< PreviousFrom Scratch Text 22-04-11 TEXT BLACKBlackYellowMagentaCyan txt42 A Bakery Item, Please Chapter Two HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 436/4/22 1:07 pm A Bakery Item, Please HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 426/4/22 9:54 amFrom Scratch Text 22-04-11 TEXT BLACKBlackYellowMagentaCyan txt42 A Bakery Item, Please Chapter Two HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 436/4/22 1:07 pm A Bakery Item, Please HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 426/4/22 9:54 amFrom Scratch Text 22-04-11 TEXT BLACKBlackYellowMagentaCyan txt52 FROM SCRATCH HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 536/4/22 9:55 am 52FROM SCRATCH HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 526/4/22 9:55 amFrom Scratch Text 22-04-11 TEXT BLACKBlackYellowMagentaCyan txt52 FROM SCRATCH HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 536/4/22 9:55 am 52FROM SCRATCH HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 526/4/22 9:55 amFrom Scratch Text 22-04-11 TEXT BLACKBlackYellowMagentaCyan txt92 93FROM SCRATCHBROTHS (AND SOUPS) OF LIFe I have a deep respect for broth. It feels like an old food to me. As if somehow all the research on its capacity for anti-inflammation and mineral- richness and fabulous amino acids is unnecessary if we just listened to our bodies on broth. Humans have been reaching for bone broths for millennia, since we figured out how to boil bones in vessels. Broth is cheap and nutritious, and if made with properly- raised bones, it’s gelatine-rich and filling and great for people with digestive issues and nourishing enough to build up bodies recovering from disease or injury. It doesn’t take much making, and these recipes should be guides only. Make it your way. Add veggies if you want to, or seaweed, or herbs. Please just make it! Don’t throw away those bones! If you’ve had a whole roast chicken dinner with wine and it’s late, don’t compost the bones. Chuck them in a bag in your freezer until you have enough bones for a huge potful. Broth shouldn’t be underestimated; it’s a fundamental food for life and I’m here to help encourage you to make (and drink) lots of it. Our farm crew have always known there is a two-litre jar of broth in the door of the farmhouse fridge, almost permanently, and are encouraged to see HOW GOOD IT IS at 3 pm when you’re feeling pulled towards needing something uplifting. It’s satisfying and full of minerals that will give you vigour and energy in a surprising dose. So, make the broth. Warm it up and drink it by the cupful. Use it as the base for soups, stews, casseroles, gravy and even porridge. Freeze it in ice-cube trays and drop one into your green smoothie for a collagen kick. Pass a mug to anyone who is sniffling. Take a jar to someone who is sad or grieving or so unwell that they just can’t face food. Have it in your fridge and your freezer and see what happens if you replace one caffeinated beverage a day with a mug of bone broth. You might find yourself all evangelical about it too. A note about bones: the reason you want to use pasture-raised or grass-fed is because the difference in the animal’s life makes a big difference to its bones. Pasture-raised animals that live with more robust nutrition throughout their lives tend to have mightily more calcium in their bones. A good example of this is if you pick up a cooked bone of a conventionally grown chicken from the supermarket. You can usually snap it. This is not the case with a pasture-raised meat chicken. You actually cannot usually even break the bones with two hands. This nutrition, of course, is extended to the broth made from these bones. It’s more expensive to grow chickens in small batches on pasture than it is to grow them by the thousands in large, temperature-controlled sheds. It’s less economic to give cows heaps of space and manage them in rotated paddocks than to grow them in yards feeding them grain for quicker growth. Please pay the extra money and buy pasture- raised and grass-fed, for sustainable farming, for a better quality of life for the animals being farmed, and for your own very good health. HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 936/4/22 9:59 am 92FROM SCRATCHBROTHS (AND SOUPS) OF LIFe Broths (and Soups) of Life I have a deep respect for broth. It feels like an old food to me. As if somehow all the research on its capacity for anti-inflammation and mineral- richness and fabulous amino acids is unnecessary if we just listened to our bodies on broth. Humans have been reaching for bone broths for millennia, since we figured out how to boil bones in vessels. Broth is cheap and nutritious, and if made with properly- raised bones, it’s gelatine-rich and filling and great for people with digestive issues and nourishing enough to build up bodies recovering from disease or injury. It doesn’t take much making, and these recipes should be guides only. Make it your way. Add veggies if you want to, or seaweed, or herbs. Please just make it! Don’t throw away those bones! If you’ve had a whole roast chicken dinner with wine and it’s late, don’t compost the bones. Chuck them in a bag in your freezer until you have enough bones for a huge potful. Broth shouldn’t be underestimated; it’s a fundamental food for life and I’m here to help encourage you to make (and drink) lots of it. Our farm crew have always known there is a two-litre jar of broth in the door of the farmhouse fridge, almost permanently, and are encouraged to see HOW GOOD IT IS at 3 pm when you’re feeling pulled towards needing something uplifting. It’s satisfying and full of minerals that will give you vigour and energy in a surprising dose. So, make the broth. Warm it up and drink it by the cupful. Use it as the base for soups, stews, casseroles, gravy and even porridge. Freeze it in ice-cube trays and drop one into your green smoothie for a collagen kick. Pass a mug to anyone who is sniffling. Take a jar to someone who is sad or grieving or so unwell that they just can’t face food. Have it in your fridge and your freezer and see what happens if you replace one caffeinated beverage a day with a mug of bone broth. You might find yourself all evangelical about it too. A note about bones: the reason you want to use pasture-raised or grass-fed is because the difference in the animal’s life makes a big difference to its bones. Pasture-raised animals that live with more robust nutrition throughout their lives tend to have mightily more calcium in their bones. A good example of this is if you pick up a cooked bone of a conventionally grown chicken from the supermarket. You can usually snap it. This is not the case with a pasture-raised meat chicken. You actually cannot usually even break the bones with two hands. HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 926/4/22 9:59 amFrom Scratch Text 22-04-11 TEXT BLACKBlackYellowMagentaCyan txt92 93FROM SCRATCHBROTHS (AND SOUPS) OF LIFe I have a deep respect for broth. It feels like an old food to me. As if somehow all the research on its capacity for anti-inflammation and mineral- richness and fabulous amino acids is unnecessary if we just listened to our bodies on broth. Humans have been reaching for bone broths for millennia, since we figured out how to boil bones in vessels. Broth is cheap and nutritious, and if made with properly- raised bones, it’s gelatine-rich and filling and great for people with digestive issues and nourishing enough to build up bodies recovering from disease or injury. It doesn’t take much making, and these recipes should be guides only. Make it your way. Add veggies if you want to, or seaweed, or herbs. Please just make it! Don’t throw away those bones! If you’ve had a whole roast chicken dinner with wine and it’s late, don’t compost the bones. Chuck them in a bag in your freezer until you have enough bones for a huge potful. Broth shouldn’t be underestimated; it’s a fundamental food for life and I’m here to help encourage you to make (and drink) lots of it. Our farm crew have always known there is a two-litre jar of broth in the door of the farmhouse fridge, almost permanently, and are encouraged to see HOW GOOD IT IS at 3 pm when you’re feeling pulled towards needing something uplifting. It’s satisfying and full of minerals that will give you vigour and energy in a surprising dose. So, make the broth. Warm it up and drink it by the cupful. Use it as the base for soups, stews, casseroles, gravy and even porridge. Freeze it in ice-cube trays and drop one into your green smoothie for a collagen kick. Pass a mug to anyone who is sniffling. Take a jar to someone who is sad or grieving or so unwell that they just can’t face food. Have it in your fridge and your freezer and see what happens if you replace one caffeinated beverage a day with a mug of bone broth. You might find yourself all evangelical about it too. A note about bones: the reason you want to use pasture-raised or grass-fed is because the difference in the animal’s life makes a big difference to its bones. Pasture-raised animals that live with more robust nutrition throughout their lives tend to have mightily more calcium in their bones. A good example of this is if you pick up a cooked bone of a conventionally grown chicken from the supermarket. You can usually snap it. This is not the case with a pasture-raised meat chicken. You actually cannot usually even break the bones with two hands. This nutrition, of course, is extended to the broth made from these bones. It’s more expensive to grow chickens in small batches on pasture than it is to grow them by the thousands in large, temperature-controlled sheds. It’s less economic to give cows heaps of space and manage them in rotated paddocks than to grow them in yards feeding them grain for quicker growth. Please pay the extra money and buy pasture- raised and grass-fed, for sustainable farming, for a better quality of life for the animals being farmed, and for your own very good health. HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 936/4/22 9:59 am 92FROM SCRATCHBROTHS (AND SOUPS) OF LIFe Broths (and Soups) of Life I have a deep respect for broth. It feels like an old food to me. As if somehow all the research on its capacity for anti-inflammation and mineral- richness and fabulous amino acids is unnecessary if we just listened to our bodies on broth. Humans have been reaching for bone broths for millennia, since we figured out how to boil bones in vessels. Broth is cheap and nutritious, and if made with properly- raised bones, it’s gelatine-rich and filling and great for people with digestive issues and nourishing enough to build up bodies recovering from disease or injury. It doesn’t take much making, and these recipes should be guides only. Make it your way. Add veggies if you want to, or seaweed, or herbs. Please just make it! Don’t throw away those bones! If you’ve had a whole roast chicken dinner with wine and it’s late, don’t compost the bones. Chuck them in a bag in your freezer until you have enough bones for a huge potful. Broth shouldn’t be underestimated; it’s a fundamental food for life and I’m here to help encourage you to make (and drink) lots of it. Our farm crew have always known there is a two-litre jar of broth in the door of the farmhouse fridge, almost permanently, and are encouraged to see HOW GOOD IT IS at 3 pm when you’re feeling pulled towards needing something uplifting. It’s satisfying and full of minerals that will give you vigour and energy in a surprising dose. So, make the broth. Warm it up and drink it by the cupful. Use it as the base for soups, stews, casseroles, gravy and even porridge. Freeze it in ice-cube trays and drop one into your green smoothie for a collagen kick. Pass a mug to anyone who is sniffling. Take a jar to someone who is sad or grieving or so unwell that they just can’t face food. Have it in your fridge and your freezer and see what happens if you replace one caffeinated beverage a day with a mug of bone broth. You might find yourself all evangelical about it too. A note about bones: the reason you want to use pasture-raised or grass-fed is because the difference in the animal’s life makes a big difference to its bones. Pasture-raised animals that live with more robust nutrition throughout their lives tend to have mightily more calcium in their bones. A good example of this is if you pick up a cooked bone of a conventionally grown chicken from the supermarket. You can usually snap it. This is not the case with a pasture-raised meat chicken. You actually cannot usually even break the bones with two hands. HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 926/4/22 9:59 amFrom Scratch Text 22-04-11TEXT BLACKBlackYellowMagentaCyan txt164 165FROM SCRATCHLIFE IS SWEET After I almost lost my hair one night in the fireball I created by spraying canola spray directly into a pan on the stove (a gas stove, yes, I know I’m an idiot), I am reflecting on the effects of my shortcutting, my quick-fixing and my life of interruptions. I’d like to blame my mother. The master of the domestic shortcut. If there’s a way to do a chore quicker and better she’ll find it because when you finish doing whatever it is, you get to read. Or play in the garden. Or do something fun. And that’s worth a shortcut. So, no ironing. I grew up clothed exclusively in non-creasing polyester cotton, folded off the line. Hemming tape. Scuff stuff. Nail polish on a laddered stocking. The slice we’d make for morning tea was actually called ‘Lazy lady’. (It was EXCELLENT. Essentially, a speedy chocolate brownie. Recipe following.) When I’m done blaming Mum for introducing me to aerosol canola I can consider the influence of my friends. One of my dearest pals of all time doesn’t even use pegs on her clothesline. She hangs the washing out and when it’s dry it falls off the line and onto the ground. She and her children always look very clean, so this system obviously works. Love you, Nessie. I shortcut every single day. Some days it’s no underwear. No butter under the vegemite. And don’t even get me started on the cleaning shortcuts I make. *Cough* Maybe that’s why, for many years, I was doubly killed by the occasional need to write ‘home duties’ next to ‘Occupation’. I’m so unbelievably crap at home duties that I almost set myself and the house on fire. When young, my children frequently left the house with spectacular bed head and I would occasionally notice a child wearing pyjama bottoms while out shopping/visiting. I had a tendency to note appropriate top half and shoes but neglect the flannelette Elmo bottoms. And it’s not that I’m shortcutting and reading or gardening, greater the shame. Some days it feels like roller skates down a really steep hill. On concrete. Without the exhilaration (and the great early eighties perm and short skirt. And legs, for that matter). Right now, I’m off to make a quick espresso, speed-read the Sydney Morning Herald headlines online and not do any cleaning. Again. No cleaning except for the big black smudge on the wall behind the stove, which is all that’s left of my eyebrows. MAKES 16 PIECES 125 g (4½ oz/½ cup) butter, melted 230 g (8 oz/1 cup, lightly packed) Brown Sugar (page 28) 1 free-range egg, beaten 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder 150 g (5½ oz/1 cup) Self-raising Flour (page 25) 45 g (1½ oz/½ cup) desiccated (shredded) coconut, plus extra to decorate hundreds and thousands (sprinkles), to decorate (optional) Icing 125 g (4½ oz/1 cup) icing (confectioners’) sugar 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder 2 teaspoons softened butter 1½ tablespoons full-cream (whole) milk METHOD Make this in one saucepan – save the dishes. Preheat your oven to 175°C (345°F). Grease and line an 18 × 28 cm (7 × 11 in) slice tin. Stir the sugar into the melted butter, followed by the egg. Stir through the cocoa and then the flour and the coconut. Spoon into the prepared tin and smooth it out. Cook for 15–20 minutes. While the brownie’s cooking, make the icing. Mix all the icing ingredients together and spread on the brownie while still hot. Sprinkle with coconut. Or hundreds and thousands. Oh, those cut-off end bits! I grew up with these bits saved for the family while the rest of the slice was given away or taken to a function. The best bits. Cheat’s Brownie (‘Lazy Lady’) HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 1656/4/22 10:05 am 164FROM SCRATCHLIFE IS SWEET After I almost lost my hair one night in the fireball I created by spraying canola spray directly into a pan on the stove (a gas stove, yes, I know I’m an idiot), I am reflecting on the effects of my shortcutting, my quick-fixing and my life of interruptions. I’d like to blame my mother. The master of the domestic shortcut. If there’s a way to do a chore quicker and better she’ll find it because when you finish doing whatever it is, you get to read. Or play in the garden. Or do something fun. And that’s worth a shortcut. So, no ironing. I grew up clothed exclusively in non-creasing polyester cotton, folded off the line. Hemming tape. Scuff stuff. Nail polish on a laddered stocking. The slice we’d make for morning tea was actually called ‘Lazy lady’. (It was EXCELLENT. Essentially, a speedy chocolate brownie. Recipe following.) When I’m done blaming Mum for introducing me to aerosol canola I can consider the influence of my friends. One of my dearest pals of all time doesn’t even use pegs on her clothesline. She hangs the washing out and when it’s dry it falls off the line and onto the ground. She and her children always look very clean, so this system obviously works. Love you, Nessie. I shortcut every single day. Some days it’s no underwear. No butter under the vegemite. And don’t even get me started on the cleaning shortcuts I make. *Cough* Maybe that’s why, for many years, I was doubly killed by the occasional need to write ‘home duties’ next to ‘Occupation’. I’m so unbelievably crap at home duties that I almost set myself and the house on fire. When young, my children frequently left the house with spectacular bed head and I would occasionally notice a child wearing pyjama bottoms while out shopping/visiting. I had a tendency to note appropriate top half and shoes but neglect the flannelette Elmo bottoms. Cheat’s Brownie (‘Lazy Lady’) HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 1646/4/22 10:05 amFrom Scratch Text 22-04-11TEXT BLACKBlackYellowMagentaCyan txt164 165FROM SCRATCHLIFE IS SWEET After I almost lost my hair one night in the fireball I created by spraying canola spray directly into a pan on the stove (a gas stove, yes, I know I’m an idiot), I am reflecting on the effects of my shortcutting, my quick-fixing and my life of interruptions. I’d like to blame my mother. The master of the domestic shortcut. If there’s a way to do a chore quicker and better she’ll find it because when you finish doing whatever it is, you get to read. Or play in the garden. Or do something fun. And that’s worth a shortcut. So, no ironing. I grew up clothed exclusively in non-creasing polyester cotton, folded off the line. Hemming tape. Scuff stuff. Nail polish on a laddered stocking. The slice we’d make for morning tea was actually called ‘Lazy lady’. (It was EXCELLENT. Essentially, a speedy chocolate brownie. Recipe following.) When I’m done blaming Mum for introducing me to aerosol canola I can consider the influence of my friends. One of my dearest pals of all time doesn’t even use pegs on her clothesline. She hangs the washing out and when it’s dry it falls off the line and onto the ground. She and her children always look very clean, so this system obviously works. Love you, Nessie. I shortcut every single day. Some days it’s no underwear. No butter under the vegemite. And don’t even get me started on the cleaning shortcuts I make. *Cough* Maybe that’s why, for many years, I was doubly killed by the occasional need to write ‘home duties’ next to ‘Occupation’. I’m so unbelievably crap at home duties that I almost set myself and the house on fire. When young, my children frequently left the house with spectacular bed head and I would occasionally notice a child wearing pyjama bottoms while out shopping/visiting. I had a tendency to note appropriate top half and shoes but neglect the flannelette Elmo bottoms. And it’s not that I’m shortcutting and reading or gardening, greater the shame. Some days it feels like roller skates down a really steep hill. On concrete. Without the exhilaration (and the great early eighties perm and short skirt. And legs, for that matter). Right now, I’m off to make a quick espresso, speed-read the Sydney Morning Herald headlines online and not do any cleaning. Again. No cleaning except for the big black smudge on the wall behind the stove, which is all that’s left of my eyebrows. MAKES 16 PIECES 125 g (4½ oz/½ cup) butter, melted 230 g (8 oz/1 cup, lightly packed) Brown Sugar (page 28) 1 free-range egg, beaten 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder 150 g (5½ oz/1 cup) Self-raising Flour (page 25) 45 g (1½ oz/½ cup) desiccated (shredded) coconut, plus extra to decorate hundreds and thousands (sprinkles), to decorate (optional) Icing 125 g (4½ oz/1 cup) icing (confectioners’) sugar 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder 2 teaspoons softened butter 1½ tablespoons full-cream (whole) milk METHOD Make this in one saucepan – save the dishes. Preheat your oven to 175°C (345°F). Grease and line an 18 × 28 cm (7 × 11 in) slice tin. Stir the sugar into the melted butter, followed by the egg. Stir through the cocoa and then the flour and the coconut. Spoon into the prepared tin and smooth it out. Cook for 15–20 minutes. While the brownie’s cooking, make the icing. Mix all the icing ingredients together and spread on the brownie while still hot. Sprinkle with coconut. Or hundreds and thousands. Oh, those cut-off end bits! I grew up with these bits saved for the family while the rest of the slice was given away or taken to a function. The best bits. Cheat’s Brownie (‘Lazy Lady’) HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 1656/4/22 10:05 am 164FROM SCRATCHLIFE IS SWEET After I almost lost my hair one night in the fireball I created by spraying canola spray directly into a pan on the stove (a gas stove, yes, I know I’m an idiot), I am reflecting on the effects of my shortcutting, my quick-fixing and my life of interruptions. I’d like to blame my mother. The master of the domestic shortcut. If there’s a way to do a chore quicker and better she’ll find it because when you finish doing whatever it is, you get to read. Or play in the garden. Or do something fun. And that’s worth a shortcut. So, no ironing. I grew up clothed exclusively in non-creasing polyester cotton, folded off the line. Hemming tape. Scuff stuff. Nail polish on a laddered stocking. The slice we’d make for morning tea was actually called ‘Lazy lady’. (It was EXCELLENT. Essentially, a speedy chocolate brownie. Recipe following.) When I’m done blaming Mum for introducing me to aerosol canola I can consider the influence of my friends. One of my dearest pals of all time doesn’t even use pegs on her clothesline. She hangs the washing out and when it’s dry it falls off the line and onto the ground. She and her children always look very clean, so this system obviously works. Love you, Nessie. I shortcut every single day. Some days it’s no underwear. No butter under the vegemite. And don’t even get me started on the cleaning shortcuts I make. *Cough* Maybe that’s why, for many years, I was doubly killed by the occasional need to write ‘home duties’ next to ‘Occupation’. I’m so unbelievably crap at home duties that I almost set myself and the house on fire. When young, my children frequently left the house with spectacular bed head and I would occasionally notice a child wearing pyjama bottoms while out shopping/visiting. I had a tendency to note appropriate top half and shoes but neglect the flannelette Elmo bottoms. Cheat’s Brownie (‘Lazy Lady’) HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 1646/4/22 10:05 amFrom Scratch Text 22-04-11BlackYellowMagentaCyan txt212 HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 2136/4/22 10:09 amHG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 2126/4/22 10:09 amFrom Scratch Text 22-04-11BlackYellowMagentaCyan txt212 HG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 2136/4/22 10:09 amHG_FromScratch_TXT_FINAL_SI.indd 2126/4/22 10:09 amNext >