Better cooking

What does it mean to be a ‘good’ cook? The flick of a wrist, a pinch of the fingers, the whiff of a waft. It’s intuition and muscle memory. It’s a way of life built on a foundation of flying hours.

From time spent at your grandmother’s apron strings, podding broad beans and rolling pasta dough between chubby fingers. From home economics classes, rubbing butter into scone dough, committing the crack of golden caramel to canon and the reward of some kind of sweet slice to scoff on the school bus home. From ‘bring-a-plates’, and ‘grown-up’ dinner parties where you learn to keep things simple … eventually. It’s first dates, and first sunken cakes hidden under cream.

But what happens if you missed a stage? Or three?

You’re not alone. As we’ve become busier, the intergenerational family experience has become less common, and schools turn kitchens into science labs, when does the practice plane actually take off to get those flying hours under the belt? And when it does come time to start, how do we make the experience of cooking something to actually look forward to?

First of all, let’s toss out the concept of being a ‘good’ cook, and replace it with the idea of becoming a better cook.

Better Cooking is a lifelong journey. It’s made up of single steps, with plenty of whoopsies and notes-for-next-time along the way. But every step gets you a bit closer to cracking the codes that unlock the confidence to feel freedom and joy in the kitchen. I believe that ‘foodie’ is a word to be embraced rather than shirked, because it can also mean more conscientious consumption. But foodie culture also has a lot to answer for when it comes to making newbies feel out of their depth. Shaking off the imposter syndrome that can plague anyone who’s watched a fancy food show or heard the loaded line ‘It’s just that easy’ from a TV chef, can feel impossible if we’re stuck at the first hurdle. It can mean people give up and label themselves ‘bad cooks’ or say they ‘don’t cook’ and never try. Labels are powerful, for better or worse. I’m here to tell you that you are already a better cook than you think you are. If you’ve ever found yourself thinking about dinner over breakfast, if bringing pleasure and nourishment to the people in your orbit gives you a glow, heck — if you already enjoy the eating part, you can find the fun in getting the food to the table, too. Forget about cooking for someone else’s tastes or expectations. I’ve tried doing that in the past and would strongly not recommend. Why? Because fear lives here, and the paralysis of choice. Oh, and doubt, of course, about what it is you should be doing, and whether you’re good enough. The best part about cooking, and about food in general, is the connection and sharing it encourages. Connecting people with ideas and concepts, with each other, with their community, their culture. The sharing we’re privy to over a meal, and the sharing of recipes — old scrapbooks, laminated newspaper clippings, a link flicked over on the phone or in an email. Most of all, what brings me the deepest gratitude and joy in doing what I do, more than anything, is the opportunity to connect and share with you. Please do keep in touch. C xA i

Images and text from The Joy of Better Cooking by Alice Zaslavsky, photography by Ben Dearnley. Murdoch Books RRP $49.99. Learn more at www.thejoyofbettercooking.com

Focaccia translates to ‘hearth bread’, which is handy, because while most overnight doughs are hoping for a high rise, this one’s all about the chew.

Overnight garden focaccia

Serves: 8. Overnight Dough:

3 cups strong/bread flour 2 teaspoons dried yeast 1 1/2 teaspoons salt flakes 1 1/2 cups lukewarm water 1 tablespoon olive oil

Toppings:

Multi-coloured capsicums (peppers) and mild chillies, thinly sliced Multi-coloured tomato slices Red onion thinly sliced Mixed herbs, chopped Olives, capers, artichokes or sun-dried tomatoes Olive oil, for drizzling Sea salt flakes, for sprinkling A small handful of rosemary Olive oil, for drizzling

Method:

Place all the overnight dough ingredients in a bowl. Mix with a wooden spoon to combine, until you have a wet, sticky dough. Cover with a clean damp tea towel and leave in the fridge for at least 8 hours, preferably overnight. About 4 hours before baking, take the dough out of the fridge and let it come to room temperature. Punch the dough down — which is exactly how it sounds! — and give it a little knead to bring it all together into a ball. Line a 25 x 30 cm baking tray with baking paper. Place the dough on top, stretching and pressing it out with your fingers into whatever shape you like. Allow the dough to rise again in a warm spot for 1–2 hours, covered again with a damp tea towel. When ready to bake, preheat the oven to 180°C. In a bowl, toss your garden topping ingredients (or rosemary leaves if you’re going tradish) in a few tablespoons of olive oil, so they don’t go dry too quickly and burn. Using your fingers, press dimples into the dough, then squish the topping ingredients into your creation. Scatter with salt flakes and freshly cracked black pepper. Pour water into a heatproof mug or baking dish and sit it on the bottom of the oven to create steam (this helps the focaccia expand before forming a crust). Bake the focaccia on the middle shelf of the oven for 35–45 minutes, or until golden and cooked through. Some of your vegies might char a bit, but that’s cool — these can even be the most delicious aspects of the bake. Once cooked but while still HOT, drizzle with a little more olive oil, and garnish with more fresh herbs if you like. Then either show off your creative genius as a whole loaf at the table, or cut into jaunty pieces to serve.