Fail-Free Quiche

My mother's legendary Quiche of the Titans featured in my last post and due to popular demand, I'd now like to share the recipe with the world. For years and years, I hated quiche. I despised the rubberiness, the overwhelming egginess and above all those uncooked chunks of onion that people invariably feel is necessary. I loathed the fact that the only two flavours that seemed to exist were Lorraine and spinach. I even hated the quiche they served me when I holidayed in France, mainly because French people don't believe in vegetarianism and Bad Food in France is still Bad Food in Real Life. So extreme was my distaste that the only way my mother could get me to try hers was to call it a 'tart'. She kept up the charade for about a year, serving her 'tart' on a regular basis until I grew up a bit and realized that not all quiche is as inedible as Toe Jam.

Mum used to make this quiche and sell it to her university cafe for a bit of cash while she was defrauding centrelink (the welfare office) as a student. She never figured out if she was making any money out of it, but every Saturday she would diligently bake up a dozen or so of these babies, often skimping on vital but expensive ingredients like butter and salt. The recipe is extremely flexible and you can add whatever fillings take your fancy. My 'traditional' one has broccoli and long beans in it, but recently I've been making a Roast Sweet Potato and Caramelized Onion one that is just devilishly good. You can even use a muffin tray and make mini ones, which is perfect for entertaining or just a light snack. 

So, first you need some pastry. Buy some frozen stuff from the store, or make your own (its dead easy)

For the shortcrust pastry:

125g cold butter, cubed

1 1/2 cups of flour

1 egg, whisked

2 tablespoons chilled water

- In a food processor, blend the butter and flour until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.

- Add the egg and the water and blend until the mixture forms a ball.

- If it's too dry or too wet, add some more water or flour.

- On a floured surface, roll out the pastry into a disc, wrap it in greaseproof paper and refrigerate for 15 minutes

- You're now ready to roll it out and line the tin!

For the Quiche:

The basics pretty much consist of:

Some shortcrust pastry

3 Eggs

300mls of cream (use low fat or some milk if you're worried about the fat)

Pinch nutmeg

1 Ripe tomato, sliced

1 Garlic clove, sliced

Shredded cheese

Dried oregano or basil

Potential fillings:

- Roast sweet potato and caramelized onion

Roast the potato in a hot oven for 30mins (or just boil it) , caramelize the onions over a low heat on the stove for the same amount of time, adding some sugar and water and letting it go a beautiful brown (or buy some in a jar)

- Broccoli and long bean

Sauté the broccoli and beans with some chopped onions for 15 minutes. This really brings out the flavour!

- Broccoli and capsicum (red bell pepper)

Sauté the broccoli and capsicum with some chopped onions for 15 minutes. 

- Long bean and almond

Sauté the beans and some chopped onions for 15 minutes. Add the almonds in the last 5 minutes to toast.

- Salmon and camembert (Mum's favorite)

Chop up some salmon and some camembert, and add it to the tin. Too easy!

- Bacon, potato and onion

Par-boil or microwave the potatoes in an inch of water for 5 minutes and slice. Sauté the onion until soft and add the bacon to crisp slightly.

- Anything you like!

Steps:

1. Pre-heat the oven to 180˚C (355˚F).
   
2. Grease a 20cm round tin (or anything you have- it really doesn't matter although if its quite deep it may take longer) and line with pastry. Be generous with it as it does shrink a bit while baking. If you like, blind bake to prevent a soggy bottom. This basically involves pricking it with a fork, half-filling it with dried pasta or beans and baking for 10-15 minutes in a hot oven.
   
3. Prepare the filling (see above), and line the tin with it.
   
4. Mix the eggs, cream and nutmeg together and pour over. Season with salt and pepper.
   
5. Dot the top with tomato slices and garlic (the garlic roasts slightly and goes beautifully sweet and flavourful)
   
6. Cover with the cheese and dried herbs and pop it in the oven.
   
7. It'll be ready in 20-40 minutes- it should have risen slightly and be golden on top. I'm sorry this is so vague, but it really does depend on your individual oven and the size and shape of the pan (it usually takes half an hour for a conventional quiche tin, which is quite shallow and round). The secret to this dish is not to overcook it- when quiche is cooked for two long, it becomes spongy and fills with air bubbles. You want the consistency to be more like set scrambled eggs. This really allows the filling to shine.
   

Enjoy :)

edit: Below is a pic of the 'filling' i used last night (minus the caramelized onions - they were bubbling away)

Volcanic Cookery

I was never much of a domestic child. The laundry was a mysterious alchemist's laboratory, vacuuming was somehing that happened to other people, and, sadly, I didn't take much joy in food. Like a lot of kids, I would've been happy just subsisting on cucumbers, plain pasta and tim tams indefinitely. My Bewildered parents were subjected to the White diet (pasta, potatoes, plain pizza), unexplained but stubborn vegetarianism and an appetite that was irritatingly satisfied by the measly stale bread roll that restaurants put out before the Real Meal. And when the Real Meal did arrive, it was inevitably sullied by gravy or raw tomato or any number of items on the Blacklist and was therefore inedible. Memo: I must remember to call and thank them.

Although most of the insanity faded in adolescence, I still remained staunchly vegetarian and equally Unimpressed with food. By the time I left home, I was still living on an unofficial diet of coffee, croissants and cous cous. So it seems oddly fitting that the inaugural 'foodie' post should feature my current favorite: Summer Cous Cous salad, a delicious and filling meal for when it's 40˚C outside and the country is on fire.

So after I left The Nest for university, I opted for a catered college, three meals a day in a gigantic dining hall filled with oversized Leonard French paintings and stained glass. Despite the airy surrounds, the food was beyond pedestrian. After I had experienced the horror that was Bruce Hall Gumbo and Sunday Night Surprise, a passionate and urgent need awoke within me: I need to learn how to learn how to cook, and fast. Suddenly I realized what a brilliant chefq my mother was, and how much I'd learnt from her in the kitchen while I was flicking through magazines. So I put my researching skills to good use, and, with a lot of frantic calls to mum (Lots of "How do you do that thing with the vegetables," and "What am I doing wrong?") I've tried to make a cook out of an Unbeliever.  

Funnily enough, I now write restaurant reviews with my boyfriend every week, which is a lot less fun than it sounds - mostly because we've run out of the good ones and are now into Thai Takeaway territory. I swear if I have write another comment on the blandness of the Laksa or the stickiness of the rice one more time, I'm going to explode. 

I probably should get to the food now... What I love about this salad is that it's laughably easy to prepare and you can add anything you fancy. All you do is prepare the Cous Cous in like two seconds, take a big spoonful or so of salsa (the kind you have with corn chips), and maybe some paprika or garlic oil - then add some filler. Today I've included wonderfully colourful carrots, a large cucumber, cherry tomatoes from the garden, greek feta and sunflower seeds (you could also rock it with olives, basil leaves, pine nuts, whatever). 

Of course, it's probably more appropriate as a side salad with a barbeque - but who wants to slave over a stove when there's summer to enjoy? I could live on this stuff for days, and it is just so vibrant! Like Clotilde of Chocolate and Zucchini, I feel that a joyful presentation can greatly increase your enjoyment and even change your experience - who would want to eat some low-grade chocolate at Easter unless it was in the shape of and egg? 

Speaking of which, I went to a department store a couple of weeks ago and they were selling bunnies and eggs. Is it appropriate to be appalled?

P.S. I named this 'Volcanic Cookery' because the salad is a tasty mountain filled with explosively delicious fresh ingredients. And better yet, it won't spew ash, darken the sky and destroy the village. 

Edit: This post was largely written on that awful weekend when that heatwave reached its sick climax. Now its 21˚C, raining, and I'm wearing a woolen jumper. It boggles the mind. My next food installment in the next couple of days will be the winter-licious Poor Soup with Love-Heart Pasta. 

Amusing

Popular culture at its best: "The Waste Land - a graphic novel"

P.S You may have noticed I take my name from a poem of that title. I'm shameless in covert references to better craftsmen. From what I hear, it's not called plagiarism anymore - I'm simply building a Tower of Admiration using Post-Modern straw on the slightly ragged and ever-crowded Creative Common. So there.

I'm sure my effervescent mother approves. 

Australia Aflame

With half of the country underwater or up in smoke, I'm not sure if it seems fitting or disrespectful that today should be the day that I metamorphose from a champion reluctant Blogee to an enthused, if slightly nervous, Blogger.  The temperature has dropped at least 5˚C since I started, and I'm wondering whether I've disturbed some fundamental cosmic balance by jumping on the ever-crowded Internet 2.0 bandwagon. 

However, I suspect that the only real surprise is why it took me so damn long to relent - after all, in a time when even middleagedteachers have become Online Fashion Gurus, the unremarkable debut of yet another iGeneration brat isn't exactly Man Bites Dog. 

But back onto the weather. As an oafish New South Wales politician stammeringly put it, "the bush is beautiful, but brutal." The heart-breaking extremes the country has seen today - from raging floods in Queeensland to quite possibly the worst bushfires the south has seen since European colonization - come at a time when conventional scientific opinion on Australia's weather patterns has been challenged (and suddenly the course I took a year ago in climatology is outdated). And despite this tragedy, I cannot help but wonder what a strange land the first Australians saw. Evidence suggests that the continent was truly a land of extremes, dominated by bizarre Megafauna and ravaged by massive fires on a regular basis. Over countless years, the newcomers tamed the fire cycle, slowly changing the landscape and inadvertently guiding the course of evolution on our island. 

With that said, is it trite to complain about the very cute if noisy minifauna making a racket on my balcony? I managed to steal a photo while it was munching on some acorns: