CHANNELING ELVIS: BUMTASTIC

Dear Amelia,
This is an old and very easy recipe for shortbread-style biscuits that was written on the back of an envelope by one of the mothers at your Mum’s playgroup back in 1984.
It was then copied into an exercise book by me.
This exercise book has “Recipes” written on the front cover and is falling apart at the seams.
It’s covered in 30-year-old food stains, most of which are the colour of wee, and is unlikely to be treasured by you, or anyone else for that matter, in years to come.
When you come across it in the back of Nanna’s cupboard after Nanna has gone to the big kitchen in the sky, you’ll probably want to remove it with a pair of kitchen tongs and drop it in the bin.
An Etsy vintage moment it isn’t.
But the biscuits are delicious.
In the pantry I have a big jar filled with different cookie cutters and can attest that this past Christmas you loved the biscuits shaped like angels, stars and snowmen.
I’m sure that very soon you’ll feel the same way about bums.
You’ll see in the photo that sometimes Nanna’s bums are a bit lumpy.
But that’s just art imitating life, so don’t worry if it happens to you too.
Using the writing icing is the hardest part of this recipe.
Nanna never got past a C+ in Art, and when you look at the photo you can see why.
I remember Mr Rayment, bastard that he was, telling me that my sunset looked like a haemorrhage.
I was only 10 and didn’t even know what a haemorrhage was.
I should imagine that Mr Rayment is dead by now.
We can only hope.

BUM BISCUITS

Makes 20-30 depending on the size of your cookie cutter

50g caster sugar
100g butter
150g plain flour
heart-shaped cookie cutter
box of Writing Icing (from supermarkets)

Preheat the oven to 170C and line a baking sheet with baking paper.
Cream together the butter and sugar with a hand mixer. You can use a wooden spoon but it takes forever.
When it’s light and creamy, gradually mix in the flour, then knead it into a smooth ball with your hands.
Roll the dough out thinly on a benchtop dusted with flour.
Cut out heart shapes then slice off the pointy ends so they look like bums.
Keep gathering up the leftover dough and rolling it out so you can get as many biscuits as possible.
Put them on the baking tray and bake for about 10 minutes, or until they are a pale golden colour.
Once they’re cool, draw on some undies with the writing icing.
If you’re making ordinary, un-iced biscuits, sprinkle them with sugar as soon as they come out of the oven.

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CRABS, COCKTAILS AND CARAVANS

blue swimmer crab

Dear Amelia,
Here in Western Australia it’s the season for blue swimmer crabs, which are called blue swimmer crabs because they’re blue and they swim.
When I was a kid these crabs were called blue mannas and I used to go with my Dad (your Great Granddad Keith) down to the estuary in Bunbury to catch them with wire scoop nets attached to long wooden poles.
The best time to catch them was at sunset because that’s when they were scuttling around on the floor of the estuary looking for things to eat.
You’d wade through the shallow water in a pair of old sandshoes, getting eaten alive by mosquitos and hoping the crabs wouldn’t mistake your ankles for whatever it was they liked for dinner.
They’re vicious little buggers and I still have a scar on my ankle to prove it.
I needed five stitches – I suspect you could hear my screams in the Middle East.
Not that it put me off.
I’m certainly no hero but I was always willing to risk limb, if not life, in order to get a feed of crabs.
I absolutely love them.
Later on, when I married your Grandpa, I used to go out crabbing on the ocean with my father-in-law, your Great Grandpa Roy, and his mates.
We’d stop the boat and throw drop nets over the side – far more civilised.
Later still, my Mum and Dad bought a caravan and a tinny and kept them at a caravan park at Yunderup, so crab-wise I was (for want of a better expression) like a pig in shit.

This is a tinny that looks nothing like the one your Great Grandad had. His was much more beaten up.

This is a tinny that looks nothing like the one your Great Grandad had. His was much more beaten up.

You’d get back to the caravan park with your catch and almost every van would have a campfire blazing out the front with a drum full of boiling seawater on top to cook the crabs in.
All the blokes would be standing around the fires having a yack and sipping Swan Lager from a can, even though it was 10 o’clock in the morning.
They were all called Vern or Len or Ted and they smoked Turf and Craven A and had bow legs.
Their wives had exotic names like Valmae and Merle and smoked Alpine while they sat around reading the Women’s Weekly and James A. Michener novels.
Speaking of crabs, when your Grandpa and I were at uni we knew a bloke who caught the sort you don’t find in an estuary.
This bloke got rid of them by sitting in an empty bath and spraying his private parts with Pea-Beu.
I’ve often wondered if he used the Pine Fresh or the Surface Spray.
I now buy my blue swimmer crabs from the Boatshed Markets down on the Albany foreshore.
Here are two I bought last weekend.
They go red when you cook them, as I expect I would too if I was dropped into boiling water.

cooked crabs

These crabs were really big ones, so I cooked them for five minutes after the water had come back to the boil and then left them to cool in a colander.
They were perfect and, as always, well worth the effort of cleaning and peeling them.
Our favourite way of eating them is as crab cocktails (like prawn cocktails but without the prawns) and crab fettuccine, so I’ll give you the recipes for both.

One year ago on this blog: Bum Biscuits

CRAB COCKTAIL

shredded iceberg lettuce
fresh crab meat
For the cocktail sauce (makes about 1 cup):
1 cup whole egg mayonnaise (I like Paul Newman’s brand)
3 tbsp tomato sauce
2 tsp Worcestershire sauce
a few drops of Tabasco sauce (or to taste)
1 tsp lemon juice
freshly ground salt and pepper to taste

Put the shredded lettuce in the bottom of individual serving bowls or glasses.
Pile the fresh crab meat on top.
Mix all the sauce ingredients together and stir well.
Drizzle the sauce over the crab meat.
This cocktail sauce will keep for up to a month in the fridge – just cover it with plastic wrap.
The recipe is easily halved, third-ed (sorry) or quartered, depending on how many crab cocktails you’re making.
The sauce is also delicious in a fish-cake burger – even better if you stir in a finely chopped spring onion before you dollop it on the bun.

I didn't take a picture of the crab cocktails because we were starving. Here's a home-made prawn cocktail instead.

I didn’t take a picture of the crab cocktails because we were starving. Here’s a home-made prawn cocktail instead.

The next recipe is a classic, taught to me back in the day by my friend and former colleague, cookery writer Margaret Johnson. I’ve been cooking this for years and, as you do, have changed it around a bit. I would still crawl over hot coals to eat it.

 

FETTUCCINE WITH CRAB, GARLIC AND PARSLEY

For each person you will need:
100-150g fettuccine
scant tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1 fat clove garlic or 2 small ones, very finely chopped
chopped fresh chilli to taste
the meat from 2 small crabs or 1 big one
1 tbsp chopped flat leaf parsley
freshly ground salt and pepper

Cook the fettuccine in lots of boiling salted water until al dente.
Just before it’s ready, heat the olive oil in a big frying pan over a low-ish flame and cook the garlic and chilli for about 30 seconds (just until the smell of the cooking garlic hits your nostrils – no longer).
Tip the drained fettuccine into the frying pan, add the crab meat, chopped parsley and salt and pepper to taste and toss everything together with a pair of tongs.
Tip into a serving bowl and serve immediately.
Marg doesn’t bother cooking anything but the fettuccine.
She then tips it into a bowl and mixes all the other ingredients through.


GOOD KING WENCESLAS GOES CHRISTMAS SHOPPING

Dear Amelia,
The photos at the top of this blog are of the first two Christmas stamps ever released in Britain.
I’ve got both of them in my trusty Pelham Junior Stamp Album, which was given to me by my Nanna when I was 11.

My trusty Pelham Junior Stamp Album, looking a bit worn round the edges after 48 years.

One of the stamps (guess which one) depicts Good King Wenceslas and was drawn by a six-year-old called Tasveer Shemza.
It’s up there because I’ve had a few emails (OK, two) asking if I can re-print the Good King Wenceslas column I wrote back in 2008 for the West Weekend magazine.
I wrote this column after I’d been Christmas shopping at Myer in late November.
I’d been trapped on the escalator between two little kids (one covered in snot, the other playing with his willy), their Mum and Dad (who were carrying several hundred shopping bags) and three teenage boys (who were almost catatonic from looking up the bum of a girl in very short shorts who was further up the escalator).
When I got home I said to your Grandpa, “I bet good old King Wenceslas never had to go through this sort of thing.”
Then I thought, well maybe he did.
The column’s reprinted with the permission of The West Australian newspaper.
If you’d like to hear the original Christmas carol, click here.

Good King Wenceslas Goes Christmas Shopping

Good King Wenceslas went out, buying gifts for Stephen.
Five clicks past the roundabout, through the traffic weavin’.
Brightly shone the moon that night, on a trail bike dealer,
When a salesman came in sight, pushing a two whee-ee-ler.

Hither, salesman, stand by me, wrap that bike up quick smart.
On my way I soon must be, there’s a sale at K-mart.
Ten per cent off DVDs, half-price socks and sandals,
Random specials on CDs, books and scented ca-an-dles.

Through the mall the King set out, wrestling with his trolley.
Mums and Dads were all about, none of them looked jolly.
Perry Como filled the air, singing songs of snowmen.
Hyped-up kids were everywhere, never a good o-o-men.

First a turkey, plump and good, went in Wence’s trolley,
Followed by a Christmas pud, and some plastic holly.
Wrapping paper, Toblerone, gift tags shaped like Santa,
Serviettes in neutral tones, Pringles, nuts and Fa-an-ta.

Bring me Bundy, bring me wine, bring Bacardi Breezer.
Bring me lager from the Rhine, put it all on Visa.
Bring Jim Beam for Uncle Stan, that should stop him whingeing.
Plus lite beer for young Leanne, we don’t want her bi-inge-ing.
 
Good King Wenceslas went home, absolutely knackered.
In his castle’s stately dome, he was Christmas crackered.
So, folks, don’t yourselves delude, make sure you remember.
Next time you buy gifts and food, do it in Sep-te-em-ber.

I like to think that when Good King Wenceslas finally got home, Good Queen Wenceslas was waiting with a nice glass of whiskey and some shortbread biscuits in the shape of Christmas trees.
I make these every year in all sorts of Christmassy shapes and everyone loves them.
It’s the same recipe I used for the Bum Biscuits I blogged about back in March.
Click here and you’ll find it.