We're championing fresh food that packs a flavour punch, from salads and vegetable-packed bowls to grains and light desserts.
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Executive chef Robin Wickens has a stronger influence at the Royal Mail Hotel's upcoming restaurant, slated to open later this year.
The rivers of America's north-west running through Washington state and Oregon form the arteries of epic landscapes and bold discovery routes. Emma Sloley follows in the wake of Lewis and Clark.
For the first time, the world's top international sommeliers will take part in the World's 50 Best Awards too.
Italian food in the restaurants of Australia blossomed into maturity in the new millennium, as the work of these trailblazers shows – dazzling and diverse, a successful balance between adaptation and tradition.
Billed as the faster, cleaner way to cook, are these on-trend ovens all they’re cracked up to be? We take a close look at their rising popularity, USP versus the traditional convection cooker and how each type rates in terms of form, function, and above all, flavour in this buyer’s guide.
Our April issue is out now. In his editor's letter, Pat Nourse walks you through what to expect.
Nelly Robinson of Sydney's nel. restaurant talks us through his favourite roasting joints, tips for crisp roast potatoes and why, when it comes to pork, slow and steady always wins the race.
More than mere vessels, these pieces bring a cool breeze of style from the fridge to the table.
Baker extraordinaire Nadine Ingram of Sydney's Flour and Stone cooks up a sweet storm for Easter, including the much loved bakery's greatest hit.
Autumn weather signals the arrival of soups, broths, roasts and more hearty meals.
The cauliflower is roasted until it starts to caramelise, which adds extra depth of flavour to this winning salad. Serve it warm or at room temperature.
What happens the morning after the World’s 50 Best Restaurants awards? We treat the chefs to a world-beating yum cha session, as Dani Valent discovers.
Cue the Champagne.
Australia saw some bold moves in the ’80s, and we’re not just talking hairstyles. Greater cultural references started peppering the menus of our restaurants, and home-grown ingredients won a new appreciation. The dining scene was coming of age and a new band of pioneers led the charge.
Will your next baking project be a flaky puff pastry with pumpkin, goat's curd and thyme, or a classic bacon and Stilton tart? As autumn settles in, we're ticking these off one by one.
Leading chefs descend on Melbourne in April for The World’s 50 Best Restaurants. We asked local hospitality folk who they’d abduct for the day and where they’d take them to show off their city. There may be coffee, there may be culture, but in the end it’s cocktails.
Stephanie Alexander braves the chilly winds to tend her
herbs and admire the camellias' generous blooms.
The daphne bushes are at budburst. Since I replaced the dense, dark tecoma hedge behind them, the plants have flourished. Their new background is six olive trees that are just a silvery suggestion of what they'll become, but in the meantime the sunshine filters through the trellising and the daphne has romped ahead. Soon I'll be able to pick bunches of its exquisitely scented flowers, the only pruning it needs.
There's not a lot flowering elsewhere, although I mustn't forget the charm of the pale-blue parma violets that make such a pretty ground cover, and the Fuji-no-mine camellias. My camellias are in the side garden and I sometimes almost forget they're there, until I go to collect the mulch bins and am struck by the richness and generosity of their blooms. Most other colour has left the trees, mine and the others in the street. It's all falling leaves, bare boughs and chilly winds. I feel disloyal because I've forgotten to mention the beautiful hellebores, often called winter roses. They shyly hide their pretty faces until one tips the flower to get a better look. They're so beautiful and the many hybrid cultivars come in purple, magenta and blue-black as well as the better-known green, cream and rose-pink.
I have to admit failure with the persimmon tree. It died. I'll order another and promise to take better care of it should we have another hot summer.
Everything slows down in winter.
Even my amazing capsicum and chilli bushes have decided to shut down. I picked the last of the chillies, made a string of them and hung it under the eaves. I hope they dry rather than rot. If I had one of those dehydrators I suppose I could hurry up the process. I've also made a bottle of chilli oil following the recipe in The Cook's Companion, and will try it tonight drizzled over a baked King George whiting.
I still have carrots, broccoli, spinach, leeks, some salad greens, and the faithful hardy herbs of rosemary and thyme. I'm planning to plant another lot of sprouting broccoli now that the white cabbage moth seems to have passed. Hopefully there will be fewer caterpillars to watch out for.
The broad beans climb higher each day and the handsome globe artichokes are thrusting out their huge leaves. This year my sage has been magnificent. I grew it in one of the boxes rather than in the ground, and it seems to have preferred this spot. I've been able to crisp whole bunches rather than single leaves - they're so delicious on fish or chicken. The snow peas are creeping up the trellis in the front garden, but it must be said that the Chelsea sweet peas are faster growers and have almost reached the top of the supports.
My gardener edged the front beds with strawberries on one side and baby turnips on the other. The strawberries need several months to grow, but the turnips are nearly ready for a harvest. They are so good when they're small, and can be braised in a buttered pan with a little stock, or tumbled into the roasting pan with a chicken half an hour before it's cooked. I don't bother to peel them, but I do give them a good scrub.
It was quite hard work shelling my raspy Sicilian madamola beans, but they made a lovely soupe au pistou, a French soup similar to Italy's minestrone. The French soup has green beans, zucchini, a dollop of pesto (known as pistou) and grated Gruyère. Minestrone has plenty of dark-green Tuscan kale and is usually finished with a drizzle of the best extra-virgin olive oil and grated parmesan (a parmesan rind may be simmered in the soup too). I enjoy both soups, but this time I just happened to have the last of the basil leaves to make the pistou.
I was recently involved in Perth's annual Garden Week - what a joy it was. On display was Western Australia's spectacular flora. The orange banksia flowers were a delightful and dramatic street planting. There were so many great shrubs and trees I wanted to take home with me: the desert lime, for instance, and the grass trees. Every year I promise myself a holiday during peak wildflower season. This pleasure is still to come.
While in Perth, I hosted demonstrations by students from three schools that run the Stephanie Alexander Kitchen Garden Program: Singleton Primary School, Comet Bay Primary School and East Fremantle Primary School. The students grilled slices of sourdough. They rubbed them with garlic, then spread each slice with goat's cheese. They topped half with sautéed silverbeet, mushroom and amaretti crumbs, and the remainder with sautéed zucchini, zucchini flowers and preserved lemon.
Each student cooked with confidence and competence, unfazed by the elaborate state-of-the-art barbecue range provided for them. They sliced their creations and the samples disappeared in a trice.
That's it from me for another month. Stay warm.
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