Picnics and terrines don't necessarily mix

I have come to the conclusion of late that there are certain things in this life I don't like and probably never will...one of them being picnics. This list includes, but is not limited to, camping, incense sticks, black licorice and those denim shorts girls are wearing at the moment with the pocket sticking out of the leg.


But I digress. Picnics are great in theory, particularly when the picnic site in question is a glorious perch on Sydney Harbour with the best free views in the city. It doesn't matter if you have great people and great food - the result is always the same. A battle with the ants, ground that doesn't give, and food that all ends up blending together as one big taste in the mouth. Also, if no one brings a hurricane lamp, you get to eat the food in the dark.


I shouldn't be too harsh. The picnic was for my mum's birthday and I decided to prepare an easy terrine to take, and a moderately difficult one. The first is the cheat's terrine - a layered affair of camembert, diced apple and home-made croutons.

Yes, it is as simple as cutting a cheese in half and sticking some apple between it. My response to Mr Reynaud is this: I'm sure this is great sitting midway between French villages with a fresh baguette, breathing deeply in the French air. On a nearly forty degree in Sydney, this dish is most surely to be overlooked (and the croutons, even though fried in the morning will have gone soft), and at the end of the night, the dish is really just a dressed-up piece of cheese. Most guests thought that it was quite underwhelming and instead went for just about everything else, but mostly while enjoying this view:

The second terrine I had higher hopes for: the coffee terrine. Incredibly rich and flavourful, which takes quite a bit of work to put together. Part of the mixture is real coffee, but you also must add some chicory essence which smells divine and is sweet in itself and I'm sure will be used later in iced coffees and other goodies concocted in the kitchen.

Let me just say this: if a French recipe says that the preparation time is just thirty minutes and feeds six, it probably means that it will take you at least sixty minutes and it may feed an army. Maybe the French eat more terrine per serving. But the recipe made two terrines and served about twenty. It's a laboured process, this terrine. You must heat the egg yolk, milk, chicory and sugar mixture at a very low heat until the mixture coats the spoon. Obviously I'm not as experienced a cook as I think I am because I was ready to take the mixture off the heat in the first minute. But the mixture really does have to cover the spoon with some kind of viscosity. It will thicken. You just need to spend some quality time at the stove top.

When the mixture cools completely, you add coffee-soaked sponge fingers, so the texture is almost like a thin tiramisu, the difference being that it takes a good 24 hours to set. I want you to prepare yourselves, because in spite of having two stylists at the picnic, the only resulting photo of the coffee terrines are thus:

It didn't have the chance to be tipped upside down, or the dignity to be eaten in the daylight (thanks to the emergency photographer for taking this photo in the midst of the moment!). The picnic party got stuck into the terrine and a slice of Betty Crocker's devil's food cake in the dark - and it's possible that they were better for it. I know you will expect better things in updates to come.


Many of you have been asking for a Hank update. Hank (or Henk as they called him at the vet's - to which I indignantly replied that he most definitely is not Dutch), has a paralysed larynx but seems to be fine at the moment apart from a slight drooling tendency that he has developed. I didn't show you this photo before...but I did catch him eyeing the strawberry terrine last week.

I dream of terrine-y

I am starting to slightly obsess about terrines. It's not healthy. And I'm starting to wonder how the terrines are going to fit in between all my other gigs right now - working with my family's business, officially looking after Hank (when did you last hear of a golden retriever with an under-active thyroid?), getting my writing projects finished and not panicking at the prospect of going back to uni full-time this year.


In part, I would like to dedicate this post to my sister in London, whose brilliant idea this was (kudos, kid!) and is my other major source of inspiration. She's a much better cook than I am but I'm chuffed she wants me to do this! I am also hoping she can add some recipes of her own to this site - how 'bout it mate?


Did I mention the heat and fuggy weather we've been living with in Sydney? I just simply cannot bring myself to do anything with chicken livers or other innards right now. One of Stephane's recipes is a mint and strawberry terrine, which I attempted this week with mixed success. Don't let the groovy cooking shots fool you - the terrine was great in theory...but a little schlumpy in the end.

The ingredients are sliced strawberries, fresh mint, and a concoction of orange juice, brown sugar, gelatin and some grapefruit juice (for which I subsituted a bit of lime juice). I'm still getting used to this blogging caper, so I apologise for the blurry shot that follows:

Turns out juggling scalding dishes while taking photos ain't easy. This terrine needs 12 hours to set, and I did pop it into the fridge overnight to make it a more solid structure. This was my initial run with gelatin sheets which I can only get more familiar with. Gelatin sheets are a little tricky, and as my mum was away, she wasn't on hand with her wisdom.

Here's the terrine straight out of the terrine. It bound together quite well, but was soon demolished once the spoon went in. We had it with vanilla ice cream - and I'm not an ice cream freak but the result was tangy and delicious with the strawberry/brown sugar and citrus flavours working well. The mint was the icing on the cake!

Later, I found Hank outside with a lone strawberry. I promise you this wasn't a staged shot!

And we're off...

After creating my first terrine and documenting the process, I have a newfound respect for professional chefs and food stylists. I also have a great deal more respect for the countless bloggers that I follow and marvel at their output, their professionalism and their passion for their subject.


It's hard enough to get a recipe right, but snapping ingredients, capturing terrines-in-progress and producing something edible and attractive is hard. You have to be a true multi-tasker.

We've been having hot, humid, rainy days and nights in Sydney where you never know what the weather will do in the next ten minutes. The first terrine I thought I would attempt was a spring vegetable terrine which can be served hot or cold. 

The main ingredients for this inaugural terrine were spring vegetables of course...beans, carrots, celery hearts, peas - whatever you can find to hand. It's all bound together with eggs and pure cream, so it's not for the faint-hearted.

Of course, the whole time I was cooking, I was very conscious of the process and felt that I was the star of my own cooking show (Terrines Tonight), much the same as when we were kids cooking up a storm in the kitchen, creating a show out of the scrambled eggs we were making. But glamour aside, I really wanted to get this first one right. Once all ingredients were whisked, I popped it into a cling-wrapped terrine and put in a baking dish filled with boiling water. Then it was into the oven for forty minutes.

Et voila! Spring vegetable terrine that only has a slight leaning problem. From the top it looked a lot better. 

The consistency and the refrigeration overnight held it together, and the next day it was wolfed down at a barbie where we ate it with sausages and salad. Thanks for journeying with me on this first terrine. Some of the art is going to get better, and possibly the commentary (NB, I am not reproducing the recipes due to copyright). As mentioned, the inspiration is Stephane Reynaud's Terrine.

All terrines great and small...and my inspiration, Stephane Reynaud

At the outset I should declare myself: I have a weakness for cookbooks, fuschia lipsticks, Waikiki sunsets and N'awlins beignets (even though I've yet to taste one - I just know I'll love them). I am a sometime writer, a lazy cook and someone who can be very shallow when it comes to judging books by covers. So when I saw this gorgeous tome in the bookshop (a real bricks and mortar bookshop, as opposed to my recent online outings), I had to have it. 

Mr Reynaud and I already have an on-again, off-again relationship. My copy of Ripailles is still in pretty good nick, which means I both baby it and don't use it often enough. The recipes are fantastic, but fancy. Terrines, I think I can master. What can go wrong with a small pot of rich goodness?


My commitment is thus: don't just look at the pretty book, use it! Cook up a storm! Create wonders in the kitchen! Become a master of...the...er...terrine! Yes, that's glamorous - be the terrine-meister you always wanted to be! Luckily, I love rich French food in all its forms; and have been the recipient of a terrine (the crockery; not the food). I have the book; I have the terrine; now all I need to do is follow Mr Reynaud's recipes and I shall have a terrine a week.


Before you can throw Julie and Julia at me, I'll be honest: I'm no great cook, I don't have a Brooklyn apartment, no charming yet semi-supportive husband waiting in the wings. Life is a lot less exciting than that. But by God I have a kitchen and a terrine: therefore I am. Join me, fellow terrine-lovers, Francophiles and friends as I embark on this rather ill-founded journey. A year's odyssey in which I commit to cooking and recording a gelatinous, sumptuous feast once a week...Enjoy the ride!