Merry Christmas

It's shorts and tees on the beach this Australian Christmas.

When I finally decided not to spend the rest of my life single and fancy free, I started internet dating eligible bachelors from the world over but working in Singapore. And what they say is really very true: within the first fifteen minutes of meeting the guys in person, you can tell if there's the right chemistry, even if it's as simple as sharing mutual feelings about Christmas.

That's right: Christmas. Those who came from the northern hemisphere equate the yule tide season with neighbourhoods covered with glistering snow, sitting round open log fires toasting each other with egg nog. And they have a general agreement that spending that time of the year in my tropical island home a far cry from the joys of a winter wonderland.

So it was a welcome relief to discover, when I first met hubby at Borders Bistro nearly eight years ago, we shared the same sentiments about a summery celebration in December. Yes, South Australia blisters with a dry heat that can hoover around the low side of 40 degrees Celsius, drying the meadows to a brownish terrain. Then the Christmas lunch is often partaken under an open air pavilion on the ranch, as the hungry flies buzz around eyeing the summery spread.

And you get raw salads lightly dressed with Tetsuya's finest concoctions, pickled beet roots straight from the bottle and barbecue steak and lamb chops washed down with a chilled Australian shiraz comes along side the roast turkey and leg of ham. And the children get home-made raspberry rippled ice-cream served with their share of yule tide log cake. Just right for even a X'mas celebration in Singapore, should family decide to congregate in Asia for next December in 2012.

Hubby could never imagine not serving a summery fare in our little slice of home in the tropics.

Stock it Up?

Korrs: as simple to use as the setting sun.

I used to collect the breast bones, when I buy the fillets of breast meat, from the chicken stores in the wet markets; for the sole purpose of making my own stock. And it was a stock with a difference: there's no added vegetables at all, despite what Julia Child and Michael Smith wax on about using veggies to add flavour - so, no carrots, no celery sticks. Instead, the pot of water is simply filled with chicken breast bones, and this successfully intensifies the chicken essence.

However, I find it a pain to stock up on my home-made chicken essence. It takes up too much room in my freezer (they have to be frozen because I use a recipe that requires it only once in a while). And I hate thawing out the frozen packets of liquid only to discover that it wasn't necessary to have thawed two whole packets - that was just way too much stock.

So I've since packed up my stock pot and have now resorted to using Korr's cubes of chicken essence. The primary rule in this instance is very simple; whatever volume of stock is required by a recipe, I use the same measure of water and melt into that a single cube of Korr's magic ingredient.

And that concentrates the flavour so much, I don't need to season my dish with salt and pepper. And this rule of thumb I adhere to regardless of whether I am stirring up some warm rice salad, making the pea salsa sauce to dress my salmon or baking limey chicken in a very hot oven. It's definitely a cube for what I dish for a dinner for two.

Even then, there's a word of caution here: don't automatically think that you need to triple the cubes from Korr when you're now serving six. The liquid and stock cube ratio isn't a linear progression. Two cubes is plenty for   half a dozen seated for dinner, or even seven.

Harissa is In

So delicious harissa draws the birds from their roosts.

I first came across harissa as an ingredient in my cookbook on Moroccan recipes. But even though it had a recipe on spooning out a home-made version to use as a spice, I had resisted from making and bottling it for two reasons. For one, I cook Moroccan once in a blue moon and the home-made version stores for only three months. For another, when I do cook a dish from that part of the world, I've made do swapping Nonya curry paste for this chilli paste of a North Tunisian origin.

But all that was about to change when I chanced upon commercially bottled harissa in a local supermarket in the heart of Paddington in Sydney, Australia. Using it for the first time authentico in my home-cooked dish opened up my taste buds to the essence of Moroccan flavours. It is as far a cry from a Nonya curry paste as the Arctic is to the Amazon jungle.

And for the first time, I can understand why harissa is so popular and vital an ingredient in the very souls of African cuisine; as I can now comprehend its migration and nestling down in the domestic and commercial kitchens of Morocco. Even the hearths in Europe are opening their doors to this amazing spicy concoction for their fusion cuisine.

So I've made up my mind that when the bought bottle of harissa eventually runs out, I'll put my nose into that Moroccan cook book and whip some up of my own. And yes, that's the only way I can ensure a constant ready supply: the shops in Singapore haven't caught on to stocking this kitchen miracle yet.

Pasta Sauces

Pasta: As comforting as the Tasmanian woods.

We grace our dining table with pasta dishes on a weekly basis, as it's comfort food for my hubby and they tend to follow very simple recipes. So besides loving these dishes, it gives me opportunity to veg out in my kitchen on a lazy Sunday.

So I'm quite happy to use commercially bottled pasta sauces. Be it a tomato base with a lovely mushroom flavour, or one with garlic and basil. But I move these flavours from the acceptable to the extraordinary by enhancing their flavours. That means a dash of shiraz and stirring in tons of grated mature cheddar. Other times I spice up the tomato sauce with minced olives and crispy bacon bits. Still others I melt the finely chopped anchovies into the sauce.

But I always stop short of buying bottled cream-based pasta sauces, regardless of its added flavours. I believe the canning process destroys the fulfilling taste of fresh cream. And that is the essence of creamy pasta sauces - the cream, be it single or double, must be added to the pasta the moment the milk has been processed into its final consistency. Fresh is yum.

And so I stick to the rule of building my creamy pastas from scratch. And that is as simple as tossing fresh cream into the pot of Italian noodles. And letting the stir fried mushrooms and bacon bits to flavour the dish. Or use capers and dill to offer contrast to generous chunks of baked salmon.

Since both types of pasta sauces are thus simply simple to dish out, this comfort food is a staple when we go rent a self-contained cottage for a holiday. There's certainly nothing move comforting than chowing down on a generous serve of well-sauced fettucini by a log fire, its aromatic scent perfuming the air.