I have good memories of Sydney. Many people always pontificate that you either love Sydney or hate it. And correlate that with an opposing sentiment towards Melbourne. Which they will then speculate an analysis of your personality based on these bias.
I say they have too much time on their hands.
I like Sydney for a number of reasons totally unrelated to any hidden, deep complexes. Probably because I am not deep or complex. Sydney is just plain fun to me.
The people are fun. The food is fun.
The airport is shite though. I absolutely hate immigration in all of Australia. I have never been so harassed as when I land in Australia. Every freaking city there. It always starts my visit to that country on a very bad foot and inspires a deep resentment towards each and every Aussie I meet until someone offers to buy me a drink or offers me food.
Luckily that happened a lot in Sydney so that explains why I like the place. It also helps that I have a built-in gaydar which makes it possible for me to be in a 99% straight bar and for the only gay person there to find me out. In a city like Sydney, I make friends faster than you can say char kway teow extra ham.
Yonks ago, my visits to Sydney were strictly of the straight variety. Since I was always with my then boyfriend, who was decidedly homophobic and virulently American, my interactions were markedly strait-laced. But even then, I adored the food and wines I discovered on those visits. Those were what I term the "Romantic Times" filled with rose-covered gardens and coupley events orchestrated by my controlling boyfriend. I had no say or misadventures but it was all terribly romantic in a very vanilla way.
A decade or so later, I was newly-divorced, much stronger-willed and had evolved into a right mess of bravado, determined re-invention and misguided delusions of inner strength. In other words, I was ready for lots of misadventures.
A friend invited me to gay Mardi Gras in Sydney and that started a now life-long hedonistic love affair with the city and the event. Whereas I loved the city before for its vibrancy and diversity, I now adored it for its sheer fun and how free I felt. Never had I experienced such acceptance! And the irony is that I am straight.
Even greater is the irony that I receive more invites and made more friendships as the only straight person in the group while my gay friends feel rather let-down each time. Perhaps, it is because I always went in with less expectations or romantic fantasies. To me, I just enjoy the people, the music, the smells, the food, the colour and the fearlessness of my expeditions.
I've travelled many cities but only in Sydney have I felt brave enough to accept the invitations of total strangers at a whim to go on a boat trip right there and then; to escape my gay friends claiming a sudden inability to remember what a straight person looks like and rush into the first taxi I see and demand to be taken to a place with good dance music; to enter a closing jazz bar and be cajoled by the musicians winding down, to share a joint; to dance on a float during Mardi Gras ... oh the misadventures were grand and have the makings of a bad song to be warbled by some whiny female with hair down to her arse.
I have not been back in ages. I can now barely make it to the neighbourhood store, what more Sydney but I always keep a little of that city close to heart.
An invaluable aid is a cookbook I brought back with me on one of my jaunts too. I am a little embarrassed to admit I had to be persuaded to buy it by a friend. He kept assuring me that it would prove invaluable but I was dubious.
One, I was slightly leery of Bill Granger. Now I hear hordes of angry, scornful Aussies dismissing me as an ignoramus. Perhaps. But I tend to leery of all successfully commercial chefs. Envy perhaps. The more commercially successful they are, the more leery I become. One of the reasons is because my father was fairly commercially successful with the critics on his side of the pond and he was an abysmal chef. Thus, I tend to take most culinary accolades with a hefty pinch of salt.
Another reason was because I had dined at Mr Granger's eatery when I was in Sydney and was not terribly impressed. I had ordered my favourite brunch items of eggs benedict and salmon and spinach and had anticipated the heavenly melting, buttery, creamy, plain ooziness of egg and fish and iron-y bite of grassy greens ... and instead I got slightly cold, congealed blahness, unsophisticated seasoning and a total lack of imagination and sincerity.
Perhaps it was an off day as many expressed shock and horror at my declaration and urged me to return another day. I never did. For that price and with his reputation, I could not condone another massive disappointment like that. My taste buds and culinary naviete will never recover.
Secondly, I seldom eat breakfast. And the man made his mark at that period of time by supposed re-inventing the craze for it. I was seldom awake for breakfast so why in the world would I purchase a cookbook undoubtedly perpetuating a craze I appreciate little of. Sure, I like many of the items usually served for breakfast but they are rather easy to make so it did not make sense to me.
I purchased a Granger cookbook with the most pictures. Hey, I am a visual person ... which explains a number of my ex-boyfriends, but that's another story for never. A a pictorial reminder of my love affair with Sydney then? I chose Sydney Food and for many, many years, I did not use a single recipe from the book although I kept it for the pretty pictures.
But recently I began to have a little more appreciation for the book. Sure, the recipes are fairly simple. But they are solid. Much like the man, I suspect. They are not fussy but dependable. And adaptable because the cooking techniques they utilise are stolidly sound and based on basic principles. Granger focuses on one star ingredient (or a duet of two complementary key ingredients) in most of the recipes in this book and it is almost Japanese in simplicity. But the results belie this austerity. I cannot declare them spectacular or outstanding, which many seem to. Perhaps I am jaded by all the whizz and wham bam of more showy chefs but Granger's recipes are above adequate but below unforgettable to me.
Yet there is an insidiousness to his recipes. You might not find them exciting enough initially but slowly and surely, you find yourself returning to them. And with each reproduction, you find yourself adding and tweaking. I think that is perhaps the beauty of a Granger recipe. You are invited to re-invent his re-inventions.
The man never says so in his book. Or so I assume since I never read too deeply into his simplistic prose. There is a solidness to his writing much like his recipes that drives your eyes in quick perusal. Almost a comfortable complacency because you think you know what to expect.
Then in the execution, you discover the quiet strength and versatility. I find it rather intriguing. Granger, to me, is very un-Sydney. There is not the rush and vibrancy of ideas but a rather quiet confidence and sneaking intelligence. I rather think he is more Melbourne than Sydney but what do I know?
However, I have made the same recipe from his book three times now. The first was true to recipe. But since then, the second and third have been tweaked with surprisingly freedom and ease of creativity and results. I say surprising not because I doubt my own creativity but because I did not expect such wild innovations to derive from such seemingly simple recipes.
It's not as if Granger himself suggests the variations or options for culinary investigation. In fact, in some cases, he seems a little rigid and stuck on a high horse. Yet, somehow, the composition of his recipes seems to spin some random spurts of culinary curiosity in me.
Is it because he is so stodgy that I feel I have to loosen him up? Or perhaps, there is a strange pheromonical chemistry between Granger's culinary sensibilities that makes mine want to spice them up? Whatever it is, it is surprising.
I am, however, rather grateful to whatever strange quirk Granger's cookbook inspires in me. Because every experiment based on his book has been a resounding success. Not to say that my experiments always fail. In fact, I think I have about 85% success rate with all my experiments in all these years. Not bad considering how wild some of my ideas are and that I tend to rush into them with very little fore-thought or calculation.
A creature of impulses when it comes to food, there I was again yesterday. Another one of my witching hour cravings. At 2am, I had such massive sweet-tooth yearnings, I woke up and started baking. And my wisdom tooth had no say in anything.
But not anything chocolatey this time as I had overdosed on chocolate the week earlier. I thought hard. What did I have in the fridge? The sparsity of ingredients made thinking not that hard.
Apples. I had lots of apples.
OK, something sweet with apples that is fast and easy.
Didn't I see something in Granger's book a couple of days ago? Something about an apple upside down cake?
And there it was. Since I am just one person I never bake a full cake. So I decided to tweak the man's recipe to make apple upside down muffins instead. Easy peasy. Not many ingredients, relatively fast and sweet enough to please even my nocturnal cravings! Perfect.
Nocturnal Apple Upside Down Cake from Down Under
50g butter
1 apple, cored & sliced into 1cm-thick slices
Balsamic vinegar
1/2 cup caster sugar
1 tsp vanilla essence
- all these are for the caramel "top"
50g butter, softened
1/2 cup caster sugar
2 eggs, separated
1 tsp vanilla essence
1/2 cup + 1 tbsp plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
Pinch of salt
1 tsp cinnamon powder
- all these for the cake
1. Melt the butter for the topping on medium heat
2. Toss the apples in the vinegar and add to the butter
3. Cook gently for about 2 mins, stirring occasionally till a little soft. Taste test and adjust the compositions of ingredients to your preference. I added a little more vinegar to "cut" the sweetness and give it a little more complexity and a slight "more-ishness"
4. Add sugar and vanilla and cook for 3-5 mins more. Taste test & adjust again - you know the drill now
5. Remove the apples and arrange them on the bottom of each silicon muffin cup
6. Increase heat and reduce the remaining syrup till a nice, rich caramel forms. It's about done when it gets a dark golden shade. Try not to burn it. Taste test. Taste test. Taste test.
7. Spoon the caramel over the apples. I like loads so I tend to make more so I can almost soak the cakes to the middle when I up-turn them. Drool
8. Now for the cake. Preheat the oven to 180 deg C or 350 deg F.
9. Cream the butter & sugar till pale & fluffy
10. Add egg yolks one at a time, beating well in between
11. Add the vanilla
12. Sift in the flour, baking powder, salt & cinnamon
13. Gently fold in to mix well but try not to over-do
14. In a clean, dry bowl, beat the egg white till stiff but not meringued
15. Spoon and gently fold into the batter. Again, try not to beat as you want the volume and "airiness"
16. Spoon into the muffin cups over the caramel apples till about 80% full. They are gonna rise and you do not want the caramel bubbling over and out
17. Even out the batter with a butter knife
18. Bake for about 30-32 mins depending on your oven. Mine is insane and possessed so it was 30 mins this time. You can try to test its done-ness with the skewer test but you can really just eyeball it. Cracks will develop and you can see in the "ravines" if they are done or not. If that is beyond you, skewer away but I pity you
19. Remove the muffins tray and leave to cool for about 5 mins. I left them for about 10 as I started watching some Japanese drama online and forgot. Ha!
20. Slice off the "dome" to even it out so it will not wobble hopelessly when you upturn it
21. Upturn. If you have used silicon muffin cups, this will be easy peasy. If you haven't, again I pity you. And sure hope you had even presence of mind to butter, flour and/or line your muffin cups. If not, I pity you endlessly
22. You now have lurvely caramel oozing over the sides of your mini apple upside down cakes. There should be leftover caramel juices in you muffins cakes. Here is where the cut-off domes come in. Take in hand and scoop out all the yummy leftover caramel. Dip, munch, drool, repeat.
- If you pack the leftovers properly and freeze them, you can keep them for about 1-2 weeks. Just take them out and defrost to room temperature. You can then give a quick warming in your toaster for about 2-3 mins and serve with nice, cold vanilla ice cream or thick, clotted cream if you are diet-scornful. I tend to have them as is not because I fear the calories but because I love the caramel so much. Also, if you are going to freeze them, it is better to under-cook then over-cook, alright?
And there you have my tweaked, miniaturised apple upside down cake. The more discerning amongst you may suspect that I tend to miniaturise most things, and to make them in small batches ... and I give guesstimations and do not hold to precision. Highly radical in baking and Martha Stewart would scoff and scorn that I will never attain perfection or success.
To which I say, feck you, Martha Stewart. I seldom screw up in baking even with my imprecise measurements and habit of winging things. The reason is that I check and adjust ad adapt as I cook. Eyeballing and taste testing are essential. I think on my feet and that is no small feat when you take into account I am almost hobbled and unable to stay on them for long.
Cooking and baking is not a science. I don't care what El Bulli says. I say it is an organic art arising from the most basic instinct. Hunger.
You can waffle on about presentation and soul of food but the most basic thing it fulfills is hunger. What you cook or bake has to be edible. It is the primary mandate. If you spend all that time worrying and measuring and the result is an inedible lump of someone else's aesthetics, then you have failed yourself. How it tastes and its success depends on you. You decide what, how much and when you want to add or take away. A recipe is a guide and based on someone else's preference.
You can study the principles and techniques to understand the logic behind the recipe (after all the Dalai Lama has it right - learn all the rules so you can break them properly) but no recipe is tied in stone. You might as well make a stone soup if you forced feed yourself with someone else's demands.
Therefore, do no get so hung up over my recipe. I didn't. Go forth and create culinary anarchy. It's fun.
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