Book review: The Australian Women's Weekly Chocolate Cookbook

dream-er [dree-mer]

noun

1. One that dreams.

2. a. A visionary.

    b. An idealist.

3. A habitually impractical person. (ouch)

 

I'm a dreamer. More in the final sense of the word. A bit of harsh self-criticism, but its true. This is parallelled in the kitchen; I spend about the same amount of time browsing through and studying the in's and out's of recipes, and never end up making them.

Having said that, reading cookbooks is a pleasure in itself. Please don't all grab a pitchfork at once and tell me to get a life. In fact, you could say I'm making the most out of my youth; enjoying the fact that I can unashamedly still live under my parents roof and not put in much hard graft for it!

 This is the cookbook I spend a good proportion of time reading, for the reason that it's wholly divine. Get your napkins ready, its time to salivate.

The Aussies know how to hit the spot

The Australian Women's Weekly 'Chocolate Cookbook'. The recipes here should hit the spot for even the most menopausal of women. Published in 1991, the photography is dimly lit, and exudes a sense of devlish luxury not acheived in the brightly lit food shoots you see in modern cookbooks. Of course, the desserts and cakes are stunning. There's a great section at the back showing you how to handle chocolate and create tempting decorative effects.

Sometimes recipe books, like albums, include 'fillers' which are there just to bulk up the book, but aren't much of anything special. What I particularly love about this book, and the Australian Women's Weekly in general is that you're tempted by all, not just some of the recipes. 

It pains me that this book is not in stock anywhere online! Thankfully, eBay can always be trusted to deliver when nowhere else will. Have a browse there, someone is always selling this book (although why they are is beyond me!)

Perhaps being a dreamer doesn't equate to being a time waster; its a form of escapism after all, and a lot of people need a bit of escapism from time to time. At least flicking through a cookbook won't send me to rehab any time soon.

The postmodern in a fruit

So! The festivities are over, and I've been packing in the airmiles with my latest purchase. My inherent anti-winter attitude has taken my tastebuds to Mexico, home to the dragonfruit.

Exciting huh? Well, never judge a book by its cover. I've sometimes wondered why dragonfruit aren't a more popular fruit, and now its clear. They are about as bland as a fruit can get! And no, I don't have a cold. 

"The mild, delicate taste of pear, melon or kiwi". Lets not beat around the bush. If I tried to describe the 'essence' of the fruit, it'd be eau de...eau.

People have made stunning looking desserts with dragonfruit (check out Peng's Kitchen's Dragonfruit Mooncake), and its blandness lends itself well to other savoury dishes (thai salads, for example). Its also rich in antioxidants and is a natural laxative.

But I am not a convert. I'm sorry, but the health freaks, shampoo companies and constipated purists can keep their blessed dragonfruit. At £2 a pop I genuinely don't see the merit in buying a fruit simply for its looks. The dragonfruit is art with a sell-by date. If I want to buy something pretty I'll take a trip to IKEA.

The dragonfruit is style over substance, surface over depth, in essence the ultimate postmodern fruit.