Feed Me Melbourne

It's been a long dark winter but fortunately I have survived. I can attribute this to central heating, kindly donated downloads of the season 4 of Mad Men and the warmth and comforts of eateries Melbourne wide. I thought it was time to repay the favour, so thank you Ancient Romans for inventing hypocaust, thank you Matthew Weiner for giving us Sterling Cooper et al and thanks to the following fine establishments for keeping my belly full and my tootsies warm.

Felices, 141 Greeves Street (Smith Street end), Fitzroy

We went to Felices the morning after the general election, looking for something to take away the sour taste of the night before. Fortunately this decidedly european cafe (plain timber walls, fussball, large mirrors) with its beautifully uncomplicated menu was able to deliver more than Julia and Tony. We ordered croissants and toast with our coffees, and both came accompanied with generous serves of marscapone cheese, fresh marmalade and one of the nicest strawberry jams I've tasted. Recommended to people who don't want eggs with every breakfast as well as anyone who likes to eat under a giant aeroplane; there's one attached to the roof. If you'd like to see it check out these great pictures at Fitzroyalty, a blog dedicated to all things Fitzroy.

Tabet's Bakery, 607 Sydney Road, Brunswick
There's been a lot of coverage of the hidden delights of Sydney Road in the local press this year, probably as more and more journalists are forced away from the increasingly expensive inner city and head towards the 'burbs. It's true that there are a great many outlets on the main road north out of melbourne, covering a wide range of cuisines and an even broader range of quality. Always reliable however is Tabet's - a lebanese bakery with an exceptionally cheap yet delicious range of bready cheesey products. Both the haloumi pies (essentially a lebanese pastie) and spinach and cheese pies are amazing and for just $2.80 you can eat like royalty even on a budget. Heartily recommended smothered in Masterfoods Hot Chilli sauce.

Salford Lads Club, 1 Fennell Street, Port Melbourne As an indie tragic it's hard to go past a cafe that takes it's name from a place in Greater Manchester made famous by Morrissey and the Smiths. Before you Mozophiles get too excited this isn't a Smiths tribute cafe and there was nothing beyond the name and the This Charming Man ringtone of the owner's phone to link it to Steven, Johnny and the other two.


Having done the pilgrimage to actual SLC and been hassled by actual Salford lads I am pleased to report that this relatively new cafe in Port Melbourne was far more welcoming. The decor inside this industrial setting is an homage to cycling, and there were several old racing bikes and jerseys around the place - as well as a Huddersfield Town banner. Sadly I'm unable to provide much comment on the highly interesting and varied dinner menu as we only went for breakfast. I am happy to report though that the coffee, eggs and homemade baked beans were top drawer and the Northern Breakfast (replete with black pudding) looked good enough to turn Morrissey himself back to meat.

Zingara, 875 High Street, Thornbury

I have double praise for Zingara in Thornbury. Firstly for not making a fuss when our dog started going crazy and almost upended our table when he saw pigeons for the first time. Secondly (and most importantly) for turning out the finest caesar salad I've ever had. Not eating meat makes a good caesar hard to find. Some places do a salmon version but they're few and far between. Thankfully Zingara have thought outside the chicken box and offer a delicious charred king prawns alternative every bit as good if not better as anything I ate back in the meat days. A great choice for these warm spring afternoons, with or without crazy puppy as a dinner guest.

Mamasita, 11 Collins Street, Melbourne

I haven't seen this kind of buzz about a food outlet since Speedy Peppers finally brought take-away pizza to East Yorkshire in the late 80s. Every bloody newspaper and magazine has been crapping on about Mamasita for months now, as if they were serving up Michael Jackson steaks. Sadly the main thing people have to say is 'boo hoo me, I had to queue for hours to get in.' Well here's a couple of suggestions. Firstly don't go the same week as there is a newspaper or magazine feature about it; there's more people can read than just you. Secondly, try avoiding going along at 7pm on a Friday. Everything is busy at 7pm on a Friday cretins. I've been twice, had awesome times, lush modern twists on mexican food (the corn is particularly recommended, as are the soft fish tacos and chilli chocolate), been well looked after by the helpful staff who protected me from the most vicious chillis and hey, never had to queue once. Yay Mamsita.

Tales from the Compost Bin

True tales from the Mint Custard compost bin...

Greg: So the waiter says "Hanz that does dishes is as soft as Gervais, about the mild green hairy lip squid." Ha ha ha!

Peg: He he he! Classic!

Spud: Eh...?

Greg: anyway, so the waiter turns to him and says "Hanz that does the dishes is as soft as Gervais for the mild green hairy lip squid!"

Avon: Ha ha ha! That's freakin' awesome!

Peg: Classic. Just classic

Spud: Erm...

Peg: ...so her mum says to her

"you can't marry him, he's a common-tator!"

Spud: Hihihhihihihihi! Hihihihihihi! Hihihhihihihihi!!!

Avon: Freakin' awesome...

Greg: Classic...

No Trifling Matter

Yesterday, quite unexpectedly, I had trifle for breakfast. The rest of the day went rather well.

Today I had no trifle at all and was mostly rather sad. You do the spongey jelly custardy math(s).

Pulled a Mussel at the Seafood Disco

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So for what it’s worth, I’m a pescatarian. It’s a rubbish word that people always argue the toss over but it basically means I don’t eat meat. Or rather I don’t eat land-meat (things that cluck, gobble, moo, bleat, squeak or oink) only seafood. Or to put it another way I’m a vegetarian – who eats fish… if there is such a thing. Anyway, you catch my drift? Good.

I stopped eating meat in 2003 after a nasty run-in with a laksa containing some particularly sinewy chunks of beef; an experience akin to eating warm moist rubber bands. A bit queasy, I went home and dared myself to try a meat-free month. Mrs Custard was already a vegetarian so it wasn’t a massive leap. I easily completed the month, that became six months and after that I was away.

Having no moral or ethical foundation for my self-imposed pseudo-vegetarianism I hadn’t considered that there might be benefits to not eating something. However, benefits there were, including being able to look an untethered cow in the eye guilt-free one day in a field in North Yorkshire, never once in seven years feeling uncomfortably full for more than an hour after a meal (even curry) and always getting my meals served first on long haul flights.

Another unexpected side-effect was a dramatic broadening of my palate, something long overdue. At home I was forced to try more vegetables to keep my belly full. However, denied my default staple when eating out (steak…. bloody as hell and lots of it) I started making plate-sized raids on the Pacific Ocean and all its fishy delights. For the first time I tried tuna steak and swordfish, octopus and squid, oysters, crayfish and crabs. I ate lobster and discovered all manner of prawns; tiger, king and shrimp. I experimented with salmon and played with every variety of tinned tuna taster on offer. On the whole it has all been delicious and mostly healthy too (my beloved fish finger sandwiches aside, but hey, we all need vices).

Indeed in my seven years without meat I’ve had relatively few commitment wobbles and have never actually succumbed. I’ve only ever missed steak (especially fried lean strips in Mexican restaurants) and had the odd nostril-fuelled pang at barbeques. In exchange, Haloumi has proved a perfect remedy to bacon cravings and both Indian and Thai cooking have enough veg options to keep me away from textured vegetable protein (though I’m actually quite fond of vegetarian sausages). If there have been any real wobbles it’s actually been the other way, towards a fish free diet.

Mostly this happens in Chinese restaurants when I see big-eyed fish with sooky lips and miserable looking crustaceans crammed into brightly lit tanks. Rather than making me think ‘mmm, fresh and delicious’, it usually makes me turn to tofu. I imagine the same effect might occur if there was a beautiful long-lashed cow wandering around each branch of McDonalds. Thankfully most restaurants spare their customers having to confront their soon-to-be-dinner, keeping the death-kill-guilt stuff separate to the yum.

And yet last week I came closer than ever to going fish-free thanks to a mixed seafood mee goreng that started so well and ended like a Shakespearean tragedy. I was happily munching my way through some spicy noodles laced with prawns, squid, that weird rolled up flouro crab stuff and a few choice bits of broccoli and was just about to congratulate myself on another lunchtime well spent when I discovered a surprise under my last chopsticks' worth of noodles. There, soaking up the remnants of my oyster sauce was one single lone mussel. Now before you think 'hmmm, saving the best for last?' let me assure you that nothing could be further from the truth. Despite my seafood conversion I remain averse to the chewy shell based critters. The mussels I've tried have been akin to that beef which turned me off meat in the first place, so I tend to avoid them so I'm not a little bit sick in my mouth.

The particular problem with this little fellow was his symbolic arrival at the end of the meal. With no other distractions around him, with the whole of the bottom of the bowl to himself, and with no fucking way on Earth I was eating him, I began to feel sorry for him. Poor little fellow I thought; a life lived, a life ended and all for naught. His friends and family might have seen him caught in the nets (or wherever mussels get caught) and thought, 'ah, 'tis sad, young Jimmy, he is gone, but at least to a useful purpose.' But sadly not. His fate was to end up at the bottom of my bowl, from ocean to fridge to plate to bin... I contemplated eating him just to add more purpose to his pointless life, but the idea made my noodles quiver in my stomach, so I covered him up with a paper towel and chucked the bowl away.

It was at this point, as I pondered my own existence on the planet, weighing up its value with that of young Jimmy that I thought perhaps enough is enough. For the sake of my fishy friends in the ocean, and especially for all those on aquarium death row in Chinese restaurants, for the sake of my old goldfish; let the killing cease. Then I got home and Mrs Custard had sorted me out some lush prawn fried rice and it smelled DELICIOUS... so those thoughts went away. But I just want you to know, little Jimmy, you marvellous mollusc, that you didn't die for nothing. Because you touched me, little Jimmy, you made me think. You made me stop and wonder... and I know that's what you would have wanted more than anything. So thank you Jimmy. Thank you, from the bottom of my bowl.

Copy and Pasty

In their magnum opus Give Him a Ball and a Yard of Grass, noted philosophers Sultans of Ping FC once observed that ‘man can have no greater love than give 90 minutes to his friends.’ They were wrong of course, as proved this week by my friend K who responded to my plaintive pleas in the cyber wilderness for a Gregg’s Cheese and Onion pasty BY FRICKIN’ MAKING ME SOME…


Yes, in quite literally amazing scenes I have been feasting like a king/drunken Northerner on hot melty cheese pasty goodness right here in Melbourne village (see above). And whilst there is nothing quite like the taste of a fresh Gregg’s pasty, I have to say that even if I wasn't faced with absurdly rigorous quarantine laws and the absence of some kind of matter transporter, these were damn fine pasties.

My sincere thanks to Ms K for turning my homesickness into overeating-of-cheese-pasties-in-one-sitting sickness, one of the nicest medical conditions on Earth (second only to that little understood affliction, Toomuchcurry…)

Josie Long's Supper Club Bake-Off

Just some pictures to share with you from a highly pleasant Saturday afternoon in the Bosco Tent for Josie Long’s Supper Club Bake-Off. Mostly an excuse to make, talk about, joke about and eat cakes of all colours, ethnic backgrounds, sexual persuasions and dietary requirements it was also a nice chance to meet some of the folks who’ve been making us laugh these past few weeks.

The rules of attendence were simple; bake cake, bring cake, get in cheap, share cake with cake-loving strangers and comedians. Mrs Custard knocked up her world-beating brownies, Ms K made her trademark lime and coconut cake whilst I brought a particularly luminescent batch of mint custard. Not cake admittedly but it got me past the guards.

Ms Josie Long, gluten intolerant comedian extraordinaire

Josie’s enthusiastic hosting duties (‘just look at that fucking cake!’) were punctuated by some cake-themed routines from guest comedians including Maeve Higgins, Josh Earl and the gorgeous Sarah Millican who signed my illegally imported cheese and onion pasty paper bag with the legend ‘I miss Gregg’s too’.

Mr Josh Earl being berated by a disgruntled pirate

Cake judging was undertaken by a mystery-celebrity panel that included a surprise appearance from Mint Custard favourite Isy Suttie (who was completely lovely afterwards and also signed my pasty bag) and possibly included Claudia O’Doherty and Nick Coyle. I may be wrong though – they were disguised with elaborate yellow cardboard crowns.

the Mayor of Cake holds court

Looking back it was perhaps inevitable that the awards would be dominated by young ladies in cardigans and vintage dresses and too much time for craft on their hands. Still I will say that judging processes based on looks rather than taste set dangerous precedents for progressive ideologically-orientated comedians. It’s what we are on the inside that counts isn’t it? Of course it is (although personally speaking what I was on the inside, at least a few hours on Saturday evening, was full of cake).

the winner - muffin/brownie burger treats!

Scrabble cake and Josie-inspired Hallmark card message cake

'best effort' winner - note spectacular bean juice

Josie Long's Be Honourable is on at the Bosco Tent until Sunday. Read her Melbourne Comedy Festival Blog here

Wrong on Toast

This could more common than I know - I don't get invited to many children's birthday soirees - but I couldn't help but be amazed by this plate of tasty yummy health-filled kiddie-energising sugar-laden goodness on offer at a friend's three year-old's pink princess party.

Yes those are hundreds and thousands. Yes that is bread and marg. Yes, Medibot would bloody love it... I, on the other hand did not.

In a Pickle

Scenes of disbelief in our house this week at the frankly astonishing news that after almost ten years looking Mrs Custard finally found someone who sells pickled eggs in Australia. She's been laughed out of more delis and markets than I care to mention for trying to find me something to go with my fish and chips, so it seems appropriate that I publicly recognise her efforts and also provide some clearly much-needed publicity to Elfred's (their apostrophe, not mine) of the Peninsula, the brave souls selling Australia's only pickled egg. I'm pleased to report that they are delicious so if you're in Victoria and want to get hold of some try visiting their website here. If you're in some other egg-free corner of the globe you can try your hand at my recipe here.

Whilst we're on the topic of pickling, a quick mention of Emelia's of Kyneton in Victoria who claim to have created "the World's Greatest Pickled Onion." Whilst their onions are very tasty, with some nice bitey peppercorn and chilli tang, they don't beat my Grandpa's whose pickled onions were strong enough to clear out your ears. Keep going Emelia's; everyone loves a tryer.

How to Cook... Pancakes!

Ah Pancake Day, prince amongst special days in the public calendar. How I love thee. Unlike Roy Wood and Wizard I wish it could be Pancake Day everyday... Sadly Pancake Day doesn't seem to be quite as celebrated here in Australia as in the UK where each year local television stations would broadcast live from some local park or scout hut where a semi-famous local chef would teach half-wit news reporters and weather people how to toss pancakes whilst game members of the public would engage in pancake races, armed with comedy frying pans. At least they did back when I was a lad and this advert was telling us not to forget the pancakes on Jif Lemon day.

There are two magnificent things about pancakes. One - you can eat them with absolutely anything, sweet or savoury; and two - they are piss easy to make. Let it be proved thusly:

You will need

• 100g or 3/4 cup of plain flour
• an egg, beaten up
• a bit of salt
• 300 ml or 1 1/4 cups of milk
• some butter (for cooking in)
• a small frying pan (non stick)
• plus: whatever takes your pancakey filling fancy

Step 1: mix the flour, salt, egg and milk in a big bowl until it's a liquid. You should have enough for about 8-10 pancakes which should serve 4 but really you could eat them all yourself

Step 2: melt some butter in your frying pan on a medium heat. Swish it around the pan til there's a bit of grease everywhere. Remember, Grease is the word...

Step 3: ladle out a thin layer (better to go thin than fat or else they take ages to cook and are harder to fold) of mixture, making a pancake about 20cms across. If you get some holes in your pancake just swish the mixture about a bit and it should run into the gaps. Cook for about a minute then flip over. Don't try any funny stuff - you'll just made a tit of yourself... a spatula will do, thanks.

Step 4: Add your filling of choice to one side of the pancake. The above is a bog standard melty cheese, tomato mushroom and onion which isn't as exciting as it was tasty although when it came to dessert...

... this Chocolate Monkey was pretty awesome. I used Rolos for eyes because not only do you get melty chocolate goodness with your banana but the caramel middle goes all gooey too

Step 5: fold over the other half on top of your ingredients and seal it all in. Cook for another 30 seconds or so, checking to make sure both sides are done and your chocolate/cheese has melted.

Step 6: serve and enjoy. The key here is in tag teaming WWF-style so you can eat whilst someone else cooks and then vice versa to keep the pan in use and the food flowing. This adds a frisson of excitement akin to the stop clock in chess although it can lead to the very serious medical condition known as burny mouth. Beware.

OK, hope you all had a great Pancake Day and got what you wanted. If you didn't at least now you know how to do it yourself... and there's only your own lazy bum to blame. Tata!

Goodie Goodie Yum Yum

Despite my public campaigning for recognition for the less celebrated aspects of British cuisine I do appreciate that I’m lucky to live in a place where genuinely good food is readily available. Apart from one day in Queensland where the only thing I could eat was dry chips, Australia has in general provided well for me when I’ve ventured away from my favoured cheese sandwich diet. 2010 has been very kind so far for eating, so before I forget I thought I’d share some of the nicer gutbusters I’ve had this year:

Slow Living, Piper Street, Kyneton
If you’re heading off for a day in the Victorian countryside I’d suggest a stop for a Ploughman’s Lunch at Slow Living in Piper Street, Kyneton. For $16.90 you’ll get several chunky slices of fresh sour dough olive bread, a moist serve of pumpkin and hazelnut frittata, several slices of cheddar cheese, tangy fruit chutney, fresh tomatoes, olives and cucumber. This being a ploughman’s fresh farm ham is also included, but I swapped that for another piece of frittata and all was very well. Coffee – as with most things in Slow Living – is organic, fair trade and delicious. All in all $20 well spent in a light and airy space with lots of room outdoors for paws and noisy kids.

Mrs Parma’s, Little Bourke Street, Melbourne
Parmas are a bit of a Melbourne staple but I hadn’t really gone there until recently. I’m pleased to report that my first experience was surprisingly delicious. It may look like an RSL but Mrs Parmas (25 Little Bourke Street, Melbourne) has a good stock of boutique beers and offers a range of parma toppings for vegies and meat eaters alike. I had a Mexican Eggplant Parma (tomato salsa, sour cream, guacamole and jalapenos - $18.90) served up with chunky chips and a refreshing but pretty basic salad. A minor grumble was the sneaky use of chicken salt on chips which had to go back, but it wasn’t enough to put me off my jalapenos.

Caph’s, Manuka Terrace, Canberra
There was little that drew me into Caph’s in Manuka on New Year’s night other than the fact it was open and my belly was hungry. The menu was a little uninspired and whilst I’m no snob, a woman who might have been the head waiter was chewing gum open-mouthed as she worked in a way that came to sum up the type of service we received. Still as someone who reluctantly worked public holidays in the past I was happy to overlook Violet Beauregarde because of the surprisingly delicious smoked salmon risotto ($16.50 entrée or $19.50 main) I eventually ate. The salmon was fall-apart tender whilst the cashews and roast pumpkin worked well in the white wine and cream sauce. The entrée size was plenty enough too when eaten with the mixed leaf lemon / olive oil salad and finished off with one of the house specials - homemade waffles with vanilla ice cream onto which I drowned in chocolate syrup. I’m sure there are better places to eat in Manuka but under the circumstances Caph’s was surprisingly good enough.

Denn’s Bar Restaurant, Northcote
For the best bruschetta I’ve ever tasted try Denn’s Bar Restaurant at 113 High Street Northcote (at the Westgarth end). Purists might suggest the round base strays away from traditional bruschetta into pizza territory but you’ll get a very generous helping of fresh tomato, Spanish onion, basil and sun-dried tomato tapenade topped with goat’s cheese and olives for a very dignified $12.50, which makes an ideal pre-cinema meal. On hungrier nights we have been known to pair it up with the Vegetarian Platter ($24) which offers vine leaves, garlic mushrooms, ripe and tangy marinated olives, haloumi and crisp bread which is more than enough for two. One of those meals that we enjoy so much we’ve never bought anything else, but the rest of the menu looks equally delicious.

Noodle Hut, 136 Station Street, Fairfield
Noodle emporia spring up in Australian cities like Fenella the witch in Chorlton and The Wheelies – anywhere, any time and with supernatural speed. The problem is less one of finding one open than finding out which are the good ones. We discovered Noodle Hut on New Year’s Day 2008 and pretty much went every fortnight until we moved out of the area. Even then we’ve been back a couple of times. There are few surprises on the menu, with most of the standard Western-defined Asian meals you’d expect, averaging between $9 and $13. What you eat will depend upon your taste. Mrs Custard swears by the vegetarian fried rice whilst I oscillate between the seafood Nasi Goreng and a hokkien noodle version of Pad Thai. It’s all served deliciously fresh - from fridge to wok to box in less than five minutes – even when there’s a queue. Also, as observed by my mum and even my dustbin of a dad when they were here on holiday, the little boxes have a TARDIS-like capacity to contain more than you’d believe possible.

Small Block, 130 Lygon Street, Brunswick East
And finally, going about this arse up as usual, let’s finish with breakfast. Not just any old breakfast mind you, but Small Block’s Summer Breakfast, my favourite egg-related belly-filler in Melbourne. I found Small Block by accident one Tuesday not long after we moved here and spent a happy afternoon with the paper, a couple of coffees and the first of many Summer Breakfasts. Built on a functional poached eggs-on-toast base, the key is in the accompanying cubes of Persian fetta and beetroot relish which each possess enough taste-bud tickling prowess to bring your eggs to life. A peeled avocado, spinach and wedge of lemon all add to the freshness and make you think that you’ve eaten something healthier than it probably is. Yum. One word of warning: pick your times well. Small Block is often busy, especially at obvious peak hours and getting the eye of a member of staff can be hard. Especially recommended for those flying solo or lucky enough to have a week day off…

If you’ve eaten in any of these places and agree or disagree, let me know. Equally, if you are the owner of one of these establishments feel free to contact me for a sponsorship deal. I’m very cheap and happy to prostitute myself in exchange for tasty snacks.

How to Cook... Mushy Peas

It’s time for another in our ongoing series focussing on the joys of English Cooking and with spring finally here, what better way to start the new season than a recipe for some delicious and healthy vegetables.

English food doesn’t have the best reputation in France but this doesn’t prevent a curious fascination with what passes for food Outre-Manche. In particular I recall my old French friends gazing in wonder at the humble British pea, captivated by what they called les petits pois verts fluos (fluorescent green peas). It had never occurred to me that the Brits might have souped up the colour of peas, but it’s true that their French equivalents are far more sombre in appearance. They are also often cooked with lardons (little bits of fatty bacon) which go unannounced on restaurant menus and reveal the inner contempt that French chefs have for vegetarians.

There are a number of variables that influence the British public’s food purchasing habits, with quality of food running a poor third to how cheap something is (‘look, these beans are only 7 pence!’) and more importantly how much fun it is. Adding fun to food will always make us pay more attention. Ask any of your British friends about Cheesy Peas as invented by the Fast Show and I’ll bet they secretly wish they were real…



So it’s no wonder that when it comes to peas we’ll always choose the brightest of the bright green ones because they make us feel happy just looking at them. The best peas of all are, of course, Mushy Peas (pronounced mashy if you are from the South, mooshy if you hail from the North).

Mushy Peas are unique in that they sit comfortably within both of English cooking’s most famous dishes: fish and chips and the Sunday Roast. Yorkshire Puddings filled with mushy peas and gravy are a real treat, whilst there isn’t a piece of battered haddock on the planet that cannot be made tastier with the addition of a polystyrene tub of mushy peas ladled fresh from a chip shop bain-marie. The truth is that any meal can be enhanced with a bit of mushy pea action and here, dear reader, is how you do it:

Purée de petits pois [verte fluoe] – Fluorescent Green Mushy Peas

You Will Need:

1 x tin of Mushy Peas (sometimes referred to as ‘Chip Shop style’)
1 x tin opener
1 x small saucepan
Some form of cooking device (I’m going to be using an electric hob, but you may want to use gas. I’m sure you could use a microwave too, but we don’t have one).

Step 1: Open tin of mushy peas with a tin opener. All good? Let’s move on…

Step 2: Tip peas into small saucepan. They don’t make a dedicated pea-pan sadly, unless you count bedpans. Technically they would be pee-pans, so don’t count. That said they should never be brought into the kitchen environment (unless someone is in the loo and you’re desperate in which case go ahead but please clean the sink at some point afterwards)

Step 3: turn on your hob to a ‘medium’ heat. I’m not sure what this is specifically in Celsius or Fahrenheit – it’s basically not so hot that everything bubbles straight away and not so cold that this takes hours… Your already mushy peas will become mushier.

Step 4: Pour and serve. Mushy peas basically go hand-in-oven-glove with all potato products, so don’t be afraid of spuddy experimentation. They also compliment most battered and crumbed fish products very well. Normally I’d have a fish finger or five with my peas, but here I’ve gone a bit posh to show off and had fish cakes. La di da me. Note molten lava-flow effect as a serving suggestion.

And there you have it. Bon appétit kids as they say round our way. Keep a look out for more Mint Custard English Cooking in future posts.

They Say, We Say... Posh Beer

Welcome to the first (and feasibly last, knowing my memory) posting of 'They Say, We Say...' a new Mint Custard feature in which advice is proffered in a less than scientific manner on a range of consumer goods by myself and Mrs Custard. Our first review is for Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier - a posh Bavarian beer that our friend Mr Flange purchased during his recent stay.

They say: "Original Schlenkerla Smokebeer –Brewed According to the Bavarian Puirty Law of 1516. Aecht Schlenkerla Wheat is the unusal sibling of the classic Maerzen Smokebeer. Only the barley malt portion is smoked over beech wood logs while the wheat malt remains completely unsmoked. The light smokiness is coupled with complex notes of banana and clove created by the use of Bavarian style wheat beer yeast. It is unfiltered (cloudy), unpasteurised and bottle conditioned.

Mrs Custard says: "Tastes like burger rings..."

Here Be Pickled Eggs

Those of you who've spent the past month anxiously pacing the floors of your homes and workplaces wondering how my July pickled eggs experiment turned out can sleep again. I bring glad tidings and tales of great joy - here be pickled eggs!

I'm as surprised as anyone, but yes, Mother Custard's recipe actually worked and, like a girl on an early morning tram, I've been happily nibbling away at vinegary eggs for a couple of days. Needless to say Mrs Custard is less impressed by this news, but hey, swings and roundabouts.

Tram Observations #153

A young lady traveling on my tram today reached calmly into her handbag and pulled out a small aluminium parcel. Unravelling it like the woman from the Flake advert she revealed a still-shelled hard boiled egg. She then cracked and slowly peeled the top of the egg and started nibbling at it like squirrels eat nuts in cartoons.

Eggs being eggs this created quite a niff, but she sat there quite oblivious to the horror of the passengers around her, gently gnawing away until it was all gone. She then folded up the foil, returned it to her bag and went back to staring into space.

I just thought you should know.

Ricky Ponting's Ashes Tour Diary Update for People who Don't Like Cricket

How to Cook...Pickled Eggs

Happy Bastille Day everyone - I hope you've all had coffee and croissants for breakfast and a protest march for lunch. In celebration of all things French I've decided to start what will be an irregularly regular series of posts sharing the joys of English cuisine.

Rightly or wrongly we English cop our fair share of abuse for our cooking - or "heating up" as is perhaps more accurate (not least from the French who fondly refer to us as les Rosbifs in the same apparently friendly but quietly patronising way that they are called frogs). Perhaps as a result we've seen Jamie, Nigella, Gordon and a whole celebrity army of British chefs marching around the world, all desperate to prove that there's more to the British than than sunday roasts, fish, chips, curry and crisps.

Well, I'm here to tell you that they're wrong. There may be a few more wagyu beef fillets and ladies fingers in some British shopping baskets but I'm proud to report that the frozen food aisles are still bigger than the fresh fruit aisles in all the UK supermarkets I've ever been in. The British may no longer rule the waves but Captain Birdseye does a fine job in their stead. Despite what you may think, this is a great thing - especially when you can only be arsed to go shopping once a month.

So I plead with you to ignore those attention-grabbing celebrity chefs and their warped international vision of British kitchens and ask you to place your faith in Mint Custard to tell you the truth about the real joys of British food. Let us begin with my favourite - the humble pickled egg.

Celebrated in song by the All Seeing Eye, pickled eggs are the perfect accompaniment to fish and chips and a pint of bitter. You can't get them in Australia (Mrs Custard has gamely tried on my behalf only to be laughed out of many a deli) so your only option is to make them yourself. This is easier than you'd think, as my step by step guide will show...

Oeufs au vinaigre (Pickled Eggs)

You will need:

• Six eggs (from a chicken - none of your posh eggs)
• A bottle of white vinegar
• An old jar of pasta sauce emptied and cleaned with boiling water

1. Boil six eggs for six minutes. This is about the length of Blur's Coffee and TV which has a very cute video about milk so maybe watch it on YouTube instead of using a conventional timer.

2. Peel all your eggs. Set aside, have a cup of tea and allow to cool (the eggs, not the tea - unless it's really very hot indeed in which case let that cool down a bit too).

3. Place eggs in clean jar. Be surprised that they all fit in. I was.

4. Pour white vinegar into jar until eggs are covered / drowned.

5. Put lid on tightly. Really tightly. Then put away in a dark cupboard for a month. This is about the same time as it takes for the moon to orbit the Earth. I wouldn't suggest you spend the whole time looking at the moon, but maybe spare a few minutes thinking about how ace it must have been to be Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin 40 years ago this week and how that even though Neil might have been the first man on the moon and destined to be famous for all eternity, at least Aldrin had Buzz Lightyear named after him and that's much cooler.

I should warn you I got this 'recipe' from my mum over the phone and it's the first time I've tried it. Other peoples' recipes on the net seem to vary and a fair few add salt. I'll keep you posted on my pickling progress in August. It could be terrible...

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Eggilogue: Success! - see full story here