The retro gelatin recipe dare: Shrimp Salad Surprise, aka Knoxploitation

This is the story of how my new neighbour and I came to spend Monday evening chowing down (and gagging) on a plate of Shrimp Salad Surprise. It's the story of why I will be forever indebted to Adele and now owe her a great number of excellent dinners. It's also, tragically, the story of the first recipe I've attempted in my new(!) home. Enjoy, dear readers. But be warned: this story contains images that may offend.

Our innocent protagonist Lexi had been a long-time reader of the great blog, The Mid-Century Menu. Every Wednesday, the blog's owner Ruth cooks up a mid-century recipe from her vast collection - exactly as printed - and she and her partner sit down to eat the result. It's a fantastically funny project and quite different to Lexi's self-set retro recipe challenges, 'cause Ruth sticks entirely to the original recipe and tucks in anyway. Lexi's admiration crossed the line though when late last year she emailed Ruth to ask if she'd be interested in a mid-century recipe dare. She was.

The year ended and the seasons changed. Ruth settled into the Winter while back in OZ, Dorothy (that's Lexi, bien sûr) had just - quite unexpectedly - found the ultimate miniature apartment and suddenly had to move house quick smart in the hot summer weather. While she trawled through her closets deciding what to pack, stopping only to photograph Quincy hundreds of times jumping into boxes of crumpled newspaper, Mimi and Emily got in on the dare too and before long the kids in America had come up with a theme: Jell-O. Drastically behind the eight-ball, Lexi nodded politely to all the rules and regulations of the forthcoming challenge: no ingredient substitutions, strict deadlines. It was exciting, in a back-of-her-mind kinda way, until she got the recipe for Emily darling's choice of Shrimp Salad Surprise. (Be warned that if you click the image below, you will read something very dirty.) 

Lexi dutifully picked up all the ingredients from her new local supermarket; before she'd even bought a carton of milk for her new home, she had stinky tinned prawns, garlic salt, sour cream, mushy olives and squeaky-on-the-tooth bland pickled artichokes on her new kitchen table. And lemon jelly crystals. Things were looking bleak. They say a picture is worth a thousand words and boy, did Lexi say some words while she put this baby together...

 

 

 

As Lexi's mate Jez so quaintly put it, she was "basically moulding vomit". It would appear so, wouldn't it? Next was to slice this baby up into "creamy cubes" and arrange among salad leaves, tomato wedges, squeakychokes and sliced stuffed olives. Oh, and to rope her lovely new neighbour Adele into coming over for dinner. What a sport. 

 

First bite goes in.

First bite goes down.

Second bite goes in.

Second bite goes down.

The rest went in the bin.

THE END

The verdict: 

These creamy cubes made us gag each time we tried to swallow. Our first mistake was trying the milky-lemon jelly on its own: the combination of flaccid prawns, chopped pecans, celery and onion suspended in a malevolent concoction of sour cream, vinegar, garlic salt and lemon Jell-O was hideous. Soon we realised that the cubes acted better as a kind of solid dressing for the plain leaves and came significantly closer to being palatable eaten this way. But the whole thing literally stunk and we just couldn't keep it up (or down). We tossed the cubes and opened a tin of Ortiz anchovies. 

Improvements: 

I should have chopped the prawns etc finer, so that the cubes could be cut more easily. The little chunks disrupting the geometry of each creamy cube were not aesthetically pleasing.

Would I make this again?

F*#! no.

See how the other kitty kats fared with their dares!

Mimi at The Retro Weight Watchers Experiment made Waikiki Dip

Ruth at The Mid-Century Menu (poor thing) made Liver Pate en Masque

Emily at Dinner is Served 1972 got stuck with my submission: Swedish Jellied Veal

Fine print: Apologies to mah homegirls Ruth, Mimi and Emily for running late on this post. Unfortunately, Australia is ahead of the U.S. time-wise, so I can't even use that as an excuse. 

january, wtf?

Ok, so I have some catching up to do. Here's 3 things I should already have blogged about.

1. Honest Cooking: The Food Magazine
I can't believe I haven't even had time to announce this here, but see that little button on the left? Just under the picture of Quincy and I? That'll take you to a list of recipes and articles I've written so far for the wonderful new online food magazine Honest Cooking. I'm so pleased to be contributing to this ever-evolving and truly international site. If you haven't visited before, here are a few of my recent favorite stories to get you going:

• Homemade Goat's Milk Ricotta. Yeah, so I wrote it. But seriously, you need to make this.
• Roast a pig's head in the oven? Don't mind if I do!
• Basic principles of successful food and wine pairing. Finally!
• On my stove the minute the temperature goes down: 15-bean soup with smoked pork and beans. 
• Everywhere I look at the moment, I see Dutch babies. And they're making me hungry. 

2. We sow the seeds, nature grows the seeds, we eat the seed.
Some readers (Americans and Mexicans particularly) may be horrified to know that it is nigh on impossible to buy fresh tomatillos in Australia. I know - it's a stinking disgrace. Casa Iberica (bless their saffron-scented socks) sell tins, but those won't do for a fresh-roasted tomatillo salsa. So I took Neil's advice and look!

Salsa verde coming to the table, real soon.

3. My 30th birthday present (and my kitchen).
This one's some homemade vintage sewing porn for my sewing buddies. I turned 30 late last year (quelle horreur) and my ma and pa gave me:

This sewing machine has travelled across the world three times to get to me. It was used by both my grandmothers and my mother. It's a Singer 1908 portable (ahem, 3 elephants) model with its electric light, all the attachments and original booklets. And kittens, it sews like a DREAM. Is it not the most gorgeous thing? And is it just me? Or, wft happened to January?

Lexi.x

Kρητικός ντάκος, or how to eat Cretan barley rusks

Now that summer is officially here, there's the chance you'll find some tomatoes that actually taste the way tomatoes should. I'd be lying if I told you I've ever tasted a tomato here in Australia that comes close to the ones we eat in Greece; there's something about the Mediterranean sun that works magic on the fruit, because they're always sweeter and more fragrant than tomatoes here - and very often they're meatier with less water. But if you're growing your own or happen upon some at the farmer's market that have that intoxicating smell (you do sniff tomatoes before you buy them, right?), this is a beautiful way of eating them.

Dakos is a particular type of paximádi (dried bread or rusk) and is a speciality of the island of Crete. While paximádi are eaten all over Greece, dakos are particular in that they're made with stone-ground barley, imparting a rich nutty flavour and giving the rusks an addictive robust texture. The rusks are twice-baked until very, very dry and need to be rehydrated with sprinkles of water and then brought to life by the sweet spicyness of tomato juices and fresh olive oil soaking through. You might be surprised by how good this simple combination is, unadorned - but if you want to take these to the next level (of course you do), crumble on a creamy feta or chevre and a sprinkle of Greek oregano. So simple, but really a magical combination that becomes more than the sum of its parts. If you're in the mood for garlic and don't have a date that night, add a little - very finely minced - to make it a little more punchy.

You can buy Cretan rusks at most good Greek delis; they usually come packaged in plastic or cellophane bags. My favourite are Manna brand ("Το Μάννα") and have a green and white printed label, but ask the staff as there's often quite a number to choose from and more seem to be imported all the time. Wetting the rusks might seem a strange thing to do, but what you end up with is never soggy - only pleasantly toothsome and porous enough to soak up all the flavours you pile on top. Don't try to eat them dry, as you'll seriously risk losing teeth. Kinda like the time Richie and Eddie ate the Special K past its sell-by. Watch and learn, kiddies.

Dakos - and rusks generally - are very good for tossing into salads and are perfect for brown bag lunches. I often cut a salad in the morning then rehydrate the rusks 15 minutes before lunch. When they're soft enough, I break them up and stir them through the rest of the salad before adding my dressing. If summer lunches have to be eaten at work, this is a fine way to improve the day. At home though, I prepare them as below.

Kρητικός ντάκος/Cretan barley rusks with tomato
Makes 1

1 paximádi/rusk
1 ripe tomato, skinned, very finely chopped or grated
your best extra virgin olive oil
salt
a couple of slivers of garlic, finely minced (optional)
a sprig of fresh Greek oregano or a couple of fresh basil leaves (finely sliced)
dried Greek oregano
crumbled creamy feta or goat cheese, to taste


1. To rehydrate the rusk, run it under a running faucet, rubbing it all over so that it seems quite wet. You can also submerge rusks in a bowl of water for half a minute or so. Set aside to drain and soak through.

2. In a smal bowl, combine tomato, fresh oregano or basil leaves, garlic (if using), salt to taste and a generous glug of olive oil. Stir and set aside for 10 minutes so that the flavours combine.

3. Some people like their rusks more wet, other more crunchy - you decide. I feel mine's ready when it has a little give but doesn't leak water when I press into it. Top the rusk with the tomato mixture, add the cheese and rub the dried oregano between your fingers as you sprinkle it on top, to release its flavour.