I'm a kleptomaniac...what of it!

Posted: 29/04/2011 6:52:08 p.m.

It strikes me that being a successful post modern urban woman demands excellence in most every life style-enhancing endeavour- cooking, cleaning, gardening, project managing The Reno, snake charming, parking an SUV with appropriate dexterity and knowing the best designer dog for keeping little Bella’s allergies at bay. I fully suck at most of these. I’ve never had a driving license in my life and I just think schmoodles, moodles, spoodles, cockapoos and Jack Roodles are silly. Trying to decide if the bathroom should be painted Atomic Vomit Green or Puce Indulgence would make my brain explode. And I can’t be polite to snakes, ever. Especially not the ones who inhabit school playgrounds, form snotty cliques, drop names and look idly on while their offspring decide to savage my own. Sigh. The saving grace in all of this is that I at least I’m pretty nifty behind the stove (notice I’m not commenting on my cleaning abilities). Yes it’s lucky I know how to cook. And steal.

I’m a thief and I’ve been driven to crime by my inability to keep a plant alive. Not even rosemary. The idea of being able to harvest my own herbs, as needed, from specimens growing with triffid-esque vigor right outside my (sparklingly clean) kitchen window, held serious romantic appeal. Didn’t happen. Over the years I’ve tried growing every herb known to man but alas, even the more voracious types (parsley and mint) failed to thrive on my watch. I remember my grandmothers’ verdant beds of both these staples; they grew like a thick carpet at the back of her house and she never seemed to do anything to them. No water, no weeding, no work. Which is, frankly, precisely my type of horticulture. But despite emulating nanas’ hands-off approach, plants I tend invariably perish.

More pernickety varieties, such as coriander and tarragon, are toast in my hands. So was the turmeric cutting a thoughtful foodie neighbour gave me; I had the thing barely 30 minutes before it required serious life support. It expired soon after. The nice chap at the garden center assured me that rosemary is impossible to kill so I bought a small shrublet home one day. No sooner had I proudly announced “I’m going to grow rosemary!” to whoever was interested enough to listen, than the thing snuffed it. I swear it took one look at me, deduced I was so inept with Living Green Entities that it didn’t stand any chance of survival and kamikaze-ed right before my very eyes.

Rosemary happens to be one of my all-time favourite flavours. I adore the way it perfumes grills and stews. I love it in the version of Italian Sweet and Sour Braised Capsicums I sometimes make (capsicums stewed with garlic, anchovies, capers, chopped raisins, wine, a little vinegar, olive oil and rosemary) and it’s great when chopped into a coarse paste along with garlic, pepper, fatty pancetta and anchovies then stuffed into slits cut in lamb (shoulder, leg or rumps) for roasting. Rosemary renders sautéed mushrooms, finished with gentle sloshes of good balsamic vinegar and pouring cream, utterly sublime and rosemary with lemon and plenty of salt flavouring a golden-skinned roast chook is an unbeatable combination. Apart from patting that soft fur and admiring those adorable floppy ears, one of my favourite things to do with a rabbit is to hack it into pieces, embellish these loosely with a few bits of garlic and rosemary then drape over slices of prosciutto. Then I roast them, fully anointed with a little white wine or dry Marsala to prevent dessication. The rosemary permeates the flesh beautifully and the prosciutto turns gorgeously crisp- this recipe doesn’t really have a name although in my house it’s affectionately known as Yummy Dead Roasted Rosemary-Enhanced Bunny.

Rosemary and potatoes are a winning combo too, either roasted, fashioned into a gratin and cooked in good chook stock or a mix of cream and milk or pureed into a silky, smooth soup. I also love to bake sweet things using rosemary; teamed with semolina it makes for the most deliciously flavoured shortbread . For years I’ve been baking Rosemary and Raisin Buns from Carol Fields’ fantastic book The Italian Baker. I made a batch over Easter which is when they are traditionally served in Tuscany. Sometimes I like these better than the ubiquitous Hot Cross alternative. I’ve scented ice cream with rosemary and blood orange and creme anglaise with honey and rosemary.I could go on.... I ‘d use rosemary endlessly but for those silly packs from the supermarket being so prohibitively expensive. THREE BUCKS FOR A FEW MEASLY STALKS WHEN THE STUFF IS SO.. er, so easy to grow…..

Which brings me to back robbery. And yes it is the daylight type- it has to be so I can see what I'm doing. My near neighbour has a gigantic rosemary crop flourishing along the length of his front veranda. Bastard. Like Nana he does nothing to it- no artful pruning, no fertilising, no motivational pep-talks. It simply grows wild. And I don’t even think he realises it’s edible. When ever I need some I check he’s not home, walk brazenly up to his plantation with my kitchen shears and pillage madly. His is beautiful, full-flavoured rosemary and seeing it grow so healthily frankly fills me with bush envy. One day my criminal enterprise will come fully unstuck; I’ll get sprung for sure. Until then I’ll continue my secret snipping and if you know him please don’t tell it’s me that’s been illegally harvesting his herbs. But do break it to him that the stuff is highly consumable and that he really needs to learn how to cook with it. Actually, send him down to my place and I’ll even show him how. In return for some of his rosemary.

Rosemary And Semolina Shortbread
Makes 1 x 22cm round shortbread

I have no idea where this recipe came from so if you recognise it as yours, I apologise. I baked it religiously at the last restaurant I cooked in professionally, the much-loved 82 Gladstone in Parnell, Auckland.

250g unsalted butter, melted and cooled to room temperature
150g (2/3 cup) caster sugar
50g (1/3 cup) cornflour
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tablespoon finely chopped rosemary, plus extra leaves, to decorate
300g (2 cups) plain flour, sifted
55g (1/3 cup) fine semolina
Icing sugar, to decorate

Preheat the oven to 170C and line the base of a 22cm round tin with baking paper. Combine the butter, caster sugar and cornflour in a bowl then, using electric beaters, whisk the mixture until it thickens slightly and is very smooth. Stir in the vanilla and rosemary.

Combine the flour and semolina in a bowl then, using a wooden spoon, stir into the butter mixture until combined well. Using your hands, press the dough into the lined tin, smoothing the top even (the back of a dessertspoon or similar is idea for this). Bake for about 35 minutes or until very light golden around the edges. Cool in the tin for about 30 minutes then, using a sharp knife, cut the shortbread into 16 wedges. Cool completely in the tin then sprinkle with icing sugar and a few rosemary leaves. Shortbread will keep, stored in an airtight container, for up to 1 week.

Rosemary and Raisin Easter Buns

Makes about 12

This is based on the recipe from The Italian Baker by Carol Field, Morrow, NY, 1985. It’s one of the best cookbooks I own and I’ve been using it since it was first published. Some of you probably weren't even born then.

3 tablespoons caster sugar
2 1/2 teaspoons instant dried yeast
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 egg yolk, lightly beaten
80ml (1/3 cup) extra virgin olive oil, plus extra fr greasing
640g (41/4 cups) plain flour
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
5 large sprigs rosemary, plus extra for decorating
170g (1 cup) raisins, coarsely chopped if very large

Combine a pinch of the sugar and 250ml (1 cup) lukewarm water in a large mixing bowl. Sprinkle over the yeast then stand in a draught free place for 6-7 minutes or until foamy. Add the eggs, yolk, half the olive oil, the flour and salt and, using a wooden spoon, mix until a coarse dough forms. Turn the dough out on a lightly floured surface and knead for 5-6 minutes or until the dough is smooth and elastic; add a little more flour if dough is sticky but try not to add too much extra or buns will be a little heavy. Form the dough into a ball and place it in a large, lightly oil bowl, turning to coat,. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap then stand in a draught free place for 1 hour or until doubled in size. Knock dough down using your fist.

Meanwhile, remove all the leaves from 1 sprig of rosemary, finely chop then set aside. Break the other sprigs in half. Heat the remaining olive oil and rosemary sprigs together in a small frying pan over medium-low heat then cook, turning the rosemary occasionally, for 3-4 minutes or until oil is fragrant, add the raisins and cook, stirring, for another 2-3 minutes. Remove from the heat and cool. Remove the rosemary sprigs and discard. Preheat the oven to 200C.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface then roll out into a rectangle roughly 42 x 26cm. Sprinkle over the chopped rosemary then scatter over the
raisin mixture. Roll the dough up, Swiss roll fashion to form a log then cut the log into 12 even-sized pieces. Lightly grease 12 muffin holes with olive oil then place a piece of dough in each one, cut side up. Gently press into each hole to fit into the corners. Cover the muffin tray loosely with a damp tea towel then stand for 30 minutes or until risen and puffy. Bake for 20 minutes or until deep golden the turn out onto a wire rack to cool. Buns are best served on the day of making but will keep, frozen in an airtight bag or container, for up to 8 weeks.