Summer Must Be Around The Corner – Pineapples Are In Season!

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I love summer and I love pineapples. What can I say?
Pineapples are summer in a skin.

Tonight we have The Slow Chef’s family coming for dinner and I thought I would prepare a dessert early so I wasn’t fussing at the last minute. As regular readers will know, we have chooks and today we have a fridge full of eggs. When thinking of “eggy” desserts, custard always comes to mind. However a baked custard in summer (OK, it’s only spring but it definitely feels like summer when there is a pineapple on the kitchen bench) seems a bit hot and heavy.

What recipe would use lots of eggs and a pineapple to inject some sunny, freshness into the dessert? I decided to experiment. Now, I should know better – never test a recipe on guests was one of the first tips Gail at Life’s A Feast taught me. But the idea formulated quickly in my head and had to be created.

When I was 12 years old my first job was cooking for an elderly gentleman who’s wife had recently died. During their 60 year marriage she had done all the cooking; he had no idea how to make a cup of tea or a sandwich. (The Slow Chef was never going to be allowed to get himself into this situation). Each Thursday after school I would shop for ingredients, Friday afternoon was spent cooking and Saturnday morning Mum drove me to his house to deliver the food. Every week was the same: a beef stew, sausages, baked custard, stewed apple and sago.

Eventually the old man moved into a home (where I hope he allowed them to serve different meals), and after 2 years of making the same food I swore I would never make those recipes again. However, today I go back on my word. I will make a variation on the baked custard, from this day forward known as Trish’s Baked Pineapple Custard. I am entertaining 10 people tonight so this recipe is large, halve it if necessary.

Heat the oven to 200 degrees C.

30 grams butter melted
1/4 of a sweet, ripe pineapple
3 tbl brown sugar

Coat the base and sides of a flat-based baking dish with butter. Arrange the pineapple slices over the base of the dish and sprinkle with brown sugar.

200g sugar
8 eggs
200g plain flour
80g melted butter
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 litre cold milk

Using a whisk or electric mixer combine the eggs and sugar in a large mixing bowl. Add the flour, melted butter and vanilla. Gradually add the cold milk. To stop the pineapple dislodging from the base of the dish, slowly pour the custard mix into the dish, over the back of a large spoon. Bake for 45 minutes. The pineapple will gradually rise toward the surface during baking. The custard is ready when it does not wobble when touched, it should spring backgently. Serve hot or cold with a rich vanilla icecream.

If you like this recipe, please vote for it on the King of Fruit website competition or why not enter your own recipe? Enter here.

Ideal Family Meals

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You may think because my posts are a bit light-on that The Slow Chef has been slack in the kitchen. You would be wrong. I’m the slack one – I just haven’t written about his escapades. So I thought I would catch up in one chunky, meaty article.

Six years ago I had a life-changing experience. One day I was frantically running a housefold, a business, sitting on about four different committees and playing a team sport, the next I was laid out in hospital with the prospect of not being able to walk again. I had an accident and the doctor in Emergency at Nambour Hospital was pricking needles into my legs at various points and asking if I could feel it. I couldn’t.

There was a very scary moment as I lay on the solid emergency bed staring at the fluorescent light directly above my head, unable to move as I was still strapped into the plastic neck brace that was fitted by the ambulance officers when I thought to myself “if I can’t walk again, do I want to go on?” It was only a moment but I was worried about being a burden on my family. I had fractured my neck. Feeling gradually came back to my legs over the next couple of days, I was transferred to the Royal Woman’s Hospital in Brisbane, had a halo brace fitted and was eventually able to go home.

The following three months made me realise the accident happened for a reason. I couldn’t slow down so ‘fate’ slammed the brakes on. I also realised what amazing friends and family we had. Every day a meal was delivered so that Nick had one less thing to worry about. Family members took turns to stay and help out. Nick had taken over the business, was going out to work, dropping and picking kids up from school and daycare and caring for me. We wouldn’t have coped without the community rallying around us.

It was impossible to repay everyone for their kindness during that time but finally an opportunity has come up for us to ‘pay it forward’. We drop a few meals to an elderly neighbour each week as he now finds himself in a similar situation to ours. It takes us no time, costs very little as we always over cater and allows us to check on him regularly and have a chat.

Nick is really enjoying cooking for another person. Each evening he packs up a takeaway container of food to be dropped off the following day. I can tell he is proud of the meals he is creating, and he should be. They are full of flavour, healthy and they look great. Last night Nick made a delicious Chicken Pot Pie:

 

1kg diced chicken, cooked
2 lg potatoes diced
1 lg onion, diced
3 celery stalks, diced
2 lg carrots, diced
1 cup frozen peas
50g melted butter
1/2 cup plain flour
2 cups chicken stock
1 cup milk
1/4 tsp dried thyme
small bunch chopped parsley
salt & pepper, to taste
2 sheets Puff Pastry

Preheat oven to 220 C
Saute onion, celery, carrots, peas and potatoes in butter for 10 minutes.
Add flour and stir for a minute.
Combine stock and milk and add to vegetable mixture. Stir until mixture thickens.
Season with salt and pepper; add chicken and herbs and stir well.
Pour into baking dish; cover with pastry sheets and press down on sides of baking dish. Prick a couple of holes in the top to allow steam to escape.
Bake for 45 minutes or until pastry is golden brown.

When I make roast lamb the family love it but it is the same every time; nice but predictable. As Nick had not made roast lamb before he consulted a recipe book and came up with a great variation: a leg of lamb wrapped in bacon with a grainy mustard and garlic baste. It was fantastic – really great flavours.

As Nick becomes more proficient at cooking and catering for our family (and the neighbour) I thinking that I will have to change the name of this blog. The Slow Chef ain’t so slow any more!

Oh the pressure!

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Learning to cook for a family is one thing (teenagers don’t taste, they inhale) but entertaining is quite another. Recently, The Slow Chef and I were invited to dinner at an old friend’s house. It was a wonderful evening spent chatting, drinking and gasping over the extravagant food we were served.

This couple are foodies who have recently moved to Noosa from Sydney. In Sydney they had entertained every weekend: an 8 course degustation was not unusual. Their Sydney home had three ovens. Three! I enjoy cooking (sometimes) but three ovens? I’m way too practical for that: imagine cleaning them? I rarely get around to cleaning our single oven. I know the oven is due for a clean when I can’t see through the glass door anymore. Our 10 year old daughter recently declared “Mum! You can see the food cooking!” as though there was something wrong with the oven, like the door had fallen off. It had been that long since the oven was clean.

Now, I confess that whilst this dinner was wonderful, I spent the whole time worrying about how we could possibly return the favour. In fact, I warned them a few times not to expect anything spectacular when they came to our place. However, I think I’m underestimating The Slow Chef.

Today Nick’s sister, a wonderful cook, dropped over a couple of very fancy cookbooks. I was surprised; Nick had been chatting about cooking behind my back (I felt a little cheated). So now his desk is adorned with Gordon Ramsay’s Passion for Seafood (please don’t let him turn into an uncouth, foul-mouthed, screaming twit) and Spirit House Thai Cooking by Helen Brierty and Annette Fear (please let him be lovely and calm like a Thai spiritual person).

Last weekend, not only did Nick catch two trevally but he served them up in a spicy, sticky dressing. Delicious!

Nick wants me to tell you that he used a surface walker lure that replicates a fleeing bait fish or prawn (I think I’m translating from English). The trevally attacks the lure/bait fish/prawn from underneath like a freaky stalker.

Serving a whole fish is always impressive but when you have caught it yourself, it is even more so. I’m sure we can outdo our dinner guests with this dish but first I must remember to buy some bigger dinner plates.

An Oldie but a Goodie

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Have I told you lately how wonderful The Slow Chef is? We’ve been flat out with work and some issues with our business meant that I was still working at 6pm last night, when I would usually be starting the dinner. Rather than sit around to the last minute and ask “What’s for tea?”, Nick said “How about I cook tonight?” Actually, I don’t think it was a question, and it didn’t need to be. Of course the answer was “Great!”

Now, because we have been busy we haven’t done any shopping so we were a bit ‘old mother Hubbard’ (the cupboards were bare). I had to go out and buy bread at 7 o’clock this morning (with wet hair after my shower – not a good look), just to make the school lunches. As you know, we keep a few cans in the cupboard for such emergencies. So, without asking, Nick whipped up our family favourite, Tuna Mournay and rice.

Have you made tuna mournay before? Of course you have. So simple and yet so yummy. When I studied home economics at school we had to come up with a family meal for under $2.50 and I served tuna mornay. Today the same meal will cost approximately $8-10; great value for a family of 5.

Here is our family’s recipe (as you now know, I make recipes up as I go so giving exact quantities is a bit difficult):

Enough rice for your family
About 75g butter
1 large onion, diced
3 tbl plain flour
1 large can tuna in springwater
milk (approx 1 litre)
grated cheese (about 1 to 2 cups)
frozen peas
1 can sweet corn kernals

Put rice on to cook. (See tip below)

Melt butter in a large saucepan and fry onion. Add flour and stir for a minute over high heat. Add liquid from the can of tuna to the saucepan and stir with a whisk (or wooden spoon). Then add milk. Stir until butter/flour mix dissolves in the milk. Add the grated cheese. Add the tuna meat, frozen peas and corn kernals. Stir until mixture thickens (add more milk if it is too thick). Add salt and pepper to taste.

And Bobs your Uncle (he’s not mine – I don’t have an Uncle Bob). Dinner is on the table in the same time as it takes the rice to cook (12 minutes if you are using a microwave).

On that note, let me pass on a tip for cooking rice in the microwave. I use a china bowl without a lid – goes against everything you’ve been told but it works. Add two cups of uncooked rice to the bowl – we use Basmati Rice as it has a medium GI rating. Brown rice has a low GI but tastes like dirt (says 10 year old Holly). Rinse the rice and drain off excess water then cover the rice to twice its depth. Confused? Here’s my tip: poke your finger in the bowl with dry rice. If the rice comes up to your first knuckle, add enough water to reach your second knuckle. I told you I make these things up as I go! Then cook on high in your microwave – mine takes 12 minutes. There is no need to stir halfway through the cooking time. Simple!

If you are not a fan of canned tuna, you can replace the tuna with tinned salmon or canned asparagus.

There you have it: dinner in 12 minutes. It’s quicker than picking up take-away and much tastier and healthier.

Enjoy! I did – dinner always tastes better when someone else makes it.

While the Wife’s Away…

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The Slow Chef is a very generous man. He is more than happy for me to go away for a few days to visit family and friends (hmmm…). This week I had 3 nights in ol’ Sydney town.

Based on my visit to Sydney, here is a plan for the perfect day out:

  • Catch the train to Circular Quay, walk around to the Sydney Opera House, admiring the magnificent view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge as you go. Once at the Opera House, take a tour of this incredible building.
  • From the Opera House, wander through the Royal Botanic Gardens up to Macquarie Street. Once on Macquarie Street, be sure to look for number 133, History House. Not only is this beautiful sandstone building home to the Royal Australian Historical Society, but it is also the first home of The Slow Chef and I. About 20 years ago, we rented the top floor of the building, the old servants quarters.
  • From Macquarie Street head down Hunter Street to 330 George Street, opposite Wynyard station. A sneaky doorway next to the Peter Alexander store leads through to the upmarket Ivy complex. I recommend lunch at Sailors Thai at The Ivy where you can actually talk and be heard! The carpeted floor (so unique these days) means this chic restaurant not only looks gorgeous but is intimate and relaxing. Whilst not traditional Thai food, more Thai with an Australian twist, it is delicious. On my visit the restaurant was decorated with beautiful yellow orchids.
  • After an early lunch, catch the monorail to the Lyric Theatre at Star City and catch the matinee of Hairspray – The Musical. I’m a huge fan of all things musical and can honestly say this is one of the best shows I’ve seen. It’s definately heaps of fun.
  • Before the excitement of the show wears off, catch a cab to the Shangri-La Hotel in The Rocks and enjoy a cocktail or two, as the sun sets, at Blu Bar on 36. This is probably one of the best views in Sydney.

Just before I sat down to enjoy Hairspray, on above-mentioned perfect day, I received a text message from The Slow Chef “How do I grease a casserole dish?” Not the type of message I’m used to but I quickly phoned and suggested that he either coat the dish with melted butter or canola spray. “I’m cooking up a storm,” he declared. I’m pleased to advise he sounded incredibly happy. I think he sent me to Sydney just to have the kitchen to himself!

Later that evening I received a text message announcing the kids had rated his Chicken Mornay Bake a 9 out of 10. Perfect comfort food for a winters evening in…whilst I had a fantastic dinner out!

Squid Ink Pasta via Venice and Singapore

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Thirteen years ago, The Slow Chef and I were living in Singapore. One night, when dining in a new Italian restaurant we noticed squid ink linguine on the menu. Nick called over the beautiful Singaporean waitress and asked “Is this squid ink pasta or pasta with squid ink sauce?”
“Squid ink sauce,” she replied.
“Incredible. We haven’t seen that on a menu since a trip to Venice 12 months ago,” The Slow Chef boasted.

We were slightly alarmed when this comment resulted in the chef being summonsed from the kitchen. “Where in Venice did you eat this dish?” the Italian chef barked. (Were we in trouble?)
“I can’t remember the name of the restaurant but if you head over the Ponte di Rialto from the Piazza San Marco side, take the second street on your left and then turn right. It was a small restaurant with beautiful timber floors and a nautical theme,” The Slow Chef reminisced. As he spoke, his eyes stared at the ceiling and I could see him re-tracking the journey in his mind. (Nick has an amazing sense of direction. I don’t. I couldn’t read a map to save my life.)
“I worked there!” exclaimed the Chef, now extremely friendly. He had been in that very kitchen in Venice the year before but had moved to Singapore with his new wife, the Singaporean waitress, 6 months ago. We had an amazing dinner that may never have occurred had we been able to read Italian.

Let me explain. We moved to London when Hannah was 11 months old. We had always wanted to travel so rather than spend a fortune on a 6 week whirlwind honeymoon in Europe, we decided to move there and really experience the life and culture. Nick lined up a job and once we were settled in Richmond, Surrey, we started travelling. Every weekend we either visited places around England by car or flew to the continent. When Nick had two weeks annual leave we flew to Italy, spending a week in Florence and a week in Venice. As we could not speak or read a word of Italian, we decided at the start of the trip not to ask for translations or English menus but we would simply point to a couple of items on the menu and see what turned up.

It’s pretty hard to go wrong in Italy but we did have a few mishaps; a plate of thinly sliced salami served with…nothing! Just salami. Another shock was a plate of chopped liver. It was dry – no gravy, just cooked liver. Hannah, now 18 months old, ate through most of the dish whilst I re-ordered. Our selection method also resulted in some amazing dishes that we would probably not have ordered had we understood what they were. Squid ink linguini was one such dish.

You can imagine my shock when a huge bowl of black, glossy, oily pasta was dropped in front of me.  Definitely not something I had been expecting. Being the brave soul I am (OK, I’m not brave enough to consume an entire calves liver), I pressed on. The dish was amazing. Squid ink has quite a fishy flavour and a silky texture. I had never tasted anything like it. As my mouth and teeth were stained black, I insisted The Slow Chef share the dish so I didn’t look like the only side-show act in the room. He was also impressed. So much so, we have remembered the dish to this day.

Whilst we have not made the squid ink sauce ourselves, we do purchase the black squid ink pasta regularly from the Noosa Farmer’s Market, always keeping a pack in the cupboard.

Last night, being a Saturday and having nothing left in the fridge, The Slow Chef perused the pantry and decided to make Linguine Nero con Gamberi or Squid ink pasta with prawns.

The critics (kids) were pretty harsh, rating the dish a 6 (from 14 year old son who has decided he doesn’t like prawns) and 8 (from Holly who found the black pasta quite startling). I also rated the dish an 8 but that was due to the prawns (purchased from Woolworths by now 17 year old Hannah) being gritty.  Rather than drive to the shops especially to purchase prawns, Nick phoned through his order to Hannah, who was out and about with friends. She assumed the Fresh Food People would have fresh prawns behind their deli counter. They may have been fresh when they were caught a while ago, but they hadn’t been rinsed, so despite The Slow Chef peeling off all signs of shell, they were still a bit crunchy in the dish. Next time we will buy the prawns from Noosa Seafood Market where we are always happy with the produce.

Besides the slightly gritty prawns, the dish was fantastic – tonnes of garlic and olive oil, basil and parsley, and one finely chopped tomato. The addition of a chilli or two would also have enhanced the flavour.

After an amazing meal, we settled back on the couch to watch a movie. It was the perfect Saturday night in.

Chicken and Sweet Corn soup recipe

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The Slow Chef produced a delicious Chicken and Sweet Corn soup that he adapted (yes – he can even adapt recipes now!) from one on the Taste website.

4 cups chicken stock
shredded chicken (Nick used the 2 chicken breasts from our weekly boiled chicken/stock project)
1 tbs soy sauce
2 tsp finely grated fresh ginger
1 tbs cornflour
1/4 cup water
2 x 420g can creamed corn
1 x 420g can corn kernels, drained
2 egg whites
6 green shallots, finely chopped
Salt & pepper

In a large saucepan mix stock, soy sauce and ginger and heat through. Combine cornflour and water until smooth. Mix cornflour mixture into stock. Cook for 2 minutes or until soup thickens slightly. Add the chicken, creamed corn, corn and cook, stirring occasionally, until heated through.

Whisk the egg whites in a small bowl. Gradually pour the egg whites into the soup, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon.

Cook for 2 minutes. Remove from heat. Add salt and pepper. Serve with green shallots sprinkled on top.

This is perfect for a quick meal or instead of takeaway – takes as long to make this as it does to phone through your order then drive and pick up. If you’re like me, you keep a few cans of corn in the cupboard, along with lentils, kidney beans, tinned tomatos, etc. and can throw together a meal in minutes. My friend and neighbour, Jan, is known in her house as “Crack a Can Jan” because she is so good at throwing together (assembling?) several cans of food to make a curry. With a bit of practice The Slow Chef might earn his own name such as “Take a Pick Nick”.

Seriously Sensational Paella

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I had one of those Sundays where I longed to lie in a hot bath but felt that 3pm (and 4pm) was too early. So, the minute 5pm came around I was in! A full hot bath, Tina Fey’s ‘Bossypants‘ to read, a piccolo of champagne (I’d love to tell you it was Moet but let’s face it, I know as much about wine and champagne as I do about football) and the music from ‘A River Somewhere‘ on the iPod dock. The door was locked so no stray kids could wonder in. Pure heaven.

As I lay immersed in chocolate salted water (I forgot to mention this earlier – it was a birthday present from my very thoughtful 17 year old daughter and not so thoughtful 14 year old son – he just signed the card) the most amazing smell wafted through the bathroom window; onions, chicken, bacon and chorizo sausage, frying. I confess I thought it was coming from our neighbours house.

Emerging from the steam-filled bathroom I discovered The Slow Chef quietly working (slaving?) in the kitchen. He looked peaceful. Just him, Jamie Oliver’s Ministry of Food and a huge bubbling pan of paella on the stove. I loved him even more in that moment. After all, the way to a woman’s heart is around her diet.

We had received a sachet of Tas-Saff saffron from my sister, Jo Cook from C & C Cupcake Factory, as a gift one Christmas. Knowing that we are a bit daft about cooking, Jo kindly included some notes explaining how to use saffron. We should have read them. As a result, The Slow Chef took Jamie’s advice and dropped the saffron filaments straight into the dish. No harm was done but we missed out on the seriously yellow colour and aroma achieved by its correct use.

Jo and Tas-Saff suggest that saffron be infused in liquid prior to cooking to activate the colour and flavour. Activation can be achieved in anywhere from 30 minutes to 24 hours: 60 milligrams of saffron to 2 tablespoons of boiling water in a covered light-proof dish. The longer you leave it, the more intense the colour and flavour. We will definitely use this method next time.

I was amazed how quickly this meal came together (especially for me as I didn’t have to do anything). After only 30 minutes, Nick produced a meal that I would have raved about if served in a restaurant, yet here I was at my own dining table!

Jamie’s recipe states the quantity serves 6 but I think 8 would be more realistic.

17 year old daughter was out babysitting and missed the meal-of-the-year but 14 year old son gave a solid score of 9, 10 year old daughter a 9 (incredible considering she lives on air) and my score: 9.5.

This is the perfect dish to impress friend’s at your next dinner party. Now, who’d like an invitation?

Amish Friendship Bread

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Have you heard of it? I hadn’t but apparently I haven’t lived. Everyone knows about Amish friendship bread (except the Amish who claim it has nothing to do with them).

I stumbled across Amish friendship bread when searching for a book on a recent trip. I am currently editing a book on self managed super fund investment strategies (written by The Slow Chef) and whilst I admire the text and am impressed by both its complexity and simplicity, I don’t want to read or think about investment strategies during holidays.

Therefore, whilst browsing the shelves of a new bookstore (this is pretty close to heaven for me) I chose a book based on the most important literary factor, the cover. Friendship Bread by Darien Lee was too beautiful to walk past. The title evoked a feeling of warmth, just what I needed for a winters evening snuggled up in bed.

I had no idea how much this book would affect me. When I wasn’t reading, I was  thinking about it. I am not a big fan of ‘chick lit’ as I generally find it predictable and uninspiring but the relationships in Friendship Bread felt familiar – not nasty or cruel, just genuine characters with a strong sense of friendship and community. In fact, they remind me of a wonderful group of woman I have recently become friends with in Noosa.

Amish friendship bread is a chain-letter-style recipe; one person gifts a bag of bread starter to a friend who then shares it with their friends. The basic bread, when cooked, is more like a cinnamon cake with the texture of a banana bread. And it is delicious.

The American Amish friendship bread recipe calls for a packet of instant pudding to be added to the cake mixture prior to baking. Having no idea what instant pudding is, I venture into the dessert section of our local IGA and discover that instant pudding is very similar to jelly crystals. Just add water or milk for a milky-jello. Why on earth anyone thought to add a packet of this to what is essentially a cake mix is beyond me. As you  may remember I rarely follow a recipe correctly, so I decided to eliminate this ingredient.

As I write this post The Slow Chef is hard at work in our home office (hopefully working on his book, no pressure). I am on a chair in front of the oven watching a loaf of friendship bread bake. The smell of cinnamon permeates the house as subtle as a real estate agent during an open for inspection.

When I remove the cake from the oven I realise it is a bit burnt and cracked (I was too busy writing to notice) but it smells wonderful. Then disaster strikes. The bread is stuck solid to the “non-stick” pan! I run a knife around the edges. Still wont budge. I gently shake each end of the pan and feel the cake pull away from the base. And pull-away it did. Right through the middle! There is almost as much cake stuck in the pan as on the baking rack and there is a hole in the middle filled with uncooked mixture!

I would ask 14-year-old-son to do a taste test but let’s face it, he’s 14 and inhales everything in sight. I doubt the cake would touch his taste buds long enough to get an accurate opinion. Instead I console myself by eating the cake in the pan that has finally decided to stop clinging on for dear life. If I close my eyes to avoid looking at the crumbling mess I can report that it tastes really delicious. Perhaps I’ll let The Slow Chef bake it next time. He would have to do a better job than me.

Now, who’d like a bag of friendship bread starter?

Pies ‘n Mushy Peas

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Recently, we noticed a check-in on FaceBook from our dear friend, Gaille. She was at Harry’s Cafe de Wheels. Memories came flooding back of meat pie and mushy peas being consumed in the early hours of the morning after a big night out in the Cross, usually at the Bourbon and Beefsteak. Aahh, the good ol’ days. These days, The Slow Chef and I are not long off rising at this hour, not stumbling home.

On a perfect Saturday morning in Noosa, after a brisk hour-long walk through the Noosa National Park, The Slow Chef declared he was going to make meat pies with mushy peas for dinner. He found a recipe on the Taste website and made a list of ingredients to purchase, including pie dishes from Gibsons, our local homewares store (suddenly a simple dinner becomes quite an expense when you have to buy cookware).

I find it incredibly hard to step back and let Nick take over the kitchen. This is my flaw, I’m a control freak. So, when I saw a list of ingredients that included gravy powder and stock cubes I had to step in and suggest another recipe that used flavour from real food, not from the shelf of a science laboratory.

Whilst my intentions were good (I promise), I only managed to confuse The Slow Chef.

“Use the first 2 steps from this recipe, then these steps from this recipe, and finish with the final step from your original recipe.” Thus the reason I rarely use recipes, I change almost everything.

I am also not a very good teacher. I tend to tell Nick what to do, without explaining why. For example, I suggested he put the mince to cook on a low heat whilst we went to the shops. My logic: it will be cooked when we return, he can drain off the liquid, set the fat (to discard) then use the stock to make gravy. His logic: I will be able to think clearly if I go step-by-step through the recipe, without interruption.

Instead, he stepped through the recipe that did not state to drain the liquid (and I forgot to tell him) and as a result there is no stock for gravy. It is a minor detail that is overcome with gravy powder but it highlights the skills and tricks that are acquired over years of cooking, that you pick up from your parents or through trial and error.

The kitchen now looks like a bomb has gone off. It is not helped by the fact that one bench is always used as a dumping ground – my handbag, school notes, bolts , screwdrivers, magazines – junk waiting to be sorted. One of the best things my Home Economics teacher, the wonderful Mrs Ess, taught me was to always clean as you go. Keep a sink full of hot, soapy water and wash items to be reused, stack others in the dishwasher. Wipe benches between each task. When you place an item in the oven, your work area should already be clean.

Further frustration (for me) sets in when The Slow Chef is standing in the kitchen not doing anything. Why? He is waiting for my apple crumble to finish in the oven before he starts. In my kindest (but not condescending) tone I suggest (OK, I tell him) to start assembling his pies in the new pie dishes, as these tasks always take longer than expected.

It is at this point I realise cooking is definitely a skill acquired over time. Nick is a very smart guy with lots of common sense. He is co-ordinated and good at any sport he attempts. So, I am surprised when multi-tasking in the kitchen doesn’t occur naturally to him.

This recipe calls for several steps:

  1. make meat mixture and cool
  2. assemble pastry cases
  3. make mushy pea mix
  4. make gravy

As he is assembling the pies, I remind him to boil the potatoes that he has ready in a saucepan, but to put the bag of frozen peas back into the freezer until he needs them. At this point I step away from the kitchen. My blood pressure is rising and I am not coping very well. Far better for me to have a glass of wine in another room.

Half an hour later I am hailed to the dining table and presented with a delicious dinner fit to be served, well, in the finest caravan in Wooloomooloo. How lucky am I? I have a wonderful husband AND he can cook…if only I would let him.