now neglected olive, lemon and fig trees with limbs that protrude into back laneways to plunder over the course of
the year. We love the fine mist of lemon oil that spritz’s the air as you zest and cut the fresh home grown lemons, so I double the amount of zest used.

To the lemon syrup you pour over the hot cake, I add a splash of orange blossom water, glucose syrup and I use Limoncello instead of brandy. That’s the intuitive streak again, which has been hankering also to infuse cardamom and to make a blood orange version of the cake with star anise and cinnamon in the syrup mix. May be next time.

The cake is heavenly – not too sweet and as lemony as you can get without being sour. I can smell all the lemons as I inhale the magnificent baked aroma. The colour is majestic and the texture soft and moist, it’s best served with berries and extra yoghurt or ice cream, and in the right circumstances I garnish it with fairy floss too. I love it. Thank you Lucy and Greg.

Arabesque is published by Hardie Grant. RRP $39.95 paperback

STICKY LEMON-YOGHURT CAKE

250g butter

200g castor sugar

4 teaspoons lemon zest (I double this)

4 eggs

50g plain flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

250g fine semolina

200g ground almonds

6 tablespoons lemon juice

120g plain yoghurt

SYRUP

1 cup lemon juice

175g castor sugar

½ tablespoon brandy (I use a tablespoon of Limoncello)

I add a tablespoon of glucose syrup – it makes a thicker syrup, but it’s not mandatory

Cream together the butter, sugar and lemon zest until the mixture is pale and smooth. Then beat in the eggs, one by one, ensuring each one
is completely incorporated before adding the next. Sift flour and baking baking powder over the top, and gently fold in with the semolina and ground almonds. Then mix in the lemon juice and yoghurt. Pour the mixture into a well- greased springform tin (I use a silicone cake mould, and the cake pops out easily), and bake in a preheated 170 °C oven for
50-60 minutes, or when the cake is firm to the touch and golden brown.

Combine the lemon juice, sugar and brandy/Limoncello, glucose in a small pan and bring them to the boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for
5 minutes to make a syrup.

Remove the cake from the oven and pierce it all over with a skewer. Pour the syrup over the hot cake and allow it to soak in. I remove the cake from the silicon mould when it has cooled and then add a little more syrup to the top. The cake will keep in an airtight container for several days.

Postscript. Another 'non baker' made the cake and complained that the syrup kept running toward the edges and so the centre missed out on the powerful lemony flavour. I always grab a silicone pastry brush and keep stroking the syrup back and forewards to distribute it evenly across the cake. I guess it's an intuitive thing to do, to ensure that all of the cake benefits from the syrup. Adding glucose syrup helps too, as it makes the syrup thicker. This way it mostly sits where it's put, until sinking into the cake.

PPS. Blogger Thanh made this cake and found it to coarse for his liking. He is a sponge cake enthusiast. I warn you, this is not a sponge cake but it doesn't have to be coarse. Mine turns out fluffy and fine because I use the finest milled ingredients (semolina, almonds etc) I can get. As always in baking, the better quality the ingredients and the fresher they are, makes a world of difference to the outcome. Also remember that eggs should be at room temperature and for this cake, preferably recently laid.

Mama Ganoush 2

Monaco, 1967. Nikita Krushchev to Michael Caine:
"You're worse than Stalin... have some Baba Ghanoush."

"You hold the coffee pot in the left hand and the cup in the right, pouring the coffee away from your body into the cup, then you pass the coffee to the guest's right hand." Our earnest and camp waiter sweetly advised us on the etiquette of serving Turkish Coffee. A former Trolley Dolly in the Middle East he regaled us with tales of Sheikhs and falcons. Very fitting for a night at Mama Ganoush.

We had bounded into the restaurant for a second time, eager with anticipation of eating anything from the menu that we'd missed the first time. The atmosphere was more subdued and quieter - I put it down to the crisp, new white tablecloths absorbing some of the noise and clatter - and the downstairs was still dimly lit.

Ushered up steep stairs we found ourselves in another room where the decor was considerably brighter and lighter. At the end of the space, under three arched, gold painted windows was a bar and waiter's station area. Overhead hung brass lampshades that resembled upturned Dervish's hats, though Mr Stickyfingers preferred the description 'Madonna's Bra' - an acute observation, given our waiter's presence.

The tables here were less close together than downstairs, the ceiling high and although the mood was less intimate,
I felt more comfortable than on our previous visit. It will, I expect be an appropriate venue for private functions as time goes by.

I chose not to take more photos of the food, suffice to say we could fault nothing about it. The highlight being the oysters topped with blue swimmer crab, lime and coriander. We gave the spatchcock a repeat visit, marvelling at the succulence of the meat and the unctuous, sweet roasted eggplant underneath it.

Finishing my meal with mint tea - served with two top ups - I swirled it around my mouth and felt the urge to spit. Was it heated dental mouthwash? Possible, I suppose. It lacked the herbal quality of the previous visit. Where was the spittoon? Apparently orange tea, drunk by friends in a cafe in Turkey, turned out to be heated Tang. The proof being when they caught a glimpse of the Tang jars behind the counter, so who knows?

Having devoured the entire menu, I realised that many of the same ingredients are being used across several dishes, but the application of them makes for very different tastes on the menu. Not only does this keep the costs down, but demonstrates just how cleverly this kitchen is being run. Bravo!

Greg Malouf is back in the country after his Guest Chef appearance in Austria and a new menu will come into play at Mama Ganoush next week, giving us another reason to go back.

Mama Ganoush, 56 Chapel Street, Windsor, Victoria.
Ph. 03 9521 4141. Open for dinner only.

Mama Ganoush

‘The true Gourmand never ventures out without an emetic; it is the quickest and safest way to avoid the effects of indigestion.’

GRIMOD DE LA RENIÈRE 1690-1756

To eat at Chef Greg Malouf’s table is to leave with a desire to loosen one’s belt and take a happy little siesta. Or even in some instances to push one's belly along with the aid of a wheeelbarrow. He once said in a cooking class, that his mother would chop off his legs if he ever dared to reduce the serving size of his dishes.

So here I was, standing in Melbourne’s soon to be hottest ticket restaurant, bristling with anticipation for the feast to come. Following the line of stars along the wall we made our way into the romantic gloom of the restaurant, where I groped my way along our table to sit on a leather banquette.

Beside me stood a carved wooden Middle Eastern inspired screen. When my eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light, I was finally able to read the menu and peer through the cut outs in the screen to my right, like a concubine about to enter a harem.

We had with great excitement arrived at Mama Ganoush. Our expectations were high, as fans of Greg Malouf’s talents and of his brother Geoff’s previous ventures - Aziz in South Melbourne and Zum Zum in North Carlton. This venue, Geoff’s latest restaurant, is a small, comfortable and intimate space compared to the cavern that was Aziz and a much more appropriate size and location for the offering.

I felt instantly at ease. The décor is warm and leathery, with chocolate being the dominant colour. One feature wall is lined with backlit panels featuring laser cut stars. These are repeated on the ceiling, but were not illuminated on our visit and hence the pitch-black conditions, punctuated with manufactured starlight. To the front of the restaurant the Middle Eastern theme is hinted at with the construction of an MDF wall of alcoves housing decorative urns.

The wine list is small and conservative with price points to suit most and the menu did not disappoint. With eight entrees and mains on offer, we as a group of six were delighted that we could sample nearly everything on the menu. A happy gurgle greeted our vivacious waitress when she instructed us that the dishes were best shared.

Sadly the oysters were not available, but that allowed us to order two serves of three crisp and light Cheesy Ladies Thigh pastries with sublime honey cardamom stewed leeks.

Deceptively substantial was the Avocado Fattouche with salmon and a chilli egg. Punctuated with parsley, tomato, pickled pearl onions and barberries, it was rich and tasty, dusted with sumac and flecked with onion. The smoothness of the ingredients was broken up by the crunch of fried Turkish bread.

Alongside were Greg’s marvellous and familiar lamb kibbeh and we chose a dish of shaved smoked ox tongue with a salad of cucumber, micro leaves and pomegranate seeds dotted with crumbled shanklesh. The deep smokey flavour of the meat was definitely a highlight, like a moist melt in the mouth pastrami complemented by the sour notes within the salad and the creaminess of the cheese.

The other palate startler amongst the entrees was, for me, the Vine Leaf Wrapped Quail on a la Grecque style white cabbage, which consisted of succulent de-boned quail perfumed with vine leaf and I think dried wild thyme. When eaten with the crisp cabbage, onion and mint salad it was a beautiful layering of textures and flavours.

We began our sojourn into the main courses with a bottle of La Zona Sangiovese and the first dishes to arrive were the sides. We had chosen Greg’s standard pistachio pilav - which is always a favourite with one of our group - and the delicate spinach with caramelised Spanish onions and yoghurt tahini.

Then came the delicious Claypot Roasted free range chicken with Mougrabieh, tomato, sweet spices and Turkish sausages. It sat in a complex broth flavoured with Ras el Hanout and possibly Baharat. In an outstanding melding of flavours from the sausage, spices and chicken juices, the ball bearing sized couscous known as Mougrabieh gave you yet another reason to forage in the pot.

I followed this with a sample of the Spatchcock roasted in Turkish bread. Here the integrity of the flavoursome meat was simply showcased whilst retaining a succulence as to be falling off the bone. Labneh and sumac provided an aesthetically pleasing garnish.

Another meaty concoction came in the form of tasty lamb cutlets barbecued with za’atar - a zesty mixture of dried wild thyme, sesame seeds and sumac. The simple execution allowed the sweetness of onions, perfectly roasted until caramelised, to shine through in harmony with the tang of the herbs and lamb juices.

Baby Snapper roasted on the bone with green chermoula and fennel came next alongside Baharat roasted farmed rabbit with warm fresh and dried broad bean salad. Although excellent they paled into insignificance when I turned my attention to the Crisp honey and orange blossom pork hock with butternut pumpkin and chickpea tagine.

For me this dish was heaven. It most probably had been braised, allowing the flavours to infuse, and then deep-fried. The textures and sweet-sour flavours of the pork reminded me of a rustic Chinese dish of pig’s trotters in sweet red vinegar, served in particular to pregnant women. The accompanying bright orange tagine had overtones of cardamom with golden ras-el-hanout and was dominated by chickpeas, making it a very filling meal.

My stomach found some respite with the arrival of a glass of Moroccan Mint tea, served from an ornate footed silver teapot. Gradually I worked up the courage to broach dessert. We chose four dishes to share: Chocolate Halva ice cream with pistachio dusted fig beignets; a burnt honey sorbet with fresh fruit; a creamy passionfruit panacotta served with shortbread Lokum biscuits; a smooth, milky Blood Orange Mouhallabieh flavoured with Mastic and served with Persian fairy floss. They proved to be a light and refreshing selection - the ideal flourish to end the marathon feast.

As the boys sipped thick Turkish coffee served in a traditional copper pot with an elaborate handle, I loosened my belt. The night had surpassed expectations and I was ever ready to slip into my nice warm bed and reflect on the evening.

Mama Ganoush, 56 Chapel Street, Windsor, Victoria. Ph. 03 9521 4141

Greg Malouf will only be in the kitchen initially. In the first week of October he will be moving on to Ikarus at Hangar-7 in Salzburg Austria and will later be involved in promoting his latest cook book collaboration with Lucy Malouf. Tourquoise – a culinary journey through Turkey is scheduled for release in November 2007. Greg’s restaurant Mo Mo will re-open in 2008, in the basement of the Grand Hyatt Melbourne. In the meantime, diners can also find him at Stones of the Yarra Valley on Sundays, presenting Arabesque, a weekly degustation.

No Rumi

Come, come, whoever you are.
Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.
It doesn't matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow
a thousand times

Come, yet again, come, come.

Rumi
30.09.1207- 17.12.1273

The phone rang for a long time. I was on the verge of hanging up.

“Hello Rumi” she answered the phone.

“Hi I have a reservation for 6 people tonight…”

“… no we don’t have a spot for 6 tonight.”

“I booked it more than a month ago”

“Under what name?”

“Stickyfingers. The gentleman I spoke to told me that 7.30pm would be the best time and he rearranged the tables accordingly.”

“No, you’re not here and we’re fully booked”

“Can you fit at least two of us in? We’ve been trying to get in for ages, that’s why I booked so far in advance.”

“No.”

“What about next week”

“No.”

“The week after?”

“For the next month, we can only offer a table for two from 6pm to be out before 7.30pm.”

“But YOU lost our booking - can you help us in any way?”

“NO!”

For months I have been reading great things about the East Brunswick restaurant Rumi. Articles about and photos of the place, the owner chef Joseph Abboud and his family, the restaurant alumni from which he hails and of course about the well-priced and delicious meals he has served, have littered the food media. But my attempts to get a taste of this for myself, has been foiled at every turn on more than one occasion.

It's frustrating as hell! I have got to the point where I am thinking that I will recreate the dishes instead at home, from the recipes I have gleaned from the papers and Gourmet Traveller. After all, having done the Greg Malouf master class, these recipes are dead easy in comparison. I can make Labneh - no problem. Meat balls, yoghurt soup with chicken dumplings and deep fried cauliflower - no worries - my pantry is full of Middle Eastern groceries from A1, fresh herbs and freshly harvested vegies from Gippsland. I have minced rare breed lamb for Kibbeh and what good Eurasian woman like myself doesn't have wonton wrappers hidden away for dumpling making?

Perhaps I shall also console myself with the MyRestaurant user reviews of Rumi and see if I can locate the new Malouf associated Mama Ganoush? Go to Arabesque, Zum Zum or perhaps we should lob in for one of Kurt Sampson's meals instead? Bring on the new Momo - it can't happen soon enough for my palate.

This year is The International Year of Rumi, declared by UNESCO to celebrate the 800th birth anniversary of Mystic Persian Poet Jelalludin Rumi, not the restaurant.

The great poet’s words and philosophy were written on themes of tolerance, openness, and the overwhelming power of universal love. His sentiments were cosmopolitan and transcended nationality, class or ethnicity.

A practicing Sufi, he had studied the Koran extensively and was already considered a mystic when he met his future master, Shamsuddin, a wandering Dervish, and progressed towards intellectual studies and philosophy. This defining moment led to his conclusion that the individual could use music, lyrics, dance and poetry in order to attain spiritual union with God.

From this evolved the order of the Mevlevi, the mesmerising "whirling" dervishes, their "Sema", the "turning", sacred dance where perfect union is gained in a spiritual trance, not unlike Shamanism.