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Otago Daily Times

Connecting over a meal

Otago Polytechnic culinary arts student Alice Bickerstaff joins the Fresh team with her first column featuring her favourite comfort foods. For as long as I can remember, food has been a source of connection in my life. Whether it is spending family meals at the dinner table together or sharing coffee with friends, food provides us with time to connect with those around us. Think back to the best meals you have had; is it the kai you recall, or the people you ate with? The most defining meals of my life aren't special because the steak was cooked perfectly, or the restaurant was especially fancy. They are memorable because of whom I shared them with. From Christmas dinner with my extended family to countless meals with my flatmates, food has been a vessel for laughter and connection becomes even more powerful during times of change or solitude. Food has also been a source of comfort. Since moving out of home, I've had a hard time adjusting to cooking meals for one instead of four. Navigating the dynamics of flat groceries (different budgets, schedules, and tastes) is also difficult. I've found myself visiting my parents most weekends, especially in winter, to escape the cold of my student flat. Roast chicken tends to be the meal I request the most as it is homely, comforting, and too much effort to prepare for one. However, for a quick and easy family meal, it is perfect. Nothing captures the feeling of opening the door of your childhood home and being met with a rush of warm air, the nostalgic scent of roasting chicken and garlic washing over you. Cooking connects us to people and place, to history and tradition. It forces us to slow down and engage with what we are doing. Chopping, stirring, measuring, kneading — these repetitive motions provide quiet moments of reflection so often needed after a long day. Whenever I find myself in this space, I lean towards tried-and-true family recipes, especially those from my nana. She was a stickler for never wasting anything, and this habit has become part of our family's cooking culture. No recipe embodies this better than my Nana's apple and blackcurrant shortcake. I've adapted it for a little more clarity, but it can go with anything; don't limit yourself to the suggested ingredients. Perhaps the best way to cook is with ingredients from the land that you have grown or gathered yourself. We live in Aotearoa, a place with so much natural abundance, it seems a waste to not make use of it. Kōkihi, or New Zealand spinach, is a native plant that grows abundantly year-round on the coast, and can be found all over Dunedin. It has crisp, succulent-like leaves and tastes like salty spinach. I've used it here instead of regular spinach in a recipe for spanikopita. Make sure you harvest from an unsprayed location, away from roads, and be wary of dogs marking their territory; if in doubt, don't pick. Harvest only the tips of the leaves to encourage regrowth and take no more than a third of what's available. This ensures the food source will survive for future generations. These family recipes all create space for connection over food. Whether by providing time to relax while a chicken roasts in the oven, or being quick to throw together, they allow your focus to remain where it belongs — on the people you're sharing kai with. Roast chicken with bread and drippings Roast chicken is one of those meals that provides the ultimate comfort. There's just something about the gentle aroma spreading through the house, drawing out whānau one by one as they follow their noses. This recipe is inspired by my Mum's technique of using up old bread by putting it under the chicken to catch all the flavourful juices. As the chicken roasts, the bread caramelises, becoming intensely savoury and addictive. Serves 4 Prep 20 min, needs leaving overnight Cooking time 60-90 min 1.5kg whole chicken 2 tsp salt 50g butter, very soft Handful of herbs, finely chopped (parsley, thyme, rosemary, sage, or oregano all work well) 5 cloves garlic, (3 finely chopped and 2 peeled) 1 lemon, zested and lightly juiced, halves reserved 1 tsp freshly ground black pepper 2 onions, peeled and quartered 2 ciabatta buns (or whatever stale bread you have lying around) Method The night before you plan to cook the chicken, wash it (removing any unwanted bits from the inside), and pat dry thoroughly with paper towels. Season all over with salt to ensure the meat is flavoured to the bone, and place in the fridge uncovered; this will create a crispier skin when roasting. The day of, bring the chicken to room temperature by removing it from the fridge an hour before you plan to cook; this will help it roast more evenly. Preheat the oven to 200°C. Combine the butter, finely chopped garlic, lemon juice, zest, and black pepper in a small bowl. Gently slide an upside-down spoon beneath the skin of the breasts to loosen and spread about one third of the butter mix underneath, pushing it down so you coat as much as possible. Spread the remaining butter mix over the outside of the chicken. Then, stuff the cavity with the 2 peeled garlic cloves and reserved lemon halves. In a roasting dish, place onions around the edges, bread in the middle, and chicken on top of bread. Tuck the wings underneath the chicken, and tie the drumsticks together with cooking twine. Try to arrange the onions so they prop up the chicken off the dish and bread; this will ensure the bread doesn't get soggy. Place the remaining onions next to the chicken in the pan. Place the chicken on the bottom rack of the oven and roast for 15 minutes. Lower the temperature to 180°C, turn the chicken so it is facing the opposite way, and roast until golden brown and the juices run clear, about 40 minutes to an hour more (or until a meat thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the chicken reads above 75°C). Remove the chicken from the oven, rest for 15 minutes, then carve and serve with the caramelised bread, pouring over the pan drippings. I like to serve with a side of charred broccoli and roast potatoes. Kōkihi spanikopita This is adapted from an old family friend's recipe. Aside from the base ingredients, it is not traditional at all, but it is what I grew up with. Using yoghurt gives the pastry a delicious tenderness, and it pairs beautifully with the saltiness of the kōkihi (NZ spinach). Like most food, it is best shared and eaten outside. Serves 4 (with leftovers) Prep 5 min Baking time 20-30 min Filling 1 big bunch greens (kōkihi, spinach, silverbeet, kale, whatever you have) 1 onion, diced 4 cloves garlic, finely chopped 1 tsp chilli flakes (optional) Handful of rough chopped herbs; mint, dill, parsley and coriander all work well 1 lemon, zested and juiced 200g feta, crumbled into large chunks ¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg ½ tsp freshly ground black pepper ¼ -1 tsp salt 1 egg Pastry 250g plain flour, extra for dusting ½ tsp salt ½ tsp baking powder 100g butter, melted 1 Tbsp olive oil 125g yoghurt 1 egg, lightly beaten Method: Preheat your oven to 200°C and grease a 20cm by 30cm baking dish. Filling — Heat a large frying pan over medium heat and set your electric jug to boil. If using silverbeet or kale, use this time to strip the leaves from the stems and dice the stems. Set leaves aside. Once the pan is hot, add your onions and chopped stems to the pan and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft and translucent, about 8-10 minutes. Add the garlic and chilli flakes and cook until fragrant, about one minute. Set aside. While these cook, add your greens of choice to a large bowl. Cover with boiling water and let soften while the onions cook, turning once or twice so all the leaves get submerged. Drain and run under cold water to cool. Drain again and squeeze out as much water as you can; you'll be surprised at how little greens you're left with, but don't worry. Take this much smaller pile of greens to your chopping board and chop them up a bit, then add back into your large bowl. Your onion mixture should be cooked by now; add into the bowl as well, along with the chopped herbs, lemon zest and juice, feta, nutmeg, and black pepper. Mix roughly and taste; season with salt to your liking (depending on how salty your feta is, you may not need to). Add your egg, mix, and set filling aside. Pastry — Whisk the flour, salt, and baking powder together in a medium bowl. In another bowl, whisk the melted butter, olive oil and yogurt well with a fork, then add the egg. Make a well in the centre of your dry ingredients, and pour the wet in. Mix with the same fork until a shaggy dough forms. Then gently combine (push and pat the dough together, don't knead) with your hands. If you need a bit more flour, add some. The final dough should be soft and tacky. When touched it should slightly stick to your finger like the back of a post-it note, but not break away and cover your finger. Lightly flour your work surface and place your pastry on it. Shape into a rough rectangle, and divide into two-thirds and one third. Set aside the smaller bit and roll the larger piece out to be 3-4cm larger than the base of your pan. Gently line your prepared baking pan with the dough, lifting and pressing it into the corners so it doesn't tear. Spoon the filling into the pastry and gently press into an even layer. Roll out the remaining dough into a rectangle to cover, then place on top of the filling and press to the pastry sides to seal. Poke a few holes in the top of the pastry with a fork, and bake until golden brown, about 20-30 minutes, depending on your oven. Cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes, cut into 6-8 pieces, and serve with a dollop of yogurt. Store covered in the fridge. It's even better cold the next day, and firms up enough to be a great picnic lunch. Blackcurrant and apple shortcake This recipe is inspired by my Nana Jo's shortcake. It's very versatile. Feel free to swap the fruit out for whatever you have lying around. Making this always takes me back to midsummer days picking blackcurrants with my family, their tart juices staining our fingers and everything we touched. Serves 12 Prep 20 min Baking time 30 min Filling 3 apples, washed and diced 300g blackcurrants, washed 1 lemon, zested and juiced 1 tsp cinnamon ¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg 1 tsp salt 2 Tbsp cornflour ½ - 1 C white sugar Pastry ½ C white sugar 1 egg 125g butter, softened 2 C flour 2 tsp baking powder 1 tsp salt Icing sugar to dust Method Preheat oven to 180°C. Grease a 20cm x30cm baking pan. Begin by making the filling, as it needs time to sit. In a medium bowl, add the diced apples, blackcurrants, lemon zest and juice, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt, cornflour, and ½ C sugar. Mix to combine, then taste and adjust sugar to your liking; I like my shortcake quite tart, so I usually leave it there. Set aside. To make the pastry, add the sugar and egg to a medium bowl. Using a handheld electric mixer, beat until lightened in colour and combined, about 3 to 5 minutes. Add the butter and beat until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes. In a separate medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder and salt. Add to the egg and butter mixture and beat on the lowest setting until a clumpy dough just starts to form. Stop beating and use your hands to gently bring the pastry together. To assemble, divide the pastry dough in half and reserve half. Press the other half into the base of your prepared tin; no need to be gentle, just smoosh it into the corners. If you need a bit more to line it properly, take a little extra from the reserved half of pastry. Pour the fruit filling into the tin and spread evenly. To top the shortcake, take the reserved pastry and crumble it with your fingers over top of the fruit; you want flaky jagged imperfect pieces of pastry, not smooth balls. Bake for 20-30 minutes, or until the pastry is golden brown and the fruit is just bubbling in the corners of the pan. Cool completely in the tin on a wire rack, then dust with icing sugar, slice and serve. Store in an airtight container at room temperature.