Monday, June 9, 2014

The Only Way to Eat Radicchio

Radicchio is seriously bitter. So why would anyone eat it? Because it looks awesomely trendy on a plate, for one. And it's one of those things you see at the market and you're like what's that? And you're kinda curious and you don't have anything purpley-red in your basket and it's next to the lettuces, so maybe it's like lettuce? Or perhaps you already know what it is, and you eat it because it has 4x the antioxidants of romaine. (Take that, lettuce)

Regardless of why you bought it, there's only one way to eat radicchio.
Grill the hell bitterness out of it.

Pick a deep red radicchio with unwilted leaves. In my experience, the fresher it is, the less bitter. Remove outer floppy leaves and quarter. Rub gently in olive oil and grill over a hot fire until it's cooked and charred and generally pretty appetising. Have a glass or two of wine, just in case. Remove the radicchio from the BBQ, douse in extra virgin olive oil, a squeeze of fresh lemon, and Maldon sea salt flakes. A sprinkle of Greek oregano or fresh black pepper is optional. Carve up and enjoy.

If you're lucky, it's sweet and delicious. If not? Drink more wine.

Happy BBQing,
Amanda xx

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

A little story about tomatoes

Have you ever been wandering through a Friday farmers market in the Northern Beaches with a strong long-black-dash in one hand and your dog in a bag slung over your shoulder (not for fashion purposes but because dogs weren't allowed and you didn't know that and she's small anyway, so you thought you'd sneak her in) and you happen upon the Tomato Guy. Every market has one, and if you're lucky he's Italian. You fall madly, instantly in love with his tomatoes. No, not those. Don't be disgusting. I mean real, honest-to-god, fugly, yo nanna's nanna ate these, farmer's market tomatoes. So you stack up on them - or, as it happens, you direct the Tomato Guy's grandson behind the table to fill a bag of them, which he does. And then asks you for $25. You nearly choke on your coffee, but you're so embarrassed - !SUPPORT LOCAL PRODUCE! - that you accept the cost and borrow money from your sister in law (because it's somehow less embarrassing than declining the tomatoes) and pay it and run. And the farmer's market is over for you, because you're broke and your dinner must now consist exclusively of tomatoes. So you go, removing your dog from her bag and sliding the tomatoes in instead, gently guiding them home to wash and slice and drizzle and fucking hell you better enjoy every healthy, flavoursome cent from every single red, green, orange, yellow, purple, black or stripey tomato. No pressure. They're heirloom.

Nope? Me neither.
Amanda xx