They also have a mobile classroom that teaches a new dish every week. A good idea for the Canberra market!

This was my first course: a fresh hot and enormous dumpling stuffed with roast pork, cabbage and vermicelli noodles.

And this was dessert: a fresh crepe filled with home-made pear and rhubarb jam. Mmmmm…

After that, I was  completely visually and physically satiated, so I went for a big walk and caught this view just before the skies opened and gushed down for the rest of the day.

And in case you thought I was one of those nasty food show offs who were profiled at The Elegant Sufficiency, you should know I’m off down to the local swimming pool this afternoon to celebrate my youngest son’s 2nd birthday with supermarket sausages on plastic bread, followed by packet cake and bought icing.

On Friday I visited my delightfully mad aunt who totally rocks. It was my turn to cook, so I brought the ingredients for the second version of a Italian seafood dish with which to impress the Hot Interior Designer.

My aunt is an avid cook and generally awesome woman for whom I acted as chauffeur and butler on a two week driving holiday/seafood odyssey into Victoria last October.

We discussed many recipes on the way including many she disparaged.
Aunt: I mean, look at this! Fennel and Rocket Salad!? Easy! And yet there’s a recipe for it.
Nephew: Yes, it’s hardly Fennel and Rocket science.

The morning after the marinara, I suffered a sneezing fit as she talked about the unique way she puts extension leads away on coat-hangers. An old friend was insufficiently impressed by this.
“Sorry, I’m allergic to anecdotes,” I manage to splutter.

Later I found a jar of hers that formerly held chilli seeds, labelled ‘Long Thin Hotness’.
“That’s me when I’m lying down” I say.

Apparently I am an unending source of disappointment to her.

But, she _did_ like the marinara if not so much the way it was executed.
“There you were leaping about in a drunken rage: “What do I do with a stab blender?!” and I *told* you some woman managed to cut ALL her fingers off because she wasn’t paying attention….”

Impressing the Hot Interior Designer Marinara

To serve two:
A tray of Swiss brown mushies
400 g tin of chopped tomatoes
300 g of Marinara mix from a reputable yet swarthy fishmonger with a salty nickname
Juice of one lemon
Clump of flat leaf parsley (chopped)
Several sprigs of one Italian herb eg Oregano
Blob of honey (thanks to Nabakov)
Salt
Pepper
Cayenne pepper (or dried chilli if your Aunt/Hot Interior Designer/Whom-ever doesn’t like cayenne, but who doesn’t like cayenne pepper? Weirdos, that’s who.)
One clove garlic chopped/crushed.
Pasta of choice
Grated parmesan garnish

Chop the mushies semi finely. Cook in a bit of olive oil.
Once done, chuck into blender with tomatoes and Italian herb.
Blend.
Pour back into saucepan.
Add salt, pepper, cayenne pepper, honey.
Reduce on low heat in saucepan ’til thick. Stir to lessen volcanic spitting.

Put pasta on to boil.

When pasta is ready, turn off heat under sauce; add chopped flat leaf parsley and garlic and stir it through sauce.
Drain pasta, and cook marinara.
Cook marinara in deep fry pan quickly. Add lemon juice just before you turn all the bits of seafood over. I cook it with lid on to preserve the liquor.

When seafood is done, turn off heat, and pour the sauce into the deep fry pan. Stir thoroughly.
Add drained pasta and stir.

By now you will realise that there is more food than you need and that you should have bought 400 g of Marinara and served three people. Shrug. Top up wine glass.
Serve.
Garnish.

That night I dreamt of a man who sacrificed his two unicorns and his soul to Bill Clinton, but I guess there are better ways to advertise that I have a loose concept of reality.
I miss my girlfriend.

I don’t hold out much hope for the ACCC review. There will be Strong Measures to Increase Competition amongst supermarkets, of course. Zoning laws to stop capitalist bullies. And even a “GroceryWatch”. I shit you not. Why bother when “Coles and Woolworths together control 78 per cent of Australia’s packaged grocery sales worth $59 billion a year.”

The issue of food security and how we should eat is getting a lot of coverage on Radio National, in part connected to the delivery and release of the report. Life Matters today featured a great discussion about how pricing and availability affects people on lower incomes (you can hear the segment here for the next week, after that this site will give you the idea) and Encounter looks to be covering it from a more global perspective. (Sunday am/Weds night or podcast).

So with all this earnest concern I’ve been pondering t h e – g o b b l e r ‘ s question of whether a “War on Foodies!” is coming:

‘Aren’t they just pushing a very sophisticated & elite point of view?’ was the point I gleaned from tonight’s Counter-point on ABC’s radio national.

This implication combined with the very real emerging divide between the realities of nourishing your family within your economic actuality & the constant barrage of cooking celebs insisting that unless you are buying free-trade, seasonally, locally, SOLE [sustainable, organic, local and ethical] etc somehow you are not doing the right thing & you have a compelling recipe for disenfranchisement. This is what is pounced upon by those who are keen to get traction with this cultural-divide argument.

I agree that celebrity chefs can be annoying, but anyone that driven in their life is usually a bit painful. And while equitable access to food concerns me, truth be told I’m not that worried about ending up in a food culture war, for I shall beat their puny warriors over the head with slabs of my frozen homemade veal stock and their inadequately nourished bodies will crumble before my righteous wrath. Ha!

Cooking at home is a joy for me, but it isn’t for many people. Apparently some of them get pissed off finding out what they’re missing out on. More fool them.

If you’re attempting to make a convert, you could do worse than Mochachocolata-Rita’s list of reasons in favour of home cooking, which boils down to it’s fun, cheap and gets you the sexies. (Usage note: that final term being the one currently employed by my kindergartener son and his best mate; the correct construction is that you “do the sexies” on someone.)

While I’ve always been interested in food and cooking it wasn’t until my first stretch of stay-at-home mothering that I began making almost all the food we ate each day. It’s what made me a good cook, rather than a just a bourgie girl with a lot of cookbooks and a well stocked pantry.

Because we were living on one income, and not a huge one at that, I needed to wise up. I started shopping at the Fyshwick and Belconnen produce markets, and for a while when we were really skint I would buy a week’s worth of fruit and veg in the last hour of sales on Sunday before the Fyshwick markets closed until the following Thursday. We never ate badly, but I’m glad that I don’t have to fight my way through all the diplomatic plated cars for a park at Fyshwick on Sundays anymore.

For a long while, I became a serious fan of the Canberra Farmer’s Market. I don’t remember hearing about it starting up, but it wasn’t long after it was begun in early 2004 by the Rotary Club in nearby Hall.

My joy came partly because I could buy Infinity sourdough there. One of the biggest (and saddest) adjustments following moving to Canberra in 2002 was the lack of proper bread, particularly since I’d been living in Enmore in inner Sydney and was accustomed to being able to buy La Tartine bread at the Alfalfa House Co-op at end of my street. *sigh* But then I found Silo, which makes better bread than Infinity.

Still, many of the good things at the Market are very, very good. Like the warm spiced apple cider you can see my shadow clutching over there ⇐

Despite being generally very happy with the produce, I stopped being a fan of the whole “Farmers’ Market” experience. It was a combination of little things. There was an element of the Free Range Children Market For Inner City Pretentious Wankers, to borrow a term from Purple Goddess – I’m looking at you, posh lady with the $9 jars of “breakfast prunes” – but it wasn’t just that.

The punters began coming earlier and earlier, and some stall holders were so busy serving customers two hours before the markets were advertised as beginning that they didn’t have time to set out their produce properly. Part of the whole relaxed and friendly vibe of the markets was lost in the crowds of pushy people. And until they put up signs forbidding it, people took dogs into the food selling areas. Alright, you’re in a building that says “Sheep Pavilion”, but you wouldn’t dream of taking your stupid fluffy white dog to the supermarket, would you?

I became annoyed that some stalls were obviously reselling purchased items – the variety and seasonality of the produce ostensibly from one origin gave it away. And some smaller stallholders whose produce was really out of this world – like Tallabung heritage breeds pork, the best pork that I have ever eaten – sold their business and while the brand is sold there, it’s lost the artisanal flavour that made it so astonishing. And it’s a lot more expensive. So I was pleased to see the markets separated into a “direct producer” and “not” sheds last year, as it meant I had to do less wandering to find the stalls I was after.

But even despite the consistently excellent quality of the best stallholders – my favourites are the fresh South Coast seafood, the Amore cakes, Li Shen exotic mushrooms, Yulin Shanghai tofu and street snacks and Glean Na Meala spuds and greens – I found myself going to the Farmers’ Markets less and less. Since Glenn Na Meala opened Choku Bai Jo, I’ve been to the markets on one exploratory trip, for this post.

I might have gone more often if their website wasn’t so difficult to use – it’s a great example of how to stuff up using the web.

The site is set up as an internal administrative tool rather than a communication tool; I want to know what people are going to be selling this week, not where to download a form to sell my produce. Fair enough that there be a admin area for stallholders, but how about a simple site that is useful for customers too? Even an email newsletter that says what’s on this week? What to make with it? Their PR people seem fixated on mainstream press coverage rather than making their clients’ goods accessible to lots of different types of consumers. In summer, there are fantastic peaches and nectaries straight from the growers in Araluen – but how do you know when they are arriving? (When peaches are in season, I know, but you get my drift.)

In discussions at playgroups and waiting to pick up kids from school I hear other food loving parents complain that going to the markets has become another chore, rather than a pleasurable way to buy your food. I’ve also heard complaints that it’s not always cheaper than the supermarket. To my mind it needn’t be, because the quality and freshness are so much better, but to many people Farmers’ Market = super cheap. Something else for the PR peeps.

The site’s photo galleries are terrible – it’s a popup and the images still bear their camera sequence names. But it’s surprising to see the difference between April 2004 and now; maybe twenty stall holders and a couple of dozen milling food lovers then and two big sheds plus two separate outdoor areas and hundreds of regular customers now. The rest of the set from my trip to the markets is up at my flickr.

I will still go to the markets occasionally, and probably more in spring and summer. But for now, it’s just not worth the bother, when $45 at Choko Bai Jo buys you this (including the bowl of local hazelnuts), most of it organically produced but not certified organic, and sorry about the photo:

The Capital Region Farmers’ Market is held Saturdays at Exhibition Park (EPIC), from 8-11 am

Melbourne-based Perthling, musician, audio engineer, teacher, drunken dilettante and lover of all things thingy. Most pertinently food.

The picture left shows what he would look like with no beard, and somewhat less evidence of food.

Also going by the name of Fancy, your latest contributor finds himself equally at home screaming at the white maggots through a mouthful of lukewarm 4&20 at the MCG, as he does sweeping majestically into the lobby of Jacques Reymond and demanding their most available table at the first reasonable convenience. No, not that sort of convenience.

Contributions may range to the growing and preserving of things, but in the interests of ‘balance’, he has agreed in the main to represent the meat eating community.

While he doesn’t wish to usurp the authority of his esteemed host, he would nonetheless direct readers who object to people killing, cooking, eating (and writing about killing, cooking and eating) animals to refrain from fanning the flames of their outrage, by the elegant expedient of not reading the posts.

Please enjoy his first post, Wee Little Fishies Done Quite Rightly.

There will be a prize for guessing the reference in the title. Unfortunately, it is commensurate with the difficulty of the challenge.

I know some folks don’t like seeing the remains of an entire animal on their plate, but the Dustbin of History awaits them. Such squeamishness betokens a deeper malaise – as they watch us inhale our quails and spatchcocks and whitebait, you can rest assured that they hate us for our freedoms. Just watch them is all I’m saying. Have you noticed that their eyes are too far apart? QED.

Anyway, strolling through the Queen Vic markets with my Lady Friend one day, bratwurst roll in hand, sauerkraut and mustard in my moustache, we happened across a mighty shoal of wee little leatherjackets. Now back when I was a kid in WA, this family of fish (or genus?…. um… *googles*…genus! – Meuschenia) were rightly prized for their succulent flesh, and as a bonus their eponymous skin could be sun-cured to make crappy, stinking wallets for sweetly indulgent relatives to discreetly bin.

Over in the southwest of WA, though, people wouldn’t keep them under 25cm or so, on pain of a humiliating public upbraiding from one of those self-styled enforcers from the Angling Gestapo (guilty as charged, m’lud). These critters at the Vic were weeny little things, maybe 15cm long, and half of that the head. So me and the LF put our heads together, and devised the following recipe, fashioned from our shared love of seafood and citrus, mine of saffron and hers of low-fat meals. The only other bit of food writing I’ve ever done was entitled Cooking With Fat, so I hope you can all appreciate my generosity of spirit on this last point. Anyway, on with the show…

Ingredients to serve two:

• 6-12 Wee Little Fishies. Exact number depends on size, flesh yield (that of a leatherjacket being pretty low) and what you’ll be eating with them. Substitute any little fish as long as it’s not oily I don’t think this would really work with sardines, but you never know…
• 1 ruby grapefruit
• 2 limes
• 2 oranges
• 1 metric bunch coriander, with roots ZOMG I HATE IT WHEN THEY CUT THE ROOTS OFF AARGH!!!!1! You’ll want about 2 or 3 average sized whole plants per person
• 1 shitload saffron (a wise man once said… *googles*… sorry, Norman Douglas once said “a man who is stingy with saffron is capable of seducing his own grandmother”, and [partly, I must say, out of respect for the dead] I have adopted this as a personal motto)
• 1 glass dry white wine – sauvignon blanc is ideal
• A certain amount of sugar
• An equally certain, but certainly not equal amount of fish sauce
• Whatever you need for accompaniment – we had steamed jasmine rice, chilli relish and a shredded salad of wombok cabbage, daikon and carrot with rice vinegar and sesame oil

Method

Okay, now if you’re using leatherjackets, they’ll need to be skinned and beheaded. This will usually be done already by the ‘monger, but if you’ve caught them yourself it’s not that hard. This is however not the time or the place for a tutorial. Be a darling and keep the heads if you DIY, as failure to make stock makes baby Jeebus cry.

They’ll also need the guts removed, so do this before you start, wash the kitchen and go again with a clean slate. Oh, and give the sides a coupla of diagonal slashes to admit flavours and impede curlup.

Next, grate the zest off the grapefruit and one of the limes, then juice all the citrus.

Put the saffron in a small saucepan, dry, and toast gently until the stamens start to darken and everything smells fucking fantastic. Remove from heat, give them a bit of a crushing with the back of your spoon, then pour in the citrus products and wine. Smash up the coriander roots a bit, and put them in too. Leave this to simmer and reduce to about half the original volume.

While the liquid does its thang, heat up a wok with some light oil, then briefly fry each side of each fish, lightly floured, 2 or 3 at a time. You don’t want them fully cooked through, just crisped up a bit. Remove excess oil using your preferred method.

Once they’re all done, check the sauce. Tastes really fucking sour, right? Remedy this to your taste with sugar, then add fish sauce to your liking. Turn down the heat on the wok and put all the fish back in, top with coarsely chopped coriander greens, then spoon over the sauce. Cover and heat gently for about 5 mins, occasionally lifting the lid and spooning sauce over the fish. Don’t stir them though – the risk of disintegration is high, though less so with leatherjacket than some small fish I could mention. *cough*sand whiting*cough*

Now, assuming your accompaniment is ready, you’re good to go. Put fish on plate with accompaniments, spoon over sauce, use fork to separate mouthful of flesh from skeleton, place in mouth, chew, swallow, say “Lordy me this is good. FDB, what did I ever do without you?”

p.s. Sorry, no photos. It’s probably for the best, as my food pics make any meal look exactly like the school dinners from Coldfall Primary in Muswell Hill. Ah, memories…