A Truffle Feast

It was 2010 and the middle of winter in Paris. I’d spent the day alone, having just farewelled my fiancée on his trip back to Australia. I had three months of travel ahead of me and a few days by myself before meeting friends. It was cold outside and after walking many a Parisian Rue, I craved tea. There she was. The Hotel Plaza Athénée. And there I was, still craving tea. I stepped inside, shivered as I warmed up and walked up to the front desk. I knew it well. I’d watched the last season of Sex and the City many, many times and today, I would be Carrie. The receptionist pointed me in the direction of the parlor and I sat down on a high backed velvety chair. My coat was taken to the cloak room, and I was embarrassed. I looked to the left of me to the piles of couture shopping bags sitting on the ground beside the other parlor company, drinking wine and eating their late lunch. My coat was not of the Dior type. I wasn’t deterred however. This place was beautiful. Covered in golds and floor to ceiling teal drapes and crystal chandeliers. I would be content sitting here for as long as I could, dreaming my afternoon away. Ah, tea. I ordered. It came, on a polished silver tray, in a polished silver pot with a matching polished silver milk jug. I can’t remember what the tea cup looked like. Maybe it was glass? But I do remember the tea being poured. Not by me, of course, but by the server. I didn’t even need to ask. I nestled back into the chair, sipped happily and when my cup became empty, seconds later, it was filled up again. And again, it wasn’t by me. I drank all of that tea. All 9 euros worth.

Somewhere between sipping, peering out past the drapes and into the courtyard and dreaming away, I remember listening in on a conversation that went a little like this:

“Sir. Excuse me, Sir. I would like to order some lunch.”
“But of course, Sir. Let me fetch you a menu.”
“Oh, no need. Perhaps you can recommend me the chefs special for today?”
“Of course! Today we have a fettuccine aux cèpes with freshly shaved black truffle.”
The waiter explained how the truffle was so very fresh and motioned to how it would be generously shaved over the top of the dish.
“Yes, thank you. I’ll have that.”

As I sat and watched the business man work, with his fancy suit on and his fancy laptop out, I noticed that while eating his fettuccine aux cèpes with its liberal shaving of black truffle on top, he hardly noticed his food. And, he hardly finished it before he motioned that he was full and to take it away.
I didn’t know much about black truffle then, but I did know that it smelt good, that it was for fancy folk and that the dish that I just saw and smelled from beyond my polished silver tea pot cost that business man (or his business) 70 euro.  

Since my Hotel Plaza Athénée experience, I have learned a thing or two about fresh black truffle. It is still quite foreign, and so very special. And it still smells good. But I have learned that although a little expensive, it doesn't just have to be eaten by fancy folk. It's true. Most of us won’t just go to a five star hotel for lunch and order a plate of pasta generously shaved with fresh black truffle. Nor would we leave half of it behind. Most of us won’t even go out and buy our weekly piece of fresh black truffle from the market to take back home and cook with. For most of us, this ingredient is indulgent. Something to be enjoyed only every now and then. I must admit, I was nervous being handed a 20g piece of freshly dug black truffle there under the hazelnut tree, after my recent visit to the truffle farm. My thoughts immediately became fancy and complicated. Buree Blanc. Foie Gras. Fettuccini aux cèpes. It took weeks to muster a recipe. I even made one, shot one and left it far behind. Too fancy. Way too fancy. 

But beyond my myriad of complicated thoughts, I knew that I didn’t have to cook a complicated or fancy meal. In fact, I soon learned that with truffle, the simpler the better. The more the flavour can be enjoyed. Fresh black truffle is such a special and truly seasonal ingredient that given the chance, it really should be savored. So, this piece of truffle that I was holding became the most important thing for me to simply savor. I would hold back on the fancy and instead reap its rare abundance. To squeeze every little bit out of this beautiful piece of fungus and appreciate the entirety of its worth. This piece of truffle would be celebrated. I would learn about infusing with it and use it well. I would make a feast. An entire feast for two to enjoy - from starter to dessert. But not an expensive feast (although the truffle would already take care of most of that). I would make the very most of this freshly dug treasure and create a wholesome, shared, affordable meal. I would choose simple, pocket friendly ingredients and add some special, earthy winter flavour to an otherwise poor mans supper. This 20g piece of truffle would flavour 4 delicious dishes and accompany one more. This truffle would be appreciated, celebrated and savored. And ok, add just a touch of fancy. 

The truffle season is short, and with only a few weeks left in Australia to savor the winter season of this truly special ingredient, I wholeheartedly suggest that you go out and celebrate it too.

Let's cook a feast. 

Infusing with Truffle

Although cooking with truffle doesn't have to be fancy, it does take time. Thankfully, I like food that takes time. 

If you've ever smelled a freshly dug truffle, you will know that the aroma is quite strong. Beautiful, but strong. As it turns out, the best way to use your fresh black truffle isn't to liberally grate it over the top of your fettuccine aux cèpes - unless you have gotten the most out of it's intense aroma and flavour by infusing it first.
Truffle loves fat. Dairy, nuts, eggs, and oils are all loved by truffle. The flavour attaches itself to the fat particles. So if you are well prepared, you can infuse quite a number of ingredients over a 2-3 day period to turn a fresh piece of truffle into the star of more than one dish - well before you get the grater out. Think infused brie or olive oil...
If the truffle is bought fresh, after the 2-3 days of infusing, then it can then be shaved or grated over a simple dish of pasta, potatoes or even a simple cheese pizza, just before eating. 

The recipes that follow for the truffle feast require a 20g piece of fresh truffle. I’ve done the math below to be able to infuse a 20g piece of truffle with four selected ingredients over three days for the feast. In Australia, at this time of year (winter), fresh truffle is available at farmers markets for anywhere between $2 - $2.50/g. Be prepared to spend anywhere between $40 - $50 for your piece of truffle if you are going to make the feast! However, if you can only get your hands on a small piece or you want to do your own experimenting here are some general infusion times:

Eggs: 10g per 3 eggs for 3 days (72 hours) in a tightly sealed glass jar.
Milk: 10g per liter for 2 days (48 hours) in a tightly sealed bottle.
Butter: 10 g per 150g for 3 days (72 hours) if left whole and infused in a tightly sealed glass jar OR can also be used immediately if grated and blended as explained below.
Cream: 10g per 250ml for up to one day (24 hours) in a tightly sealed container.

For the Truffle Feast

Three days before your feast:
Cut your 20g fresh truffle in half so that you have two 10g pieces.

For infused eggs:
Place 3 eggs on top of some paper towel in a glass jar with a tight fitting lid. Drop in the 10 g of truffle, close the lid and refrigerate for three days (up to 72 hours). Your eggs are now infused and ready to use! Use one for the baked ricotta, and the other two you can use however you like e.g scrambled eggs for breakfast the next day!

For infused milk:
Drop one 10g piece of truffle into the milk bottle. Replace the lid and refrigerate for 48 hours. Your milk is now infused and ready to use.

The day before your feast:

For infused cream:
Remove the truffle from the milk, give it a quick rinse and a wipe with a paper towel. Drop into a 250ml container of cream. Cover with a tight fitting lid and keep refrigerated until the evening of the feast (24 hours).

The day of the feast:

For truffle butter:
Remove the truffle from the egg jar and finely grate the entire 10g. In a food processor or heavy duty blender, place 150g (10 tbs) of good quality, room temperature butter. Process the butter for a few seconds, or until it is a soft, smooth consistency. Add the truffle and continue to process until the truffle is evenly distributed and the butter is nice and light. Your butter is now ready to use. The butter can be stored in an airtight container in the freezer for up to a month.
 

Storing Your Fresh Truffle

Fresh truffle can be refrigerated for up to 12 days after harvest. Wrap in paper towel and store in an airtight glass jar, changing the paper towel and allowing fresh air into the jar every three days. 

A Truffle Feast

To Start
Truffle Baked Curds w Toasted Bread

For Main
Whole Baked Mullet with Truffle Butter and Herbs
Orange Lentil Salad
Truffled Parsnip Mash

For Dessert:
Wine Baked Quince w Whipped Truffle Cream
 

Truffle Baked Curds

prep time: 48 hours (including truffle infusion time)
cook time: 25 minutes
makes: approx 1 cups / 250g cheese curds
serves: 2 as a starter

1ltr non homogenized milk, infused with truffle (see above)
40mls or 2 ½ tbs fresh lemon juice
½ teaspoon salt, optional
1 lge egg, lightly beaten, infused with truffle (see above)
50g parmesan, grated
Ground black pepper
Cooking thermometer
Cheese cloth
Thinly sliced toasted bread, to serve

To make the curds:
Pour the infused milk into a medium size saucepan. Gradually warm the milk over medium heat until it reaches 95°C. The milk will get foamy and start to steam; immediately take it off the heat if it starts to boil.
Remove the milk from the heat and pour in the lemon juice. Stir gently to combine.
Let the saucepan of milk sit undisturbed for 10 minutes. After this time, the milk should have separated into clumps of milky white curds and thin, watery, yellow-coloured whey.
Place a strainer over a bowl and line the strainer with cheese cloth. Gently pour the curds and the whey through the strainer.
Let the curds drain for around 10 minutes, (feel free to let it drain a little longer, depending on how wet or dry you prefer your cheese). If the ricotta becomes too dry, you can also stir some of the whey back in before using or storing it.
(Fresh curds can be used right away or refrigerated in an airtight container for up to a week).

To bake the curds:
Preheat the oven to 180°C
Using oven proof parchment paper, line a 10cm diameter ramekin or similar sized baking dish.
Mix together the curds, egg, parmesan and a pinch of ground pepper in a small bowl. Spoon the mixture into the dish and bake for about 25 minutes. The baked curds will have risen and should be golden on top.
Allow the baked curds to cool before serving. The curds will have more flavour this way! Serve with thinly sliced toasted bread or crackers.

Whole Baked Mullet with Truffle Butter and Herbs

prep time: 48 hours (including truffle infusion time)
cook time: 30 minutes
serves: 2

1 whole mullet, cleaned and scaled
150g truffle infused butter (see above)
4 thin slices of fresh black truffle (approx. 5g)
¼  cup loosely packed parsley leaves + stems
¼  cup loosely packed tarragon leaves
½ lemon, sliced
1 clove of garlic, sliced
salt + pepper to taste

Pre-heat oven to 180°C
Line a roasting tray with oven proof parchment paper.
Dot 1tbs of the butter in the middle of the tray, about the length of the mullet. Lay the mullet on top of the butter. Smear another tbs of the butter inside the fish cavity. Continue to fill the cavity with the sliced garlic, sliced lemon, tarragon and parsley leaves and stems.
Diagonally score skin and flesh of the top side of the mullet in four places. Fill the scores with the remaining 1tbs of butter and the four slices of fresh truffle.
Bake in the oven, uncovered, for 20 - 25 minutes. 

 

Orange Lentil Salad

Prep time: 5 minutes
cook time: 30 minutes
serves: 2 (can easily be doubled to make more)

½ cup / 100g of dried green lentils
juice and grated zest of ½ orange
1 tbs lemon juice
2 tbs extra virgin olive oil
2 shallots, thinly sliced
½ tbs maple syrup

Give the lentils a quick rinse under running water and then place into a small saucepan and cover well with cold water. Bring to a boil over high heat and then reduce to medium low heat to simmer, uncovered, for 25 minutes or until the lentils are tender but haven’t yet lost their shape.
In a medium size bowl, combine the lentils, juice, rind, olive oil, chives and maple syrup. Give it a good stir and serve.

Parsnip + Truffle Mash

prep time: 48 hours (including truffle infusion time)
cook time: 25 minutes
serves: 2 as a side

500g parsnips, peeled and roughly chopped
½ cup truffle infused cream (see above)
2 tbs truffle infused butter (see above)
salt to taste
5g fresh truffle, finely grated

Place parsnips in a medium saucepan and cover with water. Bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to medium and simmer, uncovered for 20 minutes or until very tender. Drain.
In the same saucepan, add cream, butter and a pinch of salt. Mash everything together until the parsnips are creamy and smooth.
Transfer the mash to a serving bowl. Garnish with the grated truffle and serve immediately.

Wine Baked Quince w Truffle Cream

prep time: 24 hours (including truffle infusion time)
cook time: 2 hours
serves: 2

If you like and to save time, this dessert can be made up to a day before the feast. 

2 small quince, peeled and cut into wedges (keep the skin)
1 cup water
¾ cup sugar
½ red wine
juice and rind of ½ an orange
¾ cup of truffle infused cream

Pre-heat oven to 135°C.
In an oven safe saucepan, place the water, sugar, wine, juice and rind. Heat over the stove on low heat and stir until the sugar dissolves. As soon as the sugar has dissolved, add the quince and their skins, give them a quick stir in the syrup, then cover them with a lid or some aluminum foil and bake in the oven for two hours. The quince should be nice and tender. Meanwhile, whip the cream until soft peaks form. Spoon a couple of dollops of the cream into two dessert bowls and top with the warm quince and some of the wine syrup. (If you made the quince the night before, it can be stored over night in the fridge and then gently re-heated over medium heat until just warm before serving).
 

Moorabinda Station Part II - Sunday Suppers Winter Brunch

"Stuffing vegetables is a rare culinary experience in these busy days. It is time-consuming and provides pleasure that we don't often experience anymore - the kind of bliss that results from communal cooking, when time is not an object and the purpose is the process as well as the end result." - Ottolenghi. 

We started early, before light. It was cold, dark and the amount and size of wood that was sitting by the wood fired oven, our temperamental friend for the next few hours, was quite optimistic. However, this very morning in the shearers quarters kitchen on Moorabinda Station was not at all uninviting. In this basic, rustic, cold and dark kitchen, we had committed to prepare and enjoy a“winter brunch”, a menu taken from Karen Mordechai’s Sunday Supper Cookbook. This very morning was our idea of bliss and we were glad to be in among it.

As the morning sunlight began to flood in and the kitchen warmed up, the conversation and flour flowed freely and our communal brunch was well underway. Although our morning was moving along, somehow time had stopped. Out here on this rural property on this brisk winter morning nothing else mattered. Thankfully time was no longer running away.  Beyond the property gates the world was nonexistent and our agendas didn't go past the following few hours. This morning we would spend enjoying a slow winter brunch and in the afternoon we would visit a neighbouring farm on the search of chickens and ducks for dinner. We were all focused on the day’s tasks at hand and were firstly impressively invested in chipping into this morning meal. A very slow living day it would be. 

Three of us were pottering in the kitchen and the rest of us were pottering outside. We were collecting fire wood and manning the temperamental wood stove, setting and styling the table outside in the paddock, sharing the kneading and rolling of the dough and taking turns timing the bagels as they boiled, making coffee on the outside campfire for us all as we cooked and moving the table back to the veranda when the rain began to pour. Many keen, communal cooking hands – all in utter bliss – were invested to making this brunch very light work. 

As far as the menu went, we did a little local tweaking. To top the bagels, barramundi had become our perfect local fish substitute (and cousin) to the recipe recommended sea bass. It was cured with loose black tea leaves and pieces of fresh ginger and had been hanging out in its curing bath for an entire three days prior. We also replaced fresh figs with pecans for the honeyed tart. Our lovely host for the weekend, Annabelle of The Dailys, lives right down the road from Moorabinda with her husband and three children on their pecan farm. So, incorporating pecans into the recipe was a must.

Around mid-morning, we found ourselves by the outside fire, sipping on cardamom coffee while cracking pecans with a suitably beautiful wooden nut cracker, as though it was the most important job of our day. Meanwhile, the bagels were also slowly rising and being carefully shaped and soon after the blood oranges were being peeled and the tart shell was baking in the wood fired oven. The process, it seemed, truly was as exciting and important as the end result.  

When it was finally time to eat, there we sat - post cardamom coffee and pre chicken and duck farm visit - out of the rain and on the shearers quarters veranda. It was a peaceful, quiet winter morning and things were casual, yet intentional. The bagels were laden with olive oil infused cream cheese and the citrus salad was liberally dished out.

Or morning of communal cooking was savored – the winter brunch menu was perfection, and we were completely satisfied – not only with the spread on the table, but the process and communal effort it took to get it there. It was utter bliss.   

Sunday Suppers by Karen Mordechai
Winter Brunch

Homemade everything bagels
Whipped cream cheese
Tea and ginger cured barramundi
Warm citrus salad
Pecan tart with honey

[The photographs were a communal effort, too -
Image 8 of my hands by Clare Yazbeck, image 9 of the table spread by Annabelle Hickson, image 10 of the barramundi,11 of the citrus salad,and 13 of the cream cheese by Luisa Brimble]

Moorabinda Station Part I - Our Weekend with the Dailys

For more Moorabinda photos and stories, click here for our Weekend With The Dailys E-book!

We passed the last town a while back. Now, as we followed the black lick of a line out deeper into the south, out to the west and into the Dumaresq Valley, we watched the landscape blur. The limbs of trees sagged heavy with prickly pear, mistletoe and wattle. We couldn’t help but forage. We stopped to pick some of each, reaching, jumping high up for the best branches and tasting the pears and their prickles on our lips. Our bounty was rich, but knowing the place and the people we were about to meet, our bounty was about to grow richer.

Driving into Moorabinda Station, we were greeted with the quintessential beauty of a rural, wintry Australia. Rusted metal gates, corrugated iron and a huge wool shed come dance hall come whatever. There were ancient towering gums and kelpies lying beneath them. Utes and farm houses and thousands of acres with neighbours nowhere to be seen. There were also shearer’s quarters, a place for us to sleep and make our home for the next two nights. Here, rustic and wooden bedrooms opened out to one long veranda. The common place was the kitchen, with an old wooden farm table tucked between the wood fired stove and a stores cupboard. There was also a dining room fixed alongside that housed a long dinner table, which in the evenings was full of flickering candle light and warmth from an open fire.

There was content here to feast on for the whole weekend. Our company, nine likeminded ladies (most somewhat new but all very dear friends) came together to do just this. To share the time away, to live slowly, to photograph and to feast. We cooked, we talked, we ate. We tended to wheelbarrows of wattle and our other foraged bits, sipped hot toddies by the campfire and stared at the stars. We learned what it means to wake early and build a fire on the wood fired oven before we could have tea. We ate brunch on the veranda, searched for brumbies on the station and killed and prepared chooks and ducks for our dinner on a farm nearby. Our days were full, full, full. And our evenings were slow and long and delicious. We couldn’t possibly want for anything else.

Out here, among the wintry rural landscape, everything felt calm. There were moments, so many moments, where it was nice to stop and remember just that. That moment. For its smell. For its goosebumps. For its rhythm. Ichi-go ichi-e was so apt right here. This weekend, so special but soon gone, was a place to be present, fully. And so easily done. The bounty here among us was just so very rich.

These were our friends, this was our food and this stunning place was ours for the weekend.

A big thanks to Philip and Julia Markham for letting us stay on your farm. To Paul and Jenny Magna for the birds, for the pizza and for the inspiration. And the biggest thanks of all to Annabelle, for preparing it all, for letting us come visit and for giving us a glimpse into your daily life. 

Two Potato Tart

I’ve just come inside from sitting out on the grass, listening to currawongs and whip birds while looking out to the full moon and down to the forever valley below. Today is my birthday. And up until now, I’ve been feeling pretty rough. We woke up sick, Jakob and I. I did a quick tally. The first Australian birthday, the first winter birthday I’ve had in four years. I guess it’s fitting to make this birthday feel extra winter like. Surrounded by tissues and turtlenecks and pots of ginger tea.

We had a lovely day planned. Jakob kindly scheduled the day off work and had made a lunch booking at Cupitt's winery. We would meander down south, possibly stop into the bay’s beaches along the way, enjoy a walk in the winter sun and then sip wine, linger over a long lunch and soak in the perfect start to my 29th year… we would. But sadly, we didn’t. 

Outside, Jakob is working. His head under the bonnet of our only car, a broken down dismantled ute. Inside I am working, trawling through everything I love but everything I didn’t expect to be doing today. Pressure is in the air. Tomorrow, Jakob is flying to Cairns. The next day, I am driving to Brisbane. In the ute.

It actually feels like I am upside down. Or maybe I am the right way up and the world around me is upside down. Either way, today I have been a little confused. You see, I’m complaining and indulging and it sounds like things are bad. But really, among the hiccups, things have been going really well. I have just come back from an incredible work trip photographing the Barossa and Clare Valley’s, with a quick stop along the way to the Mornington Peninsular (if you know Australia, you know that the latter is quite a ways away from the former, but a quick stop was made). We’ve just had news of Jakob landing his next dream job to begin early next year, which will see us move again, this time back to Canberra. And I’m about to make a trip up north to see dear family and friends – some of whom I haven’t seen in over two years. So why then, did today feel so rough?

Our surrounds hum with greatness, give us so much daily and tell us that the days ahead will be easier, slower, warmer. However, and everything hurts to admit this, it’s the unwelcomed, unexpected and the slights and snubs that drive the rough. They send us sad and disappointed. They make us snuggle deeper into corners that exhale craved comfort. They make us fixate on the imperfections, the passing time, and make us desperate for all that we saw before all of this - the perfections. They make us want to take a birthday rain check.

We did get out today. Not quite to Cupitt's, and not without snotty noses and sore throats in tow, but a quick trip was made in between the thick of bonnets and desktops, down to Berry to have lunch at the Sourdough Bakery. And it was lovely.

Later on in the early evening, I sat outside. I heard the birds. I saw the view. I smelt the smoke from the fire inside. I remembered ALL of the good things. And I realized why I felt confused and upside down. I'd gotten carried away in the rough of it. I'd forgotten to just enjoy the day. 

So then my birthday got better. Really, it wasn’t even bad to begin with. There was no need for a rain check. Just a bit of a check into myself. 

And the best part? We haven’t even had dinner yet. I've decided that tonight it’s all about comfort and relaxing into a wintry Australian birthday. We might as well make the most of feeling under the weather and cozy right up.  Ute and work aside, we will be sitting by the fire and eating left over comfort food. The best kind there is. Potatoes. Turned into a yummy two potato tart.  

Two Potato Tart

It’s quite special to see a potato dug up in front of you, pulled from the rust coloured dirt, smothered in a farmers witty yarns and shaken to reveal its rugged, blemished skin. Sometimes cream, sometimes red. Sometimes flesh bright purple. It’s even better to know that soon enough, the dirt will be washed and there, there will be comfort. Food that makes you want to snuggle and sleep.
The potatoes used here were dug fresh by Norman, straight from his Highland Gourmet Potato farm in Wildes Meadow, NSW. These beauties could be sides. Or they could be the main event. And each and every variety has its own ideal way of being cooked. Some prefer baking, some prefer boiling and some are just perfect for making tarts. A delicious, creamy, provincial inspired tart. This tart uses Dutch Creme and Cranberry Red varieties. Two perfectly paired potatoes that keep their colour through cooking and compliment each other with their golden and purple hues. A main event indeed.  And the most fitting comfort food for this birthday, to go with the tissues and turtlenecks and pots of ginger tea.

prep time: 1 hr 30 minutes
cook time: 45 minutes 
total time: 2 hrs 15 minutes
yields: 6-8 servings

For the pastry
245g all purpose flour
125g chilled unsalted butter
1 free range egg
75ml cold water
pinch of flaked sea salt

For the Filling
1 clove of garlic, finely chopped
2 shallots, finely sliced
2tbs olive oil
3 medium sized Dutch Creme potatoes, washed, unpeeled and thinly sliced
3 medium sized Cranberry Red potatoes, washed, unpeeled and thinly sliced
250g firm, medium flavoured cheese (I used a local cheddar, but Gruyere could also work really well here)
100ml milk
150ml thickened cream
½tbs chopped rosemary
½tbs thyme leaves
1 free range egg
flaked sea salt
pepper

Combine the flour and salt in a large bowl. Add the butter, rubbing and working it in with your fingertips until the mixture feels like breadcrumbs (alternatively pulse in a food processor). Lightly whisk the egg and water together and add to the flour mixture. Still using your fingers, mix all of the ingredients together until it forms a ball. Wrap in cling-wrap and place in the fridge for at least half an hour.

On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough until it is approx. 30 cm in diameter and 3-5mm thick. Place over a 24cm tart pan and gently press into the base of the pan and into the sides. Trim the edges and place in the freezer for 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 180°C /350°F.

Heat 2tbs of olive oil, the garlic and shallots in a small fry pan. Cook on medium-high heat until fragrant and slightly golden.

In a large bowl, whisk the egg, milk and cream. Add the garlic and shallot mixture, grated cheese, chopped herbs and a good sprinkle of salt and pepper to taste.

Remove the pastry from the freezer and pour about a third of the egg, garlic and cheese mixture to just cover the base of the shell. Layer the potatoes in an alternate pattern to fill the pastry shell. Pour the rest of the mixture over the top of the potatoes making sure to evenly spread the cheese.

Bake the tart for 40-45 minutes or until golden brown and potato feels tender when pierced with a fork.
Serve warm or at room temperature.
Enjoy!

all photographs taken at the cottage kangaroo valley