My supermarket

I’ve previously expounded upon my love for farmers’ markets in general and the Canberra one in particular, but, given my lack of a car and the market’s limited opening times (three hours every Saturday), there’s not much possibility that it can be my main source of food. For everyday supplies, I rely on my local supermarket. It’s probably the place I’ve spent the most time besides my apartment since arriving in Canberra (including one memorable day during our first week here when I went three times), and I’m becoming very familiar with its little quirks.

I almost always enjoy grocery shopping, and try to visit supermarkets even when (or especially when) I’m a tourist. I’m perennially interested in what other people are eating, and supermarkets are a great window into other people’s food culture—and culture generally. And I’m not just talking about snooping in other people’s baskets (as much fun as that is), but about what’s on the shelves and how the place runs. Since I’m still more of a newcomer than an old-timer here, I’m still noticing things that distinguish my Canberra supermarket from its Boston and Oxford counterparts.

Interesting things I’ve noticed about my local supermarket which may or may not be true of Australian supermarkets generally
1. Fascinating new varieties of familiar items: Bonza apples, anyone? How about a nice Nashi pear?
2. New names for familiar items: we’ve already talked about how scallions/spring onions are known as shallots down here. There’s also capsicum (red pepper), the supersized silverbeet (a giant variety of chard), and the misleading pumpkin (which seems to apply to any kind of winter squash).
3. Produce items I’ve never seen in any supermarket before anywhere, or maybe I just wasn’t looking hard enough, and am not sure what to do with: fresh lychees, “drinking” coconuts (which have had their hairy outsides removed and been cut into points on the top and bottom), and, just recently, persimmons.
4. Frugal practices: there’s a special rack near the entrance to the produce section where you can get packaged produce super cheap. From my past experience, I would expect this stuff to be damaged or past its sell-by date, but a lot of the stuff here is in excellent condition, just can’t hold its own in the produce bins—loose grapes, teeny zucchini, that sort of thing. They wrap it up and sell it for a buck or two. For the grapes especially, this is an amazing bargain, since we’re now moving into the time of year when grapes go above $10/kg, but preschoolers continue to hoover them up like candy. They also sell half- and quarter-cabbages, in case you don’t really need one that’s bigger than your own head, and at the butcher counter you can buy just about any portion of a chicken carcass you can put a name to, with or without meat on it.
5. An idiosyncratic selection of imported brands and items: Oreos, Special K, and maple syrup, check. HobNobs, golden syrup, and Heinz baked beans, check. Molasses, tomatillo salsa, and cranberries (other than dried): no way José.
6. Australia-centric packaged foods: including my personal favorite, ready-made pavlova bases. Because when I saw them I finally understood why the first Australian I made pavlova for in England asked me, “Wow, did you make the base yourself?”

English influences

Quinces are not indigenous to Australia, but this is the first place I’ve encountered them in the flesh (as it were). I heard many tales of them while I was living in England—cookbook authors in particular rhapsodizing about their scent and their quintessential, historic Englishness—but I never actually saw one, not even in a farmers’ market. Then, as my first summer in Australia turned to autumn, I walked into the supermarket one day and saw something that looked like a large, bulbous pear with five o’clock shadow. The sign over the bin said “Quince,” and I took one home to see what it was like.

Since our first fortuitous meeting, I’ve cooked and consumed several (you can’t eat them raw), and can report that they are delicious—like the very subtle and superior offspring of an apple and a pear. I’ve also found out a few other things: that they are not actually English, or not originally anyway (they’re from the Caucasus and really prefer a warmer climate, something they have in common with many other inhabitants of England); that they do not require a sledgehammer or a meat cleaver to open, as my sources led me to fear (although a heavy, sharp knife helps); that the longer you cook it, the redder the originally creamy flesh turns; and that they do in fact make your kitchen smell delightful.

And, since I am nothing if not loyal to my previous produce-aisle discoveries, I will also share that poached quince mixed with roasted rhubarb is fan-tastic in any of the iterations mentioned below.

Poached quince
This is really just a guideline for quantities, flavorings, and timings; fiddle around to get the texture and taste you like best.

2 quinces, peeled, cored, and cut into eighths (allocate a bit of time, patience, and muscle power for this)
3 Tbsp wine of your choice
1 cup water
2-3 Tbsp sugar
1 tsp each lemon/lime zest and juice
Dash of salt
Sprinkling of any combination of the following spices: cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, cardamom

Combine all ingredients in a small saucepan. Bring to the boil and simmer until the quinces are tender, which will take at least 30 minutes. Serve as is, over ice cream, alongside cake, mixed with yogurt and granola for breakfast….

Accidental discoveries

I think I may have misplaced my kitchen mojo. Or at any rate it’s been buried by a landslide of recent events: a work deadline of adjective-defying horrendousness; two weeks and counting of solo parenting; and, to cap it off, a head cold that has been lingering on for over a week and has, as a special bonus, temporarily absconded with my appetite, which is quite an accomplishment in someone who thinks about food as constantly as I do.

All of which is a roundabout way of saying that it’s been really hard to motivate myself to cook much of anything for the last few days, let alone anything I would want to document for posterity. But I did make one accidental discovery late last night, when I was trying to figure out something to eat that sounded remotely appealing. As I was mentally reviewing the contents of the fridge, I remembered how last week, I had discovered a local deli that is a treasure trove of handmade goodies, after one of the other mums at coffee revealed that their pesto was so good that she had given up making her own. I stopped by on my way home to snag a couple of tubs, and grabbed one of hummus while I was at it. Both were as good as I’d been led to expect, and last night the hummus was the only thing that called to me. The only problem was that I had no pita bread since I’d finished the last batch of homemade. Then I remembered reading, on another blog (I forget which one), about how the writer keeps a “master batch” of bread dough in his fridge, and uses it for whatever kind of bread he feels like, pita included. I decided to give it a try with my own master batch, and rolled out and baked one pita to eat for dinner.

Well, I’m sure it wasn’t authentic, but I liked it so much better than any pita bread I’ve had, including my own DIY version, that I think that’s the way things are going to be from now on. It puffed up perfectly, had flavor and personality, and was the centerpiece of a small but satisfying dinner, along with some almost-homemade hummus and cut-up veggies. And it’s so much more convenient than making a special batch. If you’re not already keeping bread dough in your fridge, this might be a reason to start.

Unfortunately I forgot to take a picture of the pita before I ate it, so I leave you instead with one of Miss B feeding a kangaroo who, I would bet cash money, has never lost his appetite.