It’s un-Australian to not have a day off work to commemorate Anzac Day.

There, I said it.

There were much blood, sweat and tears shed leading up to the eventual celebration of this public holiday so that we- I mean they! They, the Anzacs, and subsequently other war veterans, can kick back, have a stubby with their mates and play two-up on a day off work. Sure, there was a public holiday declared on the Saturday but what use is that if there isn’t a compensatory day given the following Monday. This doesn’t even warrant a question mark as we all know what the answer is.

In reflection of the un-Australian act only adopted by a few states, I’m going to be doing what, at the heart for me, is a very un-Australian thing to do – mess with the Anzac biscuit.

Initially, I went with the idea of making them by hand and including some wacky ingredients. Then, a simpler idea presented itself.

But first, the ingredients.

This moment of inspiration began when shopping for Anzac biscuits. There were two varieties available at the time – the off-the-shelf variety made by Unibic pictured above and a supermarket variety that was supposedly produced from their in-house bakery.

Just look at the packaging! How more Australian could you get than that? It would draw a salute and a proud tear from the eye of a patriot.

Unibic on the left. Supermarket bakery on the right.

It also drew a tear from my eye but only because these were terrible Anzac biscuits, at least in my opinion. There is no saluting this biscuit, as everything I would expect from an Anzac biscuit wasn’t there – crunchy without the moist chewiness, no visible sign of oats, the taste and texture felt all wrong and so forth.

The picture as a visual metaphor says it all. When stacked up along side the supermarket bakery one (right), it falls short and does not surpass it.

Not to say that the other ones were fantastic either. It was ok, and served its purpose considering I wasn’t in the mood to bake. This was the one I selected.

Now, the next step in the process involves a cookie cutter ring. The cookie cutter serves a dual purpose here – firstly to cut things to a uniform shape and, later on, as a mould to hold things together.

Is it just me or is there some irony in using a cookie cutter after the cookie has been baked.

Anyhow, as illustrated you use the cookie cutter to cut into the Anzac biscuit. Now, if you’re going to try this one out yourself, you may want to select a softer, chewier Anzac over a crunchy one. Otherwise, this will be a lot of hard work.

Once you punch out the cookie. It should look somewhat like this. You will need two of these per serve.

The next ingredient is the ice cream. I presume the more astute of you know where I’m heading with this but lets talk about the ice cream first.

The Digger is an Anzac biscuit inspired ice cream from Homer Hudson. Though I wouldn’t say that it tasted like an Anzac biscuit, you can tell where they were heading with this flavourwise. It’s a great ice cream and probably my favourite from the Homer Hudson range.

Now, with one of the Anzac biscuits positioned at the bottom of the cookie cutter, place a scoop of ice cream into the mould. Press down the ice cream in the mould with a spoon a little just so it gets to the edges at the bottom.

Grab the other Anzac biscuit round and place that into the top of the mould and press down gently until the ice cream is nicely sandwiched between the two. You should feel some resistance when you get to this stage.

Unmoulding the Anzac biscuit ice cream sandwich may be a little tricky. However, I found the simplest way was to get a cookie cutter ring that is slightly smaller than the one that was used for the mould. Place the moulded ice cream sandwich over the smaller ring and press down, sliding the mould ring away from the ice cream sandwich while it sits on top of the smaller cookie cutter ring. From there, use a spatula or just grab the base of the sandwich and then either put back into the freezer if you’re making a number of these or plate for immediate service.

There you have it. The Anzac Biscuit Ice Cream Sandwich. The pairing of Anzac biscuits with Anzac biscuit ice cream. My way of messing with tradition.

Is it un-Australian? If it is, how more Australian can you get whilst stepping across the un-Australian line?

Does it work? The pairing of biscuit with ice cream, a classic combination. The harmony of Anzac biscuit flavours with Anzac biscuit inspired flavours. How could this possibly fail?

However, fail it did.

One thing you need to realise about anything involving gooey, sugary substances is that they often have the tendency of setting up like a rock when brought into contact with the cold. I’d unwisely popped the whole thing in my mouth and ended up eating ice cream sandwiched between two slabs of marble.

For the record, I did manage to finish it but I’d dislocated my jaw in the process. It would have been pretty nice if it wasn’t rock hard.

If you are serious about making this and if I had my time again, I would have broken up the biscuits and then repacked them in the cookie cutter moulds like a biscuit base for a cheesecake. So long as they’re not compacted too much, they should have enough give to save you from having to realign your jaw.

After the disappointing failure of the Anzac biscuit ice cream sandwich, I needed a pick-me-up. The cut-off scraps of Anzac biscuit were chopped up and sprinkled over scoops of Homer Hudson Digger ice cream.

After all that effort, this was by far the best pairing of these two ingredients. No cookie cutters. No fancy presentations. Some may even say it’s simple and honest.

If you feel inclined to bake your own Anzac cookies, you can find recipes at A Table for Two, fig & cherry as well as pikelet & pie. If you thought my Anzac Biscuit Ice Cream Sandwich was a travesty, check out this monstrosity. And here I thought my idea was unique…

Forgive me reader, for I have idled. It’s been a number of weeks since my last post.

Almost sounds like a blogging confessional, huh? :)

I’ve been meaning to get back to take two of my evening with food bloggers at Bungalow 8. I even had the photos ready a couple of weeks back.

Then life interrupts.

No longer though. So without further ado, to borrow the catch phrase of a fellow food blogger,

Here Comes the Post

All you can eat mussels and chunky fries. Quite an appealing proposition on its own. However, couple that with the prospect of meeting up with fellow food bloggers, for a belated birthday celebration with birthday cake from chocolatesuze no less, who can turn down such an offer…

The day is Tuesday. Bungalow 8, the venue of choice. The invitee and belated birthday boy, FFichiban (Here Comes the Food). Invites are sent around and four bloggers end up meeting over dinner – FFichiban, figuromo (A Table for Two), jenius (Jenius) and yours truly.

Whenever the topic of all-you-can-eat comes up, there almost always seems to be an element of competitiveness involved. It’s like there is some sort of symbiotic relationship between the two, which seems to also coincide with the need to get as much food for your all-you-can-eat buck.

Then again, perhaps that’s just me :)

Hearing that Helen (Grab Your Fork) had set the benchmark with a record of four pots (at least among Sydney food bloggers that I’m aware of), all attending make the attempt to beat this record.

Each Tuesday evening, Bungalow 8 serves up all you can eat mussels and chunky fries for the rather appealing price of $22.50. These delightful molluscs are served in 1kg Belgian pots, which are reminiscent of miniature cauldrons. They’re available in five flavours:

• Laksa – lemongrass and ginger in a spiced coconut sauce.
• Provencale – bacon, tomato, shallots and garlic in a Napoli sauce.
• Thai Green Curry – coriander, bean sprouts and bamboo shoots in coconut cream.
• Tom Yum – galangal, lime and chili in a fragrant Thai broth.
• White Wine – chives and onions in a cream sauce.

Overall, the mussels were nice enough. They weren’t overcooked and were generally pleasant to eat. The flavours were quite mild though, which on the one hand allowed you to actually taste the flavour of the mussels but in some instances, did little to impart any complementary flavours.

With the concept of all you can eat dominating the mindscape, little thought was given to either the broth at the bottom of the pots, the unremarkable chunky fries (moist with little to no crunch; the worst kind of chip in my opinion) or the complementary bread.

figuromo bowed out early in order to make the long trip back home, finishing up with three pots. I’m sure if given enough time, he could have finished another pot at least.

The record for the night was held by FFichiban at four pots. Jenius reached a commendable three pots. I end up only finishing three pots, the provencale (the best by far), tom yum (least favourite but not particularly bad) and the white wine. The white wine one was disappointing as a lot of mussels still had their beards attached.

No matter the circumstance, contact between my lips and a beard is just not my thing.

With about as much mussels as we can manage and our appetites appeased, we take our leave along with some parting photos.

When there’s confirmation that there will be no cake for the night due to unexpected circumstances, the prospect of dessert is raised. However, we end up calling it a night and head off to our respective homes. With the birthday cake or other celebratory dessert off the cards, it seemed a travesty to not end a meal such as this without dessert. I made do with what I was able to get my hands on at my weekly petrol stop.

The Monaco Bar was something of a favourite back in my childhood. Either it no longer lives up to its former glory or my palate has moved on as I found it somewhat dissatisfying. The ice cream is more gelatinous than creamy and the chocolate biscuits just felt soggy. However, this minor set back did little to dampen an otherwise interesting and entertaining dining experience with fellow food bloggers.

FFichiban, as belated as your birthday celebration was, and as even more belated as this post is, for what it’s worth, happy birthday! :)

To read the accounts of the other attending food bloggers, please read on at Here Comes the Food, A Table for Two and Jenius (link to be included once she posts her account). Posts regarding the birthday cake, check out Here Comes the Food and chocolatesuze.

Tonkatsu.

To some, tonkatsu is simply deep fried breaded pork. Little more than a fillet or loin of pork, panko bread crumbs, flour, eggs and some seasonings. A collection of everyday items that can be found in almost every supermarket. A dish that, in some form, is available at almost any restaurant that claims to serve Japanese food.

Common. Mundane. Boring.

To some.

However, to those that have had the pleasure of savouring really good tonkatsu, to those that have an appreciation for what good tonkatsu is all about, there is an understanding that the whole is considerably more than the sum of its parts. That a simple collection of everyday ingredients can transform into an exquisitely crunchy exterior encasing a moist and succulently sublime interior. That tonkatsu at its finest is a dish that is rare, extraordinary and enticing.

To have eaten good tonkatsu is one thing. To been shown how to make good tonkatsu takes the experience to a whole nother level. To have both on the same day? Well…

Allow me to introduce you to Kei’s Kitchen, an informal cooking school of sorts run by the mother & daughter team of Kei (pictured to the right) and Masako Fukui (not pictured).

Sorry Masako. Better to have an air of mystery than unflattering photos.

Also pictured are fellow students (from the left) Anica, as in pizza (her phrasing, not mine) and Greg, as in keg (entirely my phrasing). Other class participants included Marina, Wendy, Paulina, Margaret, Joyce, Rhana and yours truly.

Kei’s Kitchen not only teaches the average Joe (or Jo) how to prepare Japanese dishes in a casual and accessible environment but you’re also invited to sit with Kei, Masako and the rest of the class over lunch to enjoy the fruits of your labour.

Though Kei’s Kitchen is better known for her seasonal kaiseki classes, there are other aspects of Japanese cuisine taught throughout the year. In this case, we’d learned a variety of yoshoku dishes; Japanese adaptation of dishes that have their roots in western cuisine.

While we wait for the other class participants to arrive, we’re offered a seat around a large table (pictured above) and handed our personalised recipe handouts for the day’s meals. Masako, acting as host and liaison for the class, provides an overview of the dishes to be taught that day, as well as some background history, cultural insight and other points of interest.

There is also the opportunity to partake in small talk with Kei and Masako before the class begins. For those of you who are Japan-curious, this is the perfect time to ask any questions you might have regarding Japanese culture or cuisine.

Between the class overview and the small talk there was much to learn. For instance:

• Yoshoku in English translates to “western cuisine“.
• Yoshoku is everyday food that the Japanese grew up with and ate at home.
• Some of the best Yoshoku restaurants are located in Ginza, with the Shiseido Parlour a specific example of such a place.
• Info regarding the best quality pork for tonkatsu and where to buy it (Bangalow Sweet pork and Pino’s in Kogarah).
• Japanese youth spend a fortune on designer handbags and that there can be some great buys in the second hand market for them.

Ok, so the last one is a little random but as you may suspect, the group was predominately female.

Once the class begins, each person is assigned to a prep station. Masako steps aside into an assistant’s role while Kei takes over the reins, expertly instructing each station with their task at hand. There is much to learn too. For instance, did you know you can devein a prawn without the need to split it down the back or use a skewer?

This conveniently segues to…

…the ebi furai station.

Ebi furai, for those that don’t already know or aren’t able to work it out from the pictures, it’s simply breaded prawn that has been given the deep fried treatment.

The keg and I, the only two males of the group, were assigned this post. I suspect that the reasons for this was that it was the dirtiest assignment (unfit for the delicate hands of a lady) and the one that required the least amount of skill. Maybe they didn’t trust us to use a delicate touch with the expensive looking and ultra sharp Japanese knifes.

Come on, we’re not thugs…

As pictured, the ebi furai station consisted of four main stages. The keg and I took the initiative to see through the whole process from start to finish. Clockwise, starting from the top left:

1. The prawns are shelled, deveined and have incisions cut into them to keep them from curling up. They’re also given a special bath treatment before being dried off with paper toweling.
2. The deveined prawns are coated in flour, egg wash and then panko bread crumbs.
3. Breaded prawns are deep friend, though be wary of how long you cook them. If its light golden yellow, then Kei’s a happy fellow. If it turns medium brown, then she gives it the thumbs down.
4. Draining rig to wick away excess oil, ready for plating and presentation.

Presentation is an important aspect that we were all taught, even thugs like the keg and I. These little mouse/rabbit tomatoes had the ladies of the class gushing over them and they’re a cinch to make. We even got a little creative and split a number of skins down the middle to make them look like bunny ears.

Be careful though. These little bunnies tend to multiply…

With cooking done and the meals plated and garnished, the class ended as it began – sitting around the large table, making small talk and discussing Japanese cuisine and culture. Everyone seemed happy enjoying the fruits of their labour, which included (as pictured):

1. Tonjiru, a pork and miso based soup with daikon, burdock root, carrots and onion. A very light, fragrant and flavoursome soup (apologies for not actually taking a photo of the soup).
2. Karei Takikomigohan, a curry infused steamed rice which was cooked in the rice cooker. Was a little disappointed with this one. Not due to the taste or anything; that was fine. When I was told that curry would be on the menu, I was hoping for the typical Japanese curry with a roux-based sauce. Guess it’ll still be S&B Golden Curry for me…
3. Ebi furai, which is served with a Japanese-style tartare sauce. Much deliciousness, even the medium brown ones.
4. Tonkatsu, wonderfully crunchy, moist, sweet tonkatsu. Served with tonkatsu sauce – a sweet bbq-like sauce (Bulldog was the brand of choice), the cute rabbit tomatoes and cabbage. We were informed that cabbage was an important component of a tonkatsu dish for its assistance with digestion, its ability to counteract oil and as a textural counterpoint, if memory serves me well. So much so that in Japan, you are offered or can request top-ups of cabbage at no extra cost.

At $120 per person (at the time of posting) for a 4 hour session which includes tuition, recipe handout, good quality ingredients and tools, as well as a sit down meal, I believe that it was well worth the cost. More information about available classes, including the ever popular kaiseki can be found at their website.

It was once said that if you give a man a fish, you feed him for a day, and that if you teach a man how to fish, you feed him for a lifetime. A lifetime of good tonkatsu? Mmmm… :)