Not margarine or anything in between
Ranging from dappled-light pale or
Luscious dark ale
Caressing buds, silkily
Taste enhancing, seamlessly
Toast swathed (its not depraved!)
Mushrooms browned, snails drowned in
Butter.
Scribbles + Musings
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
My History with Food
Like most introductions to food literature, my history with food is much the same. I was brought up by a European mum in Australia. From a young age I was privy to the gourmet delights of the globe, eating: olives, tofu, Spaghetti (not from the can), herrings and Pumpernickel instead of Vegemite sandwiches, meat and three veg. My sister and I would always eat what our parents were eating, no questions asked, be it Laksa or Fondue. As such my food repertoire expanded (and it will do so as long as I shall live!)
Contrary to what I just wrote, I was an extremely fussy eater as a baby. I am told there was a time when I would only eat my granny's food, and it was she who helped me locate my sweet tooth. Under her guidance I gobbled up trifle, meringues, creamy sago pudding and Tiny Teddy's hand-dipped in chocolate (before Arnott's had the same idea).
My interest in food has grown exponentially. Every birthday since I was old enough to understand menus and blogs, I have tried to outdo myself in finding a lusciously decadent meal whether it be a home-cooked Kingfish with a mushroom wagu or a ten course degustation at Galileo. Yet I realise that my meagre student-budget and waitressing tips hinder my ability to dine weekly at the food establishments that are recommended in Good Living, Epicure, Good Food Guide and some of the saliva-inspiring fellow food blogs.
EpicSoc (The Sydney University Epicurean Society), which I helped start with friends at the end of last year, is one way in which I have been able to help the students indulge their palates and fulfil the need to philosophise about the definition of a sandwich. Mark Best's foi gras-filled beetroot macaroons at Marque or the Bentley's popcorn-like crisp potato coated Chorizo sausage with Harissa sauce are just a few examples of what we have managed to munch.
Since moving out of home, I have had no choice but to put spatula to frying pan and feed my taste buds. When my stomach is craving a hug, I cook it porridge with cinnamon-infused apple chunks (I cannot cut cubes for the life of me) and a sprinkle of roasted hazelnuts. Recently, I have been nutty about nuts: dry toasted they add flavour to anything be it a warm salad of roast pumpkin with a Cumin and Cayenne pepper dressing or the topping to decadent dessert for one (usually paired with a good book) such as Hazelnut Gelato, caramelised banana and a drizzle of double cream (yes, I know, my poor heart).
I could write a novel on my history of food (maybe one day I will, then again this has been done one too many times) because it is a central part of my life. Like a lover, I have had my fair share of wars but in the end, it only makes my relationship with food stronger.
Ardently Apples.
Contrary to what I just wrote, I was an extremely fussy eater as a baby. I am told there was a time when I would only eat my granny's food, and it was she who helped me locate my sweet tooth. Under her guidance I gobbled up trifle, meringues, creamy sago pudding and Tiny Teddy's hand-dipped in chocolate (before Arnott's had the same idea).
My interest in food has grown exponentially. Every birthday since I was old enough to understand menus and blogs, I have tried to outdo myself in finding a lusciously decadent meal whether it be a home-cooked Kingfish with a mushroom wagu or a ten course degustation at Galileo. Yet I realise that my meagre student-budget and waitressing tips hinder my ability to dine weekly at the food establishments that are recommended in Good Living, Epicure, Good Food Guide and some of the saliva-inspiring fellow food blogs.
EpicSoc (The Sydney University Epicurean Society), which I helped start with friends at the end of last year, is one way in which I have been able to help the students indulge their palates and fulfil the need to philosophise about the definition of a sandwich. Mark Best's foi gras-filled beetroot macaroons at Marque or the Bentley's popcorn-like crisp potato coated Chorizo sausage with Harissa sauce are just a few examples of what we have managed to munch.
Since moving out of home, I have had no choice but to put spatula to frying pan and feed my taste buds. When my stomach is craving a hug, I cook it porridge with cinnamon-infused apple chunks (I cannot cut cubes for the life of me) and a sprinkle of roasted hazelnuts. Recently, I have been nutty about nuts: dry toasted they add flavour to anything be it a warm salad of roast pumpkin with a Cumin and Cayenne pepper dressing or the topping to decadent dessert for one (usually paired with a good book) such as Hazelnut Gelato, caramelised banana and a drizzle of double cream (yes, I know, my poor heart).
I could write a novel on my history of food (maybe one day I will, then again this has been done one too many times) because it is a central part of my life. Like a lover, I have had my fair share of wars but in the end, it only makes my relationship with food stronger.
Ardently Apples.
Paprika Promises
This is a promise I make to myself:
I will conquer my perfectionist tendencies and put finger to key.
I will end the endless ricochet of edible-musings and ingest and digest them through this blog.
I will go in search for both savoury and sweetened wares that make my petite-palate flavourgasm (hopefully multiple times).
I will conquer my perfectionist tendencies and put finger to key.
I will end the endless ricochet of edible-musings and ingest and digest them through this blog.
I will go in search for both savoury and sweetened wares that make my petite-palate flavourgasm (hopefully multiple times).
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