get a grip, consumers: on the politics of buying fresh food in times of crisis

This week on a super-hot day my friend Therese and I got together to make ceviche and drink gin and tonics - with lime. When I got to her place, Therese recounted to me a conversation she had with her Balaclava greengrocer as she purchased a bargain kilo of limes for AUD 1 - and it's made me think seriously again about a trend I've noticed in Australian fresh food consumption that is both infuriating and sad. The discount price we paid for limes the other day was not just some fluke super-special - the severe markdown was due to the fruit being slightly water-marked, damaged by the disasterous weather conditions Queensland has experienced in recent weeks. The greengrocer explained that she simply wouldn't sell this produce that was juicy, ripe and ready to be used, because of its slightly blemished skin.

We'd all have at least some idea of the massive devastation caused by recent flooding in Queensland, New South Wales and Victoria (not to mention the new damage caused by cyclone Yasi), but the lasting impact for residents and farmers is something we'll never really know the extent of. For example, did you know that farmer suicide rates have risen drastically over the past few years due to drought? How will people living in this already desperate climate respond to these new levels of devastation? This article in The Australian published in mid-December reports on two cases of farmer suicide since the NSW floods and quotes Independent MP Bob Katter on what he thinks is an escalating problem:

"I will say, without any fear of contradiction that there will be suicides as a result of the situation in the sugar industry, as there will be in the grains industry...You've got to understand these people might be in their 50s -- they've never known anything else except farming, and there are no jobs they can get in these little western towns." (Dec 13)

I can't deny that I'm disappointed in the quality and level of availability of summer stone fruit this year - when you eat seasonally, these are things that you look forward to through the long, cold Winter months. But we might all stop a minute and consider the reasons national supermarket chains have lowered their quality standards this year. Stone fruit farmer Tony Siciliano, speaking to The Sydney Morning Herald, reported that 10 000 of his nectarine and peach trees were under water: "It's still too early to tell but many of those are going to die" (Jan 31; you can read more about this situation here). In the face of such conditions, I find it hard to complain about a couple of marks on the skin of my limes, or the fact that this year I might not get to make a fresh peach pie.

When people demand other-worldly perfection of their fresh food, it's indicative of a really huge problem with consumption in our culture. I remember working at Prahran market and experiencing first hand the same frustration expressed by the greengrocer when customers demanded units of fresh produce of precise and identical sizes and shapes. After massive fires in Greece in 2007 devastated enormous olive groves hundreds of years old, customers here complained that the size of their Kalamata olives were not exactly the same as the ones they'd bought a couple of months ago. The fishmongers at the market bore the brunt of daily demands for three fish fillets exactly the same size and shape - fillets taken from two different fish that were, a day earlier, living things eating and growing in the ocean. When you're accustomed to buying pristine-looking, manicured food that is frequently packaged in a convenient tray, topped with a spring of parsley and wrapped with plastic, gleaming and ready to display in your SMEG refrigerator, you've become out of touch with the reality of our situation. First, I wonder if many consumers have even considered the flavour of the food they're buying. And second, I worry that all of this is symptomatic of cultural disconnection with the reality that fresh, abundant food is a privilege and a gift.

In any case, complaining - or missing out - is not the only way to deal with such situations. We should take a leaf from the book of chef Ray Capaldi (Hare & Grace), who recently described working against higher wholesale food prices as a "a challenge and good fun" (Feb 5). The Age reported that he and head chef Daniel Schelbert have been revising their menu to combat rising prices - and this is something we can all try to do at home too. The same article quoted Matteo Pignatelli who explained that while prices of some foods have increased dramatically, the price of seafood - for instance - has actually decreased, so while diners at his Fitzroy North restaurant Matteo's might not see bananas on the menu, they can enjoy a number of new seafood dishes. I find little to complain about in this!

So, Australian food consumers in search of that freakishly perfect lime to throw into your midsummer mojito, get a freaking grip. I dare you to think about the real cost of your demand for perfection - and then tell me your mojito tastes quite so sweet. Instead, there are a number of soul-fortifying things you could do: buy lots of cheap, imperfect limes and make a pie. Change up your menu a bit; try some new recipes. Head to farmer's markets to support growers directly. Think about where your food comes from - and what it really is.

kρητική σαλάτα με γλιστρίδα / cretan salad with purslane

Around this time of the year in Melbourne (and elsewhere, I'm sure), if you have any garden space at all (propagated, slighted forgotten, pit of dirt etc), chances are that this is popping up through the soil to say hello:


The vine-leafy thing belongs to one of my watermelon vines, but that other succulent-looking and rather cute little weed is actually purslane - and it is very good to eat. There are a good number of common "weeds" that Greeks collect and cook and eat, but purslane is one of the most commonly found - yet it's one of the most nutritious vegetables you could put on your plate, or into your salad, as the case may be.


This little plant, that so many people pull out of their gardens and throw into the green waste bin, actually has higher levels of omega-3 fatty acids than any other vegetable plant! And them's those good fatty acids, like in fish - so it's a great source for vegetarians. It also has really high levels of antioxidants and other vitamins and minerals. It's like a wonder food - and it could be growing in your yard right now! Go out and have a look. And if you're into a bit of biological research (I really am), click here to have a look a report from a detailed study of the nutritional properties of purslane and other wild weeds that Greeks eat.


I've got a couple of purslane recipes up my sleeve, but I thought I'd introduce the little wonder herb with a gorgeous Cretan salad, because the weather is warm and the tomatoes are ripe. Cretan salad is like a regular Greek salad with a twist or two: in this case I've added fresh sprigs of purslane and cretan dakos, or rusks. These are wonderful little country-style dried bread slices (I've used miniature here, but you could get the larger ones and break them up) that you moisten with a little water and throw into the salad to soak up all the lovely dressing and juices from the tomatoes. They're often made with barley, making them very good for you, but you can get a few different sorts. Rusks are eaten all over Greece, but a good rule of thumb when buying them here is to look for word 'Cretan' or 'Κρητικά'; they're definitely the best ones imported. Try Greek delis and supermarkets in suburbs like Brunswick, Preston, Northcote or Oakleigh if you're having trouble finding them. They're well worth a bit of a trek.

I've hardly ever seen a Greek salad being dressed with pre-mixed dressing. The salt, vinegar and oil are added separately at the end, to suit individual tastes. This might take a bit of practice, but you'll soon be dressing salads perfectly with a few flicks of the wrist. Remember, you can always add more oil, salt etc after a taste! The ideal Greek salad encompasses a range of textures and flavours; it should be sweet and sharp, creamy and crunchy, salty and juicy. And all the deliciousness should concentrate in a pool at the bottom of your bowl, ready to be soaked up with fresh bread, or pieces of rusk. Accompany with an ouzo on ice on a hot day. After eating, recline and think about how healthy your lunch was - and consider pouring another glass.

kρητική σαλάτα με γλιστρίδα / cretan salad with purslane

Serves 1 as a yummy big lunch, or two as a side

4 small cretan rusks, or 1 or 2 larger rusks
1 large red ripe tomato, cored and sliced into wedges
1/2 medium or 1 small lebanese cucumber, peeled in parts, seeded and sliced
1/2 a small onion, very thinly sliced
a smallish piece of feta (as much as you like to eat in a salad)
5 or 6 stalks of purslane, rinsed and picked over (you don't want the thickest part of the stem)
a couple of sprigs of Greek basil (or regular basil), leaves picked
a big spoonful (or to taste) of Kalamata olives
a couple of cherry tomatoes, halved
some nice salt (Maldon, sea salt etc)
white wine vinegar (nothing too strong - sherry vinegar is nice!)
good olive oil
rigani, or dried Greek oregano

1. Run your cold tap and pass the rusks under until wet all over. Leave for a few minutes to drain and moisten through.

2. Combine tomato, cucumber, onion, feta, purslane, greek or regular basil leaves and the moistened rusks and toss to combine.

3. Add your olives and halved cherry tomatoes to make it look a little more pretty. Sprinkle with a good pinch of salt, or to taste. Add a few drops of vinegar (holding your thumb over the end of the bottle if it doesn't have a pouring thingy) over the salad. Top this with a few glugs of olive oil. The salt should have travelled through the salad on the little streams of oil and vinegar and the dressing. Genius, huh? Sprinkle with dried oregano and tuck in.

homemade bronx-worthy bagels

The first thing I wanted to eat once I'd finished the food lover's cleanse was bread. Specifically, bagels. I don't know why. But I'm glad, because it meant that I could try make some.


Try? Pfft. These were wonderful. I take no credit, though. I've been meaning to try these ever since Deb posted the recipe on Smitten Kitchen with photographs that almost bowled me over. Golden. Plump. Chewy. Fresh. I bookmarked them right away.


Growing up in Melbourne's north, a poor little Greek girl might not know what a bagel even is. Sad, isn't it? I (poor little Greek girl) knew some wonderful bread, and I knew what kolouria were (but do you? patience is a virtue...), but, really, what's so good about a bagel? I knew that there were things called bagels that people ate in Hollywood films and on American television shows all the time. But no bagel I'd ever eaten here had struck me as the kind of thing you'd want to eat every day - until I crossed the river, that is. The year I did my honours degree, I worked in a fancy delicatessen owned by a Jewish family in Prahran. Every morning I had to get up at 6 am and travel across to the wrong side of town and bust my ass for 12 hours or so serving people with one billion times more money than me. But I learned a lot about food. And, for the first time, I ate a wonderful bagels. The bagels we got in at Steve's place were from Aviv bakery - and sometimes we got bagels from Glicks. When they arrived in the morning they were golden, tender and still warm, and you'd always have a hard time putting them out without putting one aside for lunch to have with chevre and top quality smoked salmon - even if you'd already brought lunch from home. I've missed those fresher than fresh morning bagels - they'd been one of my favourite breakfast treats. Until now. I'm telling you, these are better than any bagels I've ever had - and I made them. Myself. I was home alone when they first came out of the oven and had a feeling that they might be TOTALLY excellent, but I needed confirmation. I passed a bagful to a helpful friend who fed them to a business partner from NYC, who gave these bagels the thumbs up on appearance, texture and flavour. I felt validated. And then I ate another one.


Can you imagine serving these to people fresh out of the oven after a big night out for a restorative brunch? Or better: how about sneaking out of bed in the morning to slide a few of these into the oven to awaken your (new?) lover with the best-ever scent of bread baking? Putty in your hands, my friends. You need to start these a little bit in advance, but they're not difficult by any means. You need to budget enough time to make a sponge, then the dough. Then you need to retard the dough (yep!) overnight in the fridge. You'll boil them briefly in the morning then throw them in your very hot oven for around 5 minutes. Then the world will be your oyster. I'm going to link to this precious recipe, because a) it's not mine and b) it's too bloody long to type out. But there are a few changes I made that are listed below. Enjoy.

Peter Reinhart's Bagels at Smitten Kitchen: totally bronx-worthy

Changes I made and some tips:

1. I substituted half the whole amount of bread flour used for all-purpose flour, simply because I ran out of bread flour. I don't necessarily recommend this, but thought I should note that the bagels still turned out wonderful and could thus probably be made very successfully with all-purpose flour, if that's all you have on hand.

2. Malt syrup? I could have gone to the health food store to investigate, but I subbed in honey and it worked a treat.

3. I didn't bake these all at once: I kept some unboiled, unbaked bagels in the fridge and used them over 3 days. The final day morning was pushing it a bit - they turned out a little flat. But you can have them ready to go in the evening and just finish them off at breakfast time. So handy!

4. Size matters: Deb made mini bagels. The original recipe makes larger bagels. I made something in between. I can put my hand in the air and admit that I, too, am a geek: I weighed each bit of dough to make sure the bagels came out evenly sized. I made my dough balls/rolls around 3 1/4 ounces each and got 17 bagels from this batch.

5. My first batch looked more like donuts than bagels. This was because the time between boiling and baking was too long - and I mean about 5 minutes. Try to boil as many as you can in one go and get those babies in oven ASAP. The sooner the better. They'll retain their bagely shape more and look so good you'll want to beat them up.

6. I topped mine with sesame seeds because I LOVE sesame bagels. But I can't wait to try other flavours. I've had requests already for blueberry. God help me - and my waistline.