Platters and Pop!

Phew. Long time.

2009-11-16T19:10:00.001+11:00

I really suck arse at this consistency thing. I've never been great at it - diaries always commenced enthusiastically but petered off, study was the best thing ever in the earlier part of the semester and clearly blogs fall into the same category. At least I am consistent in my inconsistency. But anyhoo, it's a stormy Sydney night (after the hottest day, oh, ever), I've had the day off so all my chores have been done (except the ones I hate) so I thought I'd pull up a pew and say howdy. So, howdy.

It's been a fun, em, few months! The annual girls' holiday to Phillip Island for the MotoGP came through with the goods in October. I thought about putting some photos up, but I look too terribly bogan in all of them. Of course that is the charm of the weekend however back in civilisation, well, you know. Suffice to say it's always a blast, and that I'll be back next year.

Other fun things have included this night:

Tim and I went to an opening at the Botanic Gardens one early Spring evening. Free wine! Free canapes! Hideous crafty craft! We did, surprisingly, find some lovely handblown glasses - a cross between vases and glasses really. The artist saw us coming and said they were ideal for gin and tonics...well she sold us, and they sure are. Large gin and tonics. Hurrah!

It's spring time so there have been a world of berries which I have been unable to resist - I bashed up these strawberry and mulberry tarts for an afternoon tea recently. I think they were made with a light lemon cream base. They were pretty good. I am currently on a detox, though, so everything other than fish and greens seems pretty good.

And look! Some more sideways flowers! My specialty.

These snapdragons harboured a colony of caterpillars. They stayed hidden for about a week, but during a dinner party (Tim's old housemates. Very drunk. Possibly partial cause of detox) we noticed the odd caterpillar here and there. They were quite cute. And then we saw about five more. And ten more after that. And then it seemed the entire bunch was a crawling mass of caterpillars, so I removed them outside (far from my window boxes). But they are pretty though, huh? And sideways.

And finally, for some reason I have taken photos of green pasta. We made David Tanis' Green Lasagne with Greens. It was heavenly - really light and freshly flavoured. The lasagne sheets here are made with pureed spinach mixed through the dough, and the lasagne itself has a mix of a whole range of greens. I suspect I had vague plans to snap the entire progress but the chances are strong my good friend Wine got in the way of that plan. Again, detox.

So. Other than sounding like a roaring alcoholic, not loads of other news. Christmas and the Silly Season are looming, summer is hitting down on Sydney and we've just bought new pushbikes to make the most of it all. Hurrah!

Wollemi National Park Annualversary Hike

2009-08-18T18:17:00.008+10:00

To celebrate our anniversary, Tim and I decided to take a few days off and hit the great outdoors. We decided on a three day hike through the Wollemi National Park, starting at Newnes and going to Annie Rowan Creek, with two nights camping along the way.

We headed up on Friday night to stay at Newnes, which was a former mining township but now exists of one pub which is in the process of being done up, and some holiday cabins. Oh, and some spectacular scenery. We stayed at the Newnes Holiday Cabins which are the only option other than camping - but what an option. All sustainable, eco-friendly and boasting solar panels and a help-yourself vegetable garden, the cabins are set in a valley and wrapped by wattle which happened to be flowering during our visit. I almost didn't want to start the hike.

But start we did, the following frosty morning. We'd secured topographic maps and looked up all the track notes we could find and were planning on leaving Newnes and walking 13k to Rocky Creek to camp for the night. On advice from the proprieter, we decided to add an extra 5k to camp at the national park ranger's campsite further into the park. We'd then do a day trip to Annie Rowan Creek before heading back.

The first day of walking was lovely. The track left Newnes and crossed a river into the national park. The first 3k or so took us up to historic ruins - this area used to be a shale mine, and there was extensive and overgrown ruins, the likes of which you rarely see in Australia. We passed old chimneys, retaining walls, and a series of coke ovens which blistered out of the side of a hill. The track then went on to Rocky Creek - a relatively easy up and downish walk. We stopped next to the Wolgan river for morning tea and continued the walk on to Rocky Creek for lunch. This was a little more difficult - had to cross the river and I, ahem, slipped in. But the sun was shining, my shoes dried while we ate, and then went on our merry way (to find only a few metres down the track a second river crossing - but shoes came off for this one!).

A guide book I'd read had recommended doing the walk in August as that was when the wattle is in bloom. It was and it was glorious. Walking through grey green valleys with cliffs looming on either side, the entire canopy was haloed with the beautiful blossom. My eyes couldn't have been happier to see it.

The walk to the national park campsite was also easy, although Tim and I had both invested in new hiking packs (and hadn't been hiking in a million years) so we were feeling a little sore and sorry. One more river crossing and there was the camp - complete with a sink and a chopping board in an otherwise remote and isolated area.

We had a lovely evening - setting up camp, cooking (chorizo pasta) and drinking (whorts. Whisky and port mixed together. Trust me, better than it sounds).

The next morning we packed a day pack and headed off along the track to find Annie Rowan Creek. After about 1k the track petered out as we hit a rocky outlook. We skirted around the river bed and climbed up it...and from there, my memory tends to be a little blank. All I can say is there was no proper track (we since learned that there isn't one as such - it is more or a scramble and see sort of thing) and we got somewhat lost. Tim did really well orienteering - he had the map and is experienced however I got a little freaked out in the absence of street signs! We scrambled over rocks, rushed through glades where we could, saw lots of animal tracks but never managed to find Annie Rowan Creek. By Tim's estimates it was another 30 mins or so ahead - but I'd had enough and we agreed to turn back. At which stage we promptly got lost. It wasn't a lost forever sort of lost - the track was between two mountains and next to a river, however finding our way back across the rocks was very difficult. We are now both nettle-stun and bramble-scratched and I am not prepared to disclose whether there were or were not tears.

Either way, the sun it was a shining and we made our way with much relief to our camp for lunch. We then packed up and walked back to Rocky Creek - my favourite part of the trip. The walk (after our lostness) was simple, there was a warm breeze, the wattle smelled like honey and the light dappled down. Can confirm that there were no tears during this section. We were wise to the double creek trick and took our shoes off for the walk over. The first crossing was fine - all sandy banks - but the second enlightened us as to why the creek is called rocky. Ouch ouch bloody ouch. On the plus side the water was so cold that feet were somewhat numb...actually, no plus side, it bloody killed.

We set up in a covered glade by the river and enjoyed the evening. Tim had snuck in an extra bottle of wine, which we enjoyed with an indian meal. Some little bits of rain started falling, which made us batten down the hatches, but it never actually took off. That night was surprisingly hot - I was ROASTING in the tent (which for me is the most unusual thing, I'd freeze in a sauna). We could hear the wind blowing above and the river running next to us, and it was just lovely. I was convinced the rain was going to come and that we would have to walk out in the middle of the night (cos of course the river was going to rise and kill us) so I was pleasantly surprised that we managed to stay put and dry the whole night.

We walked out the next morning - we'd forgotten that there was as much uphill as there was. Not bad uphill, just continuous for the first section of the walk. But like the rest of it, beautiful glades with wattle and the gentle trickle of the river to keep you company. Dreamy.

(Incidentally - the Blue Mountains police stations loan out Personal Locater Beacons. We borrowed one Just In Case. Didn't need it but was wonderful to have the peace of mind it brought).

Possibly one of the nicest things about this walk - not another soul along the way. From the moment we left Newnes until we returned, there was nobody. No bloody Annie Rowan, noone. Tops.

Mega Egg Carbonara

2009-08-18T18:04:00.004+10:00

Tripping around the Fox Studio markets a few weeks ago we went to buy some eggs. Sitting next to the Usual Size Eggs was the Mother of All Eggs. Well, maybe not the mother, as an emu egg would be bigger. But it was still a Big Egg. A Big Goose Egg.

Note: I do not have lady hands. I have large man hands so please remember this when judging the size of the egg.

We bought it, having been convinced by the stall lady that they were just starting and we would be back for more, guaranteed. She recommended cooking it in place of four usual eggs, and said it was quite rich and made a great carbonara sauce. So the next night, that's what we made.

No photos of the actual pasta, but it was heavenly. Slight scary having to virtually saw open the goose egg, and separating the yolk and white was equally weird. But once done, it made a delicious, rich and creamy sauce over homemade pasta with smoky bacon. We yummed it up. With Mega Appetites.

The Great Nuriootpa Fiasco

2009-06-24T19:42:00.004+10:00

As recently mentioned, Tim and I have bought my grandparent's house in the town of Nuriootpa, in the beautiful Barossa Valley. We settled in May, and decided prior to getting tenants we'd head over, do a bit of work around the place and help my grandparents move out the last of their things.

We decided to drive there, so got to spend a (rather late and boozy) night in Wagga at my sister's new place. We then hit the ten hour drive across south western NSW, across Victoria and to the Barossa. A huge storm hit for the last few hours and it was some rather scary travelling. For cry babies like me, anyway.

We'd heard from the real estate agent who will be managing the property that a bit of work was needed. We weren't sure what this meant and didn't want to make any plans prior to seeing it, so the night of the arrival was also inspection night. In the middle of the night, with tired travel eyes, it was hard to know what to think. Lots of the rooms had bad walls (never actually finished, in one case) and due to the type of board they were made of, looked a lot like one would imagine scary asbestos to look like. As it happens, the internal walls weren't asbestos - that's just the entire outside.

So come daylight, we got working. Three rooms, three sandbacks, re-plaster and fill, paint and in one room, stain the floors.

It may look like Tim did all the work, but I would like to point out that the staining he appears to be doing is token only. I did that room. Stain is all over my iPhone as proof.

We worked super mega hard (not just physically - the trauma of my grandparents moving out for the first time ever is a whole other story). After the fifth day we looked around and were happy - the rooms looked fresh and not dicey and with a good clean we thought it'd be AOK. So much so we took ourselves out to a local winery for dinner and got liquored. Well and truly, soused, liqoured.

The next morning the real estate agent turned up and through the blaze of our hangovers inspected the house. She was very happy with the inside but then, calmly, advised us to paint the outside because although not dangerous, it 'looked too much like asbestos'. Sigh. We tossed it up and (through my gritted teeth and only a few tantrums) decided to paint the outside.

In deference to my grandparents, I asked my grandfather what colour he thought we should paint it. 'Asbestos colour' was the gruff reply. Sigh.

Man oh man. We got the front of the house done that afternoon, and had no choice but to finish it the next day as we had to drive all the way back to Sydney for work on Monday. It got done although I don't think I have ever been so sore or tired. The quality of the outside job was also, ahem, slightly dubious. Especially by the last side. Sadly exhaustion and time poverty had turned us into shonky landlords.

Anyhoo, it was a week of ups and downs. Mainly downs. Downs and pain. But it is done; and the great news is we got a tenant in a few weeks later. My grandparents wasted no time in dropping in to pick up 'something they forgot' (they are the sweetest looking people in the world - for years I had no idea how wily they are!) and it turns out he is a relative. Insert yet another sigh.

The Annual Pumpkin Festival

2009-05-04T08:20:00.003+10:00

Leaving Our Nation's Capital, we headed back towards Sydney and passed a small town, Collector. A small town with a big event - the annual pumpkin festival. Driving into the tiny town, cars lined the road and people were flocking towards what I could only assume was the Pumpkin Fun (or a horrific train wreck). Locals had made pumpkin men and pumpkin posters and pumpkin signs - there was pumpkin celebration aplenty!

Excitedly, we wondered what things there could possibly be. Biggest pumpkin, pumpkin scones and pies, pumpkin carving were all ideas we wagered on. All that and more! My favourite was probably the 'make a scarecrow with a pumpkin head' competition. There were about a dozen men stuck on sticks in various states of dress and expression, stretching down the side of a field (a field that had the obligatory vintage car show, baby farm animals and metal work displays).

The main hall held the pumpkin competition - and the winner of largest
pumpkin:

Not to mention the weirdest looking pumpkin:

And the smallest edible pumpkin:

It seemed that Gary Poile and only about 3 other people submitted any entries to any of the comps. I noticed Gary had also busted out the pumpkin pie and scone entry as well as several other pumpkin entries. Go Gaz. I guess Collector doesn't have a huge population to draw entrants from. But huge thumbs up to the efforts of the few that did!

Capital Take 2

2009-05-04T08:17:00.004+10:00

We then trekked on to Parliament House for more snaps. I would have included them in the last post however for some reason my computer hates multiple snaps. Perhaps I should take heed.

Tim and I. Even my shadow looks champagne thirsty.

Following all this hard work, we headed out for breaky with J and GSquared. They had found a wee cafe in Belconnen that served a two course champagne breakfast and rightly thought I may be interested. J and I both ordered it - eggs benedict with a chocolate and strawberry crepe and dreamy bubbles. Dreamy bubbles that made me very snoozy all the way home.

Our Nation's Capital

2009-05-04T08:12:00.005+10:00

This weekend we had a short sojourn to Canberra. It was my brother's 30th and also my sister would be in town. She'd given my The Best Job Ever a fortnight ago - a wad of cash, a list and basically let me go nuts furnishing her new house! So I shopped, I crammed the car full of homeware goodies, and we headed to Canberra to have some fun.

Our 'one show only' night in town was fun - cold, but fun. The following morning Tim wanted to get up early to get some snaps prior to breakfast so I went along too to get used to the new camera.

The trees this time of year are spectacular and it was a cold, crisp and sunny morning.

Old Parliament House, from across the lake.

A bridge. I was attempting Art.

A cycle rack, and more attempted Art.

This was the underside of one of the buildings. I think Canberra council may have been attempting Art.

Ah pretty trees!

Next stop was new Parliament House...

2009-05-03T17:37:00.001+10:00

Tim found this at work. Snigger.

Many mushies pasta

2009-04-21T12:19:00.004+10:00

For my birthday, Tim bought me a pasta maker. It is heavenly. It's stainless steel, shiny, solid and a beautiful piece of machinery. It also requires levels of patience that I do not have and sadly were not included in the box. I can stand and stare at it for ages, but when it comes to neatly rolling pasta...aaarrrgggggh!!!! So my job has become to make the dough and patient, calm Tim is the roller of pasta. I have managed lasagne sheets (not without cussing) but to be honest anything more is probably not feasible if a) we want home made nice looking pasta and b) we want to keep the machine in one piece.

So. Following a trip to my new best markets, we had a mountain of mushies (wild pine, those long little ones, swiss brown, those weird white ones, oysters and a few others) with which to make a delicious feast. These little guys are my fave. I reckon you could live under these. But only if they were pink and spotted.

The mushies we cooked really simply, with butter, garlic and thyme from the herb garden, and some stock right at the end. The pasta making happened thanks to Tim:

Isn't it dreamy? There was actually enough pasta for 18 people (I love carbs, but even I have my limits) so the mushies were slightly lost, but the ample wine consumed during the evening of preparation made me completely unconcerned.

Nesting

2009-04-21T12:06:00.002+10:00

Recently, I went on a weekend jaunt to Our Nation's Capital with Tim and his folks to see the Degas exhibition at the National Gallery. It was a great weekend - I really enjoyed the exhibition (once Degas got over the awkward portraiture phase!) and also got a chance to catch up with both my brothers as well as J and GSquared (who lives in Canberra).

On our second day there, trapped in a suburb that we seemed to keep winding up in, Tim and I walked into a Chinese antique shop and found some coolie old Mao propaganda posters. As not-very-wealthy decorators, the 25 clams a pop was the right price and the crazy old propaganda cartoons tickled our fancy (particularly the one about the Korean war, with China supporting Korea with money and food, and American planes being shot down in the background). Just before going to Wagga we had them framed, thus ruining the cheap as chips appeal:

Crap photo. I took it.

They are going to be living in the study (which is currently a dumping ground as we're in the middle of merging possessions and finding places for things in the tiny apartment). I had a horrible (but environmentally friendly) light in the study (a 'daylight' energy saver. Do not buy. Go for any other colour), which we have since covered with a Chinese patterned lantern. Go Maz shopping!

Finally here is a picture of some flowers (a better photo, I'm learning!) that we bought at my new number one markets, the Everleigh Markets at The Carriage Works in Redfern. Farmer's markets a few suburbs away with amazing flowers, produce and, well, everything! Hurrah! If I actually ever ride my pushbike there I will be living the dream!

Two weddings and a grad!

2009-04-21T12:03:00.003+10:00

The Congraduations went well, as far as these things do. The ceremony could not have been more dull, especially as I was quite early on. If I wasn't sitting right at the front next to the security guards I would have legged it after walking across the stage. As it was I stuck it out to the bitter end, to find afterwards that the refreshments I was dreaming of were sadly of the non alcoholic variety.

To remedy this, we (Tim, J and her squeeze GSquared) went for a boozy lunch at the Three Chefs (maybe it was called that? Some number of chefs, anyway), one of Wagga's better restaurants. I can't remember what I ate but I did drink adequately. We then followed a boozy lunch with a boozy dinner at the Magpie's Nest - another lovely Wagga restaurant set a wee bit out of town. It overlooks the city and we were there at sunset to watch the sun go down and the lights come up.

I remember what I ate here cos we'd joked about ordering the most elaborately named dish on the menu (while the food is great the descriptions are rather preposterous). I had the duck, and while I can't remember exactly how it was written about I seem to recall it taking four lines. It was heavenly though. I also remember some rather lovely flavoured bread.

Next stop was Bowral, for a wedding of a friend from school. Tim took some rather lovely snaps on his camera - this is just one of the night before the wedding in the misty highlands. The venue was phenomenal - gorgeous old estate with manicured gardens, lots of which would surprise you as you turned a corner. Just breathtaking.

The other wedding was a beach number at Balmoral and was just as lovely but completely different. I actually have no snaps of that one at all - once again Tim was mega photographer and I held the job of Chief Wine Drinker (actually that's not true; Tim took that one too!).

After Easter I've just been taking it easy and trying to catch up on work, sleep and play. We went for an autumn walk around The Bay last week - although it resulted in blisters for both of us (stupid old converse trainers) it was lovely.

Naturally Tim took these. Punk.

2009-03-30T20:03:00.004+11:00

Once again it's been ten million years. Busy times, super happy times. Although I did get a bloody driving offence ticket today, so not that happy. Operating a hand-held mobile while driving (it was on speaker phone), 243 clams. Ouch.

Synopsis of last two months, in ranking order of funness:
1. Tim has moved in, bought in, and buying in to number 2;
2. buying my grandparent's property in the heavenly Barossa. Words can't express how much this means to me;
3. a few dreamy holidays, in particular said Barossa, where we sat of an evening after harvesting the fig tree making bottles of '5 year figs', fig jam and stewed apples while drinking local grenache; and
4. that's it - everything else fits in to the work category, really!

We also had the post-Vanuatu-theft insurance claim come through, which resulted in lots of post-Vanuatu-theft purchasing. One of these includes a new camera, which is water and shock proof, as I am a rather clumsy lady. It does this:

Panorama photos, if you do the 'hold camera and rotate while snapping' move. As you can see on the right it doesn't align that well on the first attempt!

It also does an 'indoor' setting, which shows a whole lot of very preppy looking people having a very lame party (I love streamers and party hats, but only in conjunction with ample champers, and the picture on the camera setting only shows the first two. I don't trust them sans the latter). However it did make me get sentimental and attempt to take indoor style photos of the house now Tim's in it. The main features he brings (coffee machine, record player and ample vinyl) and the skills he has (built-in making and general rearranging) aren't captured, but you get the drift!

What is still bloody doesn't do is just turn my photos around! Gah!

This week is a bit of a big 'un. My congraduations on Thursday, which means a road trip to Wagga. There is an option called 'Town and Gown' - graduands can opt to continue wearing their capes, travel from the uni to the town centre, and walk down the main street in full regalia with 'local dignitaries'. I think this means anyone from the council who isn't liquored already. I'm not taking part, but I am looking forward to watching from the sidelines from the safety of a pub! Then two weddings - one on Saturday, one the following Thursday...so busy times continue. Tim is also super unwell post Singapore work trip this week (I had forgotten how dreadfully funny sick men are. Like, nobody ever before. Heavens.), so hopefully that'll be taken care of prior to the trip.

Big storm brewing outside (apparently Sydney has loads of blackouts) so I am going to take my wine glass and sit on my stoop and watch it roll in. Night!

200Fine?

2009-02-03T18:31:00.002+11:00

Well.
So far, it's been quite the year. 200great was fab, so perhaps I shouldn't complain. But really.

First up, just after new years, Tim and I hit the road camping. It was a great trip - we left on a Friday afternoon and made our way to the previously unknown (to us) Dewar River National Park. Basically, leave Sydney, head to Goulburn and take a left. We headed through some rough dirt roads before pulling in at about 10pm at a campground just made for, well, campers! Each site had about 6 tent spots, each with a fire pit and a grill and billy pole. It was fairly quiet - we had neighbours but everyone was out for a lovely time (well, except the four-wheel-drivers who blew into town on Saturday night wanting to party, but left when they realised there was no room at the inn - to a communal sigh of relief from the rest of us!). The trip was as all good camping trips should be - hiking, exploring, nature watching (although I wasn't overly enamoured with the 6 goannas that circled us the morning we left trying to get our food. Like, goannas the size of my leg. And some of my torso. Scary, scary goannas), eating, drinking and generally having a great time. Upon leaving though we had to drive a rather narrow dirt road, with many blind corners, around which came a ute going at just the wrong speed to miss. So we had a collision - there was a choice of us running into solid rock, the ute going off the cliff, or us both taking it on the chin. Or, more accurately, on Tim's car's chin. Which is what we did. I've never been in a big accident before and while we were really lucky - only shock and some very minor whiplash - the car was pretty much totalled. It was scary - I nearly burst into tears (about fourteen times) but really, it was an absolute miracle it wasn't worse.

Disaster number two occurred in Vanuatu, where we travelled just after new year to go to one of Tim's uni mates' wedding. First up - the wedding was dreamy. I tend to liken beach weddings to, well, white American trash (yup, Pammy). However this was everything opposite to my imagination. We were on a beach, white sand and sunset, nobody around for miles and a gorgeous restaurant looking out across the ocean. The speeches were done as the sun set and all the people there were lovely. All the people except the punks that broke into our hotel room and stole, well, everything of value. Which, as it happens, wasn't too much (although I am still angry about the cold carton of beer they took from our fridge!). Tim lost more important things than I did; and nothing was gone that can't be replaced. The plus is we got to see the inside of a Vanuatu police station (think BargeArse in tropical shirt) and write our own statement (which the police then copied and reworded slightly for their own report!). We also got Vanuatu Belly (a nasty cousin of Bali Belly) which is never pleasant, but overall an island holiday is an island holiday!

Back home now, and just celebrated my (gulp) 31st. Had a great weekend - lots of fun and friends - and surprisingly, home renos! We (well, Tim) replaced my skanky light in the living area with some lovely spot lights and the difference is amazing. I've also just painted the second coat on my blackboard door - basically I put blackboard paint with a red border on the back of the front door to use for fun lists and the like. I was given a pasta maker for my birthday from Tim, so made fresh lasagne sheets and replanted the herb garden (word on the street is that rosemary and basil do not good housemates make). So I am feeling totally inspired to do more fun things around my wee house. I'd take some snaps to show the fun new look, but no can do as the Vanuatu thieves stole my bloody camera. However, I suck at taking pictures so I guess it doesn't actually matter!

Happy 200Fine!

2009-01-01T18:52:00.003+11:00

Man the silly season goes quickly. It's all one long hangover, really. First you're having a sip of champagne for the Melbourne Cup and the next thing you know it's January 1st.

There have been many memorable moments of the last few months but more importantly last night I made a Discovery. This was the unexpected guest of honour at a new year's dinner last night, and goes by the name of Gordon's Cup. Originally I thought I'd give it a bash cos it sounded fun, but holey dooley it was delicious! Summer in a glass! Perfect for warm weather, subtle enough for a taste sensation and ginny enough to get you liquored, new year's style.

Basically this magical drink is gin (Plymouth was recommended and used, and was so light and lovely), tossed in a shaker with muddled lime and skinless cucumber and a dash of sugar syrup. That's it. But heavens, the flavours are refreshing and complex at the same time, and I felt dreadfully elegant drinking them. Until the third, after which I was just plain pissy.

Anyhoo, Gordon was a lovely new friend to help me see out 200Great (which has been quite a momentous year for me - 2 new jobs, finishing the masters, a lovely new squeeze) and usher in 200Fine. Which I hope is just as tops. But maybe a little more stable!

Said squeeze is on his way over post new year's day golf (worst idea ever, apparently!) and we're going to make gin and tonics to relax (with frozen tonic ice cubes. We're not into watering down drinks in any way, shape or form obviously!).

So cheers, especially to you Gordon, and happy new year!

Holiday project number one - herb garden

2008-12-10T18:06:00.004+11:00

The silly season - my best time of year - has just kicked off in earnest and as a result I am constantly hung over, tired and wondering what to wear. This week is the start of my official Christmas parties - I've my work one on Friday (a local dinner), one with the Marrickvillains on Sunday and some other event every other night this week. I suspect up until late January (post Vanuatu holiday, hurrah!) my holiday projects will all have to be on hold.

All except this one! Finally, after banging on for 18 months about wanting a wee garden, I have finally pulled out my (green) thumb. Last weekend at the markets we came across a herb seller, and really there was no excuse but to invest. I picked out some window boxes and up they went!

They make my rather prison like house a bit more homely...or maybe they just emphasise the bars! (incidentally I am delighted that it's prison like. I am super terrified of being kidnapped - because of my fabulous wealth and influence, you know - and this way I feel a bit more secure about miscellaneous Marrickville thugs breaking in.)

I've gone with tarragon, parsley, thyme, two lots of basil and rosemary. I actually get no sun whatsoever on my stoop (word on the street is herbs are all about the sun) but so far and no deaths (touch wood). I rather fancy myself quite the Jamie Durie. I'm not entirely sure this counts as a reno but it's definitely home improvement (until said Marrickville thugs snack on them all out of frustration at my impenetrable fortress).

Average 30

2008-11-22T19:42:00.004+11:00

Just back from afternoonies (or matinee drinks, my preferred term!) at Jimbo's house - a friend who has recently returned from a stint in Darwin. During it we were lamenting the lack of fancy dress parties in our lives (one of the guys there, Evan, is going to a 'Come as You Were' party. You have to get a picture of yourself from the past and reenact it - and bring the picture along to compare your success!).

Evan and I share the same birthday - February 1st - so we have decided to celebrate it this year with a fancy dress affair. I'll be turning 31 and he 29 - so we're calling it an 'Average 30th'. The theme jury is still out although it's looking like 'Heroes and Villains' will be the most likely (although Jacs, for some reason, seems obsessed with having an 'Australian Icons' party, which we may go with due to our birthday's proximity to Australia Day).

Anyhoo home now, and looking forward to my first weekend in after finishing school (I had to go home two weekends ago and then hit the mountains last week). I have a Hot Date lined up with the couch, a bottle of wine, and the quarterly essay which I will feel no guilt whatsoever reading as I have no outstanding uni work ever again!

Off to a Spanish themed (flamenco dancing, tapas and cervesas) engagement party tomorrow - it's a harbour cruise affair so hopefully the weather won't replicate today's. We'd wind, hail, sun, overcast, rain, you name it all day. But then, if I'm liquored Spanish style, I don't suppose it matters what the weather is like.

The first internet

2008-11-22T19:35:00.002+11:00

I spent last weekend in the Blue Mountains with Tim's family - it was a lovely leech filled getaway (OK, far nicer than a leechy getaway but a leech filled walk was the cause of much panic and therefore sticks in my mind!).

His folks had been sent a telegram which was rather fun. The top of it proudly stated 'Telegraph - The First Internet'. Hmmmm. Is this where the marketing of telegrams has gone - latching onto the success of the world wide web? I told my sister and she has requested that she only be addressed in morse code from now on (anther dying art - morse code. I'm making s summer to do list and it crossed my mind that perhaps learning morse code should be on it...but nah, I'll stick with learning proper grammar).

Congraduations!

2008-11-04T14:18:00.002+11:00

I have just submitted my final essay of my Masters degree. Like, half an hour ago I hit 'send'. It feels a little surreal - I have spent the last five years studying (first my undergrad in social work and now the masters). I am not entirely sure why I am still sitting near a computer and typing because for the last few weeks I have been swearing that the second I am done my mac is getting thrown on a celebration bonfire, along with all my text books, notes and papers. Hurrah!

And now...a whole summer of freedom! No, wait - a whole forever of freedom! (although I am considering studying next year but unsure exactly about the finer details as yet). I hardly know what to do with myself, although I am fairly sure it will involve lots of reading of trash, lots of afternoon wines, lots of cooking and eating outdoors summer picnic style, hopefully some swimming, some home renos (painting, I think, and perhaps some gardening), and...well...anything I darn well like!

My first dream, though, and the thing I am going to do right now, is to scrub my house from top to bottom. That, and then get liquored. Hurrah!

And now I think I rock.

2008-10-26T15:41:00.004+11:00

So I won the 'Best Cake' award! But not, as anticipated, for the chocolate cointreau cake - but for the rhubarb crumb cake (which I'd actually had to call Pre-Loved Rhubarb Crumb Cake as Tim and I had sampled a piece the night before the bake off) (well, you try sitting and looking at two whole cakes on your sideboard, with their scent wafting deliciously towards you, and your sweets stomach so so empty). There were some great entries - the Occupational Therapy team walked away with 'Best in Show' and 'Best Decorated'. They'd made a chocolate cake shaped in the letters O and T, and covered it with white marzipan. Then they'd fashioned four little figures representing the four aspects of OT - rest (a little guy sleeping), work (a Bob-the-Builder-esque tradie), leisure (someone playing) and self-care (a nudie dude putting his clothing on). It was truly tops and totally unexpected, and well deserved the prestigious awards it won!

So now I reckon I'm the best cake maker ever. I am off to dinner tonight (to meet Tim's folks for the first time, eek! J helpfully said I should wear a titty halter top so I look like a Nice Young Lady, ha ha!) and I have made dessert. In a cocky manner befitting my recent victory, I (foolishly) decided not to follow a recipe but to combine several. So here is my balsamic caramel glazed mango sour cream cake. Too many flavours, anyone?! The cake batter was great news (I licked the beaters, then the wooden spoon and then the bowl) but it rose a lot more than expected so I am not sure if it's going to be too dry and cakey. But nothing a good dose of nice cream won't fix, I guess!

Rest of the weekend has been nice - finally I burrowed my head in some readings. My final uni papers are due in just over a week and I got quite a lot of work out of the way which is, well, overdue. Went to a night picnic last night (Tim made a Passata Fritatta - while tring to make a roast spring garlic fritatta he accidentally started following the recipe next to it, which required an addition of tomato passata. The end result was a pinkish fritatta that was actually pretty tasty, and hilarious), played some night frisbee, and that's been about it.

Righto, off to go get my cleavage out before this dinner lark!

2008 Bake Off!

2008-10-23T18:53:00.002+11:00

So sadly I have been having way too much fun to be doing any lamo blogging! I've had the Girl's Annual Holiday to MotoGP (it was our 5 year annualversary and also the first year my sister came) (it was, as always, tops. My husband AntWest did poorly but what's not to like about camping, breakfast beers, old mates, an island and loud loud motorbikes?!), school work that I've been shunning, a last minute idyllic camping trip to the Kangaroo Valley (idyllic if you minus the leech that secretly attached itself to my hip, ugh) and a fairly busy time at work. And speaking of work, tomorrow is the Inaugral DADHC Bake Off!

There are several categories - best cake in show, best looking cake, best non-edible cake and best non cake item. Punters can enter as many as they like, and people can pay $10 to be a judge. All spectators and eaters make a gold coin donation. The bake off has been led mainly by my team, as I suspect we're the greediest department there could possibly be! Some entrants include: a marscapone and nutella tart, a baked cheesecake, 'the best scones in the world' a vegan mud cake, and two types of rhubarb cakes (Ricky loves rhubarb apparently!).

I was thinking of entering 36 hour choc chip cookies (which I've been talking up for ages) and this big crumb coffee cake, but a chat with Phil at the noodle markets last week changed my mind. Phil declared that the secret to winning a bake off is liquor. Apparently it doesn't matter how much effort everyone else has gone to, or how gorgeous the cake is - if it's got alcohol in it, you're practically guaranteed to win!

So...I stayed with the coffee cake (only cos the crumbs looked divine, and I also am partial to rhubarb) but decided to also make a drink fused one just to hedge my bets. I found a recipe for a chocolate cake called 'Winning Hearts and Minds Cake', added a healthy dose of cointreau, and renamed it 'Winning Heart and Minds and Hopefully Bake Offs Cake'.

Either way it's win win - I'm paying my tenner to be a judge - not so I can be biased but so that I'm guaranteed to get a taste of all the goodies!

Jatbula Trail

2008-09-18T17:05:00.010+10:00

The Track
The Jatbula Trail is a five day, four night hike from Katherine Gorge to Edith Falls in the Northern Territory, through the Nitmiluk National Park. It's an Aboriginal Song Trail, which means that the indigenous people of the area would follow this trail and as they went, would sing about the next landmark coming up - like a singing map. J and I had heard about it and during my last trip home, braved up by liquor, we decided to lock it in. So a week and a half ago found us in Darwin, dusting off our hiking boots (scarily not donned for me since the 6 Foot!) and getting ready to walk!

The prep was a bit challenging - no good maps are to be had. The trail is really well marked so this didn't bother us too much, and J had a newly acquired compass watch which we assumed we'd be adept at using! There were 2 maps available - we had both - and they both have different kilometre distances between sites, and the topography on one of them was clearly inaccurate. But it didn't matter - we chose to believe that we walked 66k rather than 58 and that we are superheroes who can battle majorly steep uphill sections!

We'd also never walked just the two of us before - we'd always been in groups. Although confident about our sisterly cameraderie, we figured there were bound to be a few tantrums thrown along the way, particularly with the heat. So in order to prevent these as much as possible we devised a rule - if one of us chucked a tanty, the other was to go straight in there and take a photo of it in all the surly glory, so the tanty thrower could be mocked upon return! True it was a risky business...but we're risky ladies!

The night before the big hike we stayed in Katherine, assembled our food and packed our bags for the next 5 days. We then sat down and drank some of our hiking whiskey, in preparation you understand. The next morning, keen as mustard, we headed to Katherine Gorge and jumped a ferry across to the start of the walk. There were only two other hikers starting the walk - and would you believe it, the girl in the couple was wearing the EXACT same outfit as me! Like, what the hell are the odds of that! Identical t-shirt (pink, with a tree on it, wicks away sweat allegedly) and brown shorts. I would like to think it was clearly because we both had a keen sense of hiking fashion...but it was a total fashion faux pas!

Day 1 - Katherine Gorge to Biddlescombe Cascade (maybe 5k?)
After hopping off the ferry, we started the walk up to Biddlescombe. It started out well - gentle incline through bushland, stretching out forever as far as the eye could see. After a good solid tramp we arrived at the Northern Rockhole, which had water for swimming but no waterfall as we were at the end of the dry season. We chose to push on - we'd started late due to ferry times and already the heat was getting intense. We found that by about 11.30 each day the heat was too much to walk in - so we aimed to be done by then most days. We carried on up the escarpment, and although the walk itself was easy the heat and the reflection off the rocks made it challenging - we had to take many breaks in the shade to cool down and water up. It was worth it though - the top of the escarpment led to a shady campground where we threw our bags down and inhaled lunch. Brief exploring - about 2 mins away - found the river. This ran, as the site's name implies, in cascades down the rocks and formed a beautiful crystal clear pool, before waterfalling down and joining the river again. We had the most refreshing swim ever and marvelled at how the water seemed to appear from nowhere and was almost too idyllic to be true. The couple caught up with us at this stage and Twinnie (her name due to her matching outfit!) washed some clothes in the river, losing her bra to the mercies of the rapids gods!
We then killed some time during the heat of the afternoon, lazing in our tents and avoiding the march flies which pack a nasty bite. Late afternoon we headed down for another lovely swim before watching the sun set over the river. It was then time for cocktail hour - we'd brought along vodka and some powdered Tang, thinking it would make a delicious vodka orange delight. I didn't mind it but Jen hated, so we only had a couple of them before ditching that option.
While we were camped here, a few truckloads of people rocked up - the rangers and the traditional landowners, the Jaowyn, were doing a week's tour of the park. They were there to map some of the traditional sites, talk ab out traditional stories and to pass this information on to the rangers as well as their own younger people. J and I were too shy to go over and chat; I totally regret not doing so. We found out later that one of the Elders there was the granddaughter of the man the trail had been named for and I can only imagine the wealth of knowledge there was that night.
Instead we cooked up dinner, and then had a beautiful night's sleep under the starts - it was so lovely and warm we didn't need the fly on the tents, so we could lie and watch the brilliant moon and millions of shimmering stars. We're both cold sleepers so woke at about 3am a bit chilly - but once we knew this was going to happen we prepared for it and were AOK.

Day 2 - Biddlescombe Cascades to Crystal Falls (allegedly 12k)
We both woke up around 3 in the morning - we had decided against bringing sleeping bags as it was so warm, but we're both cold sleepers so got a little chilly around this time. But it didn't matter - we'd slept without the fly on our tents and were able to gaze up at the beautiful stars until it was a reasonable time to get up and kick on.
The walk was again quite easy although the heat played a major role (and being a dirty ginga J has to watch her skin even more in the sun). The landscape was flat and dry, and the horizon just stretched out in front of you for miles. The trail was easy to follow, but if you wandered too far away you'd get totally lost, miles from anywhere. 'hey were never seen again' became our catch cry for any track deviation for the rest of the hike.
Along the way was some amazing Indigenous art, painted on towering rocks that formed an incredible natural gallery. We later found out that one of the paintings (of a human-like figure with wild hair and hands doing 'spirit fingers') was actually a god that women would sing to. All the women in the tribe would go, alone, and sing to this paining in order to be given a husband. If any woman were able to sing to it all day, they would be able to choose their partner. J and I were disappointed we found out about this after being there - we could have used some burly husbands to carry out hiking packs!
The day's walk took us to Crystal Falls, which was my favourite camping spot. Set against a river, it was shady and green and the river was a series of rock pools and waterfalls - and covered in blossoming water lilies. We swam, relaxed, named our new best fork/knife/spoon combo ('Spike') and then watched the sunset sitting on rocks in the river and drinking Camp Whiskey. We also spent some time trying to work out how to cross the river - the next morning we had to get across to continue the walk and neither us nor the couple could work out a way across without at least some foot wetness. We figured it was our best puzzle and the answer would come to us in the morning, hopefully.

Day Three - Crystal Falls to 17 Mile Falls vis The Amphitheatre (11.5k)
Over our morning coffee and condy (condensed milk, mmm!) we fretted a little about the puzzle. But being brave intrepid hikers, we strapped our packs on (making sure everything was waterproofed, just in case of a fall) and started rock hopping. We made it across - there was one section where our feet had to go in and although the current was fairly strong there were no embarrassing falls! A bit of foot repair later and we were on our merry way!
The early morning took up past the Crystal Falls after which the camp site was named. These were spectacular although a little far from the track to get a really good look. Once again, the day's walk was quite easy and a lot quicker than expected. We were aiming to get to the Amphitheatre - a cave with lots of rock paintings and butterflies - around lunch but it barely seemed a few hours and we were there. J has a (rather amusing) fear of moths and we were wondering how the Amphitheatre would be - it was supposed to have butterflies of all sizes and colours flying around. We descended and found loads of amazing rock art - some really worn but some still looking fresh and clear. Lots of animal figures, and again some of the human like god figures. The butterflies, it turns out, were not at all scary - there were lots of them, mainly black, gently fluttering around (but fortunately staying out of my sister's hair and general personal space!).
There was only another 3k to camp and it was mainly along a hot rocky ridge. Nearing the camp, we spied the 17 mile falls, which were breathtaking. We walked around the rocks towards camp to find that the camp itself was basically an empty space on the rock. It was getting to the middle of the day and the heat was getting nasty, so we threw our bags down and tried to go and find some shade. The campsite and general area was really exposed and it was quite hard to find anywhere out of the sun. We swam across the rock pool to an 'island' in the middle of the water that had a few scraggly trees on it and basically spent the afternoon following the shade like hobos! We regularly wet our shirts and German Tourist headbands to keep cool, and amazingly the afternoon wasn't so bad.
That night we settled in to camp and made our way over to our neighbours (in a shared solidarity about how difficult the heat-avoiding had been). We got chatting and decided to instigate cocktail hour - our vodka tangs weren't working, but they had some berocca - so The Vodka Rocca was born! 1/4 of a tropical berocca, add vodka, and then water to taste. I know heat stroke and desperation may be talking, but they were mighty fine!

Day Four - 17 Mile Falls to Sandy Camp Pool (16.5k)
We woke up in time to watch the sun rise as we ate our breakfast - we'd aimed to get an early start as the walk was a big 'un. The walk, although long, was again flat and easy, and we got a good stride going and made Edith Falls Crossing in good time (Edith Falls Crossing is another camp site, but it was horrid - the water was stagnant and it was nowhere near as lovely as the places we'd stayed).
The second leg of the trip was difficult - we'd thought it was going to be much shorted than it was, having confused our distances. There was lots of shoulder-high grass to walk through which was a little scary (I kept thinking 'snake in the grass, snake in the grass'!). Again it was easy walking, but the heat had set in and our energy was waning - we were waiting til camp to eat which on reflection wasn't the smartest idea!
Luckily, Sandy Camp Pool was lovely and shady - it was set on a lagoon like pool (with a tiny waterfall going in to it - we were so spoiled over the last few days that it was a little inadequate!). The lagoon again had waterlilies over it and was totally a Crocodile Dundee-esque setting (apparently there are actually fresh water crocs in the pool - we didn't see them but we did hear movement at night that we pretended was crocs...I think it was really cane toads!). It was deep as well - the first swimming pool that I could dive into. We set up our tents in the shade and snoozed the afternoon away. Although lovely, this site had the worst march flies we'd experienced all trip - they were brutal. Again we had cocktail hour with the neighbours (primarily spent bitching about the flies and talking about how great Vodka Roccas were!) before having a really early night. We'd planned to get up before dawn to start the walk as it was another long one and we had to be at Edith Falls by 3 in time to get our bus back.

Day Five - Sandy Camp Pool to Edith Falls (14.6k)
We had a 5am start, so it was still dark as we ate breakfast and refilled our water packs. We had to walk with head torches in the dark, which was a little scary. We'd find one post, I'd keep sentry while J scouted ahead to find the next. Because of this we went quite slowly and I'm not sure our early start made up any good time!
The walk was long and hot, and after the large walk the day previously we were both tired. The track was really marshy at places and this made it quite difficult to navigate. We were basically focused on walking out, although we did stop briefly at Sweetwater Pool which was lovely. There was another camp ground there which would have been nice for a day walk from Edith Falls, but we were more than happy with the stops we'd made.
After a slight incline (which on our crap map looked like we were about to hit Everest!) we walked down into Edith Falls, and straight to the kiosk where we demanded some ice cold beers. My biggest disappointment of the whole trip was that the kiosk was not licensed, but we made up for it drinking 'three drinks immediately' (as a cranky blogger had written!) and eating ice creams, chips and other good things that are the opposite of camping food! We had hoped to make it out in time for our bus by three - a time check revealed that it was 9 in the morning! We spent the day sitting in the shade, drinking sugar and went on a brief stroll to Edith Falls to see the large pool and falls at the end of our walk (incidentally - the couple saw a snake at Edith Falls - the only one on our whole trip!).
We were picked up by a ranger who gave us a lot of amazing information about the trail and almost made me wish I'd done it in a group so I could have heard about it as we'd walked (but I hate the rigidity of group walking, and as Kel says, I don't mix well with strangers!). We were taken back to Katherine where we visited the supermarket pronto and bought a range of scrubbing and exfoliating products and had the best showers ever. We enjoyed a platter, some bubbles and then hit the town in celebration for the night, telling everyone who would listen about our fabulous Jatbula Trail walk (and how awesome we were for doing it!).

There were too many highlights of the trip to even rank them - but ultimately I guess it was seeing such an amazing remote part of Australia, on foot, with one of my favourite people in the world (and the photo rule worked - there was not even a hint of a tanty from either of us!). We've got ten gazillion photos and many a tale, but even without these it's a trip that I'll be remembering for many years to come.

To kill ya

2008-08-28T19:01:00.002+10:00

Stopped by the supermarket on the way home today as I needed several lemons to make a sauce for the artichokes I'm currently cooking. I grabbed a few and went to the checkout.

The 20-something girl behind the counter asked me 'Are you having tequila for dinner tonight?'!!

My secret admirer

2008-08-26T18:02:00.005+10:00

I got home from training today to find a gift box in the post (as a complete aside, training was pretty good, except that I was sitting next to a lady who had gaol tatts all over her arms. The tatt on the arm closest to me read 'mum(picture of heart)dad' and then had a date. I can only assume the date was of their murder/suicide, or the day they got busted for running drugs across the border, or when they were burned in a fire they started to get cash on a bogus insurance claim).

Anyhoo, my gift box. It looked exactly like the sort of box that tiaras or diamond necklaces come in (I assume), or - as is more in my league - a double deck of cards. The box was black, and embossed on the top in silver read 'Happy First Anniversary'.

First anniversary, you say? Of what? August last year...a quick flick of last year's diary reveals that August held a few spin classes (and to be fair, it's been about that long since I went to the gym), some interviews for uni, and some market research (yup, rich and fulfilling life over here!). I opened the box, hoping that it was a secret drop for the previous tenants and contained something fabulous - or at least not that deck of cards. A flash of blue and silver and I realised what it was...

The ANZ bank sent me a gift. A silver keyring with ANZ on it, and a big blue ANZ card, reading 'Who says the honeymoon's over?'. A letter inside:

"Congratulations! This time last year you were probably toasting to your new home with a glass of bubbly (glass - bottle - who am I to correct the bank). And so you should (darn straight). You don't achieve the dream of owning your own home every day. Look around you now, it's your own space and everything you have in place has your own unique touch"

Well. Who'd have thought that ANZ and I had a relationship now? Although, admittedly, I have paid them ten gazillion trillion dollars in interest, so I guess they do owe me a keyring and a pretty box. I read the letter about three times to make absolutely sure there was no mention of interest rates rising again, and although I can't see it I will check for invisible ink later.

The letter closes: "With us, the honeymoon's never over". Ah ANZ. I'll be your corporate whore any day!

The weekend shortlist

2008-08-25T06:40:00.004+10:00

The indicators that I have had an awesome weekend include an unscrubbed house, no clean laundry, not an ounce of schoolwork done and nothing delicious baked (well, not by me anyway).

Luckily, a shortlist has already been made to outline the top weekend events, cos there was simply too much jammed in. Hurrah!

In fourth place for an honourable mention: a ferry ride back to the city from Cockatoo Island (an old industrial/military island in the harbour, where part of the Biennale art exhibition was held). We'd missed the rain (just), the sun was dancing across the water, the city was in view (and admittedly I'd knocked back half a bottle of vino!). Getting out on the harbour reminds me why I choose to live in Sydney - I think it showcases perfectly the freshness and sparkling beauty of the city and it's setting.

Coming in at number three: an installation on Cockatoo Island, which was not only awesome but totally unexpected. Shortly after completing number two on this list, we wandered along and came across a site - an old house - that held an exhibition but required special bookings (everything else on the island you could just wander in). The guy at the gate was convincing; the house opened in ten minutes, and our names were on the list. I didn't rate most of the stuff in there (I believe she was a Norwegian artist and there was lots of photographic images imposed over each other and some really dicey quotes). But the thing that blew me away was the camera obscura. You walk in to a totally darkened room, where there is just a tiny pin prick of light. With your back to the pin prick, after about 5 minutes you begin to see an image appear. I was in there with a stranger; we were having giggles about the dark, and how long we should stay, and whether it was all a hoax when she started to be able to make out shapes. Firstly a very pale light patch began to show, and as my eyes adjusted I could see, reflected upside down, the image from outside projected on the wall. I wasn't sure what it was at first but stranger lady was on the money and together we made out the edge of the building, telegraph poles and the streaks of grey clouds that were drifting across the sky. It was mind blowing - I think mainly because I'm not an overly patient type of person and this was direct reinforcement of why it is a virtue and all that lark. The surprise and unexpectedness of it made it my winning piece for the day.

Number two: it's a sad sad fact that booze will always make it onto my shortlists. This particular instance was a bottle of red wine shared shortly after arriving at the island. It was medicinal, really - it was freezing after the trip over and we had to get warmed up! A seat was found in the sun (but unfortunately also in direct line of attack of the aggressively nesting seagulls) (who, to be fair, kept to themselves), red wine was consumed, and good conversation flowed. Ah, day wines!

And a drum roll for number one: my top moment of the weekend was my inaugral visit to the NSW State Library. I'd been to the exhibition room before, many times, but for some reason had never actually made it into the library proper. And oh heavens, it was worth the wait. It was a large room, lined with books and staircases, filled with light, and with stained glass windows along the upper walls. We went in and found a book on Marrickville which had a range of old maps and pictures (for some reason Da Ville was a hub of brickworks at one stage. Like, there were a million factories here only to make bricks!) and propped it up on a reading aid (a big wooden book stand made for lazy people like me) and explored the suburb from the sanctity of a library. There is something about speaking in hushed tones that makes anything you find in a library seem more exciting, more like a discovery, than if it was to be read in a place where normal voice levels were acceptable. We also had a flip through the hand written cards in the calling system (I don't know what it's called! I am tempted to say dewy decimal system cos it's my only library term and should therefore be thrown in somewhere, but I know that's not exactly what I mean). Some cards had an early type print while others had the distinct spidery handwriting of an old school lady. We happened across a drawer that held the cards for a whole lot of commissions into Chinese gambling in the 1800s. I wouldn't change technology for the world, but there was something magical about flipping through cards from one subject to the next that the google machine just can't replicate.

So anyway, that was the roundup! The weekend also held a lost game of trivia, a trip to the markets for poppies, cherry blossoms and green garlic (my current food obsession), a freshly baked loaf of bread for Sunday breakfast (thanks bread boy!), and some frisbee in the park. It was exactly how a weekend should be. And now I'm dragging the Monday chain and have to get to work, and hit the books to make up for lost time tonight!

MSW (Master for Special Wendy)

2008-08-14T07:59:00.004+10:00

Sesame Street was originally a social development project intended to shorten the gap in education between under priviledged American (primarily Latin- and African-American) children by giving them easy access to some of the early education (a-b-c and 1-2-3) they were not accessing otherwise. It didn't really work in terms of its original target - just as many priviledged children watched it and subsequently the gap never closed. As a TV show though obviously it was wildly successful.

(This was the fact that interested me most in a reading I did last night on international economic development in third world countries. The paper outlined a range of economic theories, each attempting to give a different persepctive on how international financial aid could be combined with local labour and social capital to support communities to become self sufficient through empowerment. I am clearly a low brow buffoon).

The rest of the holiday

2008-08-11T12:14:00.008+10:00

After the crowds had gone home after the 80th, J and I still had some Quality Sister Time to spend in South Australia. We decided, on advice from one of mum's cousins at the party, to head to Strathalbyn as it was supposed to be real purty. It was indeed - completely different from the Barossa but just as lovely. Lush and green and rolling farmland and magnificent hills. The afternoon we drove in was post card perfect - the sky was the brightest blue, the grass almost fake green, and there were black-and-white cows (struggling to remember their names from year 7 agriculture!) dotted across the horizon. As we approached the town, driving down a winding road, a whole avenue of almond trees - all in blossom - kept appearing at each turn. Each bend of the road brought out an 'ooh', then an 'ahh' until we'd out ooh-ed and aah-ed the bloody new years' eve fireworks.

The next day took us back to Radelaide, where we got to know the city. We hit the art gallery (the winners were a Sideny Nolan ape picture and a Jeffrey Smart), the markets (the cheese! the bread! the pastries! the organic fruit and veg!), a bike ride along the river, the old Adelaide gaol (we didn't go all the way through. Just checked out the exhibition of gaol paraphernalia - home made tatt machines, bongs, radios and the like. Ah rough as guts prisoners!) and other tourist attractions as they popped up.

The river, as we cycled around town (prior to drenching rains, but still icy cold).

We spent our last day doing factory tours - Haighs chocolates in the morning, and Cooper's brewery in the afternoon. Haighs was short and sweet, ha, and actually quite interesting. Turns out Haigh Junior (son of original Haigh) was sent to Switzerland to live with the Lindt family. He taught Lindt Junior english in exchange for learning the art of chocolate making. Apparently he learned the Lindt family method of churning chocolate in order to ensure it is super mega smooth, and doesn't leave a coating or aftertaste in your mouth. J and I had many samples in order to ensure he got it right.

The Cooper's factory was next, with our cousin The Bias. It was out in the burbs so I was designated driver (and as I'm not the hugest beer fan in the world that was OK. If it were a wodka factory, different story). It was a huge, custom built factory that had its own on site bar, bbq area and...private three hole golf course for staff. Drinks at the office on Friday would have been awesome. Drinks at their office on Thursday afternoon turned out to be quite refreshing as well. The tour showed all the machinery and was quite technical about the brewing process (I confess it was loud, his words were multisyllabic and sounded like the chemistry textbook I didn't use for my HSC so I didn't pay particularly good attention), and then took you through the packing and testing rooms. There were a few dudes standing around looking scientifically serious in their lab coats and half-spectacles, necking beer. Oh what a job!

The Bias and J tried about 8 different beers - apparently the last two, which were Cooper's vintage ales (I think from 97 and 98?) were the best.

We then made our way back home (via Jonno's house, more cousin time, and some time along the coast before our flight) and had some recovery champales in Sydney to celebrate the end of another lovely sister's adventure!

The 80th

2008-08-11T12:13:00.002+10:00

My grandma's party was an afternoon tea affair in their local church hall. We arrived early to set up - my Aunty Liz had done the catering and J and I were in charge of decorations. We blew up balloons, hung streamers, and set up tables with the help of my four cousins who live in Radelaide. The guests rocked in (lots early, which shows just how genetic my chronic early-bird-ness must be!) and the party started - and it was just lovely. Cousins, aunts and uncles, great aunts and uncles, friends of great...well you know how these things are!

My highlight was when one of mum's cousins said to me 'You must be in your 20s by now'...YES! 20s! That rocks!

The food Aunty Liz did was wonderful - there were hot plates as well but I am afraid to say I was too interested in eating them by the time they came out!

J had the fabulous idea of name-tagging everyone with their name, and their connection to Grandma on them (Grandma's was adorable - it said 'Elinor, Party Girl'). It was a fun game and a nice way to meet all the other party people (although several did doctor their tags to up their status a wee bit - like 'Andrew, most handsome son in law'. Nice).

I confess I had something in my eye during my grandfather's speech. He talked about how he met my grandma - an abridged version, as he abruptly finished it with 'and then we moved to Nuri and lived there ever since'! We heard the rest of the speech that night around their kitchen table - my grandmother seemed very uncomfortable with the telling but was the first to interject to clarify matters! It was just lovely and I feel so lucky to have been able to be there and share it.

J and I convinced three of our cousins to sneak away for a cheeky butcher and we subsequently avoided party clean up, and got to spend some time with Jonno, The Bias and Jemima who we'd not really seen much at all as adults. By which I mean, over a beer! It's totally cheesy, but it was just a lovely family day!

The Barossa

2008-08-11T12:10:00.005+10:00

Ah, the Barossa. My grandma turned 80 on the 3rd of August, so J and I headed over to help celebrate and fit in a bit of a holiday as well (it is the year of the sisters' holiday. We have done two so far and have two more coming up, hurrah!). We got in on Friday morning, and our mum (who had arrived earlier that day) picked us up from the airport. We headed straight out to Nuriootpa, the small (4800 and something...I've forgotten!) town in the Barossa where my grandparents live and my mum grew up.

I have such strong feelings about it there, which is odd really because I've never lived there and not really spent very much time there. As kids, we'd head over usually once every year or two to spend holidays with my grandparents. The drive always started well before the sun came up, and was always hot and long. We were allowed to eat fruit loops (I love them and we never had them any other times) which in hindsight seems insane - four bored children, one hot van - give 'em sugar! We'd get in to Nuri always when it was dark (and in my memory always freezing, which doesn't tie in well with the hot drive!), and my grandma would have made up the beds in the girls' room for us with flanelette sheets and a hot water bottle, with their pale blue covers tucked a certain way around the pillows. On this trip J and I made our own beds over in the lounge room and replicated the way grandma made them (a much inferior version though I must say!).

My grandpa built the house they live in, which is just so romantic I think. It's got a huge yard with fruit trees and veggies and grape vines and although it's not in its prime any longer, as a kid I remember it being this amazing playground full of lovely growing things (even better, things one could eat!).

Anyway, we arrived there and spent three days with them - it was just heavenly. The first night J and I hit the town - there are two pubs, the AP (Angus Park) and The Slimey (The Vine Inn). We'd picked up the in-the-know lingo from a previous visit. We drank West End, the local draught, and found that their beer sizes are named completely differently to ours.

NSW - SA
Pint - Imperial Pint
Schooner - Pint
Middy - Schooner
Seven - Butcher

We never worked out why a butcher was a butcher, but we drank a few of them in an attempt to find enlightenment that way. To give you an idea how small Nuri is, observe the following phone number spotted in the AP:

The trip involved lots of driving around (thanks, mum!) to the wee towns, stopping in at wineries, and me getting completely besotted with the almond blossoms, which were out and blooming all over the valley. It smelled like honey and was just divine, and it would spring up around every other corner. I never got sick of it.

We only hit a few of the larger wineries this time, and I must say I was quite disappointed in comparison to some we'd gone to in the past. Still, even when it's disappointing wine tasting is still wine tasting!

We also made it to a farmer's market (the food there seems so much fresher and more natural than food here. There was so many delicious things. J and I settled for some olive oil that we've had before and some jaffa fudge...mental note: fudge still in fridge, eat some soon).

On one of our drives we came across these wee buildings (in Daveyston, I think. My grandfather, I learned later that weekend, had his 21st in the school hall at Daveyston. He also scored a sneaky kiss from my grandma there!).

But my favourite thing of all was just spending time at my grandparent's house. The familiar smells, the way my grandma cooks (salty beans and carrots that I loathed as a child and cannot get enough of now!), the way my grandpa dunks bread in his soup and warms his milk every morning to put on weetbix...and just everything about being there. Ah, the Barossa!

Pumpkin and poppies

2008-07-18T18:23:00.001+10:00

For our team meeting this month I thought I'd continue on the bread theme. Trying to forget about the zucchini and fetta disaster of the weekend (it had the texture of porridge) I thought I'd give pumpkin bread a go. I didn't expect much - the dough was really moist and I was anticipating another porridge-y nightmare, but it actually turned out OK. Rather sconey in texture (mainly cos it was too wet to knead much I think!). Went down a treat at work (although I wolfed into the passionfruit melting moments my boss brought along).

I wish I was a better photographer (not that I'm going to do anything about it, mind) cos the poppies I bought at the markets last weekend are just beautiful and this does not do them justice. They are sweetly fragile and delicate and they take my breath away. I also like playing guessing games as to what colour will pop out when the funny shell falls off (I'm not doing very well so far).

Our best residents of Corryong

2008-07-18T16:53:00.002+10:00

Piggy choccy treats - Bacolate Bikkies

2008-07-12T21:28:00.006+10:00

Today was my first day back at uni after a six month break. I'm doing my Masters by correspondence, and I'd forgotten the joys of a reading filled Saturday. My house is cold at the best of times, but today found me huddled over the computer, with twenty layers of clothing on, a knee rug and a hot water bottle under my feet. And I get to do it all again tomorrow. With pneumonia.

Luckily, I just had a delicious interlude at Loz's (who fortunately owns a heater). Went over for dinner - she had an abundance of rock salt so made the Jamie Oliver chicken in salt with fennel and lemon. We ate it with potatoes au gratin (which I always think of as potatoes au Aoife, after a mate in Ireland who always made them). There had been some discussion early in the week about...wait for it...choc chip and bacon bikkies. Los had seen a blog that had talked about them (and who doesn't like to discuss bacon?), and it had said that they were delicious. So... here they are.

One of these biscuits is doing its own thing, one of these biscuits is not the same...

For those people who were never good at Sesame Street games, the top one is bacon-y and the bottom normal. They both look the same, really - melty chocolate and scary butter laden trays. The bacolate biscuits were alright. I mean, I ate one. But then I'd eat Satan. It wasn't the worst ever and if one was really hungry it would probably be great. But the good ol' fashioned choccy ones suited me a hellava lot more.

Anyhoo, another day at school tomorrow so it's the hay for me (and I was up in the fives this morning at the flower markets, so I totally need my snoozes). Too much adventurous eating has tuckered me out!

Baking, so hot right now

2008-07-06T18:36:00.003+10:00

It would seem I have become obsessed with baking bready things since that time I conquered yeast (three days ago). I spent all morning scrubbing the holy hector out of my apartment - which was long overdue - and moving furniture and things around to make it feel a little different. And all I could think of, the whole time, was whether I should rest on my pizza laurels or move up a notch....to bread.

My bank balance clinched it. I'm povvo (sure I can afford bread, but I like the idea of 'making do' in depression style, and creating meals out of dripping, a carrot and some icing sugar). I had all the ingredients for bread, I had a clean house to mess up again, and I had a spare evening.

Due to the internet machine being frustratingly slow today, I turned to my ol' mate Jamie for a bread recipe. And he has several (I think from the Return of the Naked Chef). I opted for the very basic bread recipe, to which I could add said carrot and sugar if I chose.

I started the project cockily, it must be said. Yeast is my bitch! I know how it works! And sure enough, everything went according to plan. I'd opted to make the bread into rolls - that way I can use them for my lunches this week. With dripping. I was a little dubious putting them in the oven but within ten minutes my house smelled amazing and in fifteen I was taking out perfectly baked, lightly browned rolls.

How heavenly! I felt just like I am sure a new mother feels (mind you the yeast thing is harder to crack than the other stuff, so I feel I am slightly superior to a new mother). I make a scary mother, though, cos I ate one of the kids immediately. With butter. Hot from the oven.

They were awesome. Could have been cooked slightly longer, and weren't the lightest things ever, but they would have been perfect to dunk in soup or stew, and they'll handle my sandwich nicely tomorrow. Woohoo! Bread!

I'd have eaten the rest except I'd like to some left to carry on the family name (which, incidentally, is Glutton McGreedy).

Victorious Villains

2008-07-06T13:20:00.002+10:00

Another locals evening on Friday, this time seeing the entire complement of Villains heading to the golf club trivia. We met for a warm up drink at the REM bar and then moseyed down. I had seen ads for $3.50 burgers and that lured a lot of hungry people along.

Sadly, though, no burgers. Instead a Christmas in July function, with the world's worst buffet (it was described as a cross between Cunny Chinese and boarding school food). Still we lined our stomachs (and had horrendous Christmas pud halfway through trivia, in case we'd managed to forget how nasty it was).

There had been a lot of pre trivia emailing as we discussed our areas of expertise. We had nothing to worry about sports wise, according to Steve:

Australian sport is easy-

Cricket – yes, they probably won it
Rugby – yes, they probably won it
Rugby League – yes they were guilty
AFL – Coke and Ice
Football – Harry Kewell
Swimming – 8,000 gold medals and yes they did beat the Senegalese
Dress Making – Ian Thorpe

There were more people playing than last time - and I was delighted to see our old friends (both from the Concordia and last trivia). Friendly competitive banter occurred throughout the evening - particularly as our two teams had a shocking first round and were both placed on 5 points. The next round saw us make no improvement at all (as it was the 4th July it was an 'American' round. There were two questions about Yankee Doodle, clearly two of the top ten things about the States! The second Yankee Doodle question was 'Where did he go?'. The crazy trivia lady insists it was London - although she changed her response to London town. Which makes no syllabic sense) (bad loser, anyone?!).

Come round three, though, and the Marrickvillains began to come through. It was general knowledge (and as Steve predicted, had a Harry Kewell related question as well as several entertainment trash ones, hurrah). We were kick-ass-awesome - we got them all correct (with only one phone-a-friend) and scored 14 out of 10 (bonus points you see) which took us up to second place.

The final round was entertainment, I think. It included 6 tracks from the 80s (and one arguably from the 90s...listen to me! I so want to do that woman's job for her!). I was hip with the 'Meatloaf, Anything For Love' answer, much to my shame. In between this round and the final scores, Jen was victorious at Heads and Tails, scoring a bottle of (scary golf club) wine.

Crazy lady read out the scores...and we tied for first! Much to the disgust of the other team, who demanded to know whether we'd signed in or not. We won $75 of 'Marrickville Money' - photocopied cash valid at the golf club bar. Which we drank that night. We bought a round of shots (frangelico, cointreau and baileys - which I believe has a proper name but is now called the Marrickvillain) for our team and for pretty much anyone else who was in the near vicinity. Just to spread the Ville good cheer.

I ended up kicking on that night with Tim - back to the REM bar until about 3, I think (and then a cycle home which I confess I barely remember. I went out to the bike rack today and saw I completely failed to bother locking my bike up - the lock was just thrown over the top. I suspect I was too pissy to bother and thought it might fool any likely thieves).

Trivia happens the first Friday of the month - and with so much Marrickville Money up for grabs, I reckon the Villains will return to defend their crown!

Not a Crust box in sight

2008-07-03T22:58:00.003+10:00

Woohoo!! Third time WAS lucky! The dough rose, I rolled (with my pestle, not having a rolling pin!), toppings were added and it was divine.

One was spanish onion, endive and capsicum; the other bacon and mushroom. Both with tomato sauce and bocconcini. We ate enough to leave only my lunch for tomorrow! And let's face it - I'll yum it up at breakfast!

Next time I'll roll them slightly thinner, but they were fab. Perfectly cooked all through, crunchy on the sides...desert island here I come - shove over, Kate Hudson!

My Desert Island Food

2008-07-03T19:20:00.002+10:00

If I were stuck on a desert island, and could only eat one thing, it would be pizza (I'm talking meals, not like singular food items. If it were singular food items it'd be...hmmm...a thought for another day!). Kate Hudson feels the same; she said in NW last week that pizza was her desert island food, too.

I have wanted for ages to make my own pizza dough and tonight, I am doing it. Well, in reality, I have been trying to make it since last night but the bloody thing just won't rise, dammit. I mixed up my first batch last night, and under advice from a website put it in the fridge to slowly rise, thus developing flavours (and allowing me to sleep). I didn't want to get up this morning until I remembered it and then quite literally ran to the fridge to see....the same sized ball of dough that went in.

Take two. I made another batch and thought since my house is cold like a fridge I should leave it out and theoretically it would rise while I was at work. Ah theories. I got home - again, running to see - and...nada. Well, a slight rise I think, but not doubled.

So...take three. I have just made some more (and with advice from a colleague, changed the recipe slightly to ensure the yeast takes) and have turned on the oven, turned it off again, and placed the (fingers crossed) rising dough in there. I am about to go and pick up Jacs after work - I have promised her fresh homemade taste sensation pizza. If take three doesn't work I am going to have to feed her a lot of champagne and try to sneak some Crust (the closest good pizza) in without her noticing.

Expect victory photos if it worked, and for me to hide the Crust boxes in my faux victory photos if it doesn't!

Sisters doin' it for the weekend!

2008-07-03T18:41:00.006+10:00

And what a weekend it was! I barely know where to start. I arrived in Wagga on Thursday night, just in time to join my sister's indoor netball team (I fantasised on the flight there that I was an elite netballer being flown in just for the game. Sadly nobody asked me where I was going or why). We won the first game; the second we lost - against the local disability service. Like, clients. Admittedly there was no way we would have beaten them, but at one stage we had let them get ahead about 12 goals (and by 'let them get ahead', I mean they were walloping us!). One of our team said she felt movement behind her head for some of the game; when she turned around, her opponent was making bunny ears. There was a lot of mocking coming our way I'm afraid!

The next morning J, my sister, and I decided we were going to hit the road and head away from Wagga for the night. We did a radius search for towns about two and a half hours away and decided on Corryong, a small town in Victoria. Corryong is apparently the town from which 'The Man From Snowy River' hailed. However there is some speculation (as a man in the local club told us...when I asked what he thought the truth was he replied that he didn't really care. God love you, George!) - apparently the guy who may be Mr Snowy River had met Banjo Patterson once at least, but so had several other likely sorts at the same time. Sounds like a mystery for the sisters to solve...and by solve, I mean drink to!

Because that's pretty much what the evening held! We stopped at a winery on the way there (with the world's drunkest tasting lady - 'one for the customer, ten bottles for me' was her motto) and bought a rather nice Pinot. Having got a taste for wine, we checked ourselves into the one pub in Corryong that offered rooms (the Courthouse) and...well...got on it. After a bottle of wine and a conversation with a rather simple bar boy, we heard the club was the place to see and be seen, so we headed there. Another wine or so and we'd met a few locals, heard a few rumours (about said simple pub boy!) and decided to head out for dinner to 'The Bottom Pub'. On the way through we stopped for a 1-2-3 game (J yelled mixer, I yelled spirit - tequila and fanta we drank!) and managed to win ourselves a bottle of wine on the raffles. Dinner was a...blurry affair, during which we regained our stamina, and headed back to our own party pub.

1-2-3 Tequila and Fanta!

Back at party pub, we found that we were the only ladies, and would be all evening. We cashed in on our bottle of wine and started a darts game. With an old guy and young bar boy. Which we cheated at - although I did get a spectacular bull's eye, if I do talk it up myself! The night then progressed into: spending lots of money on the jukebox (country songs only in honour of our location. I swear I will never play Kenny Rogers or Leanne Rymes again), hanging out with our new found old friends, dancing with 'tally' (who was, unsurprisingly, tall), and laughing at J attacking the town's one policeman and yelling 'arrest me, arrest me'. At the end of the night I was bought a drink by 'youngy', whom we'd not spoken to all night. The 1-2-3 game gave us rum and raspberry. I'd half drank mine, turned around, and he;d taken it back and finished it! Country hospitality my arse. The evening ended by the various groups wanting us to party on down with them but us politely declining and retiring to our quarters where we giggled ourselves to sleep!

Darts through drunken eyes

The following day we headed back to Wagga (only after investigating the grave of The Man, which was located in a beautiful old cemetry that looked out over the hills. On the clear crisp morning it was gorgeous) and, well, did it all again! We met up with a few friends, had dinner with our folks, and then went out and I'm afraid to say played 1-2-3 all night, in different variations. The highlights were a Baileys on ice (lucky; that could have been horrid!), and the low lights...well these were most of the drinks! A tequila and pineapple, a gin and coke, a butterscotch schnapps and something...anyway, we partied until dawn and had a fabulous night.

Although clearly it was based around drinking and this 1-2-3 game (incidentally, a game I'm proud to say J and I made up, which has taken at least one person by storm!), the weekend was just tops. I don't spend nearly enough time with my sister (hard when you're 600 odd kilometers apart!) and this reminded me of all the reasons I adore her and her company. Fortunately, whilst 1-2-3-ing we drunkenly booked several more holidays together...so watch out Radelaide and Darwin!!

Happy Annualversary, Wrights Ave!

2008-06-22T15:41:00.000+10:00

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

2008-06-22T15:06:00.003+10:00

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

2008-06-17T18:17:00.006+10:00

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

2008-06-10T18:21:00.004+10:00

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!

2008-06-10T17:36:00.002+10:00

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

2008-06-01T16:18:00.003+10:00

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.

6 Feet of Fun

2008-05-08T08:20:00.011+10:00

Kel and I decided, since our Bali holiday was cancelled, to hike the 6 Foot Track. It's a three day, 45k walk that runs from Katoomba to Jenolan Caves (or vice versa, which is what we did). With a wretched hangover I packed my bags on Sunday and we got a lift to the caves, where we stayed overnight before starting the hike. A few beers and a huge steak sorted the hangover out a degree; we divvied out food up and packed bags and were ready to go bright and early (although not at the crack of dawn as we had boasted to the reception girl!).

The walk started off with a challenge - a fairly steep incline that took us about an hour to conquer. An hour, and several stops! We got to the Jenolan Caves Cottages (which would have made a good starting point for an easier walk) and from there it was smooth going. Wide path (6 foot in fact, ha ha), rolling hills all around and relatively easy walking - mainly flat with a little downhill. We paused for lunch (mmmm tuna wraps!) at Black Range camping ground and enjoyed the surprising Autumn sun.

The walk after lunch was tops - again, very easy going and it was through lots of gum forest. We covered a lot of ground as we were hoping to make it as far as possible (having heard the last day was going to be a nightmare). The map we had was poor - we were heading for the rain gauge but we missed it and ended up walking about 2k further downhill before finding a campsite. We settled in for the night - I was excited to put up my new tent for the first time (not without a few confusions, mind!) and relaxed over a campfire, camp food and camp whiskey!

I had panicked that I'd be freezing - the Blue Mountains in winter had me terrified, so I'd overcompensated and taken a thermarest as well as a -10 sleeping bag. As a result I was totally overheated...but at least not cold. I always sleep poorly while camping (and generally, actually) but it was very exciting in my one-man home and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

The next morning we headed off, stiffly and steeply, downhill to find the elusive rain gauge. We had to cross a few creeks (Kel did this far more elegantly than I; my shoes and socks were wet the first one we hit!), and passed through private land that had several lovely camp sites. We continued on to find Allum Creek camping ground, which meant we'd walked much further than we'd though which was welcome news. We got water from the creek there (the ranger had said it was drinkable...but to be honest we were keen for morning coffee so it wouldn't have mattered too much!). After that we continued the day's hike - slightly up hill but again flattening out to a comfortable walk down to Cox's River camping ground.

We lunched at Cox's River before heading on - again under the theory of covering as much ground before the last Death Day. Just after Cox's River is a suspension bridge, built to be used when the river below is flooded and too high to cross. Kel was keen as mustard to try this; I am scared of heights but convinced myself it'd be a great opportunity to try and conquer said fear. Oh stupid, stupid girl. The bridge was made of chicken wire (well, admittedly, more stable...but only just) and was very narrow. I'd only gone a few steps (although Kel says it was halfway) and I got bloody caught. The chicken wire had snagged the tent on the back of my pack, and there was no moving. I completely freaked out. There was lots of loud, panicked, unlady-like cussing, and more than a few tears. Eventually I was able to unhook myself (I couldn't look at it to work out what to do - too scared!) and keep going. After that, though, I came out of the sheltered part and the wind hit and it was all I could do to look ahead, hang on tight to the wire and keep moving. I finally made it to safe solid ground and quite literally sobbed like a schoolgirl! I didn't see Kel crossing but she said she found it hard also...and had to pick up the jacket I dropped half way across!

The rest of that day was a delight in comparison to Bridge From Hell. A gradual include out of Cox's River Valley, and long views of the mountains ahead all the way along. We passed a lot of private property, and had to climb over lots of stiles as we went, which was murder with a pack on. The Megalong Valley stretched out ahead and we finally made it - very tired at this stage - to the cemetary. From there we took a detour to the Old Ford campsite (home of the world's grossest unisex loo. The cleanest thing in there was the loo brush!) where we pitched up for the night.

Again, this was lovely - the camp fire was reluctant to light, but we managed to relax with an Indian-esque stew (sounds scary but was tops!), more whiskey and some firecrackers that went completely askew and chased us when lit! Kel also invented the best camping tiramisu for dessert - a chocoalte muffin bar, smothered with coffee and milk from a tube, drowned in warm custard and sprinkled in crunchy brown sugar!! Too too unhealthy, but apparently sugar is important to keep one warm at night, and who am I to argue with such camping law?!

The final morning was a bit tough. Kel was sore, and we had no water. Luckily, the nice young Canadian tourists camping nearby helped us out waterwise and Kel managed to talk her body into action, and we headed off anticpating a challenging walk.

The maps indicated that the final leg would be a very steep uphill climb, and fellow walkers (from the opposite direction) had been very pessimistic about what lay ahead for us. As it happened, the incline was initially gradual, and we covered a lot of it just in walking up to Nellie's Glen. Shortly after this, the steps started - we'd agreed to have lunch at the base of them to build up energy and then take it slowly up. Which we did, quite successfully! They were difficult, but not nearly as horrendous as anticipated. We climbed through the green rainforest environment slowly - it was wet and slippery, with lots of lush waterfalls and dark green leaves. The blue sky peeped out the top, getting ever closer as we huffed and puffed our way to the top.

We finally reached Explorer's Tree - all up it had taken us three hours from leaving camp. We then started to head to Katoomba - which was nothing like the 1k walk as we'd been informed. A taxi passed us, and we must have looked so desperate he radioed back and another one came and picked us up. We went straight to the pub for a few delicious coldies and talked ourselves up before heading back on the train to Sydney.

Kel is going to be writing our adventures up in Outdoor Magazine. Hopefully all bridge related tantrums will be omitted!

The Coast Walk

2008-04-27T11:20:00.007+10:00

This Anzac day, Mel, her mate Jo, her cousin Jo and I packed our hiking gear and headed to do the Coast Walk. It runs from Otley to Bundeena (or the other way) through the Royal National Park following the spectacular coast line. We caught the train to Otley, chatted with some diggers on the way (one mocked our overpacking for one night...thinking about it now it must seem absurd, when you compare what they must have carried for wartime survival), and finally alighted ready to get walkin'. The hill out of the station was bloody awful, and it started spitting when we got to the top of it, but after wet weather gear and the official start of the walk were found, we were on our way!

The Coast Walk is 23 odd kilometres, usually done over two days. The first day we were walking 9k to the camping ground at North Era beach. We got off to a good start - the sun was shining, the leaves were glistening on the bush floor from the recent rain and every few metres you'd catch a sparkling glimpse of the spectacular pacific ocean through the trees. We stopped for lunch at a rocky outlook that had a view back down the coast towards the Gong. It was very blustery but gorgeous. A sea eagle flew overhead while we were eating - it was huge, even at a distance.

After lunch the walking conditions deteriorated significantly. We headed into much more rainforesty type bush, and due to the recent rain Sydney has had, the track was completely muddy. Like, up to ankle in mud in some places and of course very slippery. It made the next few hours fairly hard going - trying to concentrate on balance with huge packs and side step trees and fronds at the same time while trying our best not to fall over. A pity really because it was lovely lush scenery that was kinda wasted on me! We finally got out into the open - flat scrubby land with small grasses and shrubs in the foreground, but with the hills and the ocean all around. My absolute favourite type of scenery. At this point, the path changed almost to a trench, and it too was very muddy and slippery - there was evidence that other walkers had gone on slippery slides before us! During this section of the walk we heard an 'uh oh' from Mel - one of the soles of her hiking boots had started detaching. The uh-oh turning a little more serious when the whole thing decided to fall off. About fifteen minutes of very slippery and difficult walking later (for sole-less Mel at least!) the other bloody sole decided to make a break for it as well, leaving Mel with no grip and not much chance of walking in the awful muddy conditions! I must say she took it like a total champ, lots of giggles and not a second of crankiness! Of all the things to happen...one could never predict the soles would decide to go AWOL!

Luckily we weren't too far from North Era so we struggled on and made it to the beach to camp for the night. The beach was gorgeous - quite blustery but brilliant blue water and clean sands, amazing rock formations and hardly anyone around. There was also a midden site used by the Dharawal Aboriginal people, fenced off for protection but still quite visible. The campsite was spacious and although quite marshy we managed to find a great sheltered sport for our camp. Once we got there we pitched tents and set up, and when taking off our shoes I found that - gulp - I had my first leech! Gross! I've been terrified of them for years, but by some miracle never gotten one before. Luckily it had detached itself (obviously had its fill on my delicious blood) so I didn't have to do that; but it was nestled quite happily in my gaiter (you can sort of see it in the picture below, towards the shoe-end of the gaiter). I am afraid to say that I didn't let it live happily ever after, so after that was taken care of I strapped the leg up and we got on with the evening.

We took it easy with some relaxing ports, a delicious beef stew made by Mel and lumberjack sans custard (the trangia tasted too metallic!) for dessert. One never gets a good night sleep camping but I was certainly warm and relaxed when we retired (at really early o'clock, ah camping!).

We didn't rush off the next morning - we would have had to if we were planning on finishing the walk as there was about another 7 hours to walk to Bundeena. But luckily for soleless Mel there was a beach that has road access about a 40 minute walk from North Era. So we set off in idyllic weather - the sun was shining, a light wind blowing and the scenery was absolutely wonderful. The walk that morning was great - an easy coast side track, dry enough for comfort, and lush green hills and sparkling blue water as far as the eye could see. Looking ahead we could see several little beach inlets, golden sand and black rocks, rising up into rich green forest. With the sun shining down I felt a million miles away from anywhere and I couldn't have been more relaxed. We got to Garie Beach in good time and relaxed in the sun until Mel's heroic brother came to rescue us!

Despite The Shoe Incident and The Gross Leech Attack it was a lovely getaway. Even though cut short I felt like we'd been away for ages, and it was just lovely to see the amazing Aussie coast line, which I always forget is so close to home. And the best thing about not finishing is we have a great excuse to get back out and do that final leg! With soles, this time, I think.

Tahmoor bargain shopping

2008-04-24T20:04:00.002+10:00

During my lunch break while on the road the other day I stopped into a junk shop in Tahmoor (a township in the Wollondilly shire - it's known as the most financially disadvantaged area in the 'Dilly and it has a myriad of social problems as well). It was quite possibly the best second hand shop I've ever been into. There were loads of the things I like to look at (kitchen stuff and homewares), not too much stuff that scares me (endless racks of scary 90s denim) and a few new odds and ends mixed in. And cheap. Oh heavens, so cheap. I found the most adorable kitchen set (which I really don't need as my mother gave me an awesome set of saucepans for my recent birthday). A kettle, a milk warmer, and two casserole type pans...for the grand total of $12! Hurrah! So I am going to turf my new shiny silver kettle - by turf I mean stash in cupboard - and embrace my new Tahmoor set.

It's Anzac day tomorrow, and I am off camping with Mel, her friend Jo and her cousin, also Jo. We're doing the coastal walk which runs along the coast (obviously) of the Royal National Park, south of Sydney. I can't wait - have wanted to do this walk for years and I haven't been hiking since we did Tassie in February. I am currently packing, charing my camera battery, baking lumberjack (for our dessert with warmed custard; I am on dessert duty) and packing bags of lollies and hot drinks (also my job!). It's only an overnight hike so I suspect it'll be fairly luxurious food and drink wise...we are planning on hot port and hot whisky to drink as well. Hurrah for winter camping!

Out of office politics

2008-04-23T08:14:00.002+10:00

On Sunday I made my way to the organic markets at Reverse Garbage in Da Ville. As I got there, I ran into my new boss (yeah, decided to take that job). We conversed briefly - nice pleasant small talk - and she mentioned something about not having done her hair.

I said, 'Ah, don't worry, I didn't shower today'.

'I didn't shower today'. Great. Now new boss knows that I have a) personal hygiene issues and b) a huge mouth.

Marrickvillains

2008-04-21T19:50:00.002+10:00

Friday night just gone was the inaugral Marrickvillain evening. For some time, Mel's sister Shelley has been talking about getting a gang of us locals together and making the most of our suburb (as opposed to going to neighbouring Newtown, which admittedly has a much better range of places to go however isn't nearly so handy. Or so Marrickville.). So, a group email later, and a bunch of us met at the local for pre dinner beers. The REM bar is not the most civilised venue in the world. When we first arrived, Mel was seated next to a rather drunk man having a bit of a 6.30pm nap. Bless. No matter how many times that pub is done up, the natural decor provided by Marrickville locals will always take over!

The main feature of the night was always going to be the Portuguese Club, where we ventured for dinner. As the name suggests, this is a Portuguese venue - not unlike a Portuguese RSL. It's in the middle of nowhere really - you have to walk down towards Sydenham station, pass under a rail bridge, cross a footy field and there you are! We got there lateish so had to leg it in for dinner. The food is very home-style Portuguese. I had the quails, which sadly were disappointing, not having much flavour at all (although they did come with two types of carbs - rice and chips, hurrah!). However the rest of the meals were deemed good - the pork and clams was the winner (I've had it before and it is indeed delicious). The vegetarian in our midst didn't have many options though - I think he ended up with a garden salad and garlic bread. Own fault really, for shunning meat I say! My dessert choice sucked also - I ordered a chocolate flan (greedily trying to cash in on both regular flan and a chocolate treat). It had either been cooked too long or left sitting too long, neither of which is particularly heartening. However Mel and Shelley both liked their choice - they sensibly stuck to flan proper and it was apparently tops.

The highlight of my evening was a game of Portuguese bingo, in the hall between the front bar and the restaurant. The only difference to any other type of bingo was that the numbers were called first in Portuguese. At the time I was convinced I was fluent; I can't remember a single digit now...except perhaps Novo - Nine (that was how he said it!). We did appallingly. Shelley actually won in the $95 round however didn't realise til the next number had been called, thus missing out. 'You snooze, you lose' holds fast in competitive bingo, it seems!

We then adjourned to the front bar, which was holding raffles. What doesn't this place do?! And they were totally Portuguese style - salt cod and olive oil were the prizes, along with the more traditional meat and veggie trays. The bingo luck held, though, and sadly none of us walked away with anything.

Still, for the first locals night out, it got a big thumbs up from me. Lots of money spent on empty, fruitless competition, wines aplenty consumed, and an easy stumble home at the end of the evening. Hurrah for Marrickvillains!

Team Eating

2008-04-21T19:19:00.003+10:00

The third Thursday of every month, my team at work has a meeting. It's the only time when both teams (South West Sydney - my team - and South East Sydney) get together officially. And to make sure we survive the morning (it's a long meeting; usually half 9 to lunch time) we bring food. A lot of food. We have something of a reputation throughout the workplace: we think it's that we live the good life, but I suspect everyone just thinks we're greedy and gross!

This month, I made Lumberjack Cake. It's kinda like a sticky date pudding on the bottom, very moist and delicious, with a crunchy / chewy coconut caramel on the top. It has apples and dates and coconut, so I consider it virtually a health-bar type of cake (ignoring the massive amounts of butter, sugar and cream!).

I had only made this once before, after meeting a potential volunteer in a previous job. We met after work hours at a cafe, and it was like one of those sympatico date movies: we ordered the same coffee, the same ricotta tart, and then gushed about all the same foods. We adore the same patisserie (in Summer Hill, they make a pear brulee tart to die for) and she mentioned that the same patisserie made a Lumberjack cake, that it was divine, and that I would love it. So I hot footed there, only to be told that they generally make this cake only in the winter months. Needless to say I couldn't wait that long so I made it myself. I remember liking it but not much more.

So I don't really know what brought it to mind, but for the last few weeks I have been thinking about it. Maybe it's cos of the change of the seasons and I have a previously undiscovered winter cake radar - whatever it was, I was determined to make this cake. And let me tell you, it was quite the hit. Half of the plate was gone before the meeting even started! The recipe was shared around colleagues (one then made it to be served warm,, with nice cream, for a dinner party he was throwing the next night!). So, if you make no other cakes this winter, make the friendly Lumberjack Cake. It is indeed OK.

Old School Cool

2008-04-14T18:55:00.003+10:00

My sister is out on a first date tonight, to an ice cream parlour. Isn't that just divine?

The only slight woe is the lighting in Wagga's ice cream parlour is as harsh as a steel wool, but my sister is fabulous and I am sure her complexion is up to the challenge.

I asked her earlier what she would do if he ordered a bad bad ice cream flavour, like bubblegum. She said she'd run a mile. Dessert choice is so very important for future happiness.

Mussels in Marrickville

2008-04-14T18:35:00.002+10:00

Last Friday night, Mel and I ventured out in our local neighbourhood to Kelby's cafe, for some Mussel Madness (not my bad name; that's what the cafe was calling it!). Kelby's is a local daytime coffee place - it also happens to sponsor one of my netball teams. As Mel and I frequently lament the lack of lovely evening venues in Da Ville, when we heard this event was on we locked it in. Basically, a three course meal for $35 a head and bring your own wine...all within stumbling distance from home...what more could two Marrickvillains ask for?

We met up first for a cheeky bottle of pop with Jacs and were subsequently running late. Only by ten minutes or so, but as there were only about 10 of us there it was quite conspicuous. It was odd - all the tables were joined together communal style. We likened it to being on the rejects table at a semi-stranger's wedding. It was an odd crew; the majority of us were locals who were keen for a bit of Marrickville Mussel action, and there were four people there celebrating a birthday. The guy next to me was disgracefully drunk - spilling wines, swearing like a sailor then apologising with more cusses! He was a little obnoxious but other than that the company was interesting. Lots of laughs (probably due to said pop...and then almost another bottle more each of vino!), lots of talk about the suburb, and general wedding-table banter!

We started with antipasto plates (with the most amazing fetta), and what I swear was home baked olive bread, followed by wholemeal and white garlic breads. This then led in to huge steaming pots of mussels, in a tomato broth, flavoured with herbs. The sauce was delicious; flavoursome but not too rich and absolutely perfect when soaked up in buttery bread. I personally prefer the white wine / garlic combo for my mussels but these were pretty darn good. More than enough for all - there were many left over at the end. The dessert was a biscuit-soaked-in-alcohol-then-made-into-semifreddo sort of jobby, served with really tart berry coulis which complemented it well. Overall the meal was good - and I think it'd be perfect if you rustled up your mates and did it together. The staff were fab (well it was the owner there and he's lovely) and it was a really relaxing evening. We topped it off with a wodka party at the pub (witnessed a Marrickville maul - there was a fight as we came in but that's hardly unusual) and then back to Mel's where I was too lazy (read: pissy) to walk home so I couch crashed.

The odd thing was, not one but two different people assumed when I said 'mussel night' that Mel and I were going to some sort of 'male review' (OK, grossy male strip show!). Kelby's is apparently running the same type of event over winter with lamb shanks instead of mussels; at least the same mistake won't be made for that!

Golden Soup!

2008-04-06T12:24:00.001+10:00

When we were young, my mum used to make Golden Soup. I loved it (but I don't really recall much I didn't like). My sister, on the other hand, hated it. I remember one lunch time, eating hot bowls of soup, and my poor sister almost gagging on it.

My father: What's wrong?
Sister, starting to cry: It's the soup. I can't eat it.
Father: Why not? There's nothing wrong with it.
Sister: It's too salty.
Father: It's only going to get more salty if you cry into it. Eat your soup.

I think of this almost every time I eat Golden Soup (so named to make it more palatable, apparently, to children who don't want to eat pumpkin soup! Obviously, in my sister's case, not very successfully). Everyone in Australia has their own recipe for pumpkin soup - you either roast it, or you add Indian-y spices, or some chili...but this is the one I like. I made it for some mates when I lived in Dublin, and although they ate it and enjoyed it, initially they were horrified - 'pumpkin is pig's food'!

I made it today, after scrubbing my apartment top to bottom, and sitting through an Autumn downpour, and I for one think the name Golden Soup describes it's earthy warmth and glowing deliciousness perfectly. This is the bastardized version of my mum's - she got it from a recipe book (possibly Women's Weekly?) and she had written next to it 'The best pumpkin soup'; best she had underlined! Can't argue with that! I can't remember if this is it exactly, but it's the same idea.

Golden Soup
* 1/2 large pumpkin (I used a jap, it was more pumpkin-y than the butternut I usually use)
* 1 onion, halved
* 2 cloves garlic
* 1 litre chicken (or veggie) stock
* herbs of choice to garnish, salt and pepper to taste

Cut the pumpkin into chunks and leave skin on. Put the onion and garlic in bottom of saucepan and put chunks of pumpkin over the top. Add the stock and simmer for about 20mins. The pumpkin will then be really soft and you can just lift the skin of each of the pieces. The, chuck the flesh back in and puree. I have a feeling that mum puts milk or cream in at this stage, but I didn't. Ladle into a bowl, add some coriander (or whatever herbs take your fancy - and even some sour cream if you're feeling bold) and try not to cry tears of happiness when you eat it!

Tom-tastic sauce!

2008-04-05T18:36:00.004+11:00

I had a lovely greed centred day today. Went to the Good Food markets down in Pyrmont, which I've been meaning to go to for, like, ever. And they were lovely. Lots of stalls, early Autumn rich sun, water views across the spectacular shimmery city. Loz said, and I couldn't agree more heartily, that it's impossible to want to leave Sydney.

The markets were fun. I sampled more meat products than a girl should before 9am. I didn't buy loads (can't be trusted with tasty cheese or small goods while living alone!) but we agreed it would be perfect for gathering picnic or platter supplies. I did, however, get lured in by some quinces as the idea of poaching them to have on hot porridge for breakfast was just irresistible. They're on the stove now, bubbling away with cloves and cinnamon (and a scary amount of sugar).

After that, Jacs, Loz and I headed out to Flemington markets. These are the opposite of Pyrmont glam. Crowded, fairly skanky, loads of produce laid out in boxes, the obligatory yells by various purveyors ('Watermelon, one dollar! Watermelon!', 'Who needs potatoes and onions? Don't be shy!' - a dude actually yelled this at us. The answer, of course, is that 'I do! I need potatoes and onions!') and an unbelievable mix of cultures. Although not perhaps the best produce to be found in Sydney, it certainly ranks up there as the cheapest, and as a singly lady who likes a varied diet, it certainly ticks my boxes! For $15 I walked away with a whopping bag filled with all the fruit and veg that I like to eat, and some that I'm not sure about (such as some of the scarier looking mushroom varieties). But at that price, I can afford to experiment!

One thing I did walk away with was a bag of super ripe, rich red tomatoes. Now, I'm not a huge fresh tommy tomato fan. But I'd seen this recipe that I really wanted to try - it's from a blog I read praising this Italian bird, Marcella Hazan (apparently Italian cook, quite famous in the States it would seem) (I am obviously poorly culinarily educated!). And it sounded good. And, it really really is. Unbelievably good. Like, lick bowl good. Eat rest of sauce by itself good...which I didn't do but goodness, it was close. This is the perfect sauce! I can see me eating it, and only it, for a solid fortnight. I am also so excited about using to to make other equally delicious sauces (Puttanesca! Just olives! Tuna! Heavens!). Anyhoo, here is the recipe, as I made it. Thank you, Marcella, whoever you are.

* 5 really fresh delicious tomatoes, skinned and chopped (the recipe actually asks for 2 cans of the best Italian tomatoes. I halved the recipe and used fresh, just cos I had them. I'll make it again, for sure, with the canned ones)(and probably twice the recipe, cos I could eat loads more of it!).
* 2.5 tablespoons of butter. Hurrah!
* Half an onion, peeled - not chopped, just halved. No more tears!
* pinch o' salt

I also added half a carrot, not chopped, cos I'd read that this was a winner for sweetness.

Basically, whack it in a saucepan, simmer slowly for about 45 mins (well, I had to go longer as the tomatoes were fresh - about an hour) and then when it's done, discard the onion (or keep it, I did, and will use it for something or other) (also chuck carrot if you used), and then spoon over pasta and enjoy!

(Incidentally, went to a fab Korean place last night, Madang, with Sarah. Very back-alley-Melbourne-stylie. Sat outside and ate a great seafood pancake and a steam boat - we had pork, which came with rice noodles, rice cakes and about 5 different types of mushies....probably why I was so keen to get some today! Also, everyone bar us seemed to be drinking a red liquid out of small round bottles. I asked our neighbour what it was - raspberry sake! He poured us a glass and I tell ya, next time I'm all about it! I guess it's our own fault for ignoring the 'Korean wine' list!).

Decisions, decisions

2008-04-03T18:09:00.002+11:00

I've had the craziest job-karma week ever. Last Thursday (day of Cuban Spectacular which, incidentally, was fabulous! Mojitos, Cuban marinated pork with papaya and mango salsa, cowboy beans and rice) I was told that I was successful in an interview I'd gone for a few weeks ago. Surprisingly, cos I sucked. Then, on Friday, I was called by a colleague of mine who'd recommended me to another government department which was now offering me a secondment. Then, my current manager lets me know that there are going to be a lot of opportunities coming up in my current team and implies it'd be a good idea to stay...aaaarrrrgh!!!! So I have no idea what to do. I have been thinking about it for a week now and am no clearer as to the answer. On the plus side, the external job is ruled out - but that leaves me having to choose between a new, higher paid, management job that I may not like miles away from my current convenient office, or sticking with job I know and love and is still well paid but with no guarantee of future promotions. Any suggestions? Cos I'm no good at deciding myself, obviously!

Other than this, nothing fabulous is going on. Something delicious, though - cucumber dill pickles, made from my mum's home grown cucumbers. She left some here after Easter and not being able to eat a cucumber the size of my forearm (and I'm not slight!) I had no choice but to pickle them. Mmm mmm, cucumber pickles, my best thing.

I love them with soft cheese, and as you can see I now have ten million jars of the things! They'll get dumped at various work functions and mates houses over the next few weeks, so all for a worthy cause.

Out tonight with the girls from the netball team (the one that came 2nd) for dinner and drinks, hurrah! Meeting my mate Sarah tomorrow for Korean steam boat and catch ups and then the rest of the weekend is fairly quiet. There's a food market on at Pyrmont that I've been meaning to go to forever so fingers crossed I actually make it this month!

Flan de Coco sans Ron

2008-03-26T22:44:00.003+11:00

Cuban Spectacular tomorrow night at Loz's. Jacs came over tonight - we had dinner, some pop, and made Cuban head paraphernalia (copied from a pic found on the net, and made from $2 shop flowers and supermarket headbands, and leftover curtain trimmings!). Spectacular, if I do say so myself!

Also made Coconut Rum Flan - but with no rum, as rumour has it ample will be consumed tomorrow (that, and the Liquor Land was shut). I was about to say Vive la Cuba, which I know is obviously incorrect, but the sentiment is the same!

Feaster Funday & Fireworks

2008-03-26T21:34:00.006+11:00

The rest of my Easter weekend was lovely - my folks came to visit on Sunday so it gave me an excuse to potter around the kitchen for a bit (and eat like a glutton once they were here!). I made a spinach and chorizo soup (courtesy of the weekend paper), roast lamb - it was Easter, after all - and an Indian spiced eggplant dish that I found on a blog (am I obligated to say where? Is it like a shout out?) and a pear tart tartin (a la Jamie). The tart was garnished with thyme, which I was a little unsure about, but it was de-licious.

My mum had also finished some curtains for my house:

They are now in my bedroom and although I recently turned 30, they are very childish. However I adore them as I think I always wanted a candy-striped room (and if I didn't, then I do now!). What's the point of being a grown up and paying a mortgage if one can't be dreadfully indulgent - like eating fruit loops for breakfast and nice cream for lunch, or wearing your pyjamas all day long.

The other highlight was the arrival of the firecrackers my youngest brother gave me for my birthday. I have not been more excited about anything, ever.

Isn't this one cute? Mel and I snuck down to the park last night after dinner and let this one and a bee-like one off thinking they would be sweet and innocent fireworks...but they were huge and I did a girly scream (OK, by huge I mean a few metres, but as we only expected sparklers you can imagine how scary it was!). We'd also taken down one called 'rock and roll' but we were too scared to let it go as it was about three times the size as the others. Pathetic!

Incidentally - when I was given the firecrackers, the bag was stuffed full of pyrotechnic goodness. When my parents, the fireworks mules, delivered it to me several months later it was noticeably diminished in size. I brought this up at the time but received no proper response. Last night, Mel and I did an inventory (little known to my fireworks thief/ves, there was a list of the crackers included on the bag). Several - including the intriguingly named 'King of Kings' - were missing. I 'spose at lease the dirty stealer had good taste! I call this mystery: The Case of the Missing Bangers. Any clues can be left on this blog (Dad or J, as prime suspects either 'fess up or at least dob in each other).

Maundy Thursday, Great Friday and Somewhat Sore and Sorry Saturday

2008-03-22T14:18:00.004+11:00

Well, my Easter has, so far, been about a lot of celebrating. We kicked it all in with a work lunch on Wednesday just gone - the social club (which as of last year's Christmas party - when I drunkenly nominated myself! - I am now on) had an Easter lunch for all. It was a spread of DIY sambos, tacos, hot diggities and salad....and my absolute best thing ever - a chocolate fountain!

This is prior to the chocolate flowing freely (I was too caught up with dipping and eating to be taking any snaps!). It was heavenly - fruit is so much nicer when covered in warm fountained chocolate! The lady at work who own this also owns - wait for it - TWO jumping castles!! She is party central, obviously.

On Thursday I took full advantage of the public service half day and legged it home right after our big team meeting (which should really be called a team eating. It was delicious but gross...and we do it every month! One colleague had made gingerbread, the cakey sort, and another had made this sponge, soaked in baileys and then layered with chocolate mousse and coated in whipped cream and flake chocolate. I made a 90s style spinach-dip-in-cob-loaf, 'cept it wasn't a cob loaf as they'd run out.

You would think, after that grossness, that I would have sensibly hung up my stomach for the afternoon...but no. Naomi came over and we made baklava for a party the next day, drank lots of wine, jumped in the pool and made a few tasty pizzas to knock the night off. The baklava was fun to make - so much easier than I'd thought - and was a huge hit at the Good Friday bbq we headed to the next day.

The party was held by a guy at work who we hardly know. He came up to me a few weeks ago and said, 'What do you do at Easter?'. Not wanting to sound uncool, or like someone who doesn't have set things to do at Easter, I think I mumbled that I usually go camping (this is a lie. I have been camping at Easter once. I love camping, but it can hardly be considered my Easter tradition). He then said he has a Good Friday party every year, and as I am in his extended neighbourhood, I should come. So I did! It was actually a lot of fun - an eclectic mix of his neighbours, family, and one or two other people from work. Naomi and I went with two other friends, and the four of us mingled and drank Great Fridays (a cocktail made from vodka, elderflower cordial, white wine, apple juice and soda). The host served up a seafood bbq (although I was pleased to observe that a seafood bbq still included the humble snag!) which consisted of oysters (fresh), 'rock-and-roll mussels' (I think his concoction - they looked like mussels with tomato sauce and cheese on the bbq. I didn't try them as I was too busy gnawing on some crab),crab (obviously) and fish. Later, besides our fabulous baklava, there was the most amazing pav I've ever eaten - the bottom bit was almost baked cheesecake style, yet still meringue-y and good. I threw my congratulations on the poor woman who'd made it many times throughout the afternoon, and I now have a feeling she started avoiding me when I came to congratulate her 'just one more time'.

So feeling it a little today! Heading over to Bryce's for Easter Saturday Games tonight (which means I'll take scrabble but we won't play it!). He sent me a message saying that he read that alcopops (or bitch piss, as my sister calls them!) are going to be banned, so that is the order of the evening. Just in case we can never have them again, you understand.

Autumn

2008-03-18T22:10:00.005+11:00

Tonight, walking across a sports field at Centennial Park on my way to netball (yeah I play twice a week; it's the only guaranteed way I'll exercise!), it felt positively Autumnal. I'm not sure what it was - perhaps that the lights was that tad darker than usual, that the air although balmy was threatening a slight chill, or that the trees were ever so slowly beginning to look more threadbare.

I adore Autumn, it is absolutely my favourite season. I'm not sure whether it's the anticipation of the change of seasons that I like so much - I like Spring for the same reason. But while Spring is adorable and fresh, Autumn is mature and cosy. Spring is the friend you'd go out with all night partying but Autumn you'd spend your Sunday with, savouring company and mellowness. Mellow, that's exactly the word for Autumn. I've always felt sorry for the Northern Americans, having their considerably shabbier 'Fall'. Really does not have the same sophistication at all!

I made soup again this morning - another very Autumnal thing (and that's another reason I like Autumn - how awesome is the word Autumnal?!). It was a spinster meal - that is, something that can be made cheaply, quickly and in a portion for one. Now that I'm living by myself this is essential, if somewhat depressing! Anyhoo it was an awesome Autumn soup, and I'm going to whack the recipe down so as a) not to forget it and b) encourage other spinsters (or bachelors, or very non greedy couples!) to make it too!

Chicken and Corn soup
* Chicken stock - a cup or so I guess (I still have some home made stuff, but any would do) (heavens - for someone who has only just made their first batch of stock ever, that was horrendously smug. I always hated people who did that - talked as if home made stock was the be all and end all, and now look at me! I apologise. Use any darn ol' stock you like, and then tell me where to shove it when it still tastes just fine!)
* Chicken breast (I used about half)
* A few spoonfuls of tinned creamed corn (gross! This was not purchased by me, I swear!)
* A glug of soy sauce
* Chives, or any other fresh herb that may go well such as delicious coriander
* Fresh or frozen corn, if you have it (I didn't and it was still good but I've made it before and it was delicious with as well)

Heat the stock, and poach the chicken breast in it for about 10 mins (I did this while in my shower). When showered, or after time is up, remove the chicken breast and shred it. Not very easy to do when you are trying to simultaneously eat toast, however it is manageable. Add the creamed corn, fresh corn if using, the soy and heat again for another 5 minutes (or enough time to gulp down the rest of the toast). Snip chives over the top, pack into cute lunch thermos, and there you have it - a Autumnal spinster meal in a jiffy!

I reckon you could almost whack some chili in this if so inclined - but it was bloody lovely just as it was with some hot toast for dunkin'. This spinster lark can sometimes taste AOK!

There's no prize for second place

2008-03-17T21:01:00.006+11:00

Netball grand final this evening, and as you may suspect from the title - we lost (although I told a bit of a lie - we got trophies, chocolates and vino, so there was a wee prize for 2nd!). By about 11 or 12, can't remember which. Having said that it was a good game - which was unexpected as the team we played against are notorious for being rough and unfair players. I have to say though, the umpires were on the ball and it was a really fair game...which is a pity, cos I'd like to feel that we were robbed! The team that lost to us last week - and came third overall - came down to support us (or not support the other team might be more accurate!). So they rocked up with beers and snacks and cheered us on - it was tops having a fan base for the first and probably last time ever!

Our team has only been playing together for two seasons now, and we're not too bad (I should point out that we came 2nd in Division 4 so we're hardly Australian champs or anything!). Most of our team are young mothers, and we all only met each other when we started playing, so all things considered we're doing quite well. We came about third or fourth last time (again in the lowest division!) and didn't win a trophy - so our captain had them made for us, god love her! It's tops that tonight we got them in a real presentation and everything! Mind, I'm not that enamoured with trophies and it'll be lucky if it makes it past my spring clean.

I would also like to share with you my Easter Tree, as named by Jacs! I found some very cool plants on the way home the other day - they're hard to explain, the but the leaves are kinda joined to the top like a spiral. As it happens I have them placed next to my Easter Egg nest (well, a lady needs her choccy!) and voila, an instant Easter Tree!

Hurrah for weekends!

2008-03-16T20:14:00.004+11:00

I've a feeling I'm going to gush about how fabulous this weekend has been. You already heard me wax lyrical about the wonders of Mel after our drinks on Friday - please be assured it continues throughout the next day! We had a delicious breakfast together on her birthday morning (at Kelby's in Marrickville, they sponsor my netball team). I had corn and sweet potato fritters with bacon and maple syrup and greens; she had the veggie big breakfast. Delicious and unfinishable (and I am greedy, people). Helped her do the party shop and then cycled over to hers in my finery for what was a fantastic party.

Although I've known Mel a million years, and we have mutual friends, we don't really have the same crew. Having said that I know nearly all of her mates, which made the party perfect - no awkward 'get to know you' ones, but I see them so rarely that when I do, there is always oodles to talk about. The perfect party. Drinks, chats, laid back eats, a late night game of bingo, and realising the sun is about to come up as you pedal your sorry arse home! Here's her cake (please note Sexy Steve, who shortly after suffered third degree burns to his left hand side, in the middle of the cake):

And Mel, after blowing out said cake:

As you can imagine then, this morning (well, later this morning!) I wasn't as fresh as a daisy. Got a message from my mate Loz early in the day - we'd planned to catch up - and I could have sworn that I replied, in that crazy state between awake and asleep. Apparently I didn't. I also seem to recall hearing lots of people turn up to the dude upstairs' place, and if that actually happened, it was his 29th birthday today and he seemed to have quite the early morning get together! But who can say.

Instead, me, Jacs and a wee bit later on Loz headed into the Botanic Gardens, where we wiled (I actually just checked spelling on that one!) the day away. FINALLY - a platter and some pop!

Admittedly poorly photographed, and outside, but delicious nonetheless. Sunny day, Sydney harbour, good mates, three types of vino, the weekend papers - what more could a girl desire?

Loz, catching some sun!

We stopped for a cheeky cocktail at the Opera Bar on the way home (I had 'An Apple A Day'. Try telling me that's not a health drink!) and I'm now relaxing at home after eating a surprisingly good fridgey tuna bake.

Hurrah for weekends!

Happy 30th Mel!

2008-03-15T01:13:00.004+11:00

I've known Mel for 20 years next year, we worked out recently (20 sounds so much more impressive than 19, which is the actual count at present). I met her on the very first day of high school. I remember really liking her, but wishing she wasn't friends with the bespectacled girl she knew from primary school. Soon enough we were besties (in my teenage cruelness, I don't really remember what happened to glasses girl), and had a relationship that was characterised by me not knowing the difference between Prince and Queen, absurd gags relating to Libawyans (don't ask), typical outback scenes and a frightening crush on Peter Scutty. I also remember busking (I played flute, she played sax: a match made in torturer's heaven), Mel accidentally cutting her underarm shaving at Nanna Vi's, and a sleepover at her place where we used her brother's computer to draw pictures of vomit.

Mel moved to Sydney at the end of year 7. I often wonder how we remained in contact, let alone friends. I had family in Sydney and she in Wagga, and as luck would have it we seemed to be going through similar phases at roughly the same time. I had an absolute penchant for cherry docs around the same time she acquired them, and I am sure our mutual teenage love for incense went unsurpassed.

Fast forward til we're 18. I'd just moved back to Sydney and Mel was the first guest to show up at my shabby student accommodation, wielding a huge basket full of fresh produce (something I was destined not to see for at least another 3 years). She made me feel at home in an unfamiliar place. I have always felt that if she hadn't shown up I would never have been able to feel like myself there.

That year, we initiated Happy Week. It went, roughly, like this:
Me: Wow, there are so many happy hours here in the big smoke!
Mel: Yeah, I reckon there would easily be one every night.
Me: You could go to one every night for a week, easily.
PAUSE
Together: What a Happy Week!

And so, we researched and found at least one happy hour each night for a week. As luck would have it, a) we were on StuVac and b) we accidentally timed it so that Happy Week finished on Melbourne Cup day. We did three years of Happy Week. I am not sure whether these events were from the the first, the second, or the third year, but my highlights were: faux surfing at the Roundabout Tavern, drinking with City Rail Staff and scoring repossessed concession cards when they heard of our mission, $2 drinks at Paddy's (although was this every week?!), scrounging money for a taxi to Newtown where we ate nachos, Monte keeping us awake one morning (and being put down that avo) and ice cream at Mel's work for breakfast. I think the main thing for me was it was one week per year where I was guaranteed to get 100% Mel time. A Happy Week indeed!

I could go on all night - 19 years' worth, in fact. We spent a wonderful time overseas together (the sun always shines on Dingle, and who would ever go to Italy and be sober on arrival? Can't ride a tandem that way! And as for Spain - well, let's just all steal cheese from the local!) and since being home we have shared a couple of houses, an hilarious Darwin holiday (Baz we love you, and your incontinence!), one whopping heartbreak each, and now that we've bought properties in the same suburb I can confidently say that the future is looking pretty rosy (hurrah for easy bike rides home!).

So happy 30th Mel! I couldn't be happier or luckier to have a friend like you. Roll on Happy Week 2008 I say!

Lovely entertaining evening

2008-03-13T23:10:00.002+11:00

Just had two wonderful mates over for puttanesca and honeycomb cupcakes (we ground up violet crumbles to use in place of the icing sugar; I assure you they were a taste sensation!). No pics due to too much chat!

Went to the Archibald prize last night and heard Tim Flannery give a speech on what it was like to sit for his 2005 portrait. Fascinating - he did fifty sittings, at 2-3 hours each, and spoke wonderfully about the intimacy and awkwardness of the relationship between himself and the artist. I adore him; he is a man who is genuinely interested and curious about every facet of life - even those that probably don't initially appeal. I think that is admirable.

Anyhoo Bryce and I polished off lots of vino and work it is a-calling tomorrow. Night!

Alphabet Soup!

2008-03-10T18:26:00.003+11:00

Homemade stock called for one thing, and one thing only. Chicken noodle soup. And not just any noodles: alphabet.

These were a favourite of mine when we were little (which is not surprising: the noodles are cute and fun, and my mother's homemade soup is divine) and I was keen as mustard to try it again. Now, perhaps the youth of today are not interested in spelling, making words, or even just cuteness...because it was nigh on impossible to find the noodles! Teddy bear noodles, tick. Dinosaur, tick. Pre-made snack cans full of all shapes and sizes, tick. But no honest-to-goodness, cook-them-yourself alphabet noodles.

Conversation with Big Supermarket Chain Guy:
Me: Do you sell Alphabet Noodles?
Shop guy (gent in his 40-50s): Alphabet soup! (laughs). We ate that as kids!
Me: Me too!! So do you have the noodles?
SG: Hmmm we have tinned alphabet noodles in tomato sauce?
Me: No, no, I want to make SOUP.
SG: Hmmm we have chocolate alphabet letters? Maybe your kids will eat those if you're having problems getting them to eat.
Me: (injured) The soup is for me!!
My inner dialogue: And although I don't have kids yet, there's a world of difference between alphabet soup and chocolate letters.

Luckily, as I have said before, I am not a quitter (when I get obsessing, I obsess good!). On my third attempt, at a wee Italian deli, I found the object of my desire. Hurrah for Alphabet Soup! I am a dreadful photographer, and the photo does not do the chickeny deliciousness and parsley freshness of the soup justice, however let me assure you it was the perfect nanna meal before my netball game tonight (in other words, it's too early for a proper meal, but if I don't eat it'll be too late when I get in. So I eat at nanna o'clock).

Speaking of netball, I'll miss my match if I don't get a move on...

Rock cross buns, stock and samosas

2008-03-09T17:04:00.006+11:00

Have had quite a lovely weekend (and still have tomorrow off, but that must be dedicated to my dissertation). In a bold but necessary move, I unplugged my tv, took one last look at it and put it out on the street. I have decided - particularly since my masters isn't exactly writing itself, and my apartment is way too tiny for the enormous set I had - that I am done with the distraction that wonderful tv provides. So far it's been OK, but then it's only been a day! But there's no turning back - the thing was taken from the street in minutes. Aaaah thrifty Marrick-villains!

So have spent my time doing lovely weekend things. Went to yum cha with my ex yesterday (which sounds like it could be frightful, given that it's a relatively recent breakup but I'd do much less pleasant things for yum cha). Then I went to a very amusing 30th last night - the Yellow Wiggle's! I went to school with Sam, who became a Wiggle when the former Yellow Skivvy had to leave due to illness. I'd not seen Sam in twelve years, and promised myself that I would not, under any circumstances, do the Wiggles Fingers, make gags about Dorothy the Dinosaur or sing Hot Potato, Hot Potato (or is it Mashed Potato? I'm not sure). Needless to say my resolve only held out for half a pink champagne, and he took it very charmingly even though my attempts at Wiggle humour were pitiful and unoriginal to say the least!

Today has been a bit of a cook fest. I made another batch of hot cross buns...but possibly due to my hangover I really buggered them up. Baking has never been much of a strength. I can make an enticing entree, a mean main, a delicious dessert...but bloody baking! How I wish people would say that I have 'a light hand'...but let's face it - I don't. My lovely friend Jacs came over, all anticipation, for tea and freshly baked buns. I felt like a fabulous and effortless hostess - until they came out the oven and were more like a primary school kid's art project than a culinary delight. We both struggled one down (see how dedicated to the 'one bun a day' project I am? I may not be a baker but neither am I a quitter!) and felt ill for the rest of the afternoon. They have since been, unceremoniously, dumped in the bin. Here is a picture of the Rock Cross Buns (and incidentally, isn't my wee milk jug just a darling?!):

The other project I had this weekend was to make chicken stock from scratch as I've never done it before, and those who have rave about it. This was as delightful as the hotties were horrendous. Chucked it all on the stove and let it simmer away all day, making my house smell chickeny and soothing. Perfect for the hangover I've been nursing! Here it is - in this picture the gross fat hasn't been skimmed yet (it's currently in the fridge, setting - ugh - as mum reckons that's the easiest way to get rid of it).

The other thing I have waiting to be cooked is a bunch of samosas. I'm off to the moonlight cinema this evening for a friend's farewell (screening of Donnie Darko) so I made some samosas that Jim (the guy leaving, he's off to Darwin for 6 months) (EVERYBODY is going to Darwin. It's so hot right now) and I learned to make at an Indian Vegetarian Banquet cooking class we did together several years ago. They've not been cooked yet - I did the filling, made the pastry, shaped them and made the yogurt sauce but I'll only cook them right before I go so they're still crispy and warm. I just chucked a bottle of vino in the freezer as well (stupid hangover making me forget to chill wine) so I am well prepared!

Oh here we go - a bit of extra time and here's the pic. It all looks rather white and gross for a food selection, however I ate a cheeky tester one and the insides are tops - carrot, peas, capsicum, spuds, onion and of course lots of tasty spices - so they don't really look bland at all!

After posting this I've given myself a pat on the back for learning how to place photos! Hurrah! Cut and paste. It was that simple. Ah technology.

The best birthday present EVER

2008-03-08T08:27:00.003+11:00

I spent last night at Phil's house, celebrating his 30th. And I must confess, the absolute highlight was the amazing, thoughtful, astounding gift he gave me for my recent birthday: a painting (a commissioned painting, no less!) of me! It was done by a friend of his, Mel, from a photo taken of me at Dreamworld a few years ago. I'd gone there with Phil (we were visiting the Gold Coast for his sister's wedding) and although I'm not a fan of 'fun parks' we had a great day. I was terrified on most of the rides (he loves 'em and tries to make them even scarier by not holding on / dangling legs / etc) and the only one where we both had fun was the swing ride. The painting is of that. I adore it. The photo I've put up of it does not do it justice (my red feature wall is in the background, only cos that's where I have a hook. I'm too scared of drilling into my walls!) - but it is the most spectacular thing I've ever been given.

I also think it makes Phil a benevolent count-like figure, commissioning artworks from up-and-coming artists. It's dreadfully glamorous. He also got given one for his birthday by the same artist (his boyfriend, Evan, organised that one). It is also spectacular: 2 men on rocks near a river, about to jump in. It's done in wonderful earthy colours and the very feel of it reflects Phil's personality. The artist, Mel, actually came to the party. She was lovely but it was rather surreal to meet someone who'd painted you. Apparently more surreal for her; she'd had my picture in her studio for about 6 weeks, had painted me, and never met me! I didn't get to speak to her much, other than drunkenly gushing about her talent and the fabulous paintings.

Aside from all the decadent art-giving, it was a great evening. The perfect opportunity to take pictures of a) a platter (we had a delicious one) and b) pop (we drank many bottles of divine French champagne) but I was too busy eating, drinking and participating in merriment to bother. I stayed over there (they live in the east, I'm in the inner west) and arrived home this morning. Toasting my hot cross bun now and am going to go and eat it while staring at myself on swings.

2008-03-07T07:22:00.003+11:00

I have a funny feeling this shot is going to be be published sideways. I've mastered basic uploading (but only directly from my camera) but I've not the foggiest how to twist it about. Besides, the camera battery just died, so there's little I can do anyway!

As you can see day 3 on the hotties is going quite well. Breakfast, today. With a disgraceful amount of butter, but then I adore butter. I also made myself a chai tea with a mixture my mum gave me a while back. You heat the milk, put on some of the spice / tea mix and simmer it a while. I think this would be better with more flavour. I also don't love hot drinks and am a bit over it already! My mate Mel used to work in a cafe in Dublin and she made the most delicious chai lattes (I don't think they were in any way authentic; they were spicy and sweet and frothy and delicious and I've never tasted anything like them since. Certainly the one I'm drinking now is a poor cousin of those delicious treats).

I've a half day today, and Monday off, so looking forward to a lovely extra long weekend. Going to the dentist this afternoon, just for a clean (so my fangs are in prime health to continue munching my hot cross buns!).

Now off to work, and to make a Very Happy Birthday phone call to my friend Phil, who has joined the coolest club in town today by turning 30 (and by coolest, I mean the lamest, oldest and worst ever!).

The Hot Cross Bun Challenge

2008-03-06T07:01:00.004+11:00

I had hoped my first post would be, like the title of the blog suggests, about a delicious cheese platter and sparkling champagne. However, as it turns out, I am going to write about the humble Hot Cross Bun.

It is three weeks before Easter (coming rather early this year, hurrah for 4 days off!). Yesterday I saw the cafe downstairs from my office had a new addition in the tempting glass showcase - hot cross buns (and they'd also put their coffee prices up by 30c which means we're all boycotting, but that's another tale). Bought one, toasted and lashed with butter, and yummed it up. Inhaled. Mmmm mmmm. Then made my best call ever: 'I am going to eat one of these every day until Easter'.

Then the obsessing started. I got it into my head that store bought buns (even though mighty delicious) weren't for me - I was going to get baking. Then I spent way longer looking for recipes online than my work's IT policy states is acceptable for personal use. Anyhoo, I found one, got ingredients, and then promptly went over to my mate Kel's house and did no baking at all (although I talked about it an awful lot).

So now it's 7am, I've been up an hour and my hot cross bun dough is theoretically doubling in size in the next room (a quick inspection didn't make it any clearer as my morning eyes have forgotten how big it was to start with!). The mixing stage was tops - the only problem is, I don't have measuring spoons or scales. So I had to guestimate all the measurements (not good, I believe, with baking which falls more into the 'exact science' category). So I did some shonky 6am maths and even if it's not rising, by god it smells divine! The second I combined all the ingredients Easter had knocked on my door, clad in a bunny suit and handing out eggs willy nilly. It smelled exactly right! Now, fingers crossed that they actually bake!

OK - well as you can see from the above picture - my buns did indeed bake! I had intended to put the picture of them right here, to help with the dramatic suspense of story telling, however I'm new to this blogging lark and to be honest I'm delighted I managed a snap at all! They turned out fine. Possibly not as sweet as I'd like, but a good honest texture and the flavouring was divine. Nearly killed me driving to work with them in the car (which usually smells like damp but for once had a fresh baked bread, mixed spice, Easter smell to it). Hurrah! Roll on Easter! Roll on 'one hot cross bun a day' (although as I've eaten about three already today, I am sitting on a pretty good average. Screw you waistline!).