Australian

Modern Australian cooking is multicultural to the core - British colonial roots overlaid with strong Italian, Greek, Lebanese, Vietnamese and Cantonese influences from successive waves of immigration. Barbecue is the defining technique: lamb chops, snags (sausages), prawns and barramundi over open flame. Native ingredients (macadamia, lemon myrtle, finger lime, kangaroo) appear in modern plates; the everyday table runs through meat pies, ANZAC biscuits, pavlova, lamingtons, Vegemite on toast, and fish-and-chips at the beach. Brunch is a serious affair: avocado on sourdough, smashed eggs, and a flat white.

6 recipes

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Desserts 1 recipe

Recipes

Aussie Burger with Beetroot

The Aussie burger, sometimes called "the lot", is a milk-bar institution that emerged in Australia in the mid-twentieth century when European immigrants and returning soldiers reshaped the corner takeaway. What distinguishes it from any American or British burger is the insistence on tinned pickled beetroot, a slice of canned pineapple, a fried egg and rashers of streaky bacon, all stacked under a thick beef patty on a toasted bun. The beetroot is non-negotiable: it stains the bread, it stains your fingers, it leaks down your wrist, and it is the entire point. The combination sounds chaotic but works because each layer plays a clear role: sweet pineapple against salty bacon, earthy beetroot against rich egg yolk, sharp tomato chutney cutting through melted cheese. The patty itself is generously sized, hand-shaped, and seasoned simply so the toppings can do the talking. Difficulty is low; the only real skill is timing several pans at once so the egg, bacon and patty all arrive hot together. This is not delicate food. It is built to be eaten leaning forward over a paper wrapper with napkins and a cold drink. Serve it at a backyard barbecue and watch grown adults negotiate the architecture of the bite.

40 minutes Serves4

Beef Meat Pie

Australia's hand-held lunch and the unofficial national snack: hot beef gravy in a shortcrust base under a flaky puff lid, eaten standing up at the footy with tomato sauce running down your wrist. You build the filling like a thick gravy: minced beef cooked down with onion, beef stock, Worcestershire, tomato and a dark roux until it's sliceable when cool. The cold-filling trick is the one rule a pie shop never breaks: never fill a pie case with hot, loose gravy, because the bottom will go soggy in the oven and your pie will leak the moment you bite it. The chilled filling goes into shortcrust bases, gets a puff pastry lid crimped sharp at the edge, and bakes hot until the top is bronzed and shattering. Eat hot from the bag with a squeezy bottle of tomato sauce, or build a proper plate around it with mushy peas and gravy.

2 hours 40 minutes Serves6

Charcoal Chicken Shop Chicken Skewers

The flavour you'd get at a Melbourne charcoal-chicken takeaway, distilled into something you can run at home with a heavy pan instead of a rotisserie. You build a mostly-dry rub from the pantry: garlic powder, onion powder, sweet paprika, mustard powder, dried oregano, and a small amount of curry powder for the warmth that defines suburban-Australian charcoal-chicken shops. The rub wets out with olive oil and a generous squeeze of lemon, and the chicken thighs go in to marinate for twelve to twenty-four hours so the salt and spices penetrate properly. Thread onto skewers, sear hot in batches, rest briefly under foil so the juices settle. The lemon at the table is non-negotiable. Serve with warm flatbread, a chopped salad and a garlic-yogurt or hummus on the side, the kind of plate that arrives wrapped in butcher's paper at the takeaway.

24 hours 35 minutes Serves4-5

Pan-Fried Barramundi

Australia's pub-menu fish, the one you order on a hot summer afternoon at a beachside bistro and follow with a cold glass of something white. The trick to crispy-skin barramundi is the trick to crispy-skin anything: very dry fillets, very hot oil, salt on the skin, fish pressed flat into the pan for the first thirty seconds, and the patience to leave it alone until the flesh is opaque most of the way through before you flip. Once you turn it, the second side needs only a minute. While the fish rests on a plate you make a brown butter, lemon and caper sauce in the same pan in the time it takes the fillets to settle. Sea bass, snapper or yellowtail kingfish all stand in beautifully if barramundi isn't on the slab. Plated with the crisp side up so every diner sees the skin, lemon and parsley scattered over, a glass of cold riesling on the table.

20 minutes Serves2

Roast Lamb with Rosemary and Garlic

Australia's Sunday lamb, the centre of the long-lunch table and the smell that fills the kitchen all afternoon. You stud a 2.2 kg bone-in leg with slivers of garlic and rosemary pushed deep against the meat, rub the whole thing with oil, salt and pepper, and start it in a very hot oven for twenty-five minutes to lock in a crust. The temperature drops to 180°C from there and the lamb roasts on until a probe in the thickest part reads 60°C internal for blushing pink. Then comes the part most home cooks skip and shouldn't: a twenty-five-minute rest while you build the gravy in the deglazed pan with stock, a spoon of redcurrant or quince jelly for sweetness, and a splash of red wine. The lamb carves into juicy, rose-coloured slices that fall away in long pieces from the bone. Roast potatoes, mint sauce, a green vegetable on the side, the wine you opened earlier already in the glass.

2 hours 50 minutes Serves6-8