Andrew Dwyer – The Cast Iron Cook | Cooking with Fire

Day One 04/01/12

Posted on January 9, 2012 by Andrew Dwyer

Escapade at Elizabeth Street Wharf

Escapade lies at the Elizabeth Street Jetty, in the centre of Hobart, beneath the buttress of Mount Wellington, and crowds of Hobartians promenading around the docks. The fleet have mostly sailed for home, and we are busying ourselves with last minute preparations. The day begins at the Daci Bakers, a fabulous French bakery at the docks with a bowl of toasted granola, fresh berries and yoghurt, orange juice and a coffee that contains Arabica and no hint of the bitter accursed Robusta sadly favored by so many coffee houses. They offer a simple but delicious French breakfast menu of baguettes with cultured butter and jam, avocado on bread, muesli and Danish and Viennoise passtries. They bake sourdough every bit as good as Poulains in Paris, and I grab some loaves for the boat.

Restaurant offerings in Hobart are very good, and getting better. Sadly the oysters are spawning at this time of year and are not at their best, because when they are good they are sublime. This year we didn’t make the trek down to Prosser’s in Sandy Bay, arguably Australia’s finest seafood restaurant, but we did manage a wonderful dinner at Smolt, Tassal’s shop window in Hobart. The tasting platter was a joy, the quail wrapped in crispy proscuitto was stunning washed down with a full bodied La Montessa Spanish Tempranillo, but the duck was sadly tough and rubbery. Our crew dinner was at Methes Taverna in Salamanca Place, always a safe bet, my favorite is their grilled octopus.

To provision, I have chosen to stock up on condiments, add a few tinned items, plenty of fresh greens, and hope we haul in plenty of fish as we go. The man in the tackle shop who sold me a rod tells me there are plenty of tuna at the 300 foot depth contour in the Tasman Sea. He reckons its best to trawl for them at eight knots to avoid “undesirable species” . We are lucky to maintain eight knots in a twenty knot wind with a spinnaker set, so I guess we’ll be attracting some “undesirables”. There are supposedly Yellowtail Kingfish up north, and lots of squid and flathead to be had in the bays.

Robert has been busy splicing cord and performing general maintenance jobs about the boat, and Aimee has been sightseeing Battery Point with its delightful Georgian Village atmosphere. At 14.00 we put to sea, and against a 25 knot headwind we motor around to the Derwent Yacht Squadron in Sandy Bay to fuel up. We then head out into the wide Derwent estuary, William Bligh once wrote that this splendid waterway could comfortably hold a thousand ships of the line at anchor. Today all there is at anchor is a couple of empty bulk traders, bows into the wind. Three hours later we drop anchor in Bull Bay, a delightful sheltered inlet right at the mouth of the Derwent Estuary on the north east end of Bruny Island. We look up to sheep grazing on the hills above the bay, and across the estuary to the lighthouse known locally as the Iron Pot, the gateway to sheltered waters for yachts coming in from Storm Bay, the welcoming beacon to Hobart. Some welcome it gave us this year in the race. We were running second in the AMS handicap and flew past the Iron Pot at around 23.00 straight into a wind hole, where we sat becalmed for hours, crossing the finishing line 4 hours later and in second last place. They say the race is won or lost in the Derwent. For us this year it was lost there, however we had a great sail and sailed well.

Fortune however smiled upon us in Bull Bay, Robert landed three squid, so dinner was tempura squid on a mixed lettuce and tomato salad with a lime dressing, which we washed down with a Golders 2008 Pipers Brook Chardonnay which was delightful. I am steadily becoming a big fan of Tasmanian white wines.

Posted in sailing | Leave a comment

Taking the path less travelled on the Canning Stock Route

Posted on June 27, 2011 by Andrew Dwyer

I am back in Alice Springs after leading an expedition down the Canning Stock Route in Outback Western Australia. I shot this video traveling on an unused track through the Great Sandy Desert between wells 36 and wells 33. The track was completely overgrown, I suspect no-one has used it since I last did two years ago. The spinifex is beautiful, its silver blonde heads waving in the breeze. Tomorrow I leave again, this time for the Western Deserts. Click on the link here to watch the video. I will try and post more soon. Taking the path less travelled on the Canning Stock Route

Posted in Outback | 2 Comments

The Ninya are abroad – Winter has come

Posted on June 2, 2011 by Andrew Dwyer

Winter has arrived, and I am on my annual migration north. I am now over 2000 kms from Jamieson in the centre of Australia, driving along the Lasseter Highway, the bitumen conduit through the desert that ferries millions of tourists to Uluru. On the horizon to the south one can just make out the Musgrave Ranges, a spectacular mountain range rising 4000’ above the Great Victoria Desert. My mind wanders back to a time many years ago when I used to run expeditions deep into the heart of Pitjantjatjara Lands, to the mountains where explorer Ernest Giles wrote, “A white man could truly live and be happy”

Mt Connor in the pre dawn light

To the south of this endless highway I travel is the singular massif of Attila, or Mt. Connor, a spectacular inselberg whose sheer buttressed walls rise spectacularly from the surrounding desert plains. The sun is coming up, spreading its first rays across a frozen frosty desert landscape, proof positive that overnight, the Ninya have been busy doing their dastardly work.

The highways department has recognized the importance of Mt Connor by installing a roadside viewing platform with toileting facilities at a high point. It is crowded daily with hundreds of international tourists who stop to relieve themselves, take in the view, then hop back in the rental and push on towards Yulara. I doubt that any of them are really aware of the significance the great mesa has, and the vital role it plays in the process of winter. And I am sure none of them are aware now close they would be to having their nuts frozen off save for the sanctuary of their heated motor vehicles nearby.

The Pitjantjatjara, or Anangu associate the mountain with a group of the most fearsome mythical beings in the dreaming – the Ninya or Ice Men. There is little to distinguish a Ninya from an everyday person, except that their bodies are a ghostly white colour, and there are icicles hanging from their beards and eyebrows. Long ago, back in the time of the dreaming or Tjukurpa the Ninya camped at Mt. Connnor, but in modern times they have moved, and now live beneath two salt lakes just north of the road we are on, in icy dark subterranean caverns. On dark winters nights they surface from the depths and make long expeditions across the desert, freezing the waterholes and laying frost across the land. A chill wind follows them. The ice falls from their bodies creating frosts, and on the higher peaks very rarely even snow.

In the cold of the dawn, the Anangu would sing the Ninya back to their dark caverns to bring on the warmth of the day. But in summer, when the outback is in the grip of oppressive heat waves, the women and children would assemble at Anneri soak near Mt Connor to coax the Ninya out of the ground, thereby reducing the temperature.

The outback is certainly a land of extremes. I have worked in the sandhills of the Simpson Desert when the thermometer has gone to 53° (127°F), where the baking dry air is so hot you must breathe in air slowly lest your nostrils burn. And once when camped near an abandoned native well in the central Simpson Desert whilst preparing breakfast I noticed my feet were acheing. When I checked the thermometer I noticed they were not acheing, they were FREEZING, the temperature was -8°C (17° F).

The road goes on. I struggle to overtake an endless stream a caravans and RVs all heading for Uluru, like giant snails dragging their carapaces behind them. I am comforted by the thought that soon I will be leaving this reality, leaving the bitumen and heading west beyond Uluru, beyond the caravans and crowds, back into Aboriginal lands, to the peace of the Western Deserts where unencumbered, the Ninya will continue their work.

Posted in Outback | Leave a comment

Saffron Mushrooms – Autumn Colours

Posted on May 21, 2011 by Andrew Dwyer

Autumn is almost over in Jamieson. The higher peaks now have a light dusting of snow on them, and while there is still plenty of autumn colour about the town, many of the trees are bare The leaves that remain on the oak trees are now mostly brown, the tree sucking back in the nutrients photosynthesised by the rapidly retreating summer sun. In preparation for the winter, the tree now collects the rent. The deep green snowdrop sprouts are pushing up, commencing their wintry growth spurt that will culminate in the delightful late winter splashes of white about the lawn.

For some reason or other, the autumn colours this year seem to be more vivid than usual. I thought I was suffering from some kind of ocular disorder-perhaps I have been eating the wrong mushrooms – but arborists reckon a sunny summer followed by good autumn rains and a couple of cold snaps produces more vivid autumn colours. Apparently in many of the deciduous species, good growing conditions allow the plant to go into photosynthesis overdrive, creating lots of sugar, which creates luscious foliage. This also generates extra pigments, so it is no hallucination that this autumn Jamieson has taken on a hue and saturation akin to a world viewed through Fuji film. Yesterday found the valley bathed in autumnal sunshine, the sky that surreal deep blue you only see at this time of year, and sunshine after rain means – Mushrooms!

I was brought up on field mushrooms and taught from an early age that all other mushrooms were toadstools, and deadly poisonous. All that changed when as a lad of 21 I moved to the Austrian Tyrol to teach skiing and climb mountains. It was here during the alpine autumn that I was introduced to the delights of wild mushrooms. When we weren’t climbing my friend Toni and I would forage endlessly about the Kitzbüheler Alps in search of a feed of fungi. At the tree line, where the alpine grasses were peppered with edelweiss we would pick the bitter yellow flowers of the arnica plant and infuse them in schnapps to use as a muscle rub, and on the lower slopes, from Toni’s hut we would wander out and collect delicious peppery golden chanterelles and the wonderful Stein Pilz, the meaty Boletus Edulis. I had never tasted anything like it in my life.

Back in Australia you can imagine my delight when I discovered that lurking beneath the pine forests around Jamieson were plentiful crops of Pine Mushrooms, otherwise known as the Saffron Milkcap Lactarius deliciosus, and the Slippery jack Suillus luteus

The Pine mushroom is not native to Australia, but is now found widely throughout pine forests in the south east of the continent. Whilst mainstream Australia is only now discovering what a delight these mushrooms are, they are widely consumed in many parts of the world, especially in Europe. In Poland they are pickled in jars with vinegar, in Spain they are popular in Valencian and Catalan cuisine, they are eaten in Provence and in Italy they are grilled with balsamic vinegar. In Cyprus they are grilled on coals with lemon juice, garlic and parsley, a truly delicious combination.

When picked, they exude a saffron coloured sap, and when bruised they stain blue, in fact they look seriously toxic, but fear not, identification is easy, they are singular in their colour and shape. They are a meaty mushroom that holds their texture well when cooked. Unlike many mushrooms, I find they suit cooking in olive oil far better than in butter and cream. I like them either grilled on the barbecue in the Cypriot way, or slow cooked in a heavy based saucepan on the wood stove with olive oil, garlic, salt, pepper and loads of parsley to make a pine mushroom goulash. This is stunning on top of a nice crisp potato, bacon and parsley rösti.

Posted in Barbecue, Jamieson, Mushrooms | Tagged fungi | 1 Comment

Science busts open the Dutch Oven

Posted on May 10, 2011 by Andrew Dwyer

The science behind a Dutch Oven on the coals - Image from Modernist Cuisine Dr. Nathan Myhrvold

Ever wondered how the magical Camp Oven does its thing? Well Dr. Nathan Myhrvold has worked it out. Aside from establishing Microsoft Research, Dr Myhrvold is no slouch in the kitchen, he was also Chief Gastronomic Officer for Zagat Survey. Click on the image to zoom in to check out the details, which was created using an abrasive water-jet cutter, an electrical discharge machining system, and other machine-shop tools so you can look inside the camp oven as it cooks. Check out more here

Posted in Barbecue, Jamieson | Leave a comment

Jamieson General Store Under New Management!!

Posted on May 7, 2011 by Andrew Dwyer

Leanne and Wayne christen the new General Store

Congratulations to Leanne and Wayne, who officially took over the Jamieson General Store on Wednesday. After the closed sign was flipped over on the door, we joined them for a glass of bubbles.

A bit tired, but she's about to get one hell of a facelift!

The General Store in Jamieson is the only shop in town. The only other retail businesses are a service station, post office, cafe and two pubs. (At least the town has its priorities right). As it is a 70km round trip to the nearest supermarket, the General Store needs to be pretty well stocked with any daily requisites.

The standard of culinary services is about to get a radical improvement. A coffee machine is going in, and rumor has it that Melbourne gourmet providore Meribel Fine Foods will supplying stock. Yum! We dropped in for an Egg and Bacon roll yesterday which was excellent, and I am led to believe steamed dim sims are on their way.

Opening Night at the Jamieson General Store

Posted in Jamieson | Leave a comment

East of Eden – Yellowtail Kingfish!

Posted on May 6, 2011 by Andrew Dwyer

The port of Eden lies in Twofold Bay on the south coast of New South Wales, just north of Cape Howe, where the coast swings west into Victoria.. Tall eucalypt forested hills drop steeply to azure waters, rocky headlands punctuate wide crescent beaches of golden sand. The East Australian Current flows south at speeds of up to seven knots bringing warm water from the tropics and delivering it into the cold waters of the Tasman Sea, a marine superhighway bringing tropical fish to southern latitudes. At its peak in February it moves a staggering thirty million cubic metres of water every second! The current terminates near Eden. The fishing here is legendary, one of the reasons friends of ours; – Chris and Sally – have built a house right on the beachfront, overlooking Twofold Bay.

Chris and Sally's place - paradise with an ocean view

They share with me a passion for eating one of my all time favourite denizens of the deep – the Yellowtail Kingfish.

Twofold Bay Eden

In January, Jane and I pack up the Landcruiser and head over the mountains to pay them a visit. No different from any of our previous maritime excursions, our main raison d‘etre is to hunt, gather, harvest and feast on Neptune’s bounty. Well, that was the plan, but on a daily basis the reality was a bit different. When the fish weren’t biting, we fished with our wallets down at Eden harbour in the fish shop. On the wharf there is a bloke who sells fresh-farmed mussels, and the Sydney Rock Oysters fresh shucked from Lake Wonboyn are stunning. There are still wild oysters to be found growing on the rocks around the coast, although like wild mussels they are getting more difficult to find.

Our second day presented us with a tough decision. There were rumours that schools of yellowtail kingfish were taking bait off Mowarry Point, about five nautical miles south of Eden. It was also Ladies day at the Eden Yacht Club, 20-25 knots of breeze, an ambient temperature of 30 ° and the chance to sail on a new 34’Jenneau. The yellowtails receive a reprieve, and we spend the evening on deck drinking white wine and diving off the yacht into the crystal clear water of Twofold Bay.

Jane on the bow of "Winkle"

The following day we were invited aboard a tugboat for he day. There were more rumours of yellowtail, but the chance of fulfilling a childhood fantasy was too much to resist. For the next few hours we chugged backwards and forwards across Twofold Bay. We pushed an Ecuadorian Cargo vessel out and pulled HMAS Darwin in. All that pushing and pulling sure stimulated the appetite, problem was we hadn’t caught any fish. Solution – the fish shop has some whole unfilleted red gurnard.

View from the Tug

I reckon Gurnard is one of the most underrated fish on the market. With flathead now reaching $40 a kilo, Gurnard, with its sweet white flesh at seven bucks is a bargain – but DON’T TELL ANYONE. The unpopularity of gurnard my have something to do with its venomous spikes which can cause extreme pain and have been responsible for two deaths in Australia. Down at the boat ramp we encounter three blokes at the filleting bench butchering a massive 70kg Marlin they have just caught. Jane asks the first one if they know how to fillet gurnard. Gesticulating with his filleting knife towards his mate he replies, “No love, Barry might know. Barry immediately professes ignorance, and their mate Jeff holds out a massive fillet of fresh pink marlin towards me and says,” You can have this so long as we don’t have to fillet your bloody gurnard”. It’s a done deal. We retreat back to Chris and Sally’s for an entrée of marlin sashimi followed by gurnard lightly dusted in cornflour and sautéed with Indonesian kecap and lime rind. It’s a win all round!

gurnard

I wake to the chimes of bellbirds and the sun streaming in beams through the eucalypts,. Out on Twofold Bay the water is the lightest of blue, so still the horizon is blending with the sky. A perfect fishing day, and Chris is champing at the bit to get at it. Within fifteen minutes the boat is gliding across Twofold Bay towards Ben Boyd National Park. In the distance a small flotilla of white specks are clustered off Morwong Point – the yellowtail are on!

The yellowtail kingfish or southern kingfish, Seriola lalandi lalandi, is a subspecies of yellowtail amberjack, which is found globally in temperate waters.

They are oceanic surface fish that congregate in schools around reefs, deep wharfs, bomboras and rocky headlands, usually during the warmer months. They love rough moving water, and once they strike, they are a tough fighter. The Australian record is a whopping 47.25 kg. The world record for spear fishing is 47.7 kg, held by an insane New Zealander, and I imagine it would have been akin to lassoing a snowmobile underwater!

The fishing ground presents a weird scene. There are all manner of vessels and rigs. Its mostly blokey, although there are a few women. There are a handful of professionals, and few father and son teams. They all share one thing in common – an obsession with kingfish.

Yellowtail kingfish swim in schools, they are a macho, tough fish that is fast moving. They don’t hang around in the same spot for long. The technique for catching them is a combination of luck and skill. The luck is dropping your hook onto the school. The skill is in how you set up your rig, and how you attract the fish to snap at your hook. The popular technique here is to lower your line jigging the rod up and down all the time until you reach the bottom, then to wind in and repeat the process all over again. So throughout the flotilla there are crowds of people all jigging away, spasming in homage to the fish. There is also the acceptable practice of dropping in on your neighbor. If you are pulling in fish, you won’t be on your Pat Malone for long.

And the one thing I didn’t mention was the effort required to land the fish. I’m beginning to think I’m out of luck when BANG, a kingfish strikes. There is nothing quite like the moment you first hook a kingfish. There is the strike, and then the fish takes off like a locomotive. The clutch on your reel screams as the fish heads for the deep. After letting the fish have it’s head you start winding, pulling the rod up, winding in frantically, then pulling again, being careful to keep the tension on the line. Your arms ache, the fish wheels around and gradually the finale closes as a dash of silver is finally spotted in the depths. A net is over the side, and the fish is in the boat, and immediately stashed in the ice box.

Me and my Fish - Photo Sally Pullin

The excitement continues. You pull in and move to another spot. More strikes, more fish, more jigging, and always keeping a lazy eye on what’s going on in the other boats.

Its bloody hard work, but in one hour we have one broken reel, two blisters and twelve magnificent yellowtail, in the ice box, about 120kgs of fish all up. As hard as it is to leave the fishing ground while there is a run on, we have had enough. We wind in, stow the reels and head for Eden.

There is plenty of flesh on kingfish. It is akin to tuna, but a little milder, with its own unique flavour. Fresh it makes great sashimi, its firm flesh cut into steaks is ideal to grill, but I think the very best way to cook it is grilled with a simple Teriyaki marinade, with a side salad of Arame or potato wedges. Get the recipe here!

Posted in Fish | Tagged eden, fish, yellowtail kingfish | 2 Comments

ANZAC day in Jamieson

Posted on May 3, 2011 by Andrew Dwyer

The 25^th. April is Anzac Day, which originally commemorated the Australian and New Zealand troops landing at Gallipoli in the Dardanelles in 1915. In years past, a handful of people would brave the chilly autumn pre-dawn and ‘stand to’ in the centre of our small town on Anzac Day. Over the past few years the idea of standing around in the freezing cold has taken on, this year 400 people, mostly out-of-towners turned up. This has a lot to do with a current resurgence in Australian national pride, but I like to think it is also the result of hard work done years ago by a dear friend the late Milton Watson, an eccentric and patriotic local pith helmeted restaurateur who started the whole dawn service thing in Jamieson 25 years ago with a gun fire breakfast and cannon salute. The Australian flag is at half mast. Those with relatives who served place white crosses at the foot of the memorial.

Crosses in Jamieson

The last verse of Laurence Binyon’s ‘For the Fallen’ is read.

‘They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old …’

There is a minute’s silence. A latecomer in a blue station wagon with a hole in the muffler drives through the crowd. A mobile phone goes off, a baby cries, and then the silence is broken as the Last Post and Reveille are blown by whoever has a bugle. The Woods Point gun club rifle enthusiasts let off a few rounds into the still air, managing to dislodge a mob of cockatoos still snoozing in a nearby oak tree. They take off squawking into the still inky dawn sky. The dingos on the hill start to howl, and then the congregation retires to the old Baltic-pine hall for a breakfast of Carmel’s beef stew, tea, coffee, and—for those who have the stomach for it—a glass of dark Queensland rum.

Gunfire Breakfast at the Jamieson Hall

There are few dry eyes in the crowd of spectators when the returned servicemen march down the main street at 11 o’clock and stand to at Gerrans Reserve. Even given that the autumn light has plenty of glare, sunglasses seem to be overly popular. I can’t help but think of the gangland funerals.

The diggers march down Perkins Street

In the hall, local Tony Dennis gives a moving speech about his experiences in Vietnam where he served as part of a Centurion Tank crew. After the official ceremony is over, the locals repair to the pub for free beer, a fine spread of food (ladies, please bring a plate), and a game of two-up out the back, where fortunes are won and lost on a game of chance involving two coins. Jane usually does pretty well out of it, this year she came home with a couple of hundred in her pocket.

Standing shoulder to shoulder in the bar with the old war heroes, one hears extraordinary stories. An old bloke from Benalla who came every year once related to me how, as a prisoner of war building the infamous Burma Railway, he had been crucified by the Japanese. He survived—and after three days they cut him down. He gave a laugh. ‘I’m the only bloke who ever had three days off on the Burma Railway!’ He hasn’t been back for a few years now. Most of the World War Two veterans have passed now.

As part of the World War I war effort, women baked Scottish oatmeal cookies at home and they were sent to the soldiers fighting overseas. After the war, they were named Anzac biscuits and sold as fundraisers for returned soldiers. Get the recipe here.

Autumn in the hills near Licola, South of Jamieson

Posted in Jamieson | Tagged bakeing | 4 Comments

Taco al Pastor inspires Pizza al Pastor

Posted on May 2, 2011 by Andrew Dwyer

As the days get colder, the summer fruits reach the end of their harvest. My friend Joan Hamilton out at Emerald Park has been growing Tomatillos in her organic garden for the past couple of years, and she has been willingly supplying me with her wonderful fruit. For the past couple of months I have been roasting them whole and making a wonderful tomatillo salsa.

Joan Hamilton's Tomatillos growing at Emerald Park

I first encountered tomatillos at what has become my all time favorite Tex Mex restaurant – Güero’s at 1412 South Congress in Austin, Texas. Surrounded by a collection of quirky boutique shops, and just a stones throw from the iconic Continental Club, (where a couple of Sundays ago I was lucky enough to catch an amazing live performance by the great picker Junior Brown), this great taqueria, in the style of an old Mexican Cantina just keeps me coming back. The traditional Marguerites shaken with fresh lime juice are truly excellent, so much better than the slurpy confection frequently encountered across the US.

Gueros Taco Bar, Austin Texas

The almost innocent bravado on the portraits of Mexican banditos and revolutionaries staring down from the brick walls seems vaudevillian, especially here in Texas, where the official State motto is “Remember the Alamo”, where at Gonzales during the first battle of the Texan Revolution, Texican Colonists raised a flag to taunt the Mexicans with the words “Come and Take It”. Today the phrase is everywhere, on walls, t-shirts and bumper stickers. In my mind it is the embodiment of that intangible thing that makes Texas different to the rest of the United States. Viva la difference!

The food is not the best Tex Mex there is, but the atmosphere is so good it might as well be. And Güero’s was where I first tasted Taco El Pastor. Sweet Pork, Pineapple and Corriander on a soft fresh made taco.

Two weeks later I am back in Jamieson. It is Easter and it looks like I am having twenty friends and family round for lunch in the courtyard. Its going to be an eclectic crowd – a cheese distributor, an ex SAS chopper pilot who now works in Nigeria, a dietician, an inventor, a bike mechanic. Time to fire up the Pizza oven. Over the past few months I have been slowly curing the oven, and perfecting a sour dough pizza base, which without boasting I reckon is now spot on – rye leaven with organic unbleached flour and sea salt.

What about a pizza based on that wonderful Taco El Pastor. I have Joan’s tomatillos, I have fresh Queensland pineapple and some pork fillet. I have no idea how they cooked the pork at Güero’s, but I reckon it will be pretty good stir fried with garlic and Indonesian Kecap. I get my sons Paddy and Jack to help out with the oven. Paddy, a pyromaniac since birth fires up the oven to a temperature that would turn copper into gold. The crowd arrive.

The crowd ready for some hard partying in the courtyard

I sprinkle the base with the stir fried pork, pineapple pieces, and some sliced dried red ancho pepper that I have reconstituted in water. When the pizza comes out of the oven I top it with tomatillo salsa and fresh coriander and serve it to my ravenous guests. It’s a runaway success, the elements of the El Pastor are still there, but the puffy sourdough base, the ancho, and the homemade roasted salsa are delicious. So good I’m sharing the recipe here. Happy eating all!

The Pizza Oven fired up

Posted in Jamieson | Tagged pizza | 1 Comment

Mushroom season in Jamieson YAY!

Posted on April 30, 2011 by Andrew Dwyer

Sauteed field mushrooms on home baked sourdough toast

Autumn in Jamieson is typified by several days of warm sunny days and cold nights, followed by a few days of rain and drizzle before fining up again, the perfect conditions for…mushrooming, and the Jamieson fungi foragers are out stealing about the valley hunting down the delicious field mushroom Agaricus campestris, which appear in clumps or rings in fields that have been spared the indignity of a dose of super phosphate. The locations are a closely guarded secret, peculiar really given there are plenty to go around, but such is the cult of the mushroom. The foragers’ enthusiasm for the hunt invariably means there is a constant stream of generous guests arriving at the back door with supermarket bags of mushrooms on offer, which are never refused. There are few more delightful meals on a sunny autumn day than mushrooms on toast. The vodka-clear southern white light blasts through the chilly air, the sun that is daily retreating further north caresses you with it’s dying warmth, and in front of you a delicious plate of stewed mushrooms on a fresh slab of toasted home baked sourdough. I love autumn.

With fresh picked field mushrooms I simply sauté them for five to ten minutes in French butter with a little garlic until they are glossy black but still retain their structure and serve sprinkled with salt, cracked pepper and fresh chopped parsley. At this time of year my parsley is at the end of its season and is developing a more bitter and stronger flavour, which I personally like. Now that the wood stove is going in the kitchen, I often put the mushrooms in an enamel lined cast iron pot and leave them gently pot roasting all day, stirring occasionally (when I happen to pass by the kitchen) until they are a thick black oily glump. The flavour becomes seriously intense, redolent of a delightful mushroom pate I once ate at Libertine, the French hole in the wall in North Melbourne.

One of my all time favourite recipes for mushrooms is to pot roast them with vine leaves and goats cheese. The only problem with this is that by the time field mushrooms come into season, the last of the vine leaves are withering, but if you look carefully there are still a few tender green leaves about. My vines did not do so well this year. Because I eat them I resist spraying them with copper and sulphur., and as it was a wet summer my vines copped a bit of mildew. Next year I might try spraying with bicarb and milk and see how that works.

As an aside I have often wondered how the organic wine industry can use sulphur and still claim to be organic? And for that matter, isn’t all life organic. My friend Fred Pizzini, a winemaker in the King Valley resists netting his vines. When I once asked him how he deals with bird strike, he simply said, “The birds need to eat too. They only get around 25% of the crop which leaves plenty for me”. Fred is a delightful man, and his wife Katrina is a fabulous cook and food author. The Pizzinis are pioneers of growing Italian varieties in Australia, like Arneis, Verduzzo, Brachetto, Coronamento Nebbiolo, Rosetta, Sangiovese, Sangiovese Shiraz and Nebbiolo. If you are ever in the King Valley, drop in and pay them a visit, or take a cooking class with Katrina. Whatever you do, make sure you try their Il Barone 2006, a stunning blend of Nebbiolo, Sangiovese, Cabernet and Shiraz. It is fermented with the aid of an Italian yeast from Barolo. This is a classy wine, rich and full flavoured, complex tannins, hints of leather, berries, with a delightful tar finish. But I digress, the topic was mushrooms!

IlBarone 2006 A great King Valley Wine

It is not only the field mushrooms that find their way onto our plates. Under the pine forests around town are heaps of the orange and blue Saffron Milkcaps, and if you know where to look there are also the delightful Slippery Jacks, but more on them in a post to follow shortly.

The season should last for another two or three weeks, which is probably a good thing, for if it went on much longer I might run the risk of getting sick of them. Heaven forbid!

Posted in Jamieson, Mushrooms | Tagged fungii, wine | 5 Comments

Andrew Dwyer – The Cast Iron Cook