Bush Food

Perhaps it's the global economic climate. Maybe I can chalk it up to vestiges of university frugality. It could be that I have a need to feel a greater connection with my food. Possibly I just like not paying for stuff.

Whatever the reason, I keep finding myself looking for free food. I've eaten acorns and figs, nasturtiums and lavender, olives and feijoas. I find myself eyeballing trees and vines and bushes as I walk around Sydney, searching for lemons or grapes or loquats. This habit has honed my ability to spot fruiting trees at some distance. One eventually gains the ability to recognize leaf shapes and colors so that I often know where to keep checking back, waiting for the fruit that will eventually come.

I'm a bit proud of my ability to identify fruiting trees and shrubs by their appearance. However, I am a chef and not a botanist, so I do miss the occasional tree. For instance, I only noticed the giant mulberry tree which grows less than a block from my house earlier this year when the sidewalk beneath was bruised purple with crushed berries.

In all my fruit-spotting, I've realized, I am looking for plants from the Americas, Africa, Europe, Asia, but I spend absolutely no time looking at native Australian trees. There are plenty of native Australian foods: most famously the macadamia nut, but also the finger lime, bush tomato, and lemon myrtle, to name a few. Not many of these plants grow in Sydney, and I wouldn't know how to recognize the ones which do.

Still, I'm the curious type, and when I see something that looks edible, I can't help myself.

No, no. I'm not walking around gnawing on local shrubs. I know I have a history of ingesting strange, questionable produce which I have gathered from public spaces but, believe it or not, I have no intention of poisoning myself.

However, damn, these little guys look tasty.



They are called illawarra plums, and are, luckily for me, not deadly. In fact, they are not only delicious, with a sweet-resin-juniper flavor, but have about five times the antioxidants of blueberries.

Looks like I've accidentally eaten something good for me.



Their name is misleading, as they are not plums at all; nor are they fruit. Rather they are swollen, fleshy seed cones of a species of conifer. Each cone has a small seed attached to the bottom (sometimes two seeds) and the edible, fleshy “plum” has a stem running through the centre.

After tasting I knew I wanted to pair the plums with meat, and when I'm cooking it's a short step from “meat” to “pork.”



Illawarra Plum-Glazed Pork Fillet with Applesauce and Sauteéd Cabbage

You could pretty easily substitute redcurrant jelly for the plum jelly in this recipe, and then toss a few cracked juniper berries into the sauce while it is reducing. The result would be quite similar. One large pork fillet should be enough for two. Also, don't skip the crackling (your butcher should sell you this for next to nothing) as fillet is quite lean and every roast pork meal should be heart attack material.

1 pork fillet (400g approx)
125ml dry white wine
1 tsp dijon mustard
Illawarra plum jelly (below)

Pre-heat your oven to 220ºC. In a very small pot, melt 2 tbsp of the jelly on low heat. Set aside and keep warm.

Heat a medium, heavy-bottom fry pan on high heat. Season the fillet generously with salt and pepper. Add a couple tablespoons of olive oil to the hot pan and brown the fillet on all sides. Transfer the fillet to a roasting tray. Using a brush, coat the fillet with the melted jelly and then transfer to the hot oven. Roast until a meat thermometer reads 72ºC – about 10 minutes, depending on the size of the fillet. Rest the fillet in a warm place a few minutes before serving.

Meanwhile, reduce the stove-top temperature to medium and pour the wine into the hot pan in which you just sealed the pork. Use a wooden spoon scrape off any bits that may have stuck to the bottom. When the wine has reduced by half, add 1 tbsp of plum jelly and the dijon mustard. Reduce by half again. Taste, adjust seasoning, adding more jelly if needed.

Assemble the meal by carving the pork into medallions and setting them on a dollop of apple sauce (see below). Garnish with sauteéd cabbage and crackling (both below) and finish with a drizzle of the plum jelly pan sauce.

Sauteéd Cabbage

¼ head of savoy cabbage

Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil. Slice the cabbage as thinly as possible and blanch it in the boiling water for 1 minute. Strain and cool with cold water. Squeeze dry.

Heat a large fry pan on high heat. Pour in a couple tablespoons of oil and add the cabbage. Tossing constantly, sauteé the cabbage until it begins to color in spots. Season with salt and pepper and remove from the heat.



Crackling

200 g pork skin, deeply scored (ask your butcher to do this)
salt
olive oil

Rub the skin side of the crackling all over with olive oil and then sprinkle generously with salt. Allow to sit for at least a half an hour. Cook on a roasting rack over a tray in a 220º oven for 30-45 minutes. The skin will bubble and crisp up and color a bit. Be careful not to overcook as crackling burns easily.

Simple Applesauce

I make my own applesauce for two reasons: first, I like it to be sour, as this cuts through the richness of the pork, and most of the ones you can buy have been sweetened. Second, it's really bloody easy.

2 granny smith apples, peeled, cored, and chopped roughly

Put the apples and a splash of water (this prevents sticking until the apples begin to break down) into a small pot and simmer gently until the apples have become very soft and begun to disintegrate. Transfer to a blender, blend until smooth, and refrigerate until needed.

Illawarra Plum Jelly

I used apples here as they are high in pectin and tend to take on the flavor of anything you cook with them.

150g Illawarra Plums “pits” removed
300g granny smith apples, chopped, cores and all
300g sugar
60ml water
1 lemon, juice and seeds

In a nonreactive pot, combine the plums, apples, water, lemon juice, and lemon seeds. Bring to a boil. Add the sugar, stir to dissolve, and simmer until it reaches setting stage - about 104º C. To test, drop a bit of jelly onto a cold plate and then place it in the fridge for a few moments. Push the drop with your finger; if it is thick and a wrinkly skin forms, it is ready.

Strain the hot jelly through a fine sieve or muslin cloth into sterilized jars and seal.