Beef Fajitas by Gringo Farr.

Wise man once say: "one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor."

I'd planned to cook for just the bloke and myself, but at around six pm said bloke called to say that a friend of ours was coming around for dinner.

Now, I love what the lifestyle world terms "entertaining", but the last time this friend came around for "dinner" we knocked back a brewery's worth of beer, several dry martinis, and the culminating point: an entire bottle of absinthe. The actual solid part of the "meal" consisted of a couple of pizzas delivered as an afterthought to the serious business of liver punishment. However this time, fortune was on our side. His visit coincided with perhaps the best drinking food of all being up for the bat on our weekly fridge menu: fajitas! Not only do they soak up any excess blood in one's alcohol stream, they're also interactive, and hey, with at least five sorts of chilli-based seasoning, you're probably going to NEED a cooling beverage to take the edge off.

I hereby acknowledge that these are probably about as authentically "Mexican" as a Chinese-made Aztec souvenier, but they are a great easy meal for three or four (a "crowd pleaser" as I'm sure it would say on the packet... if it came in a packet... which it doesn't) that lend themselves to being consumed as part of a wider gastronomic adventure (hey, booze goes into your mouth just like everything else, right?).

The method part of this recipe can be adapted so as to have the guacamole whipped up, beef marinating, potatoes parcooked and spiced, and serving extras sans tortillas ready to go before anyone enters your abode. Then all you'll have to do is bake the potatoes and stirfry the beef ingredients when they arrive, and even a gringo like you could do that, right?

Beef Fajitas
(with guacamole and spicy potatoes)

Ingredients

Fajitas
One beef round steak (approximately 350g)
One brown onion, halved and sliced
1/4 red onion, sliced
2 cloves garlic, chopped finely
Olive oil
1 tablespoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon dried chilli
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon dried coriander
2 teaspoons sweet paprika
Blend of Tabascos to taste: we used about 1/2 a teaspoon each of habenero, garlic and jalepeno (you can buy these in Australia through USA Foods, alternatively just use regular chilli sauce to taste)
1/4 red capsicum, cut in half and sliced thinly
1/4 green capsicum, cut in half and sliced thinly
1/4 yellow capsicum, cut in half and sliced thinly
2 tablespoons chopped fresh coriander

Guacamole
One avocado
Juice of one lemon
One clove of garlic, crushed
1/2 small tomato, finely diced
1/4 red onion, finely diced
1 tablespoon chopped fresh coriander
More Tabasco, sea salt and pepper

Spicy potatoes
Three medium potatoes, peeled and cut into wedges
Olive oil
Sea salt
Mexican chilli powder (or blend of paprika, cayenne pepper, cumin and oregano in proportions to taste - try 2 tsp paprika to 1 of everything else.)

To serve
Sliced tomato, cucumber, lettuce, olives, jalepenos. Grated cheese. Natural yoghurt / sour cream. More hot sauces than you could poke a pinata at. Tortillas of your choice (bought from a supermarket and prepared just before serving according to the instructions on the packet - what, you don't think I was actually going to suggest making them yourself? Hell no, there's drinking to be done.)

Method

1. Pre-heat oven to 220 degrees celcius. Boil / steam / microwave the potato wedges until just tender on the outside. Coat with a tablespoon of olive oil then shake over the Mexican chilli powder / spice blend and salt and pepper to taste and stir. Place two tablespoons of olive oil in a baking dish and heat in the oven for five minutes. Put potatoes in pan, swish them around in the hot oil a bit and then pop the lot into the oven and bake for about half an hour or until potatoes are crispy, shaking pan occasionally.

2. While the potatoes are baking, slice the beef into thin, bite-sized pieces. Mix the garlic, spices, sauces and about two tablespoons of olive oil together and add salt and pepper to taste. Dump the beef in the marinade, stir well and set aside for ten minutes, or put it in the fridge and leave for up to an hour while you prepare the guacamole, drink some beers and talk crap with your mates.

3. For the guacamole: peel and deseed the avocado and dice finely, then place in a large bowl. Add onion and tomato, and mix gently (you want to to still be chunky, not a puree). Add garlic and lemon juice, salt and Tabasco to taste and give it a final gentle mix, sprinkle with the coriander then cover with clingwrap and set aside.

4. To turn them thurr cattle into beefy goodness: fire up a tablespoon of olive oil over a medium-high heat in a large frypan. Add the sliced and diced onions and fry for a minute or two, then add the marinated beef and cook until just brown on the outside, stirring all the time (you still want it to be juicy, don't you?). Add the capsicums and stir fry for another couple of minutes (they should still have a bit of bite to them) then remove from the heat and put your fajita filling in a bowl and sprinkle with the coriander.

5. Now, amigos, it is time to eat. Chuck all the marvels you've made on a table (or donkey, or whatever surface you have spare) and watch your ravenous mates tear into that shizzy like vultures in the desert. Wash down with copious amounts of Dos Equis and try to forget about that naughty bottle of tequila eyeing you off from the top shelf of your bar. Hic.

Vegetarian Moussaka by Na.Na, Moosecurry

Vegetarian: the only food defined by what it's not.

What is it about vegetarian cooking that makes omnivores shudder? Could it be the high fibre base, or perhaps the perceived lack of flavour? Could it be the endless dishes of rice-stuffed "things", or the idea that a plate of beans is considered a "meal"? Or could it be the preachy fucks who come part and parcel with the cuisine itself?

Now, despite my bacon-lust and appreciation, nay, adorement, for a juicy chunk of roasted animal, I have a confession to make. For many years, many many years... I was a vegetarian. And... oh gosh, I can't believe I'm going to admit this ON THE INTERNET, for many of those years, many many many of those years... I was a vegan.

"Oh, that explains a lot," I hear you say.

Strangely, about the only thing which I took away from those years of cooking without animal products was an appreciation for how good food can be when it's done well, regardless of its ingredient content. By and large, vegetarian and vegan food is shitty. But thankfully, two food suppliers shaped my ideas of what meatless cookery should be like. Firstly, my dad: who didn't kick me out of my family's Northern Territory home when I announced that I was no longer consuming flesh and associated by-products. Instead, he looked upon it as a challenge to whip up dishes that were tasty, healthy and acceptable to all and sundry rather than just the fussy, whiney, sullen teen skulling cooking wine in the corner. And secondly, the Hare Krishnas: yes, I know they're a cult, but their restaurants and recipe books really do deliver some excellent dishes, proving that not everyone who runs around in an orange robe is a complete waste of space.

Perhaps the worst perpatrators of BAD vegetarian cookery are the writers of vegetarian cookbooks (HK's excepted as above, boarding school kitchens excepted as in previous posts). Oh lordy, what on earth do they think they're playing at? Topping some boiled (BOILED!) vegetables with a lemon wedge and some sliced almonds IS NOT A MEAL, PEOPLE. I think perhaps the biggest problem that exists in the vegetarian / carnivore divide is the fact that vegetarian cookery proponents seem to think that every meal which traditionally contains meat is also off limits to vegetarians. I disagree with the idea that you can't use vegetables and legumes as a substitute for meat in cooking, I disagree that they have some holy status which requires them to be "untainted" by the very stuff that makes food good! Nowhere is this as apparent as in vegan cookbooks, and when the vegetarian cookbooks TRY to use vegetables as a substitute they fail dismally. A fitting example: the vegetarian moussaka recipe in one of my cookbooks suggests topping the pile of insipid, unflavoured legumes and tomatoes with plain yoghurt instead of bechemel before baking.

Nuh uh, girlfriend. That's not how I roll.

So, driven by the desire to make something that could be whipped up before I went out and then put in the oven when I got home to finish it off, I was forced to concoct my own recipe, which wasn't that hard, and tastes a helluva lot better than some baked yoghurt and dry lentils.

Vegetarian Moussaka

Ingredients

1/2 cup of dry chick peas, soaked for at least four hours then boiled until tender and drained (you could use canned but I think canned legumes are a waste of money and kinda creepy with that gooey stuff they put around them in the tin)
1/2 cup dried brown lentils
2 tbsp olive oil
One brown onion, diced
Two cloves of garlic, diced
One 400g tin of tomatoes, smashed up a bit with a knife blade
3 fresh tomatoes, chopped
1 zucchini, chopped
1/2 a red capsicum, chopped
1/2 a green capsicum, chopped

6 mushrooms, quartered
1 large eggplant, cut into thick slices
A couple of sprigs of fresh herbs - I used thyme, majoram and oregano, or use dried. Whatevz.
Tabasco (optional)
Salt & pepper
3 tablespoons of butter
4 tablespoons of flour
500mL / 2 cups milk
2/3 cup grated parmesan or kealograviera cheese
* See note at end for cowjuice free joy.

Method

1. Rinse the lentils then put them in a saucepan on the stove and simmer for about twenty minutes or until tender.
2. Heat the olive oil over a medium heat in a large wok / high sided frypan. Add the onion and fry for a couple of minutes until it begins to turn golden. Add the garlic and cook for another couple of minutes. Add the tomatoes, zucchini, mushrooms, capsicum, chick peas, herbs, salt and pepper and Tabasco to taste if using. Allow to simmer for around half an hour until the veggies are tender.
3. Meanwhile, cut the eggplant into thick slices and salt. Allow to sit for about twenty minutes, then rinse and grill with some olive oil under a medium - high heat until slightly browned, then turn and do the same on the other side. Remove from grill and set aside.
4. Add the lentils to the veggie mix and stand, covered while you make the sauce.
5. Microwave the milk in a heat proof jug for two minutes on high. Melt the butter in a saucepan, then add the flour and cook for a couple of minutes until it goes foamy. Add the milk all in one go, then whisk to combine with the flour / butter mixture. Continue to stir over a medium heat for a couple of minutes until the sauce thickens. Add half the cheese and salt and pepper to taste. Remove from heat.
6. To assemble: place a layer of veggie mix in the bottom of an oven proof casserole / baking dish. Top with a layer of grilled eggplant. Add another layer of veggies, another layer of eggplant, then pour the sauce over it and sprinkle the remaining cheese on top. You could also sprinkle a bit of nutmeg over the cheese if you were feeling creative. (Can be prepared ahead up to this point: cover with cling wrap and put in the fridge until you get home from the pub.)
7. Bake in a 180 degree oven for about half an hour, or until the sauce and cheese are light brown.
8. Serve with a green salad, a bottle of cabernet shiraz or NZ sauvignon blanc, and thick slices of ciabatta; scoff at the fact that vegetarian cookery writers are eating boiled beans with soy sauce for dinner.

* To make this a vegan dish, simply switch the butter for a vegan spread / olive oil; the cow milk for soy ; and the cheese for a vegan substitute product of choice (see here for a list of suppliers and don't say I never look out for you hippies).

Black Forest Cupcakes by Z.E. Krautmama

In approximately 121 days my bloke and I will be wed. In approximately six hours and sixteen minutes, my dear friend Em will be kicking off her birthday celebrations at a pub around the corner from where we're having our after-marriage shindig. What have these two events got in common? Why, CUPCAKES, my dear!

Frustrated with the monstrosities of marzipan presented to me by the wedding coordinator at our reception centre (and gobsmacked over the price - $140 for a single tiered plain cake? I think not!); I have decided to bake our own wedding cakes. Cakes? Yes, plural. I am looking at the prospect of baking in much the same way that I look at a basket full of unfolded washing: yes, folding the big things first gives you more bang for your buck, but it's the little things that are most fulfilling to put away.... oh lordy, scrap that, I sound like Martha F'n Stewart, don't I? Forgive me, I have not yet had my morning tipple.

Basically, we decided on cupcakes because big cakes are both cumbersome and out of the realm of my decorating abilities. Cupcakes, on the other hand, are itsy-bitsy bundles of goodness, kinda like the crispy bits on the edge of bacon rinds. And owing to my bloke's love of Krautrock, and the Deutsch blood flowing through my veins, we decided that the classic torte combination of chocolate and cherry would be fitting. The only problem is we haven't done a trial run yet, and that, my loves, is where Em's birthday comes in. Because if they end up messed up, well, there's always beer to eat instead.

These cupcakes are based on the basic cupcake "foundation" of equal parts caster sugar, self raising flour and unsalted butter. The quantity below will make eighteen cakes depending on how much of the mixture you eat before baking. The recipe is a bastardisation of "Chocolate Cherry Cupcakes" from Fergal Connolly's 500 Cupcakes (what's the difference between a cook and a chef? A cook acknowledges their sauces... oh lordy, kill me now.)

Black Forest Cupcakes

Ingredients

225g self-raising flour
4 tbsp good cocoa powder
1 tsp baking powder
225g caster sugar
225g softened unsalted butter
4 eggs
90g chopped cherries (I used frozen as fresh are out of season)
2 tbsp kirsch (or other cherry-flavoured liquor)

Method

1. Pre-heat the oven to 160 degrees celcius. Place 18 pattycake cases in muffin tins.
2. Using a sieve, sift the flour, cocoa and baking powder into a medium bowl and set aside. Using an electric mixer, cream the butter and sugar in a large bowl until soft, then add the eggs one at a time beating well after each addition until the whole thing is creamy.
3. Add the flour mixture and cherries, stirring with a wooden spoon until combined.
4. Spoon into the cases (fill about 3/4 full) and bake for twenty minutes. Remove the tins from the oven, cool in the tins for 5 minutes then transfer to a cooling rack, sprinkle over the kirsch and allow to cool completely.

Icing
(Yes, I know this icing doesn't really "go" with the cupcakes, but for the sake of decoration the whipped cream and chocolate shavings suggested by the recipe book wasn't going to cut it: too much class, not enough arse IYKWIM... You can change the colours and decorations to suit the gaudiness of your intended cupcake recipient.)
375g sifted icing sugar
225g softened unsalted butter
Food colouring

1. Beat the icing sugar and butter together until smooth and fluffy.
2. Add food colouring according to your own whim and fancy, beat some more until the icing is all the same colour.
3. Ice the cooled cupcakes using a metal spoon and decorate with whatever you have lying around the house (sprinkles, icing tubes, cachous, bacon, etc.)

And the result? Well, I think my decorating skills need a bit more work, but meh. They taste good, even if they do look a little like a wreck on the autobahn.

Fettucini Marinara by A. Lapsed-Catholic

As a teen, I spent several years eating institution food at an all-girl's Catholic boarding school. Also as a teen, I spent several years eating my Dad's home cooking. The two cuisines were about as far removed from one another as humanly possible - I'm sure the rest of the young "ladies" boarding with me would have flipped out had they been presented with a chick pea curry or kangaroo meat stir fry; and conversely, my Dad would have committed seppuku if I'd whipped up a vegetarian plate consisting of a bulk-purchased pattie, some boiled peas and corn and Deb mash potato and called it a meal.

One thing that was special in both kitchens, however, was Friday night dinner.

At my boarding school, Friday night was fish and chips night. Friday was the only night we were fed chips, and chips were one of the only foodstuffs the kitchen staff could cook well, so it was as much of a win win situation as one could hope for under the circumstances. The inedible fried-from-frozen fish, of course, was a stickler from ye olde days of the church - but we forgave them for this antiquated tradition like good Catholic girls do... as long as the chips kept coming.

At my parent's place to this day, Friday is spaghetti night (spaghetti being used as a header for an anglocised bolognese as well as the pasta itself). "Spaghetti night" basically entails my father "knocking off work" early, coming home, opening a bottle of homebrew and relaxing for an hour or so before whipping up the sauce using cupboard and freezer ingredients (it's one of the ultimate isolated area meals, not requiring anything flash that wouldn't be found at the local supermarket). He then lets it bubble away for another couple of beers before serving with cooked San Remo (always!) packet spaghetti, a garden salad and a good bottle of red.

So being a Friday, how's about a recipe for nostalgia's sake, combining the basics of the two? I originally planned to fry up a batch of hot chips and consume them with a two litre cask of shiraz, but then another idea came to me - a recipe which will be sure to impress no matter how much of a lady you are.

Fettucine Marinara

Ingredients

Olive oil (about two tablespoons)
One brown onion, chopped finely
Two cloves of garlic, chopped finely
One 400g tin of whole Italian tomatoes (chop them up a bit in the tin by sticking your knife in and smashing it around some)
Three small fresh tomatoes, diced
One tablespoon of tomato paste
1/2 cup of dry white wine
Half a handful of fresh majoram and oregano leaves, roughly chopped
1/2 packet of dried long pasta (today I'm using Barilla fettucine but you could make this with whichever brand and variety you prefer)
6 scallops (roe on or off, whatever you prefer)
6 green prawns (shelled and de-veined but with tails left intact)
6 frozen mussels (defrost and remove beard and grit beforehand)
2 small (10cm) squid tubes, or 1/2 a larger tube (cut in half, score and cut each half into quarters)
1 medium salmon fillet, skin off (cut into bite sized chunks)
Half a handful of basil leaves, torn
Half a handful of parsley, chopped
Sea salt and freshly cracked pepper to taste

Method

1. Heat a large frypan / wok to medium, then put a couple of glugs of olive oil into the pan and allow to heat for thirty seconds.
Add the chopped onion and cook, stirring, for a couple of minutes until it becomes transluscent, then add the chopped garlic and stir for another minute or two.
Add the wine and let it evaporate for a minute, then chuck in the chopped and tinned tomatoes and stir to combine.
Throw in a the tomato paste, sugar and the oregano and majoram, stir, and reduce the heat to low (it should be just bubbling occasionally).
Let it cook for 45 minutes to an hour, stirring occasionally.

2. Meanwhile, after about 40 minutes, fill a large pot with water and bring to the boil.

3. Got your tomato sauce nicely simmered? Got your pasta water boiling? Right, now we are going to do a bit o' coordinated cookery. Ready?
Add a bit of sea salt to the water then chuck in the pasta and cook until it is squishy enough to make you happy (call me a heathen - I hate pasta cooked al dente. Take that, purists!).
While the pasta is cooking, add the mussels to the pasta sauce and cook for a minute or two. Then add the salmon and squid and cook for another two minutes, then stir in the prawns and finally the scallops. Cook until the prawns turn pink (don't overdo this stage or you'll end up with rubberarma rather than marinara sauce...).
Stir in sea salt and pepper to taste, and remove from the heat.

4. Your pasta should be ready about the same time as you finish up with the seafood.
Drain it, reserving about 1/3 of the cooking water, then add the cooked pasta and the water to the marinara sauce.
Swish it around a bit to coat.
Serve topped with the basil and parsley, and accompanied by cabernet sauvignon and a Catholic schoolgirl wink and nod.

Voila! A Friday night dinner even Jesus would rise for. Serves two drunks or three as part of a civilised meal with salad and garlic ciabatta.