braised leeks, routines & autumn fruit
a warming, rich plant-based side dish, plus a quince-spin on a childhood favourite
Routines are underrated.
For much of my life I think I’ve been rather ignorant to the importance of routines. Taking for granted that throughout childhood, adolescence, and my early adult years, other people, educational institutions and employers had really kept a solid structure of routine in place around me. Because this was always the norm, maintaining dimension in each day, week, month or year didn’t require a huge amount of discipline. Routine felt like the status quo, mundane and expected, so I would historically place channel a lot more weight into the spontaneous - chasing newness, randomness, adventure.
Then came 2022, and for the first extended period in my life I was no longer held by one of those solid structures that had guided my days and held me accountable to routine. I’d be lying if there wasn’t a definite freedom in this, and a freedom that I was desperately needing - and we all need in pockets, some of us more than others, to maintain our sense of self, balance and wellness in this world.
But after a few months of spontaneous frivolity, I found a piece of me really craving at least a small return of routine, and discovered that motivating oneself to find such a thing and stick to it, without the routine being held by the expectations of others, was remarkably hard. Being self-employed with flexible working hours and non-existent work-home boundaries was not particularly helpful either. Sleep pattern consistency, scheduling and prioritising regular exercise, social time etc. felt less straightforward.
It really made me stop and appreciate just how useful having a job, going to regular classes, or other clockwork commitments are in helping to promote consistency in your life; a frame to then hang off other activities that contribute to wellness to form your daily structure. Of course, this is so long as the work/study doesn’t swallow up your time and entire being like a black hole (which we all know is a high risk scenario in today’s world).
Now that I’m back working in healthcare, more or less full time, I’ve really been appreciating the fact that it has been a lot easier to build some consistency in my week around this framework of obligation. Instead of sleeping until 10am after being up baking till 2am the night before, I’m now up at 6.30am and doing workouts at a low-fi local gym each morning before work (I am NOT a morning person, so am slightly concerned that someone slipped a fortune cookie in my drink and I’m living my Freaky Friday fantasy right now). I feel like THE MAN afterwards, strutting along George St to the hospital with my AirPods thrashing in my ears, feeling like I’ve already won before the day’s barely started. I get to work, get out my bircher in a cup I’d prepared the night before and measly oats never tasted better. Now there is NO WAY IN HELL I would be doing this or feeling like that each morning, if I didn’t have the obligation of work, that I know I’ll have to get out of bed for anyway. Maybe I’m just getting older and boring, but I’m loving the routine. And with the challenges a lot of people in our country with recent job cuts, I’m incredibly grateful for the employment I have.
And it’s not just around work, sleep and exercise that the routine is fizzing from. I’m also learning to love sinking my teeth into some kai-focused weekend routine as well. Saturday mornings have become all about getting the week’s fruit/veg (beyond what we have in the garden or has been foraged the week before) at the local market. It’s another motivator to get up and hug the day, walk Beau the greyhound down to the Railway station and grab nature’s gold from the epic local producers who have their goods on offer. All of the good vibes and then some. The afternoon is then usually filled with cooking/recipe testing of some sort and then writing this newsletter for you all, which I thoroughly enjoy and feel so grateful that people might consider reading. None of this is ground-breaking, no component of these routines are exhilarating, jaw-dropping or adventurous by any means, but they’re incredibly satisfying and fulfilling all the same.
I guess where I’m going with this is that in the week, month or years ahead, when life seems boring or the machine is getting you down, it’s worth stepping back every now and then to consider that maybe there is some good to be found in the mundanities of life. How can you build progress and a framework of wellness around work or the other lame-ass tasks you have to do but really don’t want to do? How can you build good routines with your kai and cooking that bring joy consistently throughout the week?
After enjoying the bounty of central Otago summer fruits at the Saturday market in the first part of the year, we’re now well and truly in the autumn swing. Where once were peaches and nectarines, the railway station carpark is now heaving with bins full of apples of all varieties; where tomatoes and zucchinis laid, thick as tree trunk leeks and brassicas invite. The $4 pumpkins are comically large. Tatties of all varieties tantalise. And this week it was the $2/kg quinces that had me swooning.
So this week’s recipes are inspired, as they often are, by what found its way into one of the incredibly practical blue Ikea bags that my partner Alex likes to collect, and onto the kitchen bench.
First up is a continuation of last week’s apple theme, with an excellent and aptly autumnal recipe for Braised leeks with apple, sage & marmite. Yes, you read that correctly, MARMITE. I promise you this isn’t me trying to roll April fools into May ~ the yeasty umaminess of marmite brings terrific flavour. You really must try this one!
And for paid subscribers, I’ve also got two delightful recipes for your next weekend baking session ~ making the most of quinces while their brief season is in touch.
Enjoy,
Alby xx
Braised leeks with apple, sage & marmite
This is my favourite way to cook leeks, slowly braised in a white wine cream, with plenty of garlic, of course. Apple complements the natural sweetness and caramel tones of the leeks wonderfully, as does the earthiness of sage. Marmite mite seem like an unusual addition, but it brings some welcome umaminess that works neatly with the other flavours - enough to bring some extra wow factor but not too much to dominate.
Hands-on Time: 20 minutes
Total Time: 1 hour 40 minutes
serves 10-12 as a side (only half the leeks are pictured)
Cost Estimate: $14
Ingredients
2 very thick large or 3 medium leeks, white and pale green part only, ends trimmed
2 medium apples, halved, cores removed, and sliced thinly
1 handful sage leaves, roughly chopped
200ml coconut cream
200ml white wine
6 cloves garlic, finely grated
3 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp apple cider vinegar
1 tbsp marmite
½ tsp cracked black pepper
½ tsp sea salt
Crispy sage
2 tbsp olive oil
20 sage leaves
Method
Preheat the oven to 170°C fan-forced (or 190°C conventional).
To prepare the leeks, if using two very large leeks, cut into quarters lengthways and then in half horizontally. If using three medium leeks, cut in half lengthways and then in half horizontally. You should have either 16 or 12 pieces of leek. Place the leeks, cut side facing upwards, in a single layer in a large roasting dish. Scatter over the apple slices, nestling the slices in between and around the leeks, and scatter over the chopped sage. The leeks should fit quite snugly into the dish. In a bowl, whisk together the coconut cream, white wine, garlic, olive oil, vinegar, marmite, black pepper, salt and 150ml boiling water. Pour the liquid evenly over the leeks, cover with foil, and bake for 40 minutes until the leeks are mostly softened and tender.
To finish the leeks, remove the foil and return to the oven uncovered for 25 minutes, at which stage the tops of the leeks will be starting to caramelise and turn golden. Remove from the oven and set aside to cool for a couple of minutes.
For the crispy sage, heat the olive oil in a small frying pan over medium heat. Once hot, add the sage leaves and fry for 30-60 seconds until crispy. Transfer with a slotted spatula to a paper towel-lined plate to drain.
To serve, using a spatula, carefully transfer the braised leeks and apples to a lipped serving platter. Pour over a few tablespoons of any remaining braising liquid. Scatter over the crispy sage leaves and serve warm.
Alby’s Advice:
I’ve opted to make this plant-based, but you can easily swap the coconut cream for regular cream if desired. Marmite can also be replaced with any yeast extract spread.
These leeks would go excellently with juicy portobello mushrooms, roasted celeriac, roast pork, whole roasted brassica, a galette/tart, or even tossed through some pappardelle as a main.
Quince, saffron & cardamom linzers
The Griffins Shrewsbury is a New Zealand classic, a middle tier biscuit somewhere above the superwine but well below the Toffee Pop. Perhaps in the realm of the cameo cream or Jaffa thin. Whoever thought to controversially use a circle, star and heart-shaped cutter for the peek-a-boo jammy holes to allow for Shrewsbury roulette deserves a gold star. The amount of hurrahs and tears based on whether I got a Heart (my fav, obvs) or heaven forbid a Circle. With a few quinces to use, jam felt like an obvious choice (as quinces are so damn hard and I couldn’t be bothered poaching them for hours) and I found myself making these Shrewsbury-inspired linzer cookies. Unlike the Shrewsbury though, these are a crisper, shorter biscuit, made with ground almonds, which bring a delectable nutty flavour and pleasurable texture. You can use any storebought jam for the filling, but the floral notes of quince with the saffron in the jam is a lovely mouthful.
Hands-on Time: 35 minutes (for the jam) + 25 minutes (for the biscuits)
Total Time: 35 minutes (for the jam) + 2 hours (for the biscuits)
makes 3-4 medium jars of jam + 18 sandwich cookies
Cost Estimate: Jam - $6, Biscuits - $7
Ingredients
Quince & saffron jam (makes 3-4 medium jars - plenty for later in the year)
1.2kg quince (about 4 large), peeled and cored, to give about 800g flesh
800ml water (or whatever weight of quince flesh you have)
800g caster sugar (or whatever weight of quince flesh you have)
finely grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
1 tsp saffron threads
Cardamom linzer biscuits
250g butter (dairy or vegan block, not vegan spread), softened to room temperature
150g caster sugar
finely grated zest of 1 lemon
1 tsp vanilla extract
250g plain flour
150g ground almonds
2 tsp ground cardamom
½ tsp sea salt
2 tbsp milk (dairy or plant-based)
icing sugar, for dusting
Method
First prepare the jam (this can be made well in advance). Using a food processor, in two batches blitz the quince flesh until finely chopped. Transfer to a large heavy-based saucepan and add the water. Place over medium-high heat, bring to the boil, and once bubbling vigorously, reduce the heat to medium, cover and simmer for 10 minutes to allow the quince to soften. At this stage you can leave the quince as it is if a little texture is desired (I like this), or you can blitz with a stick blender if desired for a smoother jam. Add the caster sugar, lemon zest, lemon juice and saffron. Increase the heat to medium-high and cook vigorously for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the jam is starting to catch on the bottom of the pan and has thickened to a setting point. To test this, place a spoonful of the hot jam on a small plate. After 30 seconds, you should be able to run your finger through the jam and it leaves a channel that holds its shape. Spoon the jam into sterilised jars* and seal. The jam can be stored at room temperature for 6 months unopened. Refrigerate once opened.
For the linzer biscuits, in a large bowl using an electric hand or stand mixer, beat together the butter, sugar, lemon zest and vanilla for 2 minutes until well combined and fluffy. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, ground almonds, cardamom and salt. Add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture, start mixing with a wooden spoon, then add the milk and mix gently until it comes together to form a soft dough - I like to use my hands to bring it together at the end. Divide the dough into two portions, shape each into a thick disc and wrap with clingfilm. Refrigerate the two discs of dough for a minimum of 1 hour to chill.
Preheat the oven to 160°C fan-forced. Line three oven trays with baking paper.
Unwrap one disc of dough, place between two sheets of baking paper and roll out until about 4mm thick. Using a 6-7cm round cutter (or whatever desired shape), cut out as many circles as you can. Peel off any scraps of dough away from the edges of the circles and squidge together into a ball for later biscuits. Using a small ring-sized round cutter or a ring (this is what I use), cut out holes in the middle of each circle. Carefully transfer the biscuit rings onto one lined oven tray - they won’t spread much during baking. Repeat with the second disc of dough, rolling and cutting out circle shapes. This time do not cut out a central hole in the biscuits (as these will form the bottom of the sandwich). Collect up the scraps of dough and add to the ball of scraps from earlier. Transfer the circles to the second lined oven tray. Place the trays in the fridge for 20 minutes to chill. Flatten the ball of dough scraps into a disc, place between two sheets of baking paper and roll out as before. Cut out as many circles as you can, remove the scraps, and cut out holes in half of the circles. Transfer the final biscuit rings and circles to the third lined oven tray and also refrigerate for 20 minutes to chill.Â
Bake the biscuits for 10-12 minutes, you can do all three trays at once if your oven has enough racks, until just starting to turn golden at the edges. Remove from the oven, leave to cool for a few minutes then transfer to a wire rack to cool fully.Â
To assemble, once fully cooled, spoon a little of the cooled quince & saffron jam into the centre of each biscuit, then gently sandwich one of the holed biscuits on top, so that the jam can be seen through the hole. Once all biscuits are jammed and sandwich, dust the tops with icing sugar.
Alby’s Advice:
*To sterilise jars, place the jars and their lids upright in an oven preheated to 130°C (110°C fan forced) and heat for 20 minutes.
The quince jam follows a simple ratio of 1 part quince flesh: 1 part water: 1 part caster sugar - just adjust each ingredient based on how much quince flesh you have.
Linzers usually use egg or egg yolk in them, but I have removed that so you have the option of easily making these plant-based (just use vegan block butter and plant-based milk).
Best of the season this fortnight (NZ):
Mandarins
Quinces
Leeks
Carrots
Mid season apples & pears
Brassicas
Celery
Hardy greens - cavolo nero, silver beet, kale
Late Feijoas
Early kiwifruit
Brain Food:
I think we need to invest more in a Food Pharmacy system in NZ - have a read about this promising concept. Perhaps even a Food ‘Pharmacy’ which connects the growers of our food more intrinsically into the health system and our recommendations. Imagine a script to go and learn how to grow food and eat well by helping a local market gardener for a day??
A great two-in-one quince recipe for jelly and jam from one of NZ’s cooking icons
To think the same peanut butter I eat on my Vogel’s in the morning is also in outer space. mind. blown.
Bottle tops can be recycled (just not in your yellow bin). Here’s one organisation in Dunedin who’s found an innovative way of managing this. There are different organisations doing similar things in local areas around the country - ask around :)
The new baking book on my wishlist, and a recent foraging-minded birthday addition to the bookshelf
