The Start of Something and Saffron Milk Caps

ingredient profile
n: saffron milk cap
l: belanglo state forest
s: autumn

It feels as though quite some time has passed since I have shared my own food stories here. The past few recipes have been courtesy of some dear friends, photographed on the go during the time I spent with them on my travels and while visiting their homes. But now that I too am home, settled and have successfully spent the past couple of months developing a solid amount of hibernation and antisocial behaviours (a side effect of moving countries, travelling nonstop and sorting my Australian self out), I am finally ready to step out and post a regular flow of my own food stories and recipes here again. 

For me, understanding and appreciating an ingredient – from where it grows, when it grows, how it grows and who grows it – is fascinating. I’ve mentioned before that some of my best food memories have come from the times where I was able to visit small, carefully curated farms to experience directly the source of a food and the course it goes through to become its final product. I love the learning and connection that you encounter here. I love the raw and the real of it. The slower pace that it injects. The beginning of the whole story. The process, not just the product. This is the part about food that I love most. And I want to continue to photograph that.  

So, that’s what I’m going to do. For the next however long, I’ll be visiting small farms and foraging spots to seek out regional and seasonal ingredients. Paddocks. Orchids. Oceans. Rivers. Forests. The lot. I want to learn about each ingredients story. Seek their sources. Meet their makers. Document, appreciated and share the process, and then follow it all up with some scrummy, nourishing recipes.

And I’m going to start here. At the very end of autumn, with these foraged saffron milk caps.

There was a period of time some five years ago where I didn't see autumn for about three years. I would decide every summer to head to the Northern Hemisphere, where I would arrive to the cold and bitter winter, stay through the celebrated, warming spring and as soon as summer ended I would fly back to Australia to greet the spring again. It wasn’t all planned to play out this way, but it happened at least three times in a row. Which meant that although I was seeing the world, I wasn't seeing autumn.

Finally, one and a half years ago, I stayed long enough in the northern hemisphere to see the season through. Twice. The colours had me. The flavours had me. The weather had me. Autumn, I declared, was my favourite. 

So you can imagine my joy when only three months after leaving this scrumptious season in the USA, I was greeted with it again here in Australia. I’m playing catch up. And it has been heaven. There has been quince baking and adding figs and pears to every salad and dessert. Sinking spoons into I don't know how many custard apples. There’s leafy winter greens all prepped and growing in the garden and I can't get enough of driving through fog, shuffling through falling leaves and lighting as many fires as I can carry wood for. 

We’ve also been enjoying mushroom foraging - something I had never considered doing in Australia before. Thanks to the local knowledge of some new chef friends, we were told that some of the yummiest and most prolific wild mushrooms grow in the pine forests just over the mountain. 

I sat on my hands for the first month or so waiting for the perfect opportunity and for all of the rain to come and go (we had a lot of rain). As soon as a clear, sunny Saturday popped up - and I had read and watched and asked enough to properly identify what was edible - we took the trip to the highlands in search of some saffron milk caps. 

Jakob, Taj and I had the best day in the pine forest. The air was fresh, the walk was pleasant and there were more perfect milk caps on the forest floor than we could possibly fit into our baskets. There they sat with their golden gills, dimply tops and spotty, saffron sapped stems. Our haul quickly grew. We had come at a good time. Autumn at its finest. And we were rapt. 

a note on mushroom foraging:

firstly:
When it comes to wild mushrooms, only take what you know won’t kill you. Many are poisonous.
Simply - if in doubt, go without.

foraging:
These saffron milk caps (also known as pine mushrooms) were found in the NSW Southern Highlands in Belanglo State forest. Their season is short - late March through May. Milk caps aren’t native to Australia – they arrived with the conifer trees, their symbiotic hosts. Mushrooms grow overnight so the best and freshest picking times are early to mid-morning shortly after autumn rain. To identify these mushrooms properly please do you research well or go with someone who knows what they are looking for. 

picking and Storing:
Take a knife. It is best to cut wild mushrooms at their stem and then cover them with pine needles so that they grow back again next year. Pick mushrooms that are still fresh around their edges. As they age, they will become dry and wrinkly (still edible however). Saffron milk caps are very fragile, especially their gills, and will turn green if bumped around too much (again, still entirely edible, just a little strange looking). Store cap down and stem up in a paper bag or a covered glass container and keep in the fridge for up to 5 days. If your bounty is grand – slice and fry them up with a little butter and store them in sealed bags in the freezer. These mushrooms are full of water and hold their moisture well so they will defrost with little effort and little change to their flavour.

eating:
Saffron milk caps can be eaten raw. They are also delicious on toast (see recipe above) or baked with eggs, in pasta’s, in soups, in gratins etc. 
A fun fact/warning – this mushroom’s intense saffron hue will turn your urine a saffron colour too! 

coming soon:
a recipe for saffron milk caps

A Local Milk Slow Living Retreat - Byron Bay

A few of my most favourite moments from last weeks slow living retreat in Byron Bay with Beth Kirby of Local Milk, Rebekka Seale of Camellia Fiber Company, Luisa Brimble, and Aaron Teece of Studio Neon. 

Some places manage to transport you - to calm, to joy, to a surreal place of gratitude, to a belly of fire, and to tears. Beth is the only person I know to create such a place, Rebekka is the only person I know to bring such warmth, Luisa is the only person I know to make my belly hurt from constant, confused laughter and Aaron is the only person I know to turn a kitchen, table and tummy to pure food magic over four blissful days.  

The property of Avalon Lea was good to us. It was a place of foggy morning sunrises and views of soft rolling hills, many a tropical fruit tree, friendly farm hands and veggie patches and the perfect place to pitch Jessie's Happy Glamper tents. We slowed down here as we foraged, wove, baked, picnicked, styled, gathered and ate. 

The participants, the part I was most excited and curious to meet, were full of inspiration and fervor. From Spain, from Perth, from not too far up the road and with two birthday celebrations in tow - waves of talent and conversation flooded our breakfast, lunch and dinner tables every moment of every day. I miss them all dearly already.

There comes both joy and sorrow from spending time at such a place with such folk. The best part of course is being there with them. The worst, is having to leave it all behind. Worst still is saying goodbye to the dearest of friends from State side. I will never, ever have enough time with Beth and Rebekka - time with them is so precious - they are two souls that I love dearly and miss. Together with  two Australian super talents, Luisa and Aaron, a real dream team was made. I am so thrilled to have played a small part along side and to have slowed down with you all. 

The Cottage Kangaroo Valley, Chocolate Mousse + A Saveur Nomination

To be surrounded by misty mountain ridges and opulent towering gums. Lyrebird calls, fields of green grass and dairy cows. Wombat burrows and beaches of white, white sand. That's what it's like to be home. 

It's been two years since leaving for the States, and two years since stepping foot on the beautiful south coast of New South Wales. And it is magic, this Australia. This home. Back in the ute, accents flowing fierce, those red and yellow beach flags and marsupials - everywhere. Fires that smell of eucalypt. Macadamia nuts and budding wattle seeds. Shortened lingo - spare the names of local towns full of double letters and native tongue. Cambewarra. Tapitallee. That's where we've nestled in. 

It's been a tricky time. Adjustment. Change. All a challenge, all predictable. A world of leaving behind and accepting the mundane. The mundane turned novel. It's been a search for a revived comfort space and stomping ground. An international move will do that to you, I suppose. And we miss it all. What we’ve seen. What we’ve had. What we left behind. But this country and all that we missed on the other end, has greeted us and treated us well. It feels good to be back on home turf. We are lucky to have this, this Australia. And so happy to be home. 

Not long had I landed when I took the short trip over the mountain to see artist, stylist and my dear, dear friend, Lisa Madigan, and her home - The Cottage, Kangaroo Valley. It had been too long. Some context here: Lisa’s cottage is like a dream - all white and otherworldly and delicious like. A dream I’d very much like to live in. The cottage has had a beautiful history. It was built in the 1880’s, housed the local newspaper press and for the past 8 years has been home to Lisa, Rob and her two Dalmatian pups. Lisa and Rob lovingly transformed the cottage into the most charming curated space. Stunningly styled and true a reflection of all things Lisa - Luxurious. Rustic. Uplifting. Inspired.

Now, as time shifts and people move on, the cottage is about to embark on an equally beautiful future. Lisa and Rob have decided to share their little piece of the valley with others, turning their cottage into boutique accommodation and a space for special, intimate events (more about the cottage and booking enquiries here). Today, this celebration, was the launch of their exciting news. 

It was the perfect day to pop over, as the cottage was dressed and flowing with celebration. There were new friends to meet and old friends to catch up with – a somewhat surreal but pleasant feeling to be in the company of Australians again. We dined on a nectarous lunch, lovingly prepared by Lisa. There were local oysters and cheese platters to start us off (Lisa nails this, every time) and for the main course at the long harvest table, we shared slow braised local lamb shoulder in marsala, roasted root veggies with red onion and goats fetta and a lemony green tossed salad. A feast embellished with Indian summer, shared cottage stories, change, and all the excitement that this brings. It was a simply lovely afternoon. We finished off in the garden, with a whipped sweet treat - chocolate mousse with toasted hazelnut praline + mint. And did I mention there was champagne? Lots of champagne.

Aaaand, the champagne has continued flowing here in our mountain ridge, wombat burrowed gum tree lined home! We were greeted with the most wonderful news over the weekend - that lean + meadow has been nominated for this year’s Saveur Blog Awards in the best designed blog category! I screamed when I first read it. Then proceeded to cry. Happy tears. Truly happy - couldn’t believe it but felt immense gratitude - tears. Words aren’t enough. I am humbled and grateful and so thankful for this. Being nominated is beyond all expectation. The biggest heartfelt thankyou to those of you nominated me and who put in a good word. Voting is now open until April 30th and if you like, you can vote for me here. And if not, then at least vote for one of the other brilliant people nominated. SO much talent here. So honoured to be in the same category as them all. 

Now that it’s Easter weekend, we have the perfect excuse to keep celebrating and to indulge in a little too many hot cross buns (I’m onto baking my third batch) and always, lots of chocolate… To help with the indulgence and celebration, here is Lisa’s chocolate mousse recipe from the Cottage launch. An Easter treat from us to you.

May you have a lovely long weekend. Happy Easter. 

Lisa’s Chocolate Mousse with Toasted Hazelnut + Mint Praline

For the Mousse
400g dark chocolate, chopped
40g butter
6 free range eggs, separated
2tbs caster sugar
Pouring cream (use only a small amount of pouring cream if you like the chocolate to remain rich, more if you prefer overall creaminess)


For the Praline
150 g hazelnuts
2 cups caster sugar
Fresh mint, chopped
slices of fresh, seasonal fruit e.g fresh figs for garnishing

Melt the butter & chocolate in a saucepan over a low heat until smooth.
Separate the eggs. Stir egg yolks through chocolate & butter mixture & set aside.
Whisk egg whites until soft peaks form.
Slowly add the sugar (less if sweet isn't your thing) & beat on high until silky stiff peaks form.
Gently fold through chocolate mixture & silky egg whites, then add the pouring cream to taste.
Find some gorgeous vessels to serve your mousse in, pour & refrigerate to set.

Pre-heat the oven to 180°C/ 350°F and line a baking tray with baking paper.
Toast your hazelnuts or chosen nuts in a pan or in the oven for 6-8 minutes. They should become lovely and fragrant.
Once toasted, pound them up in a mortar & pestle to desired size (I like to keep them quite rough & varied in shape & size).
Place caster sugar in a saucepan over medium heat. Give the pan a quick swirl to allow sugar to dissolve, but do not stir (this will make the sugar crystalise).
Allow the sugar mixture to cook until it becomes a rich and delicious caramel colour. Be careful to not let it burn.
Remove from the heat and take care as it becomes incredibly hot.
Pour out thinly over the baking paper & sprinkle quickly with the nuts & chopped mint. 

Once the mousse and praline has set, break the praline up into shards and add them to each mousse vessel. I always find it nice to break up the chocolatey richness with a little fruit, so this time I've used slices of fresh figs as they're in season. 

Enjoy. 
 

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Switzerland, Sunday Bread and Sarah

In January, Sunday mornings are particularly sweet times in Sarah and Alban’s apartment. There is no rush to get out of bed. Blinds are gently lifted to let the Swiss winter light in and time in the kitchen preparing breakfast is an unhurried, beautifully shared ritual. There will be stove top espresso coffee with frothed milk and a thoughtfully arranged table spread with soft boiled eggs, jams and butter. And from the oven will come a prettily plaited, warm baked loaf of zopf.

I’ve been meaning to introduce you to Sarah. After all, she is one of my dearest, most loved friends. Although always living on opposite sides of the world (Sarah is Swiss), we have remained close. Always finding time to meet, to travel together and to share many meals.

Sarah is the friend that I catch trams with. Walk the streets of Paris, London, Istanbul and Berlin with. We laugh and chat and behave like sixteen year olds and never ever does there seem to be enough time together. She lends me shoes, takes me to gallery openings and educates me on movies, music and art. She reminds me of all things graceful and clumsy, serious and silly. She is creative beyond means, has the most wonderful memory and bears the kindest and most considerate soul there is. When I’m sick, she brings me tulips, lemon tea and a thermometer.  She is the friend that hosts mid-week dinners, uses every last item in her fridge, loves Pavlova and golden syrup and all things Australian. She dislikes Edith Piaf on Saturdays and being wasteful. She introduced me to Danish furniture, parquet floors, and living without a TV. She speaks perfect English, writes the most beautiful letters and her handwriting is like no one else’s I’ve seen.

Some of the fondest memories I have of Sarah are with her husband Alban in their apartment in Basel. Most of them are situated around all of us making food in the kitchen, gathering around their dining room table for dinner with friends, or on a slow Sunday morning, just us. I fondly remember being introduced to Zopf (which I forever referred to as Sunday bread) and the novelty of this simply beautiful, traditionally Swiss food.

Sometimes a little earlier on a Sunday, Sarah would ride her bike into town to pick up a loaf of zopf and place it in the oven to warm ready to have with breakfast. I also remember her baking a loaf once, to take down to her neighbor as a peace making gesture. For some reason it stuck with me. An unusual but fond memory of Switzerland perhaps.  

During my recent stay with Sarah and Alban, we made sure to spend one breakfast together baking and eating zopf. Again, I couldn't get enough of spending time at their table, simply eating, enjoying the morning, waking up to a gentle Sunday start.

One thing to learn from these two dear friends is how to live minimally and sentimentally, to enjoy food prepared thoughtfully and together and how to appreciate all that is humble and true about taking time.

More memories made, more time together. And more eating and sharing zopf.

Here is Sarah’s recipe:

Zopf (Sunday Bread)

cook time: 3 hours 15 minutes (including 2 hours rising time)
yields: 4 servings

300ml milk
60g butter
7g dry yeast
500g plain flour
1 tsp sugar
1 1/2 tsp salt
1 egg, separated

Warm the milk and butter in a saucepan over medium heat until it just reaches body temperature. Stir in the yeast and allow to stand for a few minutes until the yeast begins to bubble. 
Combine all of the ingredients except the egg yolk in a large bowl. Turn out onto a flat, lightly floured surface. Knead the dough until it becomes smooth and elastic - about 10 -15 minutes. Place the dough back in the bowl and leave to rise in a warm place for about two hours or until doubled in size. 

Once the dough has risen, evenly separate the dough into two halves. Roll each half into a sausage shape until they are approximately 60cm long, allowing the dough to become a little thinner at one end. 
Begin plaiting the dough by making a cross, placing one piece over the other in the center. Continue to pick up and cross over the underneath pieces, two at a time, until you reach the end of the dough (see photos above). The plait will grow upwards, towards you. Once all the dough has been plaited, tuck the four ends into the plait to finish it off. 

Place the zopf on a baking tray and evenly brush the egg yolk over the top of the plait. Turn the oven to 220°C/425°F  and place the zofp in straight away, un-preheated. This will allow the zopf to rise a little more as the oven preheats. Once the oven is at  full temperature, bake for 35-45 minutes or until a knock on the bottom of the bread sounds hollow. 
Enjoy warm.

"E Guete!"