Black Chook Revisited

More than 1100 brews from 39 countries were entered in the Australian International Beer Awards held in Melbourne last week.
WA breweries took out six awards this year, ahead of Victoria which won two.
Swan Valley-based micro-brewery Feral Brewing Company took out five of the 15 trophies on offer, including Champion Exhibitor and Champion Small Brewery.
Two of Feral Brewing Company's most interesting brews were deemed standouts at the awards.
Feral's Hophog, an American-style IPA with strong pine needle and citrus aroma followed by an aggressive bitterness and a dry finish, won 2009 Champion Ale.
They beat beers from 39 countries, with brews from Nigeria, Columbia, the Czech Republic, Poland, Cambodia, Bolivia and Puerto Rico all showcased at the world's second-biggest international beer competition.

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Anzac Biscuit

The army biscuit, also known as an ANZAC Wafer or an ANZAC Tile, is essentially a hardtack biscuit, a long shelf-life biscuit substitute for bread. Unlike bread though, the biscuits are very, very hard. Some soldiers preferred to grind them up and use them as porridge. (Add water and sugar, cook, serve with generous dollop of jam.) These cookies were made during the war because they used fewer ingredients and they shipped well due to the fact that the cookies were harder.
New Zealand and Australia share a tradition of Anzac Biscuits. Both countries claim to have invented them, but Anzac Biscuits are similar to many other older biscuit recipes that are designed to produce crisp, hard and nutritious biscuits that keep well.
One of the food items that women in both countries sent to soldiers during the First World War was a hard, long-keeping biscuit that could survive the journey by sea, and still remain edible. These were known as Soldiers' Biscuits, but after the Gallipoli landings in 1915, they became known as Anzac Biscuits. Soldiers themselves may have made a similar form of biscuit from ingredients they had on hand: water, sugar, rolled oats and flour.
The traditional Anzac Biscuit is hard and flat - ideal for dunking in tea and then eating. During the First World War, some soldiers used broken biscuits to make a form of porridge to add some variety to their diet.
Over the years, softer and chewier versions of the biscuit have appeared. There are many recipes for Anzac Biscuits. Common to most is the inclusion of rolled oats, coconut, butter and golden syrup. Eggs almost never feature. This may be because eggs were in short supply during the First World War. Many varieties of biscuit do not have eggs, however, and like Anzac Biscuits rely instead on chemical rising agents such as bicarbonate of soda (baking soda).

ANZAC Biscuits

Ingredients
· 1 cup margarine or butter
· 2 Tablespoons corn syrup
· 4 Tablespoons water
· 1 teaspoon baking soda
· 2 cups oatmeal
· 2 cups sugar
· 1 cup white flour
· 1 cup whole wheat flour
Procedure
1. Preheat oven to 325°F.
2. Combine oatmeal, sugar, white flour, and whole-wheat flour in a bowl.
3. Melt margarine and add corn syrup and water in a small pan over heat.
4. Add the baking soda to pan and stir until fizzy.
5. Pour contents in pan into the bowl with dry ingredients and stir well.
6. Shape dough into balls and flatten with a fork on a tray.
7. Bake for about 15 minutes or until golden brown.
Makes about 4 dozen biscuits.

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Loose Leaf vs.Tea Bags

I may be a firm republican harbouring anti neo colonial sentiments, and like everyone else, I don’t consider myself a snob. But when it comes to ordering tea in this country, I say pass.
Have you ever ordered tea in Israel? I mean in a café or a hotel or any other premises where someone actually coughs up and pays for the dubious pleasure? If the place has any pretensions of a touch off class they’ll probably bring it out in a personalised little chrome tea pot. You'll be rubbing your hands together in anticipation of the aromatic flavour billowing up from your porcelain cup, you peering out from the vantage of your table in the balmy shade, through the glare of the wilting sunlight, out over the unruffled insects hovering around the bougainvilleas in some Levantine garden, or at the hectic little indigenous persons buzzing around the street darting amongst the traffic. But where in this country can you order a genuine pot of tea? What you get instead is a pot with this white twine drooping from beneath the lid to a wee paper tag, like something that used to be more hygienic before it hit the bathroom bin. Perish the thought.
It is commonly held among tea aficionados that preparing tea with teabags provides an inferior taste and experience. Now this is something I have understood since the world’s most unsung cooking hero, Timothy Dwyer, introduced me to reruns of the Goon Show on the weekend, whilst sitting on a stump in the backyard, his daddy long legs pegs folded delicately underneath him, all over a genuine pot of tea. However this gospel hasn’t yet reached the shores of Tel Aviv’s swanky old port.
Cafes abound in Israel as much as anywhere else in the world and it doesn’t take a whole heap of genius to understand the viability of any well frequented café, the outlay per cup is minimal and the returns are fetching. And so I wonder is the investment in a decent pot of tea so outrageous that businesses are not prepared to serve up anything better than the equivalent of strained dags and skirtings? Let’s face it; the quality of a cup of tea served up in this country is equivalent of flogging off a bale of odds and ends for triple A class high micron wool.
Typical tea bags are filled with these tiniest pieces of broken tea leaves. In the industry the tea used in tea bags is called "fannings" or "dust". It’s the waste product produced from the sorting of higher quality loose leaf tea.
Loose leaf teas on the other hand are typically whole leaves or at least large pieces of leaves. And the main difference between loose teas and bagged teas is the size of the leaves. That's what affects the resulting cup of tea. Tea leaves contain chemicals and essential oils, which are the basis for the delightful flavour of tea. When the tea leaves are broken up, those oils can evaporate, leaving a dull and tasteless tea.
It’s not just the leaf size that matters; there is also the space factor. Tea leaves need space to swell, expand and unfurl. Good water circulation around the leaves is important and typically this doesn't happen in a cramped little tea bag.
If this is all starting to sound a bit too much like Dr Ruth let’s turn over a new leaf and take on something in a more, let’s say Ita Butrose vein:
When preparing loose leaf black tea The water for black teas should be added at the boiling point (100 °C or 212 °F), except for more delicate teas, where lower temperatures are recommended. This will have as large an effect on the final flavour as the type of tea used. The most common fault when making black tea is to use water at too low a temperature (take note shomrei Shabbat-ers). Since boiling point drops with increasing altitude, this makes it difficult to brew black tea properly in mountainous areas. It is also recommended that the teapot be warmed before preparing tea, easily done by adding a small amount of boiling water to the pot, swirling briefly, before discarding. Black tea should not be allowed to steep for less than 30 seconds or more than about five minutes (a process known as brewing or [dialectally] mashing in the UK, Specifically in Yorkshire.). After that,tannin is released, which counteracts the stimulating effect of the theophylline and caffeine and makes the tea bitter (at this point it is referred to as being stewed in the UK). Therefore, for a "wake-up" tea, one should not let the tea steep for more than 2-3 minutes. When the tea has brewed long enough to suit the tastes of the drinker, it should be strained while serving.

As you are all no doubt aware by now, with the tea like stuff you buy in Israel cafes, the tea leaves are packed into a small (usually paper) tea bag. It is easy and convenient. American tea merchant Thomas Sullivan began distributing samples of his tea in small silk bags with a drawstring, in 1908. Consumers noticed that they could simply leave the tea in the bag, and better still re-use it with fresh tea. However, the potential of this distribution/packaging method was not be fully realized until later on. During World War II, tea was rationed. In 1953 (after rationing in the UK ended), Tetley launched the tea bag to the UK and it was an immediate success. The convenience of the tea bag revolutionized how Britons drank their tea and now the traditional tea pot has given way to making tea in a cup utilising a tea bag.

But is that convenience worth it or mere expediency?I won’t be too snobby about it. Having gone and argued at length the various merits and defects of loose leaf vs. teabags. I say no to teabags and yea to loose leaf. But I’m no fundamentalist. To borrow a phrase from the Gershwin Bros. (of course made famous by Normie Rowe),
“I takes dat gospel whenever it's pos'ble.
But wid a grain of salt”

Additional reasons why bag tea is considered less well-flavoured include:
The small size of the bag does not allow leaves to diffuse and steep properly.
Dried tea loses its flavour quickly on exposure to air. Most bag teas (although not all) contain leaves broken into small pieces; the great surface area to volume ratio of the leaves in tea bags exposes them to more air, and therefore causes them to go stale faster. Loose tea leaves are likely to be in larger pieces, or to be entirely intact.
Breaking up the leaves for bags extracts flavoured oils.
Another element detracting from the tea's flavour is the paper used for the bag which can also be tasted by many.

A quick aside: If any of you does go out and open a chain of teashops with real tea, with or without scones and rock cakes, remember who gave you the idea. I ought to at least get a cut as a sleeping partner.


P.S.: the declaration of "Orange Pekoe" that you'll find on boxes of tea bags doesn't refer to the flavour or kind of tea. Orange Pekoe is actually a grade of tea. It's a good grade, but not a great grade. The grade is based on leaf size, but even Orange Pekoe tea is an inferior tea to a true whole leaf tea.
Here are some black tea grades :

Orange Pekoe (OP)
A good quality tea, consisting of large leaf pieces. Used for teas from Sri Lanka or south India.
Flowery Orange Pekoe (FOP)
Similar to OP, but used for teas from the rest of India or other regions.
Golden Flowery Orange Pekoe (GFOP)
A higher quality tea, that includes the golden tips of the young buds leaves.
Tippy Golden Flowery Orange Pekoe (TGFOP)
Similar to GFOP, but with an even higher proportion of golden tips.
Fine Tippy Golden Flowery Orange Pekoe (FTGFOP)
Extremely high quality TGFOP.
Broken Orange Pekoe (BOP)
Tea with many small or broken pieces of leaves.
Fannings / Dust
The tiny bits and pieces, usually leftovers from processing. Commonly found in tea bags.

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Happy Little Vegemites: the sequel

Just to go and prove that living on the other side of the world doesn’t mean we are completely out of touch, FIFTY years after the "Happy Little Vegemites" commercial first went to air; Kraft has launched a national appeal to find the children who appeared in the iconic advertisement. So far there has been no official statement on behalf of the management as to significance of our little piece on the subject, only last month.
Nothing is known of the youngsters who took part in the commercial. Neither the advertising company responsible for the commercial nor Kraft, the present day proprietors of vegemite, kept records of those involved in the project. The ad's remaining stars would now be aged in their 50s and 60s.
More than a dozen people have contacted the food producer so far, claiming they starred in the original Happy Little Vegemites commercial, although only EIGHT children appeared in the ad. Those that do come forward to lay claim to a part in the 1956 commercial will have to prove their involvement. The Vegemites will need to prove their identity by answering a series of secret questions and providing a childhood photograph.
If anyone has any information on the original eight Happy Little Vegemites you are kindly requested to phone the Kraft Customer Care team on 1800 033 275 with their details.

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Happy Little Vegemite

Have you ever wondered where the slang expression "happy little Vegemite" comes from? Was it Dame Edna or Norman Gunston or someone else in the 1980s that brought it into common usage?
Food technologist Dr. Cyril P. Callister invented Vegemite in 1923 when his employer, the Australian Fred Walker Company, had him develop a spread from brewer’s yeast after war had disrupted the supply of imported yeast spreads.
Fred Walker's daughter Sheilah, picked Vegemite's name out of a hat at random. Then from 1928 to 1935, facing growing competition from the similar British Marmite, the product was known as "Parwill" allowing a convoluted advertising slogan that said "Marmite but Parwill" that is, "Ma (mother) might not like the taste but I'm sure Pa (father) will." This attempt to expand market share was unsuccessful so the name was changed back to Vegemite. Today Vegemite far outsells Marmite and other similar spreads, at least in Australia.
For the uninitiated, Vegemite can be spread very thinly with butter to help to soften the strong taste, or with sliced or melted cheese. A variation on vegemite toast is 'tiger toast' where after spreading with vegemite, strips of cheese are melted onto the toast, creating a striking visual effect. It is also a key ingredient in the popular "Cheesymite Scroll" or "Cheddarmite Scroll" produced by bakeries in Australia, a savoury spiral pastry which includes cheese spread and Vegemite. A teaspoon of Vegemite can also be used in place of stock in some recipes.
The taste of vegemite is difficult to describe. Go on, pretend this is Playschool, close your eyes and try to define it. It’s extremely salty and slightly bitter isn’t it? But the texture is smooth, resembling margarine. Where do we go from there? We know that Vegemite is made from leftover brewers' yeast extract, a by-product of beer manufacture, and various vegetable and spice additives. So and as might be expected, it has some trace of the malty, similar to the taste of beef bouillon.
You can search the net for instructions how to build an A bomb, but I don’t know if you’ll find the recipe for vegemite? Aussie Mite (created because Vegemite is now owned by an international corporation) was created by Liam 'O' Farrell, who felt that Vegemite was no longer an Australian product so he created an all-Australian spread to compete against it. The Vegemite brand is now owned by Kraft Foods, an American multinational that is part of the Altria Group of companies
While highly popular in Australia and New Zealand, Vegemite has never been successfully marketed elsewhere. We have it from reliable sources that it is not liked by all Australians. (Probably the ones that don’t like beer either.) Some find it far too salty to be palatable, but still it remains an iconic symbol of Australia. It’s notorious amongst some foreigners for the dislike it generates.
In October 2006, the Melbourne Herald Sun reported that Vegemite was banned in the USA, with Customs officials going so far as to even search Australians for Vegemite when they enter the country, but later reports cast doubt on the claim. The Food and Drug Administration later stated there was no import ban on Vegemite, and that it was never pulled from American supermarket shelves.
As for the term "happy little Vegemite", it comes from marketing campaigns begun in 1954, with a catchy jingle called "We're happy little Vegemites ".Two young twin girls known as the "Vegemite Twins", sang the advertising jingle. The lyrics to the Jingle are:
We're hap-py lit-tle Veg-e-mites
As bright as bright can be.
We all en-joy our Ve-ge-mite
For break-fast, lunch, and tea.
Our mum-mies say we're grow-ing stron-ger
Eve-ry sin-gle week,
Be-cause we love our Ve-ge-mite -
We all a-dore our Ve-ge-mite -
It puts a rose in eve-ry cheek.

Paraphrased from Wikipedia

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A Hummus Recipe

When I was doing my back to roots trip last August visiting the Dalwallinu, Wubin and Coorow region in the West Australian wheat belt, I spent a terrific evening basking in the hospitality of John and Helen Nankerville at their farmhouse. They’d been clients of my dad. He bought wool from them. But times have changed and so has farming. At some point in our conversation it turned out that now days instead of wool they grow chickpeas, amongst other things.They grow it for export, but they didn’t know how to prepare it, nor did they have any recipes. Well I’ve seen my wife soak pots of it overnight or open a can of it to pop into a salad but I didn’t know any recipes; and frankly the hummus pastes I’ve tasted in Australia leave something to be desired. I promised to send them some recipes.
So now John and Helen I’m finally repaying your hospitality, partially at least.
I learned from Claudia Roden, doyen of Middle Eastern cooking, that in the past chickpeas had to be soaked for hours in cold water with bicarbonate of soda, and then required prolonged cooking. After that you often had to remove their tough outer skins, a long and tedious operation, especially when you had a large quantity to cook up. The chickpeas sold today are of a superior quality. You only have to soak them in plain cold water overnight (without the bicarbonate of soda) and they are usually tender after ¾ to 1 hours cooking in boiling, salted water. However the cooking time can vary according to the quality, their place of origin and age.
This davka is an Italian hummus soup recipe from Aharoni and Saul Avron-Woodcutters’ soup from Montlacino.
Ingredients:
250 gr. of chickpeas
¼ cup of olive oil
1 large onion, preferably red, finely chopped
4 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
2 tomatoes, skinned and finely chopped
1 tablespoon rosemary, chopped
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 ½ litres of water or clear soup
100 gr. of short pasta, cooked and drained
Preparation:
1. leave the chickpeas in lots of water overnight.
2. heat up the olive oil in a large pot and fry the onions and garlic til the onions are transparent, add the tomatoes and fry for 2 minutes
3. add the chickpeas, rosemary, salt and pepper and the soup or water.
4. bring to boil, cover the pot, and cook on a low flame for up to 1 ½ hours.
5. add the pasta and serve straight away

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Joy

Last week Frederique, me, Warwick and Ziva went out to eat at Joy on Emek Refaiim in Jerusalem. Gersh had recommended this particular restaurant whilst we were driving back from the daboiz cultural evening last November. He'd said the food was more than decent and very reasonable for the price.
I have mixed emotions about Joy because it stands where my favourite wine shop used to, before it went under. Joy’s been there for some time but I’ve never gone in. Customer loyalty and all that I guess. The security guard outside the door greeted us warmly, especially my wife. We know him from the days he worked at Rami Levi’s when they were still at the Bezek place on Yad Charutzim and then later from Yoja’s. As it turns out he shares the same surname as my wife. He appeased my aggravation somewhat.
We are led to our table by one of Israel’s most consistently agreeable products, the nubile waitress. Managing to momentarily steer your eyes away from ones beaconing hostess stalwartly guiding you through the crush of well manned tables, dispersed through a pair of expansive, dimly lit rooms, their size and height impressing on you that the hearty boisterousness you are inhaling would not be unbefitting to a dinning hall at Hogwarts, you notice that the heads of most of the well decked out gentlemen gracing the establishment, escorted by handsomely attired women, are donned with kipoth. Chutz l’aretz!
Having taken our seats, our waitress most kindly saves us reading the menu and exhorts with great competence the choice of specials of the day. Top of the list, she asks if we’d be interested in a bottle of Meron wine and at a price you’d expect to pay at the bottle shop. We agree happily. They’ve got me and Warwick hooked, hook line and sinker. Then taken in by her charms or just lazy we choose from among the specials she’s suggested.
The bottle arrives presently and at Ziva’s suggestion we take a first course of grilled eggplant in tahina. It’s a dish I’m very partial to. While we’re dipping away a dapper, slight middle aged man cruising by our table stops to have a chat. Don’t know him from a bar of soap, but he seems a pleasant enough guy, interested in our impression of the food. Turns out that he’s the proprietor and seeing how full the place is on a week night there’s no reason he shouldn’t be contented with his lot in the world.
To accompany the wine we’ve chosen steak New York and our friends have taken chuck steak in a stew sauce. We’re all very content with the food. My quandary about commemorating the deceased wine shop has been laid to rest.
Oh and the bill, with the fine wine included, but no dessert needed, about $50Aus per head.

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