The status ride of the kitchen

To continue the conversation we started earlier this year, there is nothing remotely positive about being 50. And to make things worse, everyone is suddenly an expert on ageing. ''Hey, it's the new 40,'' someone says to me.

I'm going all Django Unchained on them. Such is my rage that Quentin Tarantino himself would think I had captured the anger of the American slave trade circa 1860.

When I was walking through the airport the other day with my 10-year-old son, an elderly woman gave me a weird smile and it took a while to realise it was a look that said ''I've got grandkids, too''. Nooo!

People keep telling me these are the best years of your life, but they are not even close - and worse, by continuing this illusion we risk our kids thinking they can just hang out and everything will get really interesting later.

Think about when you buy an album, if that's still what they're called. The best track is second or third, not right towards the end. Listen to the latest by Justin Bieber … bad example, don't listen to Bieber. Try the band Imagine Dragons, third song, bam. I know listening to anything other than Cold Chisel is overcompensating, as if the older you get the younger you try to be.

I've got a pair of those skinny jeans. Getting into them is no worry, but now I know what a lobster thinks when it finds itself in a craypot: That was easy, now, how do I get out of here?

Buying a Thermomix is like buying a Mogwai - you need to be allowed to have it.

On the positive side, since those closest are worried that any day soon I'm going to turn up with a new red convertible (with thin pony tail and discreet tattoo), I can pretty much get anything I want. Tempting as the convertible is, what I really need is the piece of kitchen equipment that I've been carrying on about for well over a year now. It's the DB, the 911, the 190SL of the kitchen. A Thermomix.

It's not cheap by any means, especially in Australia for reasons I don't get, but as you immerse yourself in the Thermomix world, you realise that there is so much stuff you can do in this super blender.

It sits next to my sous vide circulator and pressure cooker, a trio that opens up so many options. It was delivered and commissioned by the ever-enthusiastic sales reps. A Thermomix isn't the easiest thing to buy. You can't just rock up to a shop and hand over the plastic. Rather, you need to buy it off the reps who come to your home for a demonstration. It's like buying a Mogwai, you need to be allowed to have it, and it comes with loads of instructions.

But it's a fine machine and the challenge now is to make full use of it. The cook and blend option means it's brilliant for making soup. The high-speed blades can emulsify just about anything and the induction element adds the concentration factor so sauces and stocks are a breeze.

Don't worry that I've become a champion for this $2000 blender, I'll keep it to a minimum, and our safety word if I get too involved is ''varoma''.

The custard is a recipe from Mark Best, of Marque Restaurant. It really needs the machinery, but assuming you don't have one, you can make something pretty good with the creme fraiche version.

Bryan Martin is winemaker at Ravensworth and Clonakilla, bryanmartin.com.au

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Salmon rillettes

100g clarified butter (see instructions), plus extra to seal jars if needed

250g salmon fillet for roasting

salt

extra virgin olive oil

2 largish eschalots

200ml sherry vinegar

200ml dry white wine

100g smoked salmon

100g creme fraiche

2 tbsp dill

1 tbsp chives, chopped

2 tbsp baby capers, chopped

250g salmon gravlax (see below), sliced and pulled apart

1 tbsp horseradish custard

To clarify the butter, bring 250 grams of butter gently to a very low simmer, then strain through wet muslin to remove the milk solids.

To make the roast salmon, season the fillet with lots of salt and leave for an hour. Rinse off and pat dry. Drizzle with about a quarter of a cup of olive oil, and cook in an oven at 100C for 15 to 20 minutes until just cooked but still pink in the middle. Cool and pull apart in chunks.

Chop the eschalots. Bring to the boil with the vinegar, and cook down until it's almost dry. Add the wine and reduce to a thick sauce, about quarter of a cup. Cool.

Slice the smoked salmon and fold it through the creme fraiche, along with the dill, chives and capers.

In a large bowl, mix together the prepared confit and gravlax with a sturdy wooden spoon, drizzling in the clarified butter, this should break the salmon into small pieces. Add the eschalot reduction and the creme fraiche mixture.

Taste before seasoning further (it probably doesn't need more salt). Pack into sterilised jars and cover with a thin layer of clarified butter. (To sterilise jars, submerge them and their lids in water and boil for five minutes. Remove with tongs and dry in the oven on a low temperature.)

Store in the fridge and use within a week or so. Serve with toast and horseradish custard (see below).

Gravlax

¼ cup dill chopped

¼ cup pink salt, or other salt flakes

250g salmon fillet, skin on

Mix the dill and salt, and spread it over the fillet. Cover and leave in the fridge for 24 hours. Wash off the salt. Peel off the skin to use.

Parmesan and horseradish custard

1 tbsp horseradish

100g parmesan

3 whole eggs

40ml cream

salt and pepper

Grate the horseradish and parmesan in a Thermomix by pulsing. Add the eggs and cream. Cook for seven minutes on speed five at 70C. Cool to thicken and season.

Alternatively, if you don't have a Thermomix, fold grated horseradish and parmesan through creme fraiche.