This was my first day off for a while and the even more brilliant thing about the allocation of my lot in life right now is that it was my first day off in a couple more than a few and we are going to be hitting up the Bunjalung National Park for a few days of camping, eating, fishing, eating, swimming, eating, relaxing and eating! There is definitely a common theme in my life. I fricking well can not wait.
Before we leave though, I just have to fire up that spit one more time. Today, my cousin Amelia is staying with us on her way to a seven week yoga instructors course in the hills behind Byron Bay. A seven week course that requires participants to abstain from the evil of meat and booze and cigarettes, so we shall fire it up in celebration of the smoky whisps and turning metal stick that can take a piece of pork, or in fact any meat, to a higher plain; the next level, if you will. Also, Amelia’s father (my Uncle Rob) has asked that I force feed her meat if necessary as he is afraid his daughter may return a brain washed hippy who is afraid of the flesh of earthly beasts.
I am not lying to you (I figure we’ve come this far and you’re still here, no point in starting the lying now) when I say I sat and watched this thing turning for at least three hours. There is something fully therapeutical about watching a lump of meat as it dances slowly in a smoky ménage-e-trois with the big stick and the coals. What living man could deny the truth in this simplest of pleasures?
A smoky lump of pork belly that had spent hours self basting on the twirling stick over the coals would be requiring a nice crunchy salad today, methinks. Something me old mate Jamie would do for sure. I’m not going to sit here and tell you this is only going to cost “one pound, twenty eight p per portion”, but a nice piece of pork belly for the family is only going to cost you 12 or so bucks, and the salad is one of those things that you can make with all of the crunchy salad stuff in your fridge… so we’re not too far off.
The whole spit roasting thing is not something that can be easily replicated so I will let you deal with your own demons on that one. But the salad, the salad was a cracker and I will make again… and you should make it too.
CRUNCHY FRIDGE SALAD a la JAMIE O
1 handful or so of each julienned snow peas, green beans and granny smith apple, shredded cabbage and iceberg lettuce, sprouts, fennel, radish, etc
A few torn mint leaves, just because they were staring at me from the garden
A good splash of apple cider vinaigrette, to dress
• Mix it all together
• Eat it with some deliciously smoky, juicy and melt in the mouth awesome crazy pork, with a bit of green tomato chutney on the side
Back to my cousin, Amelia.
Although she had gained entry to our humble home under the guise of a hippy, health freak, vegan, soon-to-be yoga master, she soon presented us with a dessert that can only be described as the work of some kind of she devil who was trying to make my kids lose their shit with a highly concentrated, socially lethal dose of refined sugar straight to the brain. M & Ms, meringue, whipped cream, mango, blueberries and strawberries filled our bowls, sugar filled our brains, and Amelia filled out hearts. Awwwww.
So this is your ol’Uncle Grazza signing out for another little hiatus. See you folks on the flipside.