Coat of Arms

Benjamin Franklin, of whom I am a great fan, famously lamented the selection of the American Bald Eagle as America's national emblem. His grievances, outlined in a letter to his daughter, include the fact that the bird is known for stealing the prey of other animals once it has been killed, much like a petty thief. Furthermore the Bald Eagle ?is a rank Coward: The little King Bird not bigger than a Sparrow attacks him boldly and drives him out of the District.? Franklin then goes on to suggest that the turkey would have been a better choice. Not only, he argues, is the turkey an unique American species ?[h]e is..., though a little vain & silly, a Bird of Courage, and would not hesitate to attack a Grenadier of the British Guards who should presume to invade his Farm Yard with a red Coat on.? Ben fails to point out one more argument in favor of his bird of choice: turkey is much, much, tastier than any bird of prey might be.

The two animals on my adopted country's national coat of arms are the Emu and Kangaroo. Given Franklin's criteria, they are both good choices, native, noble, strong and fleet, emblematic. Ask an Australian about them and he will quickly tell you that neither animal is capable of moving backwards (although this is not, in fact, entirely true); it's a symbol of national pride. Wait ten seconds in respectful silence and he will almost inevitably follow with ?and we eat them. We're the only country who eat the animals we put on our nation's coat of arms.?



While I'm uncertain of the veracity of the exclusivity claim, I can attest to the edibility of the two animals. Both are farmed (kangaroos are also culled from the wild) and can be purchased at butchers and some local grocery stores. At the restaurant I order both emu and 'roo from the same guy who sends me quail, squab, and venison. Both native meats are quite a bit like venison, in fact: lean, dense, rich, slightly metallic. Like deer meat, they require special care when cooking are are best served rare.

I have a chef friend who offers, on Australia Day, kebabs of Kangaroo and Emu and his pub patrons love them. They vie for popularity with his now traditional spit-roasted crocodile. Yes, croc. It sounds like caricature, I know, and I would not have believed either before I migrated, but it happens. Don't believe, however, that the joke is lost on the locals; shouts of ?Throw another croc on the barbie!? abound. Australians excel at this kind of self-mockery and it is a delight to partake.



Currently, at the restaurant, we are serving a simple piece of rare char-grilled 'roo. From time to time I like to collect the uncooked 'roo trim (leftover from portioning) and make something out of it. As winter is now in full swing, I am craving rich, hearty meals and a ragout on gnocchi sounds about as good as it gets. Or, if you will:

'Roo Ragout with Polenta Gnocchi

Chefs often try to find ways to introduce moisture to kangaroo, usually through the addition of fat, as I have done below in a couple of ways. In addition to the fat, the cooking method is slightly different to a regular braise or stew, as harsh temperatures would dry the meat out. The ragout pairs nicely with the polenta in the gnocchi, which becomes caramely-sweet when sautéed in butter. This is a very, very rich dish, you don't need much.

500g kangaroo meat, cubed
50g butter
1 carrot, peeled, fine brunoise
1 stick celery, fine brunoise
6 eshallots, peeled, cut into thin rings
50g speck, ½ cm cubes
300ml red wine
3 sprigs thyme
2 parsley stalks
1 bay leaf
2 cloves garlic, cracked in skin
150ml milk
300ml tomato puree

Mix the 'roo, garlic, parsley, bay, and thyme in a large bowl. Pour over half of the red wine, mix again, and refrigerate overnight.

The next day, drain well and discard the wine. Melt the butter in a large, heavy-bottom pot on medium heat until it begins to foam. Season the meat and, working in batches, gently cook it in the foaming butter. You only need color the meat slightly, over-cooking will dry it out. Remove from pot with a slotted spoon. In the same butter cook the speck until the fat begins to become translucent. Toss in the carrot, celery, eshallots, and the garlic (remove the skins), thyme, bay, and parsley stalks from the marinade. Increase the heat and cook until the veg begins to color and smell sweet. Pour in the remaining red wine and reduce by more than half.

Return the meat to the pot with the vegetables, add the milk and tomato, bring to a simmer, and reduce to the lowest possible heat. Cook uncovered, stirring occasionally, until the meat is tender and begins to fall apart, 2-3 hours. Remove the hard herbs and garlic cloves and break up the larger pieces of meat with the back of a wooden spoon. Season. Serve on polenta gnocchi (below).

Polenta Gnocchi

Ok. Gnocchi are nothing more than dumplings. However, good gnocchi are tricky. I've covered them once before on my blog, but I'll recap some of the hints I gave then. First and foremost: work as fast as you can. The potato dough will become more and more sticky as it cools so you want to mix it, roll it, cut it, blanch it, and shock it as quickly as possible. Second, don't overwork the dough, this will make sticky gnocchi. Simply mix it enough to bring it together. Third, make a huge mess. Don't waste time cleaning up as you go (hot dough, remember?). Clean up when you are done. Finally, accept that your gnocchi will not all be identical, waste time trying to cut them exacty the same size and you'll have cold dough before you know it.

With all this in mind, get set up before you begin. Choose a couple large roasting potatoes (russet or deseree) prick them with a knife, and roast them in a hot oven for an hour or so, until they are cooked though. While they are roasting, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil, prepare an ice bath into which the cooked gnocchi will go, and prepare your ingredients. The recipe below is a ratio. Scoop the hot, cooked potato out of the skins, pass it through a ricer, and weigh it. 200g is the minimum.

200g roasted potato, passed through a ricer
50g flour
25g polenta
25g parmesan, grated
1 yolk

Mix all ingredients just enough to bring them together. Working in small batches, roll the dough out until it is a 2cm diameter tube. Cut into 3cm lengths. At this point you can gently roll the gnocchi into balls between your palms and then roll each one up the tines of a fork to create the classic gnocchi shape.

Blanch the gnocchi in batches as you roll them by dropping, 10 to 20 at a time, into the boiling water. When they float, set a timer for 1 minute and then remove with a slotted spoon and shock in the prepared ice bath.

To serve, sauté the gnocchi. Heat a pan on high heat. Add a bit of olive oil and, when it begins to smoke, a handful of gnocchi. Make sure not to try to cook too many at once; over crowding a pan will only make the temperature drop and all your gnocchi will stick. When the gnocchi have browned on one side, add a knob of butter, reduce the heat a bit, and flip, cooking until the gnocchi are evenly browned in the foaming butter. Remove from pan, draining away butter.