I Turn My Camera On

I, like my fellow blog mistress, belong to the cult of the iPhone. I just love that I can take my poorly lit, grainy, shitty photos and with a bit of tinkering can turn them into romantic Lomo snapshots that wouldn't look out of place on a postcard dated 1965. Inspired by Tara's recent post I've just now trawled through my iPhone album, and perhaps rather worryingly I've found a substantial number of shots of half eaten food, drunk and dark photos of me and my beer-faced friends, and about three million blurry shots of my very disgruntled cat. (Make of that what you will, folks.)

If my iPhone album is anything to go by, I seem to spend my life eating, trapping my friends into terrible myspace photos, or else chasing my cat around our kitchen... excellent. But enter one of my multitude of fancypants apps, and suddenly I'm not a food obsessed cat lady, I'm a cool and groovy chick, an epicurean, a frikkin wildlife photographer, and I'm living in some sort of hip pastiche world of pretty cats and italian food. Guys, I'm basically living in this Lady Gaga Clip. Thanks, Steve Jobs!

So what am I doing with all of these photos? Well, given that my food-blogging seems to have doomed me to a lifetime of disrupting meals with a sneaky photo shoot, I've been able to compile something of an iPhone tour of Melbourne eateries. Here are three of the half-eaten best.

This cake looked so amazing that I managed to snap a shot before it was consumed. From The Green Refectory on Sydney Road, their baked goods are amazing. This slice of strawberry flavoured weight gain was huge, huge and delicious.

Bolognese and watermelon granita from Pellegrini's, my favourite little italian in the CBD. This place feels more or less like the above-mentioned Gaga clip. There is even a signed Billy Joel photo above the bar, just to drive home the Italio-American vibe. I love it in there.

Borek from the Queen Victoria Markets. Getting your hands on one of these babies requires queueing, shouldering, and shouting. Fighting through the scrum at the borek shop is worth the effort though, spinach and feta heaven.

And one blurry cat photo, because I'm pretty sure he's going to kill me some day soon, and only this shot seems to convince people...

Dear Weekend

We had some good times, didn't we? I'm sorry that it ended so soon. But I will always think fondly of our time together.

Like the Farmer’s Market’s (or…Farkets) on Saturday morning. Buying purple mystery turnips and visiting the Mushroom Man from Mittagong. Discovering that there are still delicious, ripe plums being sold. Perusing the amusingly shaped pumpkins. Buying 3.4 kilos of fruit. And having eaten most of it already.

Finally seeing The Last Unicorn. And it exceeded expectations. From Mummy Fortuna and the three breasted harpy, to the soundtrack by America, to the way it always felt like it was just on the verge of becoming Jem and the Holograms. Prettiest. Unicorn. Ever. Working on my minestrone recipe. Although the barley and the pasta turned out nicely, sadly it was not to be a good batch. Slightly overcooked green beans. Slightly undercooked cabbage. Forgetting to add tomatoes. Weekend, it was just not meant to be.

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This apple tart however, was a triumph. Despite making a very sticky pastry dough, and not refrigerating it for long enough, it pulled through, all flaky and buttery and delicious. Recipe and photo from Smitten Kitchen.

Listening to Heartland by the former Mr Final Fantasy, Owen Pallett. It's wonderful - dark and earnest, dense with sound and story. Listen to these tracks here, and buy it here.

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Tryst with Mephistopheles

Lewis Takes off His Shirt

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Oh Weekend, I miss you already.

Here Comes the Night - Slow Roast Tomatoes

In celebration of the birth of this blog, I'm starting our first post half way through the recipe I plan to post. I figure it's in keeping with my cooking style – a little shambolic, a lot make-it-up-as-I-go-along, and plenty of learning-by-doing.

Firstly, your young ladies of means would like to thank Chris Thorpe for designing this lovely place.

And now, my first attempt at slow roasting tomatoes.

It's the height of summer in the Capitol, and after a trip to the markets this morning and a picnic on the lawns of Old Parliament House I'm left with the urge to cook, but not to eat.

A full belly and a face full of sunburn attest to a terrific lazy afternoon in the sun, celebrating a friend's birthday with cucumber sandwiches, mini frittatas, scones, and plenty of champagne. The mini frittatas will be the subject of a future post, but for now it's all about tomatoes.

Stripy or Russian, green, yellow or red, possibly demonic, a member of the deadly nightshade family, and perhaps introduced to Italy by two catholic priests sometime in the 16th century. And my, my, haven't they done wonders with it since.

My plan for the three kilos I bought super cheap at my local markets is slow roasting, and subsequently, pizza, pasta and lasagna. Tonight, I'm hoping I can stand the heat of the oven until the night hits and I can open the house up.

What You Will Need:

olive oil
black pepper
salt (rock or sea, fresh ground is best)
about 2 teaspoons crushed fennel seeds
1 – 2 tablespoons dried Italian herbs
about 15 – 20 tomatoes

What You Will Need to Do:

Preheat your oven to 140 degrees celsius

Oil a large baking tray (shallow is fine – mine was about as wide as my oven, and fit 30 tomato halves)

Sprinkle the oiled tray liberally with fresh cracked black pepper and salt, and most of the Italian herbs and crushed fennel

Cut tomatoes in half , and place face down on oiled tray, rub the outside with a little extra oil, and chuck on some more s&p, herbs and fennel

Place in oven

Enjoy the smell of roasting tomatoes for roughly six hours, and then...

At this point (if you started at six in the evening like I did) it will be midnight, and your housemates will have gone to bed. Take the tomatoes out of the oven, and let cool. Slip the skins off (if you want, I didn't bother) and store in an airtight container in the fridge or freezer.

But before you do that last bit, put one half of a tomato on a piece of toast with some fresh ricotta, a dash of balsamic and a little more cracked pepper, stand near an open window and enjoy your very own home made slow roasted tomatoes (which go very well with a summer night breeze).

Listen to Here Comes the Night (Augie March, Sunset Studies)