Eggs benedict at Urban Bites in Newtown (75 Kings Street)

Fleur has an exam today at Sydney Uni so the driver is spending another enjoyable morning in Newtown, noodling on the computer and enjoying the eggs benedict at Urban Bites. Firm whites with luxurious yolks served on an open-faced muffin with rocket and just the right amount of not-too-salty Hollandaise. Magic. The rocket is the perfect finishing touch, so simple but soooo effective.

When I arrived at 8.30, there’s just one other table on the terrace: it’s sunny but still in the shade and chilly. My food arrived quickly and I’m still here at almost 11 a.m. No one’s asked me if I want another coffee since I finished the first one two hours ago, which suits me — there are plenty of attentive staff whose eye I could catch if I wanted one. I like the low key service. And it’s getting busy. The 65-seat courtyard is almost full of students and Saturday-paper readers. In the corner table 38 is enjoying the first bottle of white of the day. Good on ‘em.

The sun’s out and it’s a beautiful Newtown day.

Urban Bites on Google Street View

I didn’t get to the inaugural Hawkesbury Farmers Market last week so I was determined to make it this week. To be frank, I wasn’t quite in the mood, which coloured my experience. It was smaller than I’d expected — I don’t know why I’d expected it to be bigger, perhaps it was from reading not one but two posts from Aussie food bloggers on London’s Borough Markets. Also I’d hoped to meet Chocolatesuze there, I’m sure she was at the first one.

One of two bakers at the market; this one sold exclusively sourdough

On reflection, if the muck hadn’t been hitting the fan at work so I had to hurry back, I’d have had a much better time. As it was, I enjoyed a sausage sandwich from Eumundi Smokehouse and turned on my heel to leave after a quick look round. Looking back at my hasty snaps, I wish I’d bought some bread.

Next time I'm buying bread...

The baker in the picture had an interesting sign about spelt and gluten intolerance. Next time I’ll ask them about it as it would be nice to find something for Fleur to eat that isn’t a tiny gluten-free loaf that weigh as much as a lead bar.

... and mushrooms ...

... to go with my duck

With perhaps a little gingerbread to wash it all down with.

Gingerbread men from Gingerbread Folk

Let Google do the conversion maths for you

Type a conversion into Google — say “1 gallon in litres” or “5oz in g” — and the mighty search engine knows exactly what you’re after and just spits out the result.

I use a lot of American cookbooks and have a Mac in the kitchen so this is the quickest way for me to convert the weights and measures in recipes.

It works for currency conversion and all sorts of other things, too.

Sous Chef flips Saturday morning pancakes

Reading great food blogs like Not Quite Nigella, I realise I’ve got to up my game even to call myself a food blogger. First up is to take more pictures. It’s one thing to write about a recipe but it’s 100 times better to see a picture, I know.

But reading NQN’s post on London’s Borough Markets got me wondering: why do I breeze round markets, often buying nothing, but when I see pictures, I think, “Wow! That looks amazing. I wish I were there. God, I’d have bought everything in sight.” NQN’s butter picture put me over the edge. I’d walk right past a big slab of butter in a market but I gazed at her picture of artisanal butter longingly for some time.

It’s probably got something to do with the price. Sitting at my computer, I don’t have to wrestle with whether to spend $20 on cake of butter or $50 on a handful of cheeses.

20 minutes of stirring (picture courtesy of Pinoy Food Blog)

Last night I made Marcella Hazan’s crespella with spinach and bechamel sauce. First there was the making of the crespella, about 15 pancakes made one at a time (after a fair amount of stirring). Then the cooking of the spinach and the onion. These had to be added to the bechamel — stir, stir, stir. The result was delicious but it probably wasn’t a Thursday night family meal, ending up as it did with Sous Chef Jr going to be an hour and a quarter later than bedtime.

But I’ll be back for more crespella but more likely at the weekend when there’s time and I need meditative, immersive cooking.

I’m never going back to an un-brined steak if I can help it. My steak was about 20% thicker; and jucier by a quantum leap than Herself’s. It was, however, a touch too salty even for me so I’m going to tone down Rhulman’s brine — I’ll try half the salt for a comparison.

Sadly I couldn’t taste the chilli at all so I’m going to ramp that up as the salt goes down.

Rhulman’s inspirational essay on salt has got me into brining my steak using his recommended 50 grams of salt to 1 litre of water. I’ve done it once so far, giving Herself the “control” steak (she doesn’t fancy brining). The result was indeed far juicier than the control, even allowing for the extra cooking she likes.

I’ve decided to experiment by adding a little chilli to the brine and leaving it overnight. Rhulman says meat needs only 30 minutes of brining (and must be allowed to rest outside the brine before cooking) but I guess there’s no harm in shooting for longer, especially as the steak needs to defrost in the fridge and this will help it on it’s way.

The Moleskine shopping list

I enjoy the supermarket, always have, but I like efficiency, too, and it irks me to have to walk four aisles back the way I came because I forgot something. I get pleasure from finding a way to do a good job in the minimum number of steps. This is why my shopping lists are evolving into an OCD art. 

First I started putting them in my carry-around Moleskine; then I started breaking that down into categories — from the veg section, in the baking section, from the freezer… Today I’ve taken it to a new level. Because I’m buying a lot for the week, I’ve got to type the list out in Pages then I’ll be copying it to the Moleskine to take with us. How anal is that?