A wintery pear pie, lightly spiced and sweet with salted caramel, encased in a crispy, flaky all-butter crust and topped with fresh ginger gelato.  Jump to Recipe 

Hello! I feel like I should be saying ‘long time no see’, or ‘welcome back’. It’s been seven weeks since I last wrote anything down here – the longest break between posts since this blog began back in 2015. Not on purpose, but between travelling and university, time has slipped and slid past more quickly than anticipated. In some ways this pause has made it harder to get restarted, more difficult to gain momentum – each week blurring into the next. As if I’m starting from a standstill rather than already in the rhythm of running. Let’s hope muscle memory kicks in.

A quick recap (which you might know a bit of from my instagram stories): I spent the winter holidays overseas – even more perfect than imagined, if that’s possible. London was bigger and more diverse than I’d thought, Prague more beautiful and featured more great coffee and food than I assumed, Berlin more cultural and with wonderful food markets, and Paris was just – Paris. Like something straight out of a movie, complete with morning wanders for patisseries (pistachio and dark chocolate escargot from Des Pain et des Idees, anyone?), three euro bottles of rosé on the St Martin canals, sleepy afternoons in the gardens of Versaille and picnics under the glittering Eiffel tower.

(I will put together individual travel posts for each city with photos and my food highlights/recommendations when I get my act together – hopefully soon, but my track record recently hasn’t exactly been flash!)

I stepped off my 30 hour journey back to Melbourne straight into “lecture week” – essentially a condensed tour through paediatrics, with eight jet-lagged, coffee fueled hours each day of information overload. So, no posts happening then. Juggling around my schedule, I briefly escaped back to Auckland for a few days of catching up on those niggly appointments (yay for haircuts, but NOPE to dentists) and loading up the family with baking. No ingredient costs (thanks Mum!) + three brothers to consume everything in sight makes for the perfect environment to test recipes.

Holidays are now very much over – it’s the countdown to exams. THE exams. The last exams that really matter in medical school, testing all the clinical knowledge we have gained over the past four years (which still isn’t all that much in the scheme of medicine, but it feels like a lot right now, that’s for sure). Weekly posting as per usual is off the cards, as is any significant time spent in the kitchen – but I’ll be over here sporadically when time and stress levels allow. And eating pie. Definitely eating pie.

That pie today is a salted caramel pear pie with ginger gelato – a hug of wintery warmth in a mouthful. Tender, lightly spiced pears cooked in a slightly salted, vanilla scented butterscotch sauce; a crisp, buttery all butter pie crust courtesy of Four & Twenty Blackbirds; and a kick of sharp melting ginger gelato to tie it all together. Plus more caramel sauce, if you like. The pears bubble through the gaps in the rustic, sugar-coated lattice, filling the house with comfort.

ALSO: if you have time, check out this quick interview of me with a look at my home kitchen up on Stuff NZ last week. A bit of fun, and both the recipes seen will be coming to the blog in the coming weeks (/months, let’s be honest).

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A sticky, tender date cake studded with tangy feijoas and finished with a caramelised coconut topping. Click here to jump straight to the recipe.

You might have guessed from the rolling sets of ocean waves and far-too-green, far-too-hilly terrain on my instagram last weekend that I did not spend Easter in Melbourne. The family holiday in New Zealand was far more tempting. The boys worked up appetites chasing the surf, while we made a daily climb up Mt Maunganui before returning for my new favourite porridge and home-roasted coffee. Yes, Dad is crazy enough about his brew that he not only roasts his own green beans, but brings his grinder and espresso machine away with us – it’s why, along with the multiple surf boards, mountain bikes and my far less space-consuming baking equipment, we generally need a trailer. We ate salted caramel & banana crumpets at the Little Big Markets, made double batches of warmly spiced hot cross buns – generously smeared with melting butter, and I reluctantly spend afternoons catching up on university notes. We biked to the supermarket, where I remembered how in beach-town NZ everyone shops in jandals or bare feet, and borrowed electric hand beaters from friends because I refused to cream my butter and sugar with a wooden spoon, as Mum suggested.

I also managed to eat my weight in feijoas – a fruit that is eaten like a kiwi, cut in half and innards scooped with a teaspoon, yet tastes a little like a tangy guava mixed with a pineapple. Heralding the arrival of autumn in New Zealand, they fall to the ground in a deluge from suburban trees and are gifted by the bag to neighbours and friends. I didn’t appreciate them enough before moving to Melbourne, where only small, sad and overripe versions are sold at extortionate prices by gourmet fruit shops. So amid the delight over feijoas, I made a sticky date, coconut & feijoa lumberjack cake – the one that necessitated the electric beater.

It’s what I call an ugly duckling recipe. As much as I tried, it was never going to be pretty. But to be honest, I’d take a warm slice with a big scoop of vanilla bean ice cream and maybe a drizzle of butterscotch sauce over a beautiful yet almost sickly frosted layer cake any day. Hands down, it’s one of my top few cakes ever, despite its looks. Sticky, almost gooey medjool dates caramelise in the oven with shredded coconut, punctuated by tangy, soft chunks of feijoa. You take the cake out half way through baking to add the crunchy, toffee-like coconut topping, which gently melds into cake’s surface.

The first time I tried it as a loaf cake – it worked, but took a little long to bake and sunk slightly in the centre. The second time, back in Melbourne following a frustrating hunt for those feijoas, I tried it square. Better, but getting ready for a picnic meant I cut into it far too eagerly and early – hence the haphazard, crumbly slices you see. If you were a little more patient than me, cutting it wouldn’t be such a task. It doesn’t necessarily need ice cream, but with it would be a perfect autumnal dessert.

Cook’s Notes:

• If you can’t find feijoas in your part of the world, it’s still lovely with diced pear.
• You can use 20cm square baking tin, a 22cm round tin, or a large loaf tin.
• Make sure to let it cool before cutting – makes it much easier!

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A twist on eggplant caponata, with tangy pomegranate molasses, pine nuts, herbs, capers & anchovies, served on grilled sourdough smeared with labneh. Jump to Recipe 

I’m currently recovering from an enormous weekend spent alternatively eating, walking, shopping, eating and fan-girling over Adele with a few extra coffees and a break between tutorials. (You may already know this, thanks to my instagram story spam!). Mum and Dad visited from Auckland for a few days, and I got to play tourist for a change in a city I’ve grown accustomed to yet still need google-maps frequently, where I have lived for 3+ years but still don’t know like home. It’s funny how you get to see a place in a new light when you’re with people on holiday – you realise how much of the big city you take for granted.

It started with a 20 course (yes, 20 – they were small, okay!) dinner at Attica – it’s a reservation I’ve tried to get for the last few years only to be disappointed by the booking system, but it was worth the wait. Headed by New Zealand head chef Ben Shewry, it absolutely deserves that spot in the Top 50 Restaurants in the world – inspiring and innovative, and exactly not the type of food you’d make at home! We ate the best croissants in the world (according to the NYT, anyway) from Lune Croissanterie, enjoyed a flower-adorned breakfast at The Kettle Black, tried a bubble cup coffee and coffee-caviar topped french toast at specialty roaster Industry Beans, stuck with the long time favourite sticky pork, fried barramundi and green apple salad at Chin Chin, were wowed by the best creamed corn invented at Embla, and finished off with double scoops of salted coconut and mango gelato at Spring Street Grocer. I don’t think you could fit in much more – and if you’re into food, I couldn’t recommend Melbourne as a city to visit enough.

This eggplant caponata is a last ditch attempt to make use of the summer evenings and produce, and combines some of my favourite ingredients: eggplant (if you’re as into it as me, try this eggplant pasta puttanesca, eggplant shakshuka, and eggplant & mango soba noodles), sourdough bread (I just need to learn to make my own) and the concept of toast – isn’t everything better when sat on top of a warm, crusty piece of bread, itself slathered with melting butter, some form of cheese, or avocado? For me this basically applies to any leftovers ever. Plus a poached egg – lunch = sorted.

It is adapted from a Gjelina recipe – a restaurant we visited earlier this year after being recommended it by too many people to count. Their focus on small vegetable based sharing plates, wood-fired pizzas and the best ginger gelato on sticky date cake I could imagine prompted me to order their cookbook that same evening, and it’s a winner. This caponata has become a blend of the Middle East and more Italian flavours, nuanced and rich. Tangy pomegranate molasses, herbs and labneh are in the mix with salty anchovy, grilled capsicum and the brine of capers. A hint of sweetness comes from tiny currants with crunch from toasted pinenuts and those slabs of garlic toasted sourdough. I ended up baking the diced eggplant rather than frying it – much less oil, much less spatter, and the difference was barely noticeable. And it may look like a long list of ingredients, but you might find you already have most in your cupboard, and once your eggplant and capsicum are roasted, the rest comes together very quickly.

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Pumpkin, Pecan & White Chocolate Ice Cream Sandwiches – no churn spiced pumpkin ice cream sandwiched by buttery, oaty cookies.  Jump to Recipe 

I first tried my hand at ice cream sandwiches last summer. Mainly through my own impatience, it was a recipe that never ended up over here. The premise was good – coconut ice cream scooped between my favourite chocolate chip cookies, then half coated in melted dark chocolate. Unfortunately, the ice cream wasn’t quite set enough when I set about trying to photograph. All too quickly there was ice cream melting all over the table and dripping down onto the deck, with dark chocolate splattered over haphazard pieces of baking paper. The chocolate refused to set, and I didn’t have enough time to put them back in the freezer as it was late afternoon and #naturallight was in short supply. Giving up, I tried to take a bite, but the half-melted inner squished right out the other end of the sandwich. Sticky fingers, sticky camera, sticky shirt, sticky table. It still tasted good – no matter how messy ice cream and chocolate chip cookies get, it is difficult to make them taste bad – but it was so not what I had envisaged.

Fast forward 8 months and half way across the world to Williamsburg, NYC. Thalia & I stood on the shore of Brooklyn, mesmerised by the view of Manhattan. We were at Smorgasburg, an outdoor weekend street food market. I’d just eaten my first poke bowl (SO GOOD) and tried a brisket burger with a sadly plasticky, orange-tinged bun because I figured that was pretty american, right? With the sun beating down, queuing up for ice cream sandwiches seemed like the obvious course of action. And these weren’t the melty kind. Espresso ice cream & caramel between brown butter cookies, they were rock-solid and sturdy, with no ice cream threatening to drip anywhere. Perfect for photos, non-sticky fingers and non-ice cream coated clothing.

When I was invited to the annual #virtualpumpkinparty hosted by Sara at Cake Over Steak and Aimee at Twigg Studios, I was torn – over here in Australia, we’re heading straight into summer. Pumpkin pies and warm pumpkin pastas aren’t exactly in season. Looking back through NYC photos it hit me – pumpkin ice cream sandwiches were the way to go: fall flavours, pumpkin parties, smorgasburg memories and a redemption of last summer’s fails all in one.

Cool, creamy pumpkin ice cream, chewy white chocolate cookies and a pecan crunch meld together in the perfect warm-weather autumn sandwich. It starts with a buttery, crisp on the outside yet chewy on the inside cookie, stuffed with oats, pecans and sweet white chocolate chunks. The ice cream is of my favourite no-churn variety (how else to make it in a rental holiday house kitchen with virtually no cooking supplies!) and flavoured with homemade pumpkin puree, cinnamon and ginger. I froze the ice cream in a baking tin to form a layer the perfect thickness for an ice cream sandwich, then cut out rounds using a cookie cutter for minimal messiness. I learnt from my mistakes!  Lastly, sugar and butter quickly caramelize to form a candied pecan crunch, which is either swirled through the ice cream before freezing or used as a final coating on the edges of the sandwiches. The cookies are also absolutely delicious on their own – almost like a modern nutty, chocolatey ANZAC biscuit.

These are a few of the pumpkin party contributions that I can’t wait to make, and head over to Sara’s Pumpkin & Kale Risotto to see a full list of all of the other incredible contributions from bloggers all over the world!

• This Pumpkin & Maple Caramel Baked French Toast from Two Red Bowels
• Roasted Pumpkin with Yogurt and Hazelnut Dukkah from Molly Yeh
• Pumpkin Scones with Maple Butter from Lynette at InHappenstance
• Super Soft Pumpkin Cinnamon Rolls from The Sugar Hit

Baker’s notes:

• There are two options with the candied pecans. You can either use these to stir through the ice cream, or on the edges of the ice cream sandwiches. I originally did them on the edge, as per the photos, but I think stirring them through the ice cream would make it easier to eat, and the pecan crunch would be more evenly spread through. I have given options for both in the instructions.
• I froze the ice cream in a 20x30cm baking tin then used a cookie cutter to cut out even rounds. Another option would be to freeze the ice cream in a regular container, then scoop balls of ice cream to flatten between the cookies for a more rustic look.
• You can either serve immediately after assembling the sandwiches or return to the freezer for up to 3 days before serving. Serving immediately will give you chewy, room temperature cookies with the cold ice cream, while freezing with give crunchy, hard cookies. Both are good – it’s really personal preference and what you have time for.
• In Australian and New Zealand, there is no canned pumpkin puree. Instead, I made my own. Recipe follows:
  • Cut about 1/4 of a pumpkin  (about 400-500g, raw) into slices, including the skin.
  • Dry roast on a sheet of baking paper (no olive oil, butter or other spices) for 30-45 minutes (depending on the size of your pumpkin) until fork tender.
  • Remove from the oven and cool until cool enough to handle.
  • Peel the skin away from the pumpkin. Place the roasted pumpkin in a food processor or blender and blitz until completely smooth. You should no longer have any fibres or bits in your puree.

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Carrot, Ginger & White Chocolate Tart with Whisky Ginger Ice Cream – butter & vanilla roasted carrots, caramel-like brown sugar & a nutty almond crust. Jump to Recipe 

This time tomorrow, I’ll be hanging around the international departures terminal at Melbourne airport. Maybe by the time you read this, we’ll be up in the sky somewhere on the fourteen hour flight between home and LA, or even on the second leg of the journey towards New York City for the Saveur awards. Then it’ll be an airbnb in Williamsburg, Brooklyn – a whole week of exploring the city that I’ve only dreamt about for half my life. Eating momofuku cereal milk soft serve, Dominique Ansel cronuts, takeaway bagels, Union Fare croissants, Four & Twenty Blackbirds, Smorgasburg… My list is currently insanely ambitious for one girl walking the city.

That pre-holiday frenzy is all go today. It’s been building for the past few weeks, really. The smile that keeps breaking loose, the intoxicating bubbles of excitement mixed with anticipation growing the closer it gets. Like feeling caffeinated before I’ve even contemplated my morning flat white. It’s a whirlwind of activity getting work finished in time alongside long moments of distraction, browsing for places to go, things to see while there. A lengthening list of what to pack and what to do before I head to the airport, though I’ve only just pulled out my suitcase.

But first. This Carrot, Ginger & White Chocolate Tart with Whisky Ginger Ice Cream. I was concerned us three girls might struggle to finish all of the 26 cm tart in its pastry encased, almond crusted form – but two days later, there was only a solitary piece left languishing in the fridge, ready to be quietly abducted by someone for dessert. To clarify – we don’t really ‘do’ pies here in the Southern Hemisphere. They’re just not a thing. I bet 4 out of 5 people you meet walking down the street would have never tried pumpkin pie, and maybe 3 out of 5 pecan. Fruit pies in late summer are a rarity, and a dedicated pie shop? No way. You might find a slice on a restaurant dessert menu, but it’s more likely to be in ‘tart’ form, like this. Our meat pies are famous though – mince, steak & cheese or potato-topped – often from a service station or small town bakery as a stop on a long summer road trip, and always eaten with your hands, greasy with pastry flakes and topped with a squeeze of tomato sauce (ketchup, I mean).

I imagine this carrot and ginger version to be a little like a pumpkin pie. It’s a gingery short crust pastry topped with a filling that I can’t quite put my finger on: butter and vanilla roasted carrots; a hint of white chocolate sweetness; caramel-like brown sugar with a hint of spice; a border of nutty meringue-sugar almonds. Don’t be nervous putting carrots in a pie – you grate them into cakes, remember? And pumpkin is even stranger. It’s not dominant, but an unlikely sweetness that blends seamlessly into the filling.  The no churn ice cream (it’s my go-to, if you haven’t noticed) is what takes it to the next level with a small whisky hit and small pieces of vivid crystallized ginger dispersed through out. Gradually dripping down the sides of a slice of carrot pie, it’s one of my all time favourite desserts.

And if you have any tips or recommendation for my way-too-short time in New York, please let me know!

Baker’s Notes:

• The ice cream is best made ahead the night before (or up to 3 days prior) to serving the tart
• This recipe is for a 26 – 28cm tart tin – with a 26cm tart I had a little bit of filling and pastry to spare, so made a mini tart as well.

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