Happy Annualversary, Wrights Ave!

It's one year ago today that I bought my apartment.

I remember settlement day very well - there had been so many hassles exchanging contracts (I made the offer in March and we dilly dallied back and forth for months) and I was convinced it wasn't going to happen. I had the day off and Jacs and I got the key from the agent (and a goody basket!) and came over to check it out.

I love the feeling you get when you go somewhere for the first time, particularly somewhere you know will become familiar. Like a new apartment, or a workplace, or a venue you'll go to often (although this doesn't hold true for the gym, as I go so irregularly that it's new every time!). I remember the strange foreign feeling I had as I spent that first night cleaning. There was something wonderful about scrubbing my very own toilet. Mind, that wore off fairly quickly! The next day I moved in, and even then it didn't start to feel quite mine as all the furniture was new and strange and didn't look like my previous spacious house. I got used to it over the next few months, during which I was living with someone, and when he moved out I had to get used to it all over again. Now, though, it feels comfortable and familiar and safe, like a cosy old jumper.

I've done very little with it in the last year. One reconditioned water heater, as the original one broke within weeks of buying. One washing machine installation - taps and drains. One 'fire engine red' feature wall painted - badly, I must confess! The edges I touched up with a cotton bud, for heaven's sakes. New curtains in all rooms. I'm amazed at how different they make the place look, and also at how long I put up with the skanky sheets that were in lieu of curtains when I bought the place. But other than that, very little else. I'm not much of a DIY-er!

Next on the agenda - a bit more painting, and I have a few feature-wallpaper ideas. A new oven is on its way as the old one has been rather temperamental of late. I also heard one can buy tile and ceramic paint and that could be just the superficial makeover my bathroom needs! This is all talk, mind: I have little slash no intention of doing any of these any time soon!

The loveliest thing of all is the security. It's fairly unlikely that I'll evict myself, and I don't have to worry about the ludicrous Sydney rental market (mortgage rates are another issue but at least they're going towards something). I am always surprised at how much I love the security - I didn't realise how important that has become to me. I rather fancied myself a carefree type but no, secure me up, thanks!

So, hurrah for home ownership! And may this year hold slightly more efforts towards cleaning and doing up of property!

Choc chip cookies for a winter picnic

This weekend has been spectacular weather wise, so Jacs, Loz and I went down to Glebe Point for an impromptu afternoon tea picnic. We got about two hours out of the winter sun, and although it means my floors are unwashed, bathroom unscrubbed and laundry not yet dried it was worth it.

I made choc chip bikkies to take, primarily cos I had the ingredients on hand. The were quick, easy and delicious - crispy on the outside and chewy and soft on the inside. And the chocolate was still melty, dreamy! We ate 11 of them between us, and I make hearty sized cookies! Jacs brought some cheeses and Loz wine, and it was a lovely afternoon.

Last night I went to a 30-and-a-half birthday party. Phil and I tried to find a new and delicious short drink - tequila and dry was our first attempt (it was OK) and the barman then advised to try tequila and squash, which was actually quite nice. Like, 6 or so of them nice! There was also Jagermeister at one point. Ah Saturday. Not feeling too badly for it today, however needless to say the above mentioned chores remain undone.

I'm off to dinner at a friend's house tonight and there's still half of the cookie batter left in the fridge (it made loads!) so I suspect that'll be our dessert...yummo!

Kiama Capers

Midnight on Friday found me sitting, champagne in hand, in arguably the Inner West's seediest pub with two of my best mates. In the type of moment that can only happen in such establishments, we thought it would be the best idea ever to go away for the weekend as none of us had pre existing plans. We started at camping, moved to hiring a caravan (and pretending to be middle American trash) and secretly all knew we'd end up in a pub! So we downed the bubbles, agreed that Loz would set out for us at 10am, and we'd make our way down the south coast to Kiama.

In the way that only the best drunken plans work, everything actually ended up happening! We set out the next morning with very little agenda other than having a top time. Loz had made up the perfect traveling soundtrack (80s) and we moseyed our way down the coast. We took the brown 'tourist attraction' signs that kept us off the highway and stopped at Helensburg to look at the Hindu temple and a (mediocre) garage sale. Loz had her heart set on Devonshire Tea and so when the opportunity arose - at Stanwell Tops I think - we stopped to indulge.



We headed on to Kiama and found ourselves a home for the night....as predicted in one of the town's two pubs! We looked at the Blowhole (which I am not really sure I rate as a tourist attraction) and braved the bustling winds. We then had a thinking drink, and wandered to the club for a nanna dinner as we were starving. We didn't have a huge night - pub crawled our way back to our pub where a band was playing. As we walked towards the entrance, Loz noticed a guy who looked like someone we all played trivia with years ago (and with whom she went to a Christmas party with disastrous results!). As we approached we realised that it was the same guy, which was surreal to say the least. Apparently his aged mother lives just down the road and he was visiting her. Weird. Weird and uncomfortable!

Anyway the following morning we headed to the local craft and food markets which stretched along the beach. I was determined to buy both something edible and something crafty (or both at once if possible!).



It was actually a little rainy and windy but the markets were lovely. I bought a caraway and rye sourdough loaf which has been my best breakfast ever since. We then followed the headlands around along the coast, where we had a stormy and spectacular view back up north.



We then hit the road, planning on going back to Sydney via Kangaroo Valley and Bowral. But, we had seen in the local Kiama guide some rock formations that were advertised as 'being like the face of the moon'. So we thought we'd take a space trip to find them. A short drive and a walk through the on again off again rain and we were successful.





It was a very surreal landscape, the old moon. The ocean was vicious, the rocks jagged and striking, and the whole place was empty other than us. It was quite impressive in the moody weather and we stayed there for some time, generally talking about how cool nature is!

We stopped at Berry for more markets - I am such a sucker for other people's trash! I bought some more crappy paperbacks (am going through a total Agatha Christie phase. Again), and some lovely delicate glassware that I'm going to use to make panacotta in. And some for taking shots out of...not quite as classy!

The highlight of the trip home was an 'side of the road shop' - my favourite sort! This one - an old fridge - was selling fudge, toffee and other assorted sweets. Using the honesty system! YES! Actually we were very honest - Jacs bought some turkish delight, Loz some rocky road and I bough some pecan and maple toffee (which was my dinner on Monday night. Ah nutrition, I value you).



We then stopped at Bowral for lunch before making our way back home. I backed it up with a lovely roast in response to winter weather at Mel's, and had a thoroughly wonderful weekend!

Marrickvillains episode 2, 3 and 4 - or Why I Adore My Suburb

OK so I filled you in on our first Marrickville adventure. There have been several since, and with each new development my love for Da Ville only grows stronger.

Outing two wasn't really a group thing - it was a Sunday that Mel called and headed over with her pushbike and I joined her on an adventure. We rode down the Cook River cycleway and went all the way along to Rockdale. We found there a driving range, so we though, why not - let's be golf heroes! So we bought a bucket of balls (ooh! Accidental alliteration!) (and now...) had a hit around, tried our luck on a sand dune and used as much golf terminology as either of us knew, and some I suspect we made up. On the way back though we stumbled upon The Land Where Dreams Come True, or as it is commercially known, The Concordia Club. Set on the Tempe side of the Ville, and masquerading as a lawn bowls club, this little gem is in fact a German extravaganza! We pulled our bikes in to the melodious sounds of an oom-pah-pah band and the glorious sight of full golden steins. Heavens. We had tall beers with the sun on our backs, I was asked to dance (how could I say no!) and we eyed the menu...it had something with dots over the a on it! YUM!

Outing three was an official Marrickvillains event. We went to the Dulwich Hill(billy) Pub, where we had avo beers aplenty and a lovely time. There was quite a crew - ring ins from neighbouring hoods, admittedly, but who are we not to share the Marrickville love?

Then last Friday night turned into spontaneous outing number three. Mel was over for dinner (we cooked a Combined Forces Pot Luck. She brought the things from her fridge - carrots, sweet potato and strongbow! - and added them to mine and we made dinner. Red curry, so not as ghastly as the ingredient list implies!). We finished our wine and though, ah well, we'll go for a cheeky one and rang the golf club which is just down the road from mine to see if they were open. They were - and they had their monthly trivia session on! So we jumped on bikes, BMX Bandit style, and raced there. Oh it was fun! We lost by a disturbing amount (we'd missed the first two rounds) but it was all good. Shortly after we'd gotten there, a guy came over to us and asked if we were the girls who'd been at the Concordia Club a few weeks ago - he was friends with the guy who'd asked me to dance! I am not entirely sure how they knew it was us...but oh Marrickville I love you!

To top it all off, the next morning we went for breaky at Kelby's (not just Mel and I; two other friends came too - which makes the following even nicer). We saw one of the Mussel night guys there, said hi, and carried on eating. When we went to pay, the owner told us all our drinks had been paid for by mussels guy - and that he wanted to pay for our meals but we'd not ordered yet! Oh my goodness. Now, I can assure you this was not done in a 'creepy guy being weird' sort of way - rather, just a 'Marrickville is f^%$ing awesome' type of way! So we left money for his coffee that week and it's a huge circle of suburbia happiness.

PS - while I was writing this, my neighbour (who it turns out works for Home and Away, ha!) dropped by with a key for the storage room door and some lunch for me tomorrow, left over from the set! See? Everyone here is fabulous!

Farewell, Cherriot!

A few weeks ago I made a difficult but necessary decision. I bought a new(er), small car. An opportunity came up to buy a friend's brother's well looked after and cheap to run Mazda and, with the rapid decline of my own majestic vehicle, I had to jump at the chance. It hurt though. The test drive felt like I had snuck out behind my partner's back (or what I assume that feels like at any rate). Holding the new car key was like being busted with lipstick on my collar (likewise, except on drunken evenings when I have somehow managed to smear my own everywhere. Class). But the deed was done and I had to move on. An ad was placed in the paper, several people rang but nobody purchased, and in the end Mr Wrecker (the dodgiest man you ever did see) gave me 200 clams and took Cherriot, the Cherry Chariot - aka Chez - to the great mechanical farm in the sky.

Oh Chez, the times we had! Lots of road trips, just you, me and that Kylie Minogue collection cassette that I was forced to buy from the nearest servo when I realised your crappy radio didn't pick anything up outside the city. Camping trips, where your huge boot held everything - chairs, tents, cases of beer, fishing rods, bocce...all of which are now living on my study floor (minus the beer. That never stood a chance). Those cheeky hang-over induced fast food drive throughs you forced me to take you to all those times, and I'd order an extra hash brown just for you. The time you got graffitied in hot pink paint by The Youth Of Today and I had to scrub it off the windows with steel wool. Ah Chez, happy times.

The Volvo camaraderie I shall miss the most. Oh those who've never owned one can mock, but it's true - we're a special breed, a club if you will. There's no passing another Volvo without a nod of the head, a wave of the hand, a tip of the infamous Volvo hat. It's community, people! Mazda drivers, meh. Dime a dozen, common folk.

So now it's a new era, the era of Les (he came named, and gendered). Les is close enough to Chez to excuse any awkward slips of the tongue during the early courtship period, which is a relief. So far it's going well...but there will always be a soft spot in my heart for your embarrassingly loud revving, your constant thirst for ever-increasingly-expensive petrol, your 'get out of my way, I'm a VOLVO' attitude. I heart you, Chez!

All over the shop Cherry Polenta Upside Down Cake

I went to dinner last night at Phil's, heading out across town in my new wheels (Les; but he's another story). It was a great evening - his housemate was out so it was just Phil, Evan (Phil's boyfriend) and I. We drank plenty of wine, Phil made delicious flathead with watercress sauce, and we watched far more dodgy internet you-tube larks than is actually cool.

I was on dessert duty and I knew just the thing to take. I'd seen this cake on a food blog a few weeks ago and it looked delicious - cherry upside down cake. With polenta in the batter, and balsamic and brown sugar in the glaze. YUM! Cherries are not around this time of year (although, oddly, there were some this morning at the markets - labelled 'stolen cherries') so I went with frozen. The cake making was easy, and it smelled a treat. But as I was flipping it out of the pan onto a too-small plate, disaster struck! The cake went half on the plate, one third on my bench and the final third on the floor! Here is the sad sad looking specimen:



I confess there was nothing to do but try some of the bench cake...and oh heavens it was delicious! Way too good to abandon all together (although floor cake certainly ended up in the bin). So I plated it as palatably as possible, and even though it was a visual disaster I figure I've known Phil long enough not to worry too much about dessert presentation.



Stupid lop sided photo.

Anyway it went down a treat when hidden with nice cream! The polenta in the batter gives it a really interesting texture - we all thought we'd had something like it before but couldn't quite place what it was. Possibly the grainy-ness of almond meal, or Phil thought maybe a particular type of muffin. Either way, ugly but taste sensation!

I've had quite the cooking weekend; have a chocolate tart cooling on the bench for dinner tomorrow night (I am going to a colleague's house to practice for my interview on Tuesday) and planning on a salami and fennel Jamie Oliver rip off pasta for dinner. It's wet and miserable here today so cooking and eating is all I have been good for. That and reading trashy paperback murder mysteries that require no brain power. What a top Sunday.