Category Archives: Connecting with Community

just how hot is hot?

Posted on by
26

I did a post at the end of summer on my tiny gas metre box garden. Nothing flash. Just a few pots of greenery that keep me centred. The chilli plants happily flowered and grew, they even got through the Noah’s Ark of winter rain thrown at them. Then they turned red, actually they are still turning red. Slowly changing from subtle green, to come on- I dare you red.

Now when I planted these little fella’s I wanted something a little feisty. The packet said hot, actually it said piccante. It was an Italian heirloom variety. So anything labelled piccante, and I have high hopes.

Not gaspingly, oh for the love of god, find me a river and submerge my firey mouth.

 But, hey…Oooo, yep, that’s a bit hot right there.

Something like that anyway.

So they have been turning red, and I’ve slowly been collecting them on my kitchen window sill. A little fiery red mountain growing. Each day I wonder, just how hot they are.

these look like a completely different variety, but I'm sure they came out of the same packet.

Blueberries are also flowering. Last season there was just a tiny handful of flowers that seemed to take six months to actually develop the fruit. This year with quadruple the flowers, I’m hoping the fruiting doesn’t take quite so long.

Rosemary is also happy. I just have to remember not to remember it. It’s never happy when I give it too much love and attention. Neglect, and the odd whisper of I’m still watching you, and it seems to thrive.

There are some other pots as well that look empty, but have sleeping seeds in them. What’s in there though and I wouldn’t have a clue. I planted them one evening and then got rushed inside. Distracted for the next few days, I never quite made it back out to write what I had planted and where. So now, wouldn’t have a clue what was in there.

Never mind, who doesn’t like surprises….especially the plant kind.

Now, speaking of surprises, I think it might be time to find out just how hot that chilli really is…

Just how hot is hot?

sunshine, bare toes and biscuits

Posted on by
39

Sunshine. A whole bundle of it.

24C and it’s still another month of winter to be had. I think the winter season might have other ideas though…

That’s all people, we gave winter a red hot go. You all wore your scarves, your gumboots, your big jackets, and complained a whole lot. The other seasons and I have had a little regroup and decided that spring may as well pop on over as they wasn’t much else happening in her neck of the woods anyway. Enjoy. 

Fair enough I say. Enjoy we shall. You can’t really complain about clear blue skies, and a warming sun on your back to warm some tired old bones. Tired old bones this week as the Little Monkey and I have been wallowing a little in self pity. Trying to fight off a rotten cold that just won’t seem to go away. I tried wallowing for a little, it didn’t much work for me though. Monkey Boy still needed to get to school, Mr Chocolate was busy working and dinner still needed to be on the table. Nope, wallowing had to be put aside. Besides, Little Monkey was far sicker and needed a calm hand to help him through it all, as he really was feeling miserable this week.

Biscuits helped. I thought they might. Jam ones in the middle… but they didn’t help enough, (that’s when I know the little fella is really sick.) They helped Mr Chocolate and Monkey Boy though, as they happily ate his biscuits.

Then the week came to an end and so did the cold. A lingering cough for the little fella, but he’s right back to looking for his biscuits.

So an afternoon snack, packed off to the local park for  some sunshine, bare toes and biscuits.

Coconut Jam Drops

200g softened butter

1 tsp vanilla

75g raw sugar

90g desiccated coconut

150g self raising flour

75g plain flour

splash of milk- (approx 2 tbls)

jam

Soften butter, cream vanilla and sugar together. Add the other ingredients and mix well. Roll them into tight little balls and use something lying around the kitchen to make a little indentation for the jam to go in. 1/4 of a teaspoon or so of jam popped in and bake at 180C for about 20 minutes.

art and food…yes please

Posted on by
31

entrance

I don’t think I had any expectations of MONA (Museum of Old and New Art- Hobart). I had heard it was good. Had also been told of a couple of particular pieces on display, but other than that I didn’t really know what to expect, besides knowing that I did want to go there.

Driving in, vineyards line the drive way up. Guinea fowl, chooks and ducks roam the carpark. I think anywhere that has that as a welcome, along with striking architecture and a tennis court in front of the subtle entrance, immediately has my attention and I wanted in.

Little Monkey had timed a nap in his pram perfectly and the iphone used for orientating yourself with the artworks suited the tech savvy Monkey Boy. The gadget distracted him enough away from any adults only pieces and it was quicker to ask him to find the information I needed, than from Mr Chocolate.

This place is awesome. No other word for it. If you go to Hobart, make sure you head over for a couple  of hours. It ooozes with funk, intrigue, thought and a bucket load of awesomeness….and it’s free. I loved our afternoon here.

falling water drops forming words

30 people singing Madonna songs in unison...brilliant!

 Now food in Tasmania is a big factor. If you like being out doors, being active and like your tucker a whole lot- it really is heaven. This time around we weren’t dining out in fancy places that had two types of wine glasses set up. Not all. If they had kid sized milkshakes excellent. Drawing paper and colourful pens…even better. Fast and tasty, yes please.

A few of the stand outs for me were, (and you don’t have to have kiddo’s to enjoy them).


The Red Velvet Lounge, Cygnet. This place is really appealing as soon as you walk in. My eyes moving straight to the stacked (still warm) sourdoughs and brimming cake counter, (why fight it?) Steve the owner also blogs from The view from my Porch. This is where I got to have lunch with the lovely Kate from Vegetable Vagabond.

Global Kitchen, Moonah. Three cooks from India, South Korea and Ethiopia, all offering different dishes. A tasting plate that left me gasping for air and The Monkeys skipping out with a chocolate chip biscuit gripped in their little monkey hands.

Machine Laundry Cafe, Hobart. This place was recommended to us 7 years ago. We dutifully seek it out and the Fat Boy Roti was remembered for ever more by Mr Chocolate. Back again, and it was a given that we would see if it was all still there. It was, and definitely worth the wait to get in. Part laundry, part cafe. It’s got retro seating, a line up of people outside and a menu that doesn’t disappoint. It was certainly worth the seven year wait to come back.

 
roti filled with scrambled eggs

bacon and parmesan pancakes

he got really slow at the end of that one...

So, with my muddy shoes stacked up, my scarf draped over the back of the chair. I lean back contentedly, give my belly a happy pat and  say very enthusiastically…that, was a lovely holiday.

See you again Tasmania.


* Apologies to any subscribers who got the delightfully titled 4252 post- sometimes my brain pauses…pressing publish without a title was one of those moments. 


Tasmanian wanderings

Posted on by
53

 

Lured by her siren song, Tasmania has been calling for a long time now. A whispered song at first. Easy to be ignored, turned away for another day, another time. Happy memories of a trip from years before keep the song going. Time moves on and the songs tempo changes. A quickened beat, thoughts of, I wonder…

A fleeting weekend, changes the beat of the song once more. She calls more insistently now. A winter week away beckons…

A week of real winter weather

History

Long quiet nights of reading

Soft snow falling

Apples

Meeting the fabulous people behind the fabulous blogs

And more wonderful food than is rightfully so.

Going back to the Hobart Farmers Markets with the family was like stepping into a familiar pair of comfortable worn shoes. Some of the stalls were different, but some were the same. I was happy to wait while people lined up to make their local food purchases. Gave me a chance to soak it all in. Not as much soaking as I would have liked this time though. The Monkeys were pulling my legs and tweaking at my fingers… as there was cupcakes on the line.

C & C Cupcake Factory make seasonal cupcakes sourcing sustainable and local products. Rhubarb from the garden, quinoa milled from not far away and cupcakes that left us all wishing we weren’t leaving before they were next going to be selling at the markets. I had to reign in the excited puppy within while talking with the lovely Michelle. She had swapped Sydney streets for a slower Tasmanian life years before and I would have happily quizzed her until closing time. I didn’t though, and went and filled my arms with more goodies for meals over the next few days.

I hadn’t got to try any of Rare Food’s piggy treats last time, but this time The Monkeys had put in orders for bacon and what sort of mama would I be if I denied them? Heritage breed, locally bred, locally made products, and I get to talk with the producer. Ticks all the boxes that I’m after. Matthew Evans was also selling his new book just out, which I had heard whispers of.

I wasn’t going to buy it I really wasn’t. I didn’t need a new recipe book, and I had been really happy with the Real Food Companion. But, I did buy it… how could I not?

Winter on the Farm is the kind of book that makes you want to curl up in front of a fire, hot tea by your side, biscuit crumbs on your chest and slowly read your way through. Book marking every second page for further reference. These are the kind of recipes that I like. Recipes that can be easily tweaked, with ingredients that you might have on hand… and the photography is truly, beautiful.

* More Tassie bits to come…

a secret tea parlour

Posted on by
30

It’s moments like this that I love living in Sydney.

The nondescript door is locked  and only opened after a little furtive knuckle rapping. Opened, and in we go… I’m in heaven. The place is tiny and filled with antique loveliness, vintage books, puffy chairs, and cruisey beats coming from the corner. We are here for high tea and if I was more of a girly girl there would have been a high pitched squeal of delight and a little hand clapping with glee. Instead, I smiled from ear to ear and willed our late friends to hurry up so I could see we what the cake selection was like.

They have a long tea selection, with the menu slotted between pages of old books. Tea comes out in individual tea pots, and the cakes sit beautifully on their tiered elegance. Put a cucumber sandwich on an every day plate and I’ll easily pass it up. However, cut it in to triangles, place them on a beautiful antique plate and you’ll hear a little sigh of contentment.

High Tea is something that I love. I love every little part of it and this little secret place might just be my favourite so far.

*********************

Tea Parlour

579 Elizabeth Street, Redfern

Book beforehand

the weight of the steak

Posted on by
22


When I was researching what piggy options a city girl had, I discovered Feather and Bone, in Rozelle. A supplier of sustainably raised meat. I started getting their weekly emails filled with interesting meaty information and what’s on offer at the moment. From there, I went to one of their open days and got to see for myself at how it was all done, coming home with a weighty little number that had cook me up just right, written all over it.

I’ve written before about knowing where your meat is from and asking whether you would be prepared to do the killing yourself. Reading back on that post I realised that even in the last not quite 6 months our meat buying habits have changed since then. I’m fine with that, I like evolving. I now very rarely buy any meat from a super market or butcher. Instead, the meat intake has dropped even less, and the majority of it is now coming from farmers markets. If those markets are few and far between because I can’t get there or the meat isn’t available, then so is the meat eating. Why? Because I really want to know where it’s from. I want to know more of how it was raised before slaughter, who reared it and if possible, what their farming philosophies are like. I simply can’t get this if I’m buying from the supermarket.

Meat has been the topic of choice in this fair country of ours for the last few weeks. Ever since the ABC’s Four Corners program was shown about the live cattle export business to Indonesia, people have had things to say. A lot of things to say. The footage was graphic, confronting and got people into action to get things changed.

It might have changed Indonesia’s meat eating habits for a bit as the supply from Australia has almost stopped, but would it be enough for people to question their own meat eating habits here within Australia? Could that daily/weekly slab of meat become less? Could it become just a special occasion meal?

Back to the weighty number in my possession, and I had a little treat in store for Mr Chocolate. Special occasion, yes it was. After visiting the warehouse of Feather and Bone, I came home with a steak. Not just any steak but a Chianina steak, aged for 6 weeks, rib eye cut, weighing 673g and costing $45. There was, a small intake of breath, (you can’t fight history right) at the cost of it, but overall I was more than happy to hand over the cash for the hefty piece of meat. I knew where the beef was coming from, I knew how long and where it was aged and butchered, (Feather and Bone.) I also knew that this steak was going home to my loved one as part of a twice a year meal of steak, (the last one being at Aria.) It was also going to be enjoyed by him, (I hoped.)

Now on getting that steak home, I started to sweat a little. Not from the weight of the thing, but the pressure to cook it the right way. (To clarify, I don’t eat steak, which means I don’t cook steak.) This however, was a treat. It had to be cooked just right. I had quizzed Grant, (at Feather and Bone) when I purchased it and then also made a frantic phone call to my friend who proudly has Meat on her bookshelf. Plan put into action and I’m off.

Plates at the ready, the steak was brought back to room temperature, salted, seared, into the oven, and then rested for the same amount of time it had cooked for. The pressure was high, the weight of the steak was sitting firmly on my shoulders, and geez, it was a hefty one.

No cooked pictures, as that was the last thing I needed was to try and get a ‘good’ picture in the fading light and building anticipation of Mr Chocolate about to cut into his rib eye.

But how did it taste?

Let’s just say… if Mr Chocolate was about to leave the earth tomorrow and he could choose any meal to end it, this steak cooked by me (*nervous giggle*) is now top of the list.

I think that just might be a success.

Isola (producer)

Chianina Beef

6 week aged

Rib eye

673g

my history

Posted on by
21

 Weekend filled with touching base with family

Stories told, old photos softly touched. My grandparents history captured in a black and white rectangle.

My history.

Walking around streets that used to be my streets, somethings have changed. Somethings have not.

My old park stands still so much the same.

The Monkeys run, climb, explore gnarly trees, dangle legs on old cannons, and swing on swings that are so very much shorter.

No secret broken palings to slip through unnoticed into the special garden, only to be chased out again by the gardener. Instead open for everyone to explore.

Roses still there to ride bikes between. Thorns still there to break off, lick, and stick on your nose like a rhinoceros.

Bubbler still there to cool an afternoon of excited playing.

 Grass still there to picnic on, kick balls, fly kites and

run until you are so very dizzy.


dressing for the season

Posted on by
32


It’s been cold here the last few days. Not Hobart cold, not Melbourne cold, not Dusseldorf cold and not Lapland cold… but Sydney cold. Cold enough for people to walk a bit quicker. For the Monkeys to make hot breath drawings and cold enough for me to want to keep frantically crocheting something warming and useful.

It took me 32 years to work out that if it’s cold, I should dress warmly. Crazy huh? (not just by wearing jeans that are long enough.)

Why had it taken so long for me to work out and why did it take an ayurvedic consultant to point that one out to me?

I have no idea. But, I’m happy to report that since that fateful day, I have tried to dress appropriately and not looked back.

Winter now sees looped scarves, warm thick socks and sensible layers. Not that I was ever one to zip about in mini skirts and high heels in the middle of winter. I did though, regularly wear just one up from summer clothing, and wondered why I didn’t like the cold so much. The cold is only miserable, if you are cold. Once again, crazy isn’t it?

Dressing appropriately in a cold environment lets you in on a whole different world. For one, I can now actually see the world, rather than hunched over, staring at my feet, trying to generate some warm thoughts down to my frozen toes.

Thankfully I’d already cottoned on to the the fact that if you dressed appropriately in rainy weather, that also was enjoyable…and that only took me 25 years to work that one out.

What’s in season Sydney?

Posted on by
32

Wandering through the Eveleigh farmers markets at Carriageworks last weekend, I was tickled pink by all the gorgeous produce that’s in season at the moment. (Speaking of pink, the pink lady apples have been delicious lately.) I was here wandering with a foodie friend, a friend who understands the subtle delight of an amazing mushroom and some locally produced olive oil. The morning was ours and wander we did.

I’d been meaning to come here for quite a while. I’d been impressed by the artisan markets on a Sunday but had yet to open my reusable shopping bag at these ones. So with a skip in my feet and coins in my pockets, we set forth.

I was also on the hunt for the Slow Food Sydney Seasonal Food Guide. Only a few people were selling them around Sydney, and I wanted one. I felt like I had been doing better with knowing what was in season, but I could still do with knowing more.

I was happy to see the smiling faces of the girls from The Little General with a stall. I had met them at the Masterchef Live foodie festival last year and had taken home some of their gorgeous extra virgin olive oil. I’m a big fan of olive oil. It’s such a simple thing that can really make any dish. Along with the prices, the differences in extra virgin olive oil tastes are huge. If you haven’t had any locally produced fresh extra virgin oil, dunked with a little crusty sourdough and perhaps a little taste of chevre… I’d suggest hopping to it. Skip the big brand imported stuff that’s on sale, (it’s probably on sale for a good reason.)

The swiss mushrooms have also been delicious. Not a week has gone by that I haven’t found a bag of good mushrooms skipping their way home. Don’t waste your time with the tasteless supermarket ones. There is no taste comparison…none.

Potatoes. Why, oh why did it take me so long to discover the wonderful world of potatoes? I’d dismissed them as a nothing vegetable long ago. Then last year I started getting Foodconnect boxes and in it were different types of potatoes. Truly a revelation. These weren’t tasteless boring, chunks of bland. Instead, little wonderous dirt covered beings and here before me was the stall that showed all those potatoes in their true glory. Toss me a potato, and get me to tell you the name and I wouldn’t have a clue, not a tooting clue though. So with that in mind, I asked for a mixed bag, (as I couldn’t decide which ones were more alluring.) Round ones, long ones, purple ones, yellow ones…

Knowing that the potatoes were grown just a hop skip and a jump away made them even more appealing. Highland Gourmet Potatoes is a family run business located in Robertson, Southern Highlands.  Sydney has two potato seasons a year, (I now know this, as I found the seasonal guide!)

saphire potato

Broccoli is one of the seasonal goodies that I can’t get enough of at the moment. Along with gai lum (chinese broccoli), kale, swiss mushrooms and pink ladies (although they are coming to an end) they have all been making regular encore presentations to the family table. Give me a plate full of broccoli cooked up with a little garlic and olive oil (The Little General), and I’m a happy woman.

and the best thing about going to somewhere like this with a foodie friend, is that you get to sample twice as much.

*****

Eveleigh Farmers Markets

every Saturday

8-1pm

Inspired

Posted on by
20

I’ve been inspired by the city and all it has to offer this week.

My city. The city I often dream of leaving and forget to utilise it for the wonderful things that happen within it.

Happy chats with friends over coffee.

The Sydney Writers Festival. After waiting ten years to finally do something from it, I squashed in four sessions this week.

A wonderful workshop with Mark Dapin.

A funny talk on ‘Mirth of a Nation’– Has Australia lost it’s ability to laugh at it self? With Richard Glover and others.

An enlightening examination of  ‘The ten desires that drive us’ with social researcher, Hugh Mackay.

And a truly inspiring session on Family Politics with Ingrid Betancourt, Fatima Bhutto and Aminatta Forna, talking with Maxine McKew.

These women…. so much to think about. No photos were allowed, but I did scribble lots of notes to reflect on. To write of their strength and resilience, doesn’t even begin to capture the essence of these formidable women.

Add in a visit to the State Library to see the Moran Photographic Exhibition. Beautiful photographs, in a space that encourages creativity and thought.

The last week has encouraged me to take better photographs, write more, learn more, question things and simply take a minute to stop and just be.

I’m inspired.

travels and tomato chutney

Posted on by
36

Maybe wait until I get home and we can book it together.

His words trailed behind him as he ran out the door. I stopped, frowned, and wondered why he wouldn’t have wanted me to go ahead and book the flights.  Hmm, I’m a big girl. Surely I could do this?

It didn’t take long for me to stop frowning.

Maybe it was because the last flights I had booked for his parents, had needed a little tweaking of their itinerary. It had been the parents-in-law once every 5 years break and they had asked me to sort out a weeks holiday for them. Sure. No problem, I’d love to. Three days in and I had it well and truly covered. Itinerary researched, places of interest taken down, accommodation scrutinized and everything just needing to be booked. I started with the flights, the logical first choice. With mother- in- law’s trusty credit card in hand, I paid. Confirmation email confirmed everything, along with the fact that I had just made a huge mistake. I had just flown them into the wrong city.

Excellent. Well there’s a good start. I swore, bit my nails, ranted to a friend, and then made a crazed phone call to Mr Chocolate to tell him what I had done. He laughed and said he couldn’t talk at the moment (he was at work).

So, I had two choices. One to try to change all the flights, or two change their holiday… rather a lot. I chose two, (and just between you and me, I think I actually gave them a better itinerary the second time around.) When we met up and I gave them their holiday details. I did toy with the idea of telling them some extraordinary story of how it was all booked out due to an alien space craft having just crashed into the area and all the local spok watchers were coming in from near and far to try and take a look at the big shiny aircraft. I wasn’t sure they would buy that one, so I… a little nervously, told them the truth. I had oops-ed the flight details, BUT had a lovely replacement holiday all booked for them now. They laughed, and said it didn’t matter. I laughed too, while carefully scrutinising their faces to see if it really DID matter… (I don’t think it really did.)

So it could have been for that reason that Mr Chocolate had asked for me to wait for him to book the flights…. OR it could have been referring to the time I booked some accommodation into the wrong town for ourselves and my mum coming back from a holiday. An innocent mistake that I had luckily picked up on just a few hours before we were supposed to arrive. How we all laughed and made funny jokes at my little mistake, (right after I had sworn, bit my nails and ranted to anyone that would stand still.) Thanks to a well organised international booking system, this little problem too was again righted.

As neither (minor) incidents had happened a long time ago, Mr Chocolate was clearly thinking of one or both of them and obviously thought the booking process should be monitored by someone other than myself.

Fair call I say. So I waited.

Flicking through my CWA Preserves book I did think vaguely about waiting until I had all the ingredients to one of these recipes. However, seeing as though there wasn’t a lot riding on the chutney. No flights needed to be caught, no accommodation needed to be checked in to and the chutney wouldn’t be going anywhere except the table. I didn’t. I had a bag of tomatoes waiting to be used and I had chutney on my mind. I just couldn’t decide what flavours to play with. Which recipe would I like? Actually none of them were grabbing me. They all sounded good, but they weren’t quite the flavours I had in mind. They weren’t my flavours. So with a close of the book, a little pause and a think, I got cracking.

Tomato Chutney

5 cloves garlic

2 onions quartered

2 apples quartered

1 inch peeled fresh ginger

all in the blender and give a quick wizz. Then all into a pot, also adding

3 tps cumin

3 tps coriander

and cook off for a few minutes. Back to the blender add

1 kilo of firm ripe tomatoes

pop that in the pot as well, and bring to a simmer, then add

2 1/2 cups brown sugar (loose, not firmly packed)

2 cups white vinegar

zest of 1 lime*

Cook at a simmer for about 35 minutes or until darker in colour and thicker. Then bottle.

* Don’t forget that lime. It was definitely the clincher.

patchwork, proteas and an iron

Posted on by
37

Proteas

Odd beautiful flowers, that will always make me think of my grandfather, (he used to grow them, not because he was pink coloured and slightly furry.)

An Iron 

What is it?

The Monkeys whispered. First to each other with small frowns on their faces and then turning to me in a much louder tone.

WHAT IS IT?!

That my sweet children, is something I never thought you would see. Something I had sheltered you from in your first innocent years. A ‘thing’ that so very rarely darkens our doorstep, there had not been a need within their collective memories to have ever cast their eyes over such a contraption. That my children…

That, is an iron.

Oh… and off they went.

I’ll say it now and I’ll say it proud. I am not an ironer, (unless absolutely, positively necessary.) Ironing is up there with sifting. Usually I can find some way around not doing it. I think there may be an iron at the back of the under-the-sink cupboard….maybe. Definitely no ironing board though. One would take up far too much valuable space in a flat, and I’d probably feel inclined to decorate it with whimsical fairy lights.

Patchwork

So The Monkeys got their first sight of an iron, and why was it up? I was in the middle of my first bit of quilting. My first ever baby step in to the land of quilt. Easter long weekend and we were not home. Instead I had access to some really large floor space, (for laying out) a permanantly positioned sewing machine (and over locker) and distractions for the boys. This quilt was not something I had rushed into. Over quite a few months, pieces had been cut out, patterns played with, much fiddling of fabrics had been done, just not at home. No time, nor space at home so if I didn’t get it finished this time, it would probably be another 6 months.

Not one for patience, and with a bucket load of enthusiasm under my belt, the kids were banished and I set forth.

Now to be upfront, me and sewing haven’t always been friends. There is enthusiasm for it, especially since having kids. I’ve got a machine, but it doesn’t come naturally to me. It’s hard work for this brain to work out which piece I’m supposed to be sewing. I don’t do it that often as it’s a royal pain to set it all up, do 5 minutes before little people come and ‘help’, finally get in the zone of it all and then have to pack it all away.

So a long weekend of sewing was planned, and a quilt none the less. Well that’s what I had planned anyway. Time raced by, and in my greedy need for wanting to take something home to be used straight away, it ended up being a doona cover. Not an exciting title is it… doona cover. But it’s mine, it’s patch work, I did every little piece. Miraculously there are no gaping holes, and a whole lot of it was made out of sample fabrics. (Got to love the thriftyness of patchwork.) As The Monkeys hollered for dinner and I whirred away on with my little foot peddle, I even got some pillow cases made.

I was having so much fun with the sewing machine. The ball was finally rolling again and I so wanted to do more, but my time was up. Those matching sailor suits for The Monkeys made from retro curtain fabric?… maybe next time.