Tuesday, August 03, 2010

Muffin and my kitchen mojo

ratatouille simmering

Over the weekend, when I wasn’t trying to sleep through my scratchy-eyed hayfeverishness, or smacking my ankles free of pesky flies, I was leafing through some of Brent and Jean’s cookbooks. One of my little goals for coming out here to the bonnedocks is to revive some of my withered culinary skills. My recent stay with Peter in Condom was another wake-up call to the possibilities of fresh-cooked produce.

While leafing through a volume of French gastroporn, ogling some simple and simply delicious desserts, I chatted with Jean about sourcing ingredients. She started talking about truffles and I suggested training Munson up as a truffle-hunter. That was what my brain said. My mouth said that Muffin should be trained. Jean fell about laughing, and Munson’s new nickname was born.

My first step in getting my kitchen mojo back has been to prepare a simple ratatouille. In July, I had gorged myself on Peter’s fine version, and thought that before asking him for specific pointers, that I would leap in with a supply of eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, capsicums (bell peppers – red and green) and onions, and see where that would take me. I intended to really slow cook them, but didn’t have good control over the heat levels on my cooktop, so from start to finish it took only 2 hours. Slicing and dicing, and adding the assembled morceaux to the pot in sensible stages along with garlic, basil ripped from the garden, and liberal doses of olive oil, was only 30 minutes. Munson was intrigued by the smells and all my kitchen activity, but there was nothing that would make him really happy taste-wise. I was quite pleased with the result, laying it atop the basse-côte (chuck roll) steak prepared by Brent.

Finally, because I know people tune in just for a dollop of Munson cuteness, here is the muffin making himself very comfortable.

Muffin, served comfy


  1. Khyra says how did woo know she stops by to galk at the Handsome One!?!

  2. Muffin Munson looks royally at home. Obviously the flies don't get to him at all, nor does he suffer from hayfever. Oh for the life of a dog! xx