Dr Oetker Ristorante Calzone

Yes, I like cooking. I cook four or five nights a week. I cook even if I'm eating alone. It's more of a pleasure than a chore (particularly since I have a dishwasher...). But we always, always have a couple of pizzas in the freezer. Pizza is Paul's comfort food. It fits, for him, into some weird mental category where the calories don't count, he considers it low-carb and no matter how queasy he is feeling pizza makes him feel better.

Unfortunately, the pizza places that deliver to us are all pretty awful and overpriced. We were delighted, a few months ago, to discover a new one. The first pizzas we had from there were delicious, some of the best we've had in years. Our second order was patchy. Our third was so undercooked it was almost raw and made us both sick. And I've noticed they have stopped delivering.

So we'd rather stick with frozen pizzas, where at least we know they are cooked all the way through. I was very pleased to accept a couple of vouchers to try Dr Oetker Ristorante Pizza Calzone.

First things first, the instructions say to place the frozen calzone directly onto the rack in a preheated oven. Now, I always do that with other frozen pizzas, but I just wasn't 100% convinced of the structural integrity of the dough envelope, so I decided to be cautious and put it straight onto the rack, but with a paper-lined tray on the shelf underneath it. Which was a good move, as I watched a long drip of cheese ooze down.

As this sort of folded pastry tends to be lava-hot inside, I was quite happy to take a few pictures before I ate it. I know from past experience that you can't really taste anything with a blistered palate. The aroma when I first cut into it was very good - a savoury waft of yeast and herbs.

To me, this tasted of my childhood. I don't know if we actually ate French tinned champignons that often, but that slightly pickled mushroom taste took me straight back there. The Edam cheese is mild and pleasantly gooey, the salami nicely meaty, the crust crunchy. There could/should have been more cheese, as quite a lot of it dripped out and was lost, though. It doesn't taste particularly Italian; it's a very Teutonic approach to a pizza, but it was an enjoyable solo meal.

The biggest problem I can see with us adding these calzones to our regular pizza supply is the cooking time. Because they are folded they take more than twice as long to bake as an ordinary frozen pizza. If it's going to take half an hour to bake I'm probably more likely to go up the road for a kebab. But other people are more patient than I am.

One other concern I had was over the use of palm oil, but I read the Dr Oetker supplier report to the Roundtable for Sustainable Palm Oil. Dr Oetker has been in conversion to sustainable palm oil suppliers since 2011, and world wide conversion is scheduled for this year.  Which is very pleasing for those of us who like orang utans as much as we like pizza.

Disclaimer: In the words of Simply Red "If you don't know me by now, you will never never never know me". I was given vouchers for Dr Oetker pizza products. No other payment was offered, no promises were made. My opinions are my own.

New Year's Indulgence: white truffle

That's what 10g white truffles looks like

After our experiment last year with summer truffles, we were pretty keen to have a go with the much-more-expensive delicacy. As Christmas/New Year provides a good opportunity to be extravagant, we decided to forego our traditional New Year's Eve fondue and eat truffles instead.

A 10g chunk of white gold was duly delivered on the 30th and tucked into a sealed jar of arborio rice over night.

I made a simple white risotto, using some of the poultry broth from our Christmas goose, white wine and a couple of baby leeks. As the final enrichment I beat in some beautiful taleggio cheese. Then I grated a generous pile of truffle shavings over each portion. The aroma was utterly gorgeous. A very delicious and indulgent way to say good bye to the old year.

Of course, grated like that, a little piece of truffle goes a very long way, so there was a bit left over for lunch the following day. We welcomed the new year with a pizza, covered with more taleggio, buffalo mozzarella and finely sliced garlic, and when it was a beautiful bubbly golden brown, the rest of the truffle was grated on top.  

Summer truffles

30g truffle

A few weeks back, Paul decided that he wanted a truffle. July is not the best time to have that sort of a craving, since the prized black and white truffles are out of season, but we were able to get a cheaper, fresh summer truffle to play with.

Thinly sliced, ready to be put on pizza

 This type of truffle has a slightly crisp texture and just a subtle waft of truffle aroma - a promise of how much better these dishes would be with autumn truffles.

We made pizzas, with good smoked speck, buffalo mozzarella and mushrooms. We put a couple of slices of the truffle under the cheese, and then some more on top just a minute before they came out of the Weber. The slices on top of the cheese had lost most of their aroma, but the slices underneath had imparted some of their earthiness to the mozzarella.

We also made Fonduta Piemontese - a sort of Italian answer to fondue. Cubes of taleggio are soaked in milk until most of it is absorbed, then it is melted in a double boiler with eggs until it is all thick and creamy. I cooked it all a little more than I think is authentic because of Paul's aversion to snotty eggs. Covered with truffle shavings and scooped up on toast it was divinely rich and luxurious - but definitely better kept for a day when the weather is cold and exercise has been taken.

Bacon, banana and chilli pizza

I may never be allowed back into Italy after this...

A great many years ago, when I was living in Brisbane, I'd sometimes get pizza from the Kookaburra Cafe. You must understand, it was the mid-90s, when "innovative" and "fusion" pizza toppings were really taking off. You could hardly move for kangaroo, Peking duck or Mexican chilli pizzas. So after looking at it sideways a few times, I eventually gave their famous (and still on their menu) bacon, banana and chilli pizza a go. It was delicious.

I'm not sure why, but that unlikely-sounding combination has come up in conversation a couple of times recently. I thought it was probably time to revisit it. I know my palate has changed on a few things in the last twenty years (rarer meat, enjoyment of whisky, greater appreciation of proper Italian pizzas) so there was a chance I wouldn't find it as enjoyable as I did then. Putting it in front of Paul was going to be the big challenge though - he's not a fan of meat with fruit. I made a bacon and mushroom pizza as well, so he couldn't whinge too much.

I started with a bought base. I smeared it with slightly too much chipotle paste, then topped it with smoked streaky bacon, slices of quite firm banana and mozzarella. I added a sprinkle of grated parmesan and put it in a hot oven for 10 minutes.

Other than it being a little too hot from the chilli (next time I'd mix the chilli with a little olive oil) it was just as good as I remembered. The salty, smoky bacon, sweet banana and creamy cheese are just delicious with the bite of the chilli. Paul, however, declared that it "was a bit odd", and was grateful for the bacon and mushroom pizza that followed. Maybe it is a taste best developed in your twenties? This one is definitely going to be kept as a private pleasure.

Pizza nostalgia and disappointment

Once upon a time, a very long time ago, I shared a house in Erskineville with three other women. It wasn't a particularly satisfactory living arrangement, and after that I ended up living in a one-bedroom flat I struggled to afford while swearing that I would never again live with another human being.

It wasn't all bad of course. I am still on good terms with two of the other women. I also developed a taste for the Inner West lifestyle and picked up some very good ideas about food. Making a fragrant Thai tom yum soup with slowly cooked oxtail. Beer-battered chips. A delicious take on a mojito involving three forms of mint.

Recently, I've been thinking fondly of the Aegean pizza that we used to get at Pizza Picasso. It was memorable for being a seafood-topped pizza that was actually nice, but the thing that really made it stand out were the slivers of lemon baked onto the top.

I see from the Pizza Picasso menu that the Aegean is still there, but that my memory of it was quite inaccurate. I have a very clear recollection of it being a pizza bianco, with prawns, feta and the lemon - no tomato base or sun-dried capsicum.

I'd bought a new product to try, some frozen balls of pizza dough, so I thought I would make the Aegean pizza as I remembered it. As the dough balls thawed, I was a bit apprehensive, because they had a thick, dry layer around the outside that cracked quite badly and made it difficult to roll out. But I followed the instructions and thought it didn't look too bad when shaped.

I drizzled the base with olive oil and scattered over some chopped garlic. Then I distributed raw peeled prawns, (too much) crumbled feta and thin slices of lemon cut into quarters. Halved cherry tomatoes, a sprinkle of dried oregano and a splash more olive oil and into the oven it went.

The result was... not good. The pizza base adhered to the tray like superglue. There was no possible way I could get it off the (old, reliable, never-done-this-before) pizza tray. We ended up scraping the topping off and eating it with a few rescued fragments of the crust. The next pizza did exactly the same thing. The trays had to soak over night for me to scrape the failed bases off.

The topping was delicious, exactly as I remembered it. Using raw prawns and cooking the pizza for a short time at a high temperature keeps them plump and sweet, the sharp bites of lemon and acid sweetness of the tomatoes cuts through the salty creaminess of the feta. It is a lovely, lovely combination. I will have to make it again soon using my own pizza dough, it's too good to wait another 10 years.

Don't let the good looks deceive you, this pizza was a failure

Land down under: 24 hours in Sydney

I changed my schedule a couple of times while I was away, which ended up leaving me only one day in Sydney before I flew home. It was, however, a very good day.

Impossible to get them both facing the camera and smiling at the same time

After a restorative cup of tea and a piece of cake, we (friend, her partner, adorable toddlers and dog) went over the road to the park. Despite having lived around the corner from this park for a while, I've never spent much time in it - I suspect possession of toddlers and dogs encourages familiarity with local parks.

A post-park gin & tonic and a couple of phone calls later, a group of old school friends assembled at Grappa for dinner. It just wouldn't be right to spend a night in Leichhardt and not have Italian food.

I had figs stuffed with gorgonzola and wrapped in proscuitto to start. The figs weren't at their absolute best, but this is always one of my favourite combinations, with the perfect balance of sweet, salt, creamy and crunchy elements.

Then, while I marvelled at how little people change in 20 years, I had a pizza topped with olives, aubergine and 'nduja. The crust was a little tough, but the toppings were perfection. Unfortunately, a very large starter and the accumulation of several weeks of large meals left me totally unable to finish it. The staff were gracious about packing the remaining third into a box for me to take for Andy, who had stayed home with the boys so Helen and I could play.

The following morning, we had the mandatory Inner West brunch. I miss brunch. There are probably places in central London that do it well, but in the outskirts where I live, they really don't get it. I've held forth before on my feelings about brunch - it really is one of my favourite ways to eat.

Helen did a quick recce to establish whether two highchairs were an option (having twins requires an extraordinary command of logistics) before we settled into Revolver.

A little taste of Shoreditch in Sydney...

I had the Big Breakfast - feeling that fortifying myself before an onslaught of aeroplane food was a good idea. It wasn't at all what I was expecting, it was better than that. Instead of a plate of eggs, bacon and the rest of it, a black metal skillet of deliciousness arrived on a wooden board, with rye sourdough toast on the side. The beans were a little underseasoned for my taste, but everything else was very good quality and well cooked. The egg yolks were cooked through, and I couldn't help thinking how much Paul would have liked them.

A short drive across Annandale brought us to the Glebe Foreshore Park. We walked off breakfast before heading back to the house so I could pack and get an eyewateringly expensive taxi to the airport.

Land down under - Brisbane Part the First

The first part of my stay has been in Brisbane, where I have eaten well and often.

Amongst other things this has included:

Delicious and ridiculously pretty fresh salad

Fragrant pho

Tangy fresh lemonade (drunk alongside the pho)

A stonking mezze plate (this was the portion for one person and I ate nearly all of it)

Very good pizza from a place called Firefly, which, as an ardent Browncoat I felt obliged to sample

Making progress on pizza

My new pizza stone has finally had a run. Found a good use for the mezzaluna too - best pizza-chopper ever!

Meat-Free Monday - home made pizza

For a few years after I left university, I lived in the Inner West of Sydney. Not a lot of public transport, very high insurance premiums because of the rate of car thefts, and really excellent pizza. The Inner West - Balmain, Leichhardt, Annandale, Haberfield, Five Dock - is the area that traditionally had a high level of Italian immigration, which means you can get amazing gelato, fantastic espresso, pre-soaked baccala and have the trauma of someone calling you Signora instead of Signorina for the first time.

Our favourite pizza places were both in Haberfield. La Disfida and Napoli in Bocca. Both produced wafer thin, flavoursome pizza crusts, with the merest suggestion of a topping, dripping-fresh mozzarella blistered by the heat, anointed with a drizzle of olive oil just before it came to the table. Napoli in Bocca won for me, because it was a lot bigger, so you were more likely to get a table.

Since we left Sydney, I have pined for pizza. We do actually have 3 pizza places that deliver to us, but one of those is Dominos, and it isn't the worst, so I think that is all you need to know on that score.

Then, for Easter, Paul bought me a Weber pizza stone for the barbecue and the ball, as it were, was in my court.

I started with youtube. I came across this tutorial on how to toss pizzas. I figured that if the man had the skills to show ambidextrous pizza tossing, he was the go-to guy for pizza crust recipes. And so he is. I mixed and kneaded by hand, but otherwise followed the recipe. It's a lovely dough to work with! Really silky and elastic. We didn't want big pizzas, so I divided the dough into 4 balls.

I happen to think that the true test of a pizza is a margarita. Plain, simple, tomato, basil and mozzarella. If you get those right you can see the true beauty of a pizza, and maybe progress to a slice of mushroom or a bit of sausage. Or better yet - Quattro Formaggi! On no account should pineapple EVER feature. Same goes for sweetcorn. Blergh. So I made a really simple sauce - a couple of cloves of garlic, finely sliced, sauteed in olive oil until beginning to brown, then a can of chopped tomatoes and a slosh of balsamic vinegar, and I just simmered it slowly, crushing it to a smooth sauce with a fork, until it was thick and rich. Seasoned with salt and pepper and it was done.

Unfortunately, on this first attempt, it was too windy out to light the Weber. And then we discovered that the Weber pizza stone is too big for our oven. So we had to revert to my old aluminium pizza trays. Good thing I never throw anything away.

A smear of sauce, some torn buffalo mozzarella and some basil leaves soaked in oil. The oven preheated to 240C. In 10 minutes, the crust puffed up hugely, the base remained thin and crisp, the cheese ran and the sauce bubbled. It was the best pizza I have had in this country.

Stay tuned for further pizza adventures, as we actually get to use the pizza stone!

The Gate

We're house hunting at the moment. Not fun "We've saved for our dream home and we can do up the bathroom" house hunting but "They are selling our rental with 22 months to run on the lease" house hunting. Very tedious, as rental prices seem to have doubled in the last 14 months. Anyway, tonight after work we shot out to drive past a house that looks very promising. It's in a village a few miles away from here and seems very remote, although it is only 2 stations down the line.

So, it was 7.30 and I was hungry and getting whingey, so we stopped at The Gate; a pub we've been meaning to go to for ages. I had a margarita pizza; it is one of my tests. We used to go to a pizza place in Sydney called Napoli in Bocca, which made the most divine margarita (they called it something else, but it was tomato, mozzarella and basil) which has become my benchmark for pizza. This margarita was a journeyman's effort. Perfectly serviceable, and without doubt the best pizza I have had in England, but still not what I mean when I say pizza. I want a thin, perfectly cooked but still pliable, base, with wood-ash clinging to it. I want a smear of the most flavoursome tomato sauce. I want fior de latte mozzarella oozing milk as much as it melts. I want basil giving up its own essential oils to the mozzarella. I want a last minute anointing with peppery olice oil.

What I got was nice, thin and reasonably flavoursome, but without amazing ingredients and genius of production. And honestly, I didn't expect it. My husband had skate and salad, which he enjoyed. All in all, it was reasonable food made memorable by the worst menu spelling mistake I have seen in years. The roast cod on the specials menu was served with grilled aborigines.