All posts by Duncan

eating, food, hl, travel

Corsica: not the easiest foodie destination

Five days in Corsica, surrounded by the azure waters of the Mediterranean, dwarfed by mountains and cliffs, eating myself full with sausage and cheese. That was the plan. The food part of it didn’t quite come together.

A common problem for holiday-destination islands (and many warm, sunny coastal areas, of course) is the tacky tourist-oriented commerce that easily overwhelms the towns and villages where tourists stay. Although Corsica isn’t the Costa Brava or the more blighted areas of the Algarve, the coastal towns clearly live off the waves of sun-seeking tourists from April to September. The culinary outcome isn’t good.

Searching eGullet for tips about food in Corsica wasn’t encouraging (it barely seems to be on the map for most eGullet members, so there wasn’t a lot to go on in the way of tips) and, unsurprisingly, Corsican cuisine is mostly about the “rustic” end of the spectrum – cheese, sausage, stews, etc. That’s more my direction of interest anyway, so I didn’t feel deterred… I just learned the names of many traditional dishes and ingredients so I could recognise them on menus.

Disappointment came, however, in the effect of masses of sun-tourists on how much real local food was easily available. In the northwest of the island there was some pitching at tourists interested in cuisine typique corse, though easily overshadowed by pizza and pasta, but as soon as we headed across the island to the southeast (lots of resorts and beaches), pizza, pizza, pizza and pasta was almost all that was left.

Starting in the north, our first lunch involved a large salad with the local fresh ewe’s/goat’s milk brocciu (similar to a smooth ricotta or Portuguese queijo fresco) and pieces of figatellu, a smoked pork and liver sausage. Dinner was civolle pienu – onions stuffed with… brocciu and prizuttu (like prosciutto), roasted, then a dish of roasted Corsican lamb (overcooked). Breakfast was a lemony cheesecake called fiadone, made with… brocciu.

We headed through the centre of the island, stopping in the major crossroad town of Corte for lunch. A central square in the old town featured numerous restaurants squarely aimed at tourists. It was a little disheartening, and despite many promoting Corsican “menus”, many of these were little more than salads (see above), omelettes with brocciu and mint, or dollops of brocciu in otherwise broadly French dishes. We were lucky to choose a restaurant with a passable “assiette Corse” or Corsican cheese and charcuterie plate. A great find, because it delivered four tasty local types of sausage (lonzu, coppa, prizuttu and one more), a terrine and a tomme-like cheese, plus a lovely fig jam. Whether any of these really displayed a Corsican “signature” flavour, however, was hard to divine. A boar stew with gnocchi was also delicious.


By the time we reached the southeast and were looking for dinner, we sensed disappointments ahead. The simple promotional slogan of cuisine typique corse was almost gone. Menus claiming Corsican dishes offered, again, salads or some pasta dishes with hints of Corsica but little more. Grilled meats and fish, or ravioli stuffed with brocciu and silverbeet are traditional dishes, but where were the various prepared meats, the boar, the stews, the chickpeas, anything using any other local cheese? Even the fancier restaurants, claiming again to be in Corsican style, displayed menus of modern French cuisine with little remarkably local input other than chestnuts and locally sourced fish and meat. For most tourists, the closest they’ll come to a diverse range of Corsican foods is the recipe postcards on sale everywhere, or the sausage stands in the supermarkets.

No doubt, the story would have been very different if we had been able to spend more time in the north and in small inland towns or villages, or visit local producers. As can be seen from these two excellent articles (Corsica Isula, NYT), there’s more to Corsica than can be readily discovered by tourists without local recommendations, staying just a few days. As a starting point, it might be easier to try this excellent book, Recipes from Corsica by Rolli Lucarotti! (BookDepository, Fishpond)

It must be said that the physical beauty of Corsica is enough to recommend the place in a flash, food or no food. I’ve written a bit more about Corsica on Duncan’s Miscellany.

degustation, eating, food, hl, reviews, supermarkets

Duncan’s Degustations – Dr Oetker frozen pizzas

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Like a gift from the heavens, a PR person offered me frozen pizzas to sample. I’m really not the ideal candidate, but with my Duncan’s Degustations series underway, how could I resist the opportunity to add to my spectrum of likely-ick experiences?

Offered a sample from the range of four flavours of Dr Oetker Pizza Ristorante pizzas, I asked for one. To my dismay, I was sent eight (8, acht!) of Herr Doktor Oetker’s frozen creations. It was already a hard ask for me to contemplate one, let alone multiple frozen pizzas.

I can’t recall when I last (pre-Oetker) ate a frozen dough disc with topping. I mean, I don’t even buy takeaway pizza. I make my own pizza. Often. Bottom to top. Sometimes it even has pineapple on it.

Dr Oetker, well established German ingredient company (nowadays prominent in preprepared foods, basic cookbooks including one classic translated into English, plus shipping and finance), has for some reason decided to expand into the Australian market with, of all things, imported pizzas. That’s right. Your supermarket freezer cabinet contains pizzas imported from Europe. How’s that for pointless food-miles? At least the origin isn’t fudged (in fact, the packaging is distinctly international), unlike the bread and pastries at Woolworths which are no longer clearly marked.

Back to the food-tasting side of this. You remove the very flat pizza from its shrink-wrap plastic cover (tasty touch that) and pop it in the oven at 220C for 11-13mins. And out comes…

Having eight of these buggers, I had to share them around. My parents were more than a little resistant, but bravely agreed to try Mozzarella. My nice neighbours are more open to preprepared foods, so I thought they might offer a different perspective on all flavours. And Mittens and I ate the Spinaci and the Funghi. (Curiously, perhaps for quarantine reasons, there are no meat pizzas (except tuna) being imported into Australia, despite the German range being about 50% meaty.)

Surprisingly, the tasters’ opinions were very similar:

  • Assertive but not stale herb/garlic aromas.
  • A fairly pleasant but bland taste for all varieties tested.
  • A thin, crumbly pastry base (parcooked) with an unpleasant, pasty-doughy mouthfeel.

The underside before baking (parcooked base).

This is one of those rare food products which is entirely edible, but left the tasters cold. In an emergency, I would willingly eat these pizzas. Given a choice, I’d choose a chunk of cheese or an apple or a slice of toast with Vegemite instead. Surely any food should evoke a stronger preference than this, whether positive or negative? What a strange achievement by Dr Oetker’s food technologists.

chocolate, eating, food, hl

Easter goes creme-free, heathen and beany-filled

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A gorgeous Easter in Melbourne came, lasted a little longer than usual (extra public holiday), and went, leaving us full of bready and chocolatey goodness. For me, this Easter brought memories of childhood joy and contemporary disappointment, alongside my special Hot Heathen Buns.

While supermarkets tout “fruitless” hot cross buns for Easter (indeed aptly named rubbish!) and food mags feel the need to bling up the buns – what was it in Epicure this year? Apricot and cardamom, for god’s sake – I prefer big puffy peely curranty joys of Hot Heathen Buns:

For reasons unknown, this year’s buns were free of marauding devil-chicks.

Now onwards to childhood memories… I have had a long-standing addiction to Cadbury Creme Eggs. Back in the days before they were available in Australia, I had the dubious advantage of spending part of my primary school years in the UK, where Creme Eggs were available all year round (if memory serves me correctly). Heaven. I’ve always liked food with (pleasant) surprises inside, so a chocolate egg with white and yellow fondant is quite the thing for me. In fact, this love of things with innards probably explains why I find Easter eggs so disappointing nowadays. The opportunity to crack open an egg to get at the yummies/yumminess inside is pretty limited nowadays, as this kind of product barely exists anymore except at the most stylish end of the market.

When Cadbury Creme Eggs appeared in Australia in the early 1980s it was like a gift from a higher being, albeit only once a year for a limited Easter season. This particular food-fanatic-to-be was more than a little choccy-joyful. Although I can’t remember the exact year of introduction, I clearly recall even more joy at discovering in my final year of high school that Target had discounted their Creme Eggs by more than 50% after Easter. I bought sixteen of them, consuming them in three days whilst huddled over a column heater (my parents’ house was an icebox) studying for mid-year exams.

In stark contrast, recent years have brought a waning of my enthusiasm for my treasured Creme Eggs. As my consumption of good chocolate has increased, I’ve found Cadbury Dairy Milk less and less pleasant. And so, it might be the case that 2011 marked my last Cadbury Creme Egg.

(As a side note, the southern hemisphere Cadbury Creme Eggs (they were made in New Zealand at first, not sure about now) are bit different from the Mother Egg. In the UK, the fondant in the eggs is smooth and somewhat runnier, but the chocolate is the foul British Cadbury Dairy Milk, even further removed from “chocolate” in my opinion.)

Perhaps as an attempt to find a surrogate comfort egg, this year I also returned to Red Tulip Humpty Dumpty. Never the best egg, it nonetheless always had the charm of containing chocolate beanies. I might be mistaken, but I think at one point that charm was spolit when the beanies were put in a plastic bag inside the egg… whether or not that’s a false memory, I can tell you they are now free-rattling beanies. The chocolate isn’t great, but it’s more pleasant than much other cheap Easter egg chocolate.

I wonder what I should turn to next year…

degustation, food, hl

Duncan’s Degustations – KFC’s The Double thingamajig

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As far as I can recall, I’ve never voluntarily entered a KFC “restaurant”. It’s not snobbery. It’s revulsion. The same revulsion I experience when contemplating a McDonald’s or Hungry Jacks/Burger King. Occasionally, social pressures mean I have to tag along. Sometimes it means I eat a piece of chicken.

If you have to dine in the enemy’s clutches, you might as well make it an experiment. As KFC’s “The Double” (known as the Double Down overseas) is the latest nutritional-outrage-fuelling fast food product, it seemed like an ideal target for the second epsiode of Duncan’s Degustations!

Marketed as “manfood”, and characterised by the use of fried chicken fillets in lieu of the customary burger bread (enswathing bacon, sauce and cheese), the product is the perfect object of loathing for seemingly every anti-chauvinist and every nutritional nagging person.

What does it taste like?

Okay, so the bread is gone, leaving only moist or fatty elements. If someone tells me that the outer elements are fried chicken, I would anticipate some crispness or textural contrast. Instead, there’s moist chicken coated in a very thin layer of soggy “crust”. You bite into The Double and it’s, um, almost denture friendly. Soggy “crust”, moist chicken, thin slices of fast food cheese (not at all as putridly foul as the McDonald’s version), some thin slices of bacon, all kept together somewhat by sweet, characterless BBQ sauce.

Except for its novelty, this product is neither daring nor delicious. Even real KFC lovers would be somewhat disappointed, I think. It’s a dull gimmick.

As for the much criticised nutritional aspects of the product, there’s not much reason to lose sleep over The Double either.

KFC’s The Double weighs approximately 212 gm, which is not excessive for a light fast food “restaurant” meal. The sodium levels are horrendous, even compared to many other products at KFC, but the total energy isn’t markedly different from KFC’s products of equivalent weight and carbohydrate is in fact lower, thanks to the absence of any bread. Naturally, add-ons would change the total meal values, but that’s too variable to consider.

kJ total fat sat. fat sodium carbohydrate
KFC The Double,
original recipe, 212gm		 1939 22.3 12.3 1681 17.8
KFC Snack Box,
original recipe, 195gm		 2087 26.6 12.1 797 41.6
KFC Original BBQ, Bacon
and Cheese Burger, 213gm		 2061 19.6 7.5 1369 46
McDonald’s Big Mac,
200gm		 2060 26.9 10.6 958 35.1
McDonald’s Crispy
Chicken Deluxe, 240gm		 2350 25.7 6.2 1020 52.3

I can see no reason to eat this product, but no doubt many people will try it once. There’s no point in journalists and nutritionists harping about this particular product, as in most regards it’s no more unhealthy than the other high-fat, high-carb, high-sodium, low-fibre stuff from fast food “restaurants”, which the typical eater will return to once they have tried the new and novel.

blogging, food, morsels, sitenews

Syrup & Tang’s 4th anniversary and time for a new look

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Time flies when you’re busy eating delectable things and making biscuits. I’m marking four years of Syrup & Tang by changing the look a bit (the last time was two year back). I hope my readers like the new design and continue to enjoy my writings.

If you notice anything that’s not working well, please leave a comment here or email me. There are still a few minor changes to implement this week, so keep an eye out for them.

The new design retains elements which have been there since the beginning, including (of course!) the sharp blade. 😉 I’ve also taken this as an opportunity to increase the photographic elements a little, though not as a photoblog – I do a lot of photography, but Syrup & Tang is about communicating about food rather than showcasing photos.

I always use a redesign to refine my CSS skills and I endeavour to make every design fully compatible with the majority of browsers. This time I’ve abandoned catering for Internet Explorer 6 – less than 2.5% of readers are using that piece of rubbish now, thank goodness – but the site should still be mostly functional for them.

Happy eating!

cooking, equipment, food, hl, reviews

Kitchen scales redux

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My kitchen scales battle showed no signs of a Duncan-win following my first article bemoaning the crappiness of many scales and the deterioration of my favourite model. The latter, my once-trusty IKEA model, now resets itself if I plonk anything onto it even moderately hard. Sigh.

In a sign that some companies are being a little more careful in how they approach bloggers, it was more than a relief to receive a commercial email that wasn’t trying to get me to PR-pimp pears or the latest bloody Vegemite to my “interested readers”. Instead, Brad at KitchenwareDirect (one of a number of online discounters in Australia) offered me the opportunity to try out a set of scales from Soehnle, a brand mentioned a few times by my readers. As he was also polite enough to make clear that he wasn’t suggesting a reviewing angle and accepted that I rarely mince my words about products, I accepted the offer of some scales to test.

To recap and update my kitchen scales testing criteria:

  • measure up to at least 3 kg, preferably more
  • measure as little as 2 gm
  • measure in increments of no larger than 1 gm
  • be zeroed/tared easily
  • measure reliably, without the figure creeping up or down, or the baseline changing
  • have no immovable/fixed lip or button at the same level as the weighing surface (too easy to rest a bowl on it and end up with a misleading reading)
  • have an easily readable display
  • have easily replaceable batteries
  • have no grooves for collection of dust/food
  • perhaps measure lb/oz as well

The scales I tested were the Soehnle Cuisina, with a raised weighing platform and a plastic bowl which fits on top. It officially weighs to 5000 gm / 11 lb 6 oz (tick) in 1 gm increments (tick), with a minimum weight of 1 gm (tick). Reality comes close to this (see below). The battery is a single 3V lithium button, which means it’ll last a long time, but if it suddenly dies you probably won’t have a spare ready to hand – hopefully the low-battery icon starts to show with enough warning.

The bowl is a convenient size and shape and sits well on the weighing surface. It comfortably holds at least 2.5 litres. Most of the time I would be using my own bowls, but for simple projects the included bowl is perfectly adequate.

The fact that the clear glass weighing disk sits well above the display is very good (tick), and although the display isn’t illuminated, it was much easier to read than my IKEA scales. The display turns off automatically after 3 mins (tick) or by pressing the button again (tick). If the registered weight is above zero, pressing the button tares the unit. The button had a clean click response. The grooves around the button, as on most similar scales, are a dust/food collector, so I’ll be taping some clingwrap over the display and button. The weighing disk can be removed for cleaning. It’s also handy as a grip for picking the scales up (so maybe I won’t drop them as often as other scales;) ).

Weighing was quick and consistent (tick) across the full range (1 gm – 5000 gm), with additions of large or small amounts giving the expected reading (i.e. putting, say, 5 gm, 500 gm or 5000 gm on the scales and then adding another item of a known weight always gave the expected result). Consistency is good, but that doesn’t say anything about accuracy. Weighing large numbers of Australian coins (which have standard weights), I discovered that the Soehnle Cuisina scales were mismeasuring the weight by about +1.4 gm per actual 1000 gm of material. This is unlikely to be disastrous, except at the pointy end of avant garde cuisine. The IKEA scales remain the ones I’ve tested that are most accurate.

On most occasions, the display settled on the final weight promptly (tick) and it didn’t change thereafter (tick). This was tested by (1) putting a range of different final weights on the scales, and (2) by rapid or gradual addition of material (e.g. pouring liquid into a bowl slowly).

But now for something annoying: The scales don’t register very gradual addition of material when starting from zero. This can be a problem for sprinkling powder, grains, or a gentle flow of liquid.

I measured out 10 gm of rice, removed it, and then very slowly sprinkled the rice back into the bowl. The display steadfastly showed “0”. To test if this problem only occurred around the zero point, I measured out 10 gm of rice, then gradually sprinkled in an extra 5 gm of rice. This worked fine.

The scales will not register (at zero) the addition of less than 1 gm, or multiple additions of less than 1 gm. My advice: never start by adding small amounts to the scales. Make sure you’ve added a larger amount of material quickly (to get it to a value above zero reliably) before adding any small amounts. Thankfully the problem only exists at zero, while some other scales I’ve tried had the problem no matter what had already been weighed. In tiny print on the guarantee sheet, I found the text: “This scale has an intelligent [sic!] zero setting. This may in some cases when bulk ingredients are poured very slowly cause the display to remain at zero.” Correct.

The scales can display metric or Imperial weights (tick), but unlike many scales this isn’t possible by simply pressing a button. The manufacturers decided that users will only operate in one system (and as long as you’re not an English speaker, that’s probably true), so they stuck a teencytiny switch under the cover for the battery compartment. Grr. If you do like Imperial, however, the weight is displayed to a decimal fraction of an ounce (tick; I won’t comment about the silliness of doing decimals of an anachronistic base-16/8/14/whatever measurement system).

All up, the Soehnle Cuisina scales are good to use and responsive, but – as is common to most domestic digital scales in my experience – a little inaccurate. In this particular case, the innaccuracy is small enough that you need not feel discouraged from trying the Soehnle Cuisina.

My sincere thanks to KitchenwareDirect for providing these scales for review.

(As a side note, I recommend against the increasingly common type of very flat glass scales (like those I rejected in my first article) in all brands. Careful reading of reviews of these on various US, UK and German sites indicates that they all have problems with changes in readings and sensitivity to where items are places on the weighing surface. Stylish looks, poor performance.)

chocolate, cooking, equipment, food, hl, recipes

Fantastic chocolate ice cream, plus equipment failure

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I can feel myself approaching an equipment crisis. My favourite food processor is no longer sold in Australia and spare parts are crazy expensive. My kitchen scales are on the way out. My new spatulas bend too much. And just recently I lost the paddle for my ice cream maker. All such things are discovered at the least convenient moments, and the last two had to happen just as I was reviewing a book on ice cream – Ice Creams, Sorbets & Gelati by Caroline and Robin Weir.

Some weeks after testing a few recipes, I noticed the book had a recipe that ostensibly reproduced the stunning cacao extra bitter ice cream at Berthillon in Paris (see pic here). As that was the most impressive chocolate ice cream I’ve ever eaten, I had to try it at home.

I made the custard. Chilled it for 24 hours. Made sure the ice cream maker’s bowl was in the freezer.

Took out the custard. Assembled the machine. Couldn’t find the paddle. Couldn’t find it. Anywhere.

I put the custard back in the fridge. The bowl back in the freezer. And searched.

I went online to see if I was misremembering the colour or shape of the paddle while rummaging through cupboards and drawers and down the back of shelves.

In the end, I had a pot of custard and a frozen bowl and no paddle, so it seemed the only options was to try to churn the mixture by hand with a rigid spatula (that’s when I discovered the new spatula isn’t strong enough). Despite only having made a half mixture of custard, this was hard work, especially as you don’t want the mixture freezing solid against the walls of the bowl (that’s why the paddles scrape down the walls and base constantly). Uff.

As much as I complain, it was educational. Doable. And the result was damn good.

At first, the coffee in the mixture was too noticeable and I wasn’t excited. But 24 hours later this had mellowed and probably wouldn’t have been noticeable to new tasters. The final ice cream was dense and rich, beautifully chocolatey and melted superbly. A textural delight.

I won’t reproduce the exact recipe here, but the key characteristics were a basic rich vanilla ice cream custard with quite a lot of cocoa and chocolate dispersed through it, along with some sugar syrup and a small amount of instant coffee. (The cocoa is boiled for some minutes to get rid of the raw taste, and the chocolate is then melted into the milk for the custard.)

Was it the same as Berthillon’s? The potential was there. I used a 55% cocoa solids dark couverture. If I were to make it again, I’d try 70% or so as I think that would get it closer to the mark.

Meanwhile, I’m off to borrow my mum’s ice cream maker from 1985. She still has her paddle.