Eckersley’s opened just around the corner, so Aaron made jam.

All week the girls, and Jackson have been painting on the big table, so desperate we are to be taken seriously. This is because on Monday Eckersley’s Art Supplies opened just around the corner on Tudor St, so I marched down immediately to inspect the store.

I am not an artist, but thankfully all the girls are. I felt a little nervous as I had know idea what anything was used for, but thankfully one of the lovely ladies there helped me find some paints (Gouache to be precise).

Ever since Aaron has had a little girl he has been busily making jam, so between me and my scissors, the girls and the art, and Aaron and his jam, we have made the first truly collaborative product, hand painted jars of jam.

I am not sure if I want to sell it any more. I’ll let you know.

He stroked the back of my arms, so gently, it made the hair stand up on my neck.

“He stroked the back of my arms, so gently, it made the hair stand up on my neck”.

I was ruining the gnocchi, taking away all it’s lightness with my big clumsy hands. He was unnervingly delicate as he ran his hands up and down my arms, only touching the hairs. This was rare for the chef, always full of passion and anger, although with a firm foundation of love. Earlier I had watched him, trance like, rolling on the balls of his feet in a long, circling motion as he kneaded the big ball of potato, flour and egg. He looked a thousand miles away, not the usual urgent, focussed, chopping, checking, searing, plating and sharp words.

The chef had brought me in, as a favor, or peace offering, I am not quite sure. I was grateful to be there, as he gently showed me how to roll out the gnocchi. Snake by snake, I felt like I was beginning to connect with my gnocchi, protecting it’s centre from my weight and roughness, stretching without pulling and rolling by barely touching.

As we finished, I asked the chef, “What is the ratio of potatoes, to flour, to egg?”

“Not sure, you just get a feel for it,” he responded, still a thousand miles away as he considered his answer.

It’s been years since I worked with that chef, but since that day I have tried to make gnocchi from time to time, sometimes even thinking that I understand it, although just as I think I do it turns around and changes. There are so many variable in the potatoes, the flour and the egg. I have read widely on the topic, and have come up with a few pointers, if you want to achieve the lightest gnocchi.

• You must use the least amount of flour and egg possible to form the gnocchi, without having it break apart.
• You must do this by cooking the potato in such a way as to retain as much of the starch in potato as possible. (We roast it with the skin on)
• You must choose a potato high in starch. (We use Desiree potatoes)

There is much more to making gnocchi than this, but I believe this is a good start to anyones journey in gnocchi.

Wednesday Night Set Menu $50 Bookings Available from 5pm

Entree	Salad of rocket, asparagus, and soft boiled egg
Main course	Gnocchi with 55 degree Tasmanian salmon fillet, cauliflower, lemon, capers & dill
Desert	Fresh baked tart from Alice, of Uprising Pattiserie
Glass of Wine	2009 Dog Point Sauvignon Blanc, Malborough, New Zealand

I’ve let my babies come out to play.

The first day of spring is a special day, with any luck the chef has a new baby in his by tonight. For now the kitchen moves forward, alone, to find its own feet as we let Aaron take some well earned time with his wife and new child.

This day is beautiful, it promises a fast run into Christmas, with a few storms along the way, both in weather and business. Today however I have let my babies out to play, some of my favorite wines that I have been collecting, all available by the glass:

2001 Petaluma Riesling, Eden Valley, S.A. $10

2003 Pewsey Vale ‘Contours’ Riesling, Eden Valley, S.A $10

2005 Leasingham ‘Classic Clare’ Riesling, Clare Valley, S.A $15

2008 Grosset Polish Hill Riesling, Clare Valley, S.A  $15

I remember years ago I worked on an oyster bar which had a selection of aged rieslings, and every morning as I set up the bar I would try them, usually around ten a.m., just to see if they were still ok. I learnt quickly not to brush my teeth until after the bar was set up, as dry riesling in the morning, although not recommended is amazing.

So, back to my babies, funnily enough every time these wines have become available I have been under some kind of financial stress, nothing serious, just the usual BAS, insurance and PAYG juggling that goes on at this time of year. I have alway, however, made a point of buying as much as I think I can get away with. I have always wanted match a range like this to food, I thoroughly enjoy Riesling in all its stages of development and these are some of Australia’s best, I hope you like them.

Man in the little boat, what is your name?

Often I see the man in the little boat, heading out to sea, beyond the Nobby’s break wall. Often I see him in his beenie, smoking, holding a cup of coffee as he passes through the heads. Sometimes I sea him on his way in, his skin brown and leathery, teeth chipped and yellow. He is quiet, emotionless, neither happy nor sad. I don’t know your name, but I eat your fish.

The chef went to Marseilles with his wife, the trip of a lifetime. He watched the same scene there, a man in a little boat, heading out to sea. He wore the same beenie, he smoked, and had the same leathery chipped features. His boat was smaller, he was content, neither happy nor sad. He had already had his coffee, an espresso from the stove top with his wife, she packed him his baguette and agreed to meet him later, the same time as always. This was his life, the only one he knew.

Coming into port, past Nobby’s, the man in the little boat keeps the throttle on just enough to ride the line of swell into calmer water. He motors in gently, tired, his mouth dry from cigarettes and pulse surging from caffeine he looks starboard to Stockton, some of his friends live there. He then glances up to the hill, know one knows his name there. He sees them coming round the harbour in big cars and parking in the market car park, they like his fish on Friday.

Pulling into the old Port of Marseilles the other nameless fisherman at the helm of his little boat looks up the hill to his apartment, his wife hangs her apron out a soon as her cake is in the oven, it is her sign to him that home is ready. Next he focuses on the other boats in port, time to find his place. Gently backing of the throttle, the little boat idles up to the cluster of small fishing boats and nudges in. ‘Allez, allez, allez!’, he says and laughs loudly. He looks like a ‘Jean Luc’, ‘Pascal’, or maybe even ‘Ari’ and is definitely among friends as he forces his way to the dock preparing to unload his fish.

At the rear of the market back home the nameless man pulls up in his boat and waits for back door of the shed to slide open. When it does a forklift backs out with its reverse alarm blaring. He stands there with his fish waiting for them to be assessed, wondering what they are worth. Not much today, or any day, nothing wrong with the fish though. After, the forklift is swallowed back inside the shed and the man in the little boat heads home. There is know one even there to ask.

“Man in the little boat, what is your name?”

In Marseilles a different scene unfolds, a large black saloon snakes along the road and up to the dock, a well dressed man hops out. He walks over to Jean-luc, Pascal, Ari, or whatever his name is. The man has a broad smile and immediately offers his hand to shake. Jean-luc offers his elbow in response, as he has been deep inside a beautiful large fish. The man shakes it firmly and watches him finish cleaning the fish. Jean-luc slides it into a large plastic bag and passes it over to the well dressed man who hands him an envelope an nods. Jean-luc nods back and puffs out a cloud of cigarette smoke, moving on to his next fish. By this time people are everywhere, lining up, shaking the elbows of fisherman, they all know their names.

The chef is just a tourist, entranced, he comes back the next day just to stand amongst voices and handshakes, cigarettes, coffee and men in their little boats. If he lived here he would ask;

“Man in the little boat, what is your name?”

A whole jar, especially for you.

Potted vegetable pate with fresh broad beans, peas and sourdough croute.

The entree for this Wednesday Night’s Dinner.

After all that pain we will sit down to a glass of Petaluma Coonawarra 1986

This has been a hard week, we have had more heated discussions in our kitchen about Pork Belly than any other dish in a long time. We have all learned a lot, and are very happy with the final dish.

We now have it pressed and sliced.

We then have vacuum sealed it into bags so we can gently nurse them up to serving temperature so as not to release any moisture.

Once at serving temperature they will be placed skin side down on the grill to give a lovely browned skin, that tastes like ‘pork toffee’, in your mouth.

Last week I was lucky enough to be offered an allocation of ‘Museum Release’ Petaluma wines, of which on of is the Petaluma 1986 Coonawarra Cabernet. We received delivery this morning at 7:30am.

This will be available by the glass for Wednesday night’s dinner, and will be offered as an optional set menu for $65. This is a rare opportunity to try a 24 year old wine by the glass.

Berkshire Pork Belly, a love story.

Berkshire Pork Belly, a love story.

I love pork belly. The gelatinous and flavoursome fat, tasty meat and crisp skin all combine to make a truly delectable moment.

I have eaten pork belly in many different ways throughout the years, my mother used to roast it simply with garlic, while at the other end of the scale are the wafer thin slices served in soy at our favourite chinese restaurant.

This is always the meal that I will choose when discovered on a menu.
Having such a love of this cut, I promised at an early stage in my cooking life to discover its secrets. I now have to limit my consumption of to special occasions only, for the sake of my continued good health.

Those of us at three bean espresso like to get together every now and then, outside of work, to share good food and company. What began with summer picnics in King Edward Park, has progressed to banquets in homes with each guest contributing something special to the meal.

It is always a bit of a competition to see what we each come up with, and we tend to pick an unofficial winner by the merits of their dish. While in the past we had selected one meal each from appetiser /salad/ meat/ carbohydrate/dessert, so as to get a good balance, this time it was a free for all. On this occasion it was a very rich meal. And I went with pork belly. In hindsight, a fresh salad would have been fine.

I find it’s best to get the whole belly in one piece, as it holds the moisture better and doesn’t dry out. I rub a spiced salt mixture all over it of garlic, star anise and fennel seeds and leave it to absorb the flavours overnight. The following day I brush off the excess salt and submerge the meat in stock and cook slowly for about 8 hours, before crisping the skin to serve. (Written by Janet Haigh)

If you like, I will talk you through our experiences day by day, as we prepare 80 serves for next Wednesday night’s set menu. It is a love story, filled with tears, joy, sadness and defeat. It will end in triumph though, I can assure you.

Wednesday, 11/8/2010

Day 1: Delivery

We are very excited as we have ordered 12 bellies of Berkshire Pork. This style of pork is a traditional breed of black pig. It is known for its superior flavor and marbling and it is the first time we have had it at three bean espresso.

We receive them around lunch time and put them in tubs rubbed in Janet’s garlic, pink salt, fennel seed & star anise mix, then return them to the fridge and leave them over night.

Thursday, 12/8/2010

Day 2: Test 1, Overnight Braise

The bellies have marinated overnight in the salt rub, the smell as they are removed from the fridge at 3pm is alive with liquorice & garlic. Janet & Aaron have made a beautiful chicken stock throughout the day, four of the bellies are laid in trays in the oven and covered with stock. The oven is set at about 4pm to 130 degrees and the trays slid in, they ask me if I can check on them throughout the night, as our oven has a habit of going out at low temperatures.

6:30pm, all is well, the oven is still on. I have just dropped in after going to Crossfit and can barely open the oven door, I decide to have a chocolate milk before going home to cook Kingfish for the kids.

9:45pm, I return to the café to check the oven again, it is still on and the smell of liquorice and garlic is stronger, along with a faint smell of pork. I leave a note for Phil the cleaner to check it before he leaves at 2:00am, and call me if it has gone out so I can come and re – light it.

Friday, 13/8/2010

Day 3: Fail

I arrive at 5:45 and the oven is still on, I open the door and the smell of pork and spices explodes out of the oven.

Aaron arrives at 6:00 and begins to unload the bellies from the oven and move them from the stock into containers, ready for us to press. The bellies are very soft, we struggle to keep them in one piece as we move them, using 2 spatulas and being very careful.

Overbraised pork belly

We both try a piece of the meat, it is dry, or ‘blown out’ as Aaron would put it. This is a disappointment, as over braised meat may be soft and fall apart, but it lacks any character and the fibers are stringy, not soft.

Nicely braised Pork Belly

Pork belly is a difficult meat to cook well, as there are many different layers, that all respond differently to different temperatures. I often find that to display one layer well you have to sacrifice others. The connective membrane that is between the layers usually melts at a higher temperature than what we would usually braise at, thus making it very difficult to keep the actual meat moist, whilst achieving the desired result on the fat and skin.

By 7:30 Aaron has another batch of 2 bellies in the oven, this time the oven is set to 150 degrees, to be checked regularly until ready. After three hours the bellies were ready, Aaron described the stock as just beginning to ‘tick’, just under a simmer. The flesh is soft and tender, but still very moist. The fat is also soft and flavorsome, the bellies are still not perfect, as they are not showing the distinctive flavors of the marinade. We have decided to use the sauce from the overnight braise to boost the flavor for the remaining bellies, which has given us the idea to start our own master stock. I think braising 12 bellies will be a good start for a master stock, and make a great sauce for next Wednesday night.

Our third year apprentice is cooking tomorrow night!

This Wednesday Nights Menu was created for you by Janet Haigh, our third year apprentice.

Janet was born in early Spring in 1978, at dinner time, in Devonport, Tasmania. She has had an interesting life as a traveller since leaving Tasmania in 1997, in the early stages of a Fine Art’s degree, first traveling to Fremantle where she worked as a Dry Cleaner for one year in 1998.

At the end of her year in Fremantle Janet moved to Melbourne where she worked in ‘Savers’, a second hand clothing store, before leaving a year later, to travel the east coast picking fruit.

At the end of her third year out of Tasmania, Janet came to Newcastle to visit a friend and decided to stay. She worked for five years in a fruit and vegetable shop in ‘The Junction’ before starting her career in the kitchen at ‘Silo’ for one year.

In September, 2008, Janet came here to us at three bean espresso to finish her apprenticeship. She has since become Chef Aaron’s second in charge, always leading the kitchen in his absence.

Whilst Janet has worked here she has won our hearts, finished a novel, helped in the training of over 6 new apprentices and become an increasing influence over the menus that you enjoy daily at three bean espresso.

Recently Janet finished her TAFE component in which she topped the year, with a distinction average. Chef Aaron and all of us are very proud, as is her mother, who Janet thanks as being integral in establishing her love for food.

Tonight’s menu was created by Janet using our strict criteria that all dishes must have some kind of emotional and sentimental link to our lives in some way, here is the story of her’s to tonight’s meal.

Boeuf Bourguignon de la neige: Written by Janet Haigh
Though I was born and bred in the southern wilds of Tasmania, I was not made for snow country. Nonetheless, my partner has seen fit to try to convince me otherwise, for in his family it is an annual tradition to visit the ski fields near Jindabyne.
In years gone by I have begged my case to no avail, until, last august, after lengthy negotiations, I finally struck a deal. In exchange for a peaceful appreciation of a warm indoors, quiet hours reading, and an absence of snow-fuelled activities, I vowed to cook a beautiful dinner each night for the ten of them to return to.
So it was, then, that I endeavoured to create the best menu ever, for my future warmth and comfort hung in the balance.
In the morning, as they set off to tour the slopes, I slept in. Later, as I imagined the wet and cold conditions on the mountain, I caramelised beef, bacon and onions, adding stock, mushrooms, and of course wine. For hours, I slowly braised the beef until it was melting apart, and the sauce was thick and rich.
As an entree I was making soup, the same as my mother used to make for us with vegetables just dug from the garden. I used loads of tasty leeks, sautéed with a little bacon, potatoes, chicken stock and a touch of cream, finished with black pepper.
I endured the combined aromas of soup and beef bourguignon, alone, for an hour, and then I caved. With a glass of wine in one hand, and a bowl of soup in the other, I settled beside the fire.
Time soon passed, and the call arrived that they had left the mountain and were heading home.
As everyone shuffled in the door, ruddy-faced from the cold, I handed them a bowl of leek and potato soup, and when the inevitable queue for hot showers had dwindled, they came back for seconds.
Exhausted – no doubt from hurling themselves up and down a mountain all day – my companions slowly thawed in front of the fire. Meanwhile, I happily mashed potatoes and set the table.
With its rich, velvety sauce and succulent beef, the bourguignon was well worth the wait. Perfect for a cold winter’s night.
It’s official. Best snow trip ever.

Set Menu

1 Rustic leek and potato soup made with 30 leeks, fresh chicken stock and Desiree potatoes, served with toasted sourdough

2 Boeuf Bourguignon of Cape Grimm beef cheek, braised in red wine, lardons, mushrooms & eschallot with potato mash

3 Pistachio, chocolate & caramel mousse cake, from Alice at ‘Uprising Pattiserie’

4 Glass of:       2007 Fern Grove ‘Majestic’ Cabernet Sauvignon, Frankland River, Western Australia         Set Menu $49

2002 Peter Lehmann ‘8 Songs’ Shiraz, Barossa Valley, South Australia

Set Menu $55

2007 Vasse Felix ‘Heytesbury’ Cabernet, Margaret River, Western Australia                      Set Menu $60

2009 Perth Royal Wine Show ~ Gold plus Trophy

Vintage Cellars Trophy for ‘Best Dry Red Table Wine’

2009 Qantas Wine Show of Western Australia ~ Gold

2009 Royal Queensland Wine Show ~ Gold

Wine Business Magazine ~ October 2009 ~ 95 Points

Welcome friends, a brief note about the eggs you will be eating today.

Recently I was asked to put together a set menu for a group of twenty lovely customers who wanted to dine on a Saturday morning, we agreed that we could do poached eggs & bacon, with a few sides at that time as it is usually very busy and difficult to serve that many people nicely.

I looked at the menu when I typed it up and it was difficult to justify the paper for the few words it took to explain their breakfast. I decided to speak to Kerry from Cornucopia Biodynamic Farm, as it had been a long time, and see if we could nut out a bit of background around the eggs. This is what we came up with.

Welcome …………………… and friends,

A brief note about the eggs you will be eating today.

Cornucopia Biodynamic Farm is an organic farm which has provided all our eggs for the restaurant since shortly after opening. Located a few kilometers downstream from Lostock Dam on the Paterson River, the farm was founded by the late Ray Marshall, who sadly passed away in May last year, shortly before his 50^th birthday. Ray was a beautiful man who introduced us to the world of biodynamic’s, food miles, real chicken, real eggs, abundant conversation and his beautiful farm.

Our friend Ray Marshall

Ray’s partner, Kerry, continues to run the farm with the same dedication to ethical food and animal welfare established by Ray in 1999. Producing eggs and beef with biodynamic principles and practices means there is always an abundance of work to keep the delicate complexities of a diverse system in balance. Because of causeway access, routine flooding of the Paterson can mean that 30 to 40 boxes of eggs are carried across the oldest footbridge on the river to be loaded into the van for the trip south. However, the tremendous beauty and soul of the surrounding country is a profoundly supportive offset for the constant challenges presented by farm life. Kerry aims to keep her own balance making time to practice natural horsemanship with her three beautiful horses Joey, Azadi and Rumi. She is a tough but tender and sensitive woman who cares for all her chickens, cows, goats, ducks, geese, peacocks, horses, dogs and cat with the totality of her soul.

To say that these eggs are raised ‘free range’ is an understatement. The birds roam freely throughout the day, sheltering at night in their ‘mobile homes’. These houses are built on skids and pulled by the tractor onto fresh pasture every few days, encouraging an even spread of poultry manure onto the pasture and providing the birds with a constant supply of fresh pick. Complimenting this foraging is a premium certified organic grain mixed specifically for poultry. These birds live long and healthy lives as close to natural as possible.

The eggs have more flavour than a typical egg and are pleasantly complimented by the creamy texture of the yolk. We serve 50 gm eggs as we find they poach beautifully with a firm white, which when pressed with the knife, permits the bright yolk to explode onto the toast. When eaten with the toasted sourdough you will find the nutty flavours of the toasted crust will compliment well the centre of the bread, of which there is ample, to collect the essence of both eggs, with a little left to mop around your plate.

Our relationship with this farm has formed the foundation of our own ideology around food which is dedicated to the support of artisan producers, environmental sustainability, and regional produce.

We hope you enjoy your meal today,

Sincerely,

Ben Armstrong, Kerry Harvey and team

III bean espresso poached eggs

drinks orange juice or passionfruit orange & apple juice or pink lady apple juice 5.50

breakfast

Soft poached eggs and thick cut bacon on toasted sourdough,

served with platters of field mushrooms, house made baked beans and roasted tomatoes 22.00

The Swiss have remained neutral too long!

I first had cheese, that I remember, on toast with tinned tomato soup. Dad, before he discovered cholesterol, made it for us and we dunked the cheese on toast right in, whilst we waited for the soup to cool. My father also introduced me to fire roasted jaffles, with the smoky taste of partially burnt bread filled with hot baked beans and melted cheese. He made them on an open fire as well as held them over the gas stove.

My grandfather, who was not a cook, knew only one dish, cheese on toast. He was skilled at many other things, he was a blacksmith, a fisherman, a golfer, a mower man, a gardener as well as a very good father/grandfather, but not a cook. In the last weeks my grandmother was with us he cared for her as best he could. He spent time sitting with her, read from the paper to her, made her cups of tea and fed her ‘cheese’.
“Ma, I’ll make you another cheese,” and he’d shuffle into the kitchen and prepare more cheese on toast, accompanied by another cup of tea.
We were in and out of the house those weeks, visiting, chatting and wondering what was happening. We only lived next door, so were grateful to be able to run out one back door and in through the next.

One day I said to grandma, “how’s it going?”

To which she replied, “Alright, but if your Grandpa brings me another ‘cheese’ I think I’ll kill him.”

I laughed at her, as I could tell she loved his attention. I think those last few weeks they had together reaffirmed there love for one another, a real privilege to spend that many years together and then for him to be able to care for her, and her to be cared for by him.

Last Sunday I went to the Newcastle Growers Markets at the show grounds, and visited the Marrook stand for the second time as I had been drawn by the beautiful wheels of cheese that they had on display and decided to get another wedge of their cheese for this week for me to snack on. They were very nice.

As I walked away the lady from the Fosterton Farm stand called me over and said, “Ben, you really need to put that cheese in IIIbean.”

I told her I had been considering it, but was unsure about introducing myself. My experience is that most producers have been burnt in some way by restauranteurs, so I usually wait for an introduction. I decided to go back and buy the rest of the wheel if he would sell it to me.

‘Kinda force an introduction,’ I thought.

As we began to chat and talk about the cheese I broached the question that had been on my mind, I asked gently.

“Is there anything culinarily that you would prefer we did not do with your cheese?”

I hoped that he would understand what I meant, as usually producers are a bit funny about what can be done with their products, and as I planned on melting it, I wasn’t sure if he would approve.

He responded.

“There’s a bloke in Maitland who melts it over his burgers, I think that’s pretty nice.”

This sounds like my kinda bloke, so we proceeded to talk about the cheese and settled on the stronger of the two cheeses, due to it’s superior melting properties.

The discussion led to the fact that he only came to town once a month, so I suggested that I could pick up six wheels every month, to which he looked a little distressed. He preferred to keep the wheels with him as long as possible as every two days he liked to wash them in brine to keep them in good condition. He did suggest that he might mail a wheel down to us each week, that way he could continue to maintain the cheeses routine.

I like that sort of thing, so we are ready for change on one of our biggest selling dishes, the ‘Croque Monsieur’ which is a very simple toasted sandwich, translated into English it means “Mr Crispy”

We have always been proud of the ingredients we put into this sandwich:

2 slices of Morpeth Sourdough, taken from the centre of the loaf.
Béchamel sauce
Double smoked leg ham, shaved thinly.
Real French Mustard from Dijon
Swiss Gruyere

Each ingredient has been the best we have been able to find, until now. I feel that the swiss Gruyere has been a little too neutral in the centre of that sandwich, this cheese from Marrook is about to take centre stage. Our test run concluded that the rind was very edible and added significantly the flavour of the sandwich, as well as the body of the cheese having a more exciting flavour. The cheese is more aggressive than the swiss in flavor, yet not unpleasantly so.

Stay tuned, we will let you know when we receive our first wheel, but tonight, I’m going to have a ‘cheese’, in honor of my grandparents.