Category Archives: Rambles, Waffles and Digressions

The importance of cafes in local community city living.

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Walking down to our local cafe the other day, I was a bit shocked when two strangers were standing behind the counter manning the coffee machine and working the grill. So shocked, that I stood there, mouth gaping a little, eyebrows frowning while I contemplated the scene in front of me. Hang on a second, this wasn’t right…who are you? Where’s Anthony? Which is what I blurted out. (Not the who are you, but where’s Anthony?) He sold up and we have taken over…*gasp!*…oh, I meekily said and muttered something about a latte and I would sit in the back. Sitting there mulling over what I had just been told, I phoned Mr Chocolate straight away and told him…*gasp!* He did what?!

Our favourite local cafe owner had sold and up and buggered off. Not a word, not a whisper and as I sat there trying to gather some thoughts, I was gutted. Mr Chocolate was gutted…The Monkeys would be gutted. Why? Not because I was a daily cafe frequenter and should have put up a little plaque in my honour on a chair, but because we genuinely loved the guy. He made the cafe.

Simple, tasty food, small setting. People came back because Anthony made you smile, he remembered your name. He knew what you drank. He was my foodie sounding board. The Monkeys adored him and would always run over and say hello regardless of whether we were buying anything. For 3 years this was our local. This was a place where I could study undisturbed for an hour sitting on one coffee, a place where my grandparents were introduced, Mr Chocolate and I had discussed any home issues at a back table, (when The Monkeys were being entertained elsewhere) milkshakes had been slopped by inexperienced child hands, biscuits handed out generously. It was OUR cafe and Anthony an important part of that sweet blend. THE important part of it.

But not any more. Two strangers stood before me, dishing out coffees and explaining the changes they had made to people coming and asking where Anthony was.

This got me thinking….How important are cafes within our community. For inner city living, the cafe culture is alive and strong. Weekends are full of streetside cafes, takeaway coffees a must and many a meal taken up in cafe. These cafes serve as meeting places, appealing to the family for a special treat out, friends meeting up, and singles seeking some alone time. With the absence of backyards for many inner city living people, this is a way of life. For many, if you are living in a small household like a flat in the city, you can be quite restricted with space. As our urban population increases, so will that high density living and lack of space.

If you want to go some where else, the options aren’t huge. The park, a bar, the beach or a cafe. I do my fair share of parks and beach, bars don’t appeal, so for a little me time now and again that hour in a cafe is gold. Pure gold.

There is something really inviting about going somewhere, where you are greeted warmly by name. Your coffee is being made without having said a word, and the conversation is easy. It’s hard to find that. It’s almost like an extension of your home. For many of my friends who live in the area and all living in 2 bedroom apartments with kids, these cafes are utilised frequently. Whether it be a place to take small children to on a rainy day for a babycino, a meeting spot with friend or a place for some quiet contemplation without kids. Cafes in inner city living are used, utilised and loved. Having a warm friendly face to greet you as you come in makes the experience. That cafe space for me has been on many an occasion, a life saver.

So now as we go past our old cafe I have to deal with from Monkey Boy, Mama it makes me feel so sad that Anthony is gone. I want to talk about him all the time, it makes me feel so sad…

From Little Monkey, ANThatttiii…ANThatttiii!! With small arms outstretched towards his cafe.

I know what you mean boys, I feel the same way.

It’s fiddle time

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You know its been a really long time when this sight greats you.

I used to play the violin when I was a kid. I was never particularly good, but I did diligently practise regularly and slowly went through a lot of sheet music. Then we moved away and there was no violin teachers to be had….Phew. My mum would ask me each year we renewed my semesters tuition fees did I still want to continue with the lessons? Yes, of course, I would always answer. Not because I loved it, but because I thought that was the answer she wanted to hear. So year after year I continue to saw away with my violin making dogs run for cover and male cats slink in a little closer as they thought a local female was on heat.

This was the special way I played my music.

Each minute I had to practise as a kid was a drawn out affair. Each minute felt like an hour. With a canny eye on the clock I could miraculously make a whole 5 minutes disappear. Yes, mum OF course that’s been half an hour practise…

Fast forward 20 years and suddenly I want to play again. Well I guess it’s not so sudden. It crept up on me. My thought wonderings would take me to my cast aside violin. The case collecting dust and two decades worth of unplayed music sitting in the corner.

So I got the old girl fixed up, a little violin servicing, and asked the violin maker if he knew of any teachers in the area. I’ll give you a lesson…really? Lets hear you play first…cue screeching cat noise- birds outside fly into telegraph poles distracted at the noise. Small children on the street stop their play, turning their frightened faces towards the house where THAT noise is coming from. Old people adjust their hearing aids, to stop the whining noise.

That’s right people, I’ve taken it up again. Neighbours have been warned. Each practise session I want to try and FIND an extra minute rather then shortening the practise time like before. The Monkeys have no interest in me doing it what so ever, and go back to tying each up and pulling apart the book case. Just one more minute boys, I’ll get dinner really soon…promise.

Four lessons in, and I’m already dreaming of bluegrass fiddle tunes, and emotive gypsy serenades.

First, I just need a little practise time finding F# again…

should you curb your passion?

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P A S S I O N

1/ any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling, as love or hate.

2/ a strong or extravagant fondness, enthusiasm, or desire for anything: a passion for the environment.

3/ an outburst of strong emotion or feeling: He suddenly broke into a passion of bitter words.

antonym- Apathy

****

This topic has been springing up in my mind quite frequently lately …. Should you curb your passion?

Australians are re-known for “She’ll be right mate, no worries” sort of attitude. Most of the time I love this way of thinking. Not really hyper, not overly angsty and not running about like your heads fallen off. Conversations are held in quiet non committed manners in which the part takers leave feeling contented, feelings intact and not a raised voice to be heard (now I am over generalising here, I know….)

If someone starts speaking up about a particular topic in a manner that is strong and adamant, Australians get a little uncomfortable. Whats her problem?… He’s a bit of a nutter. People take a quiet step backwards, and retreat to a safe distance.

A lot of people, (me included at times), like to make a statement and end it with a question. Or just use some intonation that makes them sound like they are questioning something, even if its their own statement they have just said. This leaves the possibility of other options open. Not standing by the statement they have just said, as nervous that they might offend someone. We come across as a very obliging and friendly country because of this.

As a consequence going to a country like Italy, or any other Mediterranean country and it may seem like everyone is yelling at each other. Two people discussing yesterdays football scores, but to an outsider not speaking the language, it looks like a domestic dispute of biblical proportions. Arms waving, voices clamouring to be heard, only to end with a kiss on either cheek and a cheery wave goodbye.

Here, we do things differently though. Passion seems to quite often have had a lid put on it. I don’t want the only time you see an Australian really passionate about something is when they are talking about rugby or cricket and alcohol.

So with that in mind, it got me thinking. When you feel really strongly about something both positively and negatively do you comfortably voice that opinion/ feelings? I am very passionate in my feelings towards food, useless cheap plastic toys, pregnancy/birth, environmental issues and many more. Its hard sometimes biting my tongue, (until there are teeth indentations in there) and letting statements slide as the other party either has opposing opinions, not expecting a counter attack (as that’s how it may come across), or have no concept of my way of thinking.

How often do you let it slide before you are not only cheating yourself but almost doing the other person a dis-service by not voicing your opinion and letting your thoughts known.

I like to think I can respect other people’s feelings, try to reflect and see things from other people’s views and I certainly don’t want to offend people by me putting my thoughts and opinions out there. However I find so many people like to keep conversation ‘fluffy’, not wanting to explore thoughts any further and not challenge at all. Habits are kept that are easy to keep up. Support things that the majority do. ie. rugby, complaining about rain, and conversations are kept at an ‘acceptable’ level.

I know there is a time and a place for everything. Buying milk at the corner store, with kids in tow, is probably not the time to be explaining to the shop keeper of my thoughts on plastic bags, I know that. However when I see someone really talking about what they feel passionate about, I can’t help but feel enthused by it. I might not agree, but I really do love the fact that they feel so passionate about the subject. Bring it back to food again and I’m in heaven.

There are a whole string of people both in real life and media that have inspired me over the years through nothing but contagious enthusiasm for something they have felt passionate about.

Being a blogger I am exposed to many wonderful blogs that show so many enthusiastic souls out there doing what comes across as things they love, and telling the world about it. My dad was passionate in hating one of our past prime ministers, I wasn’t put off by his raised voice and throbbing veins in his neck at the mere mention of his name- rather entertained that someone could feel so much for someone he had never met.

In recent years celebrity chefs have taken over the world. Jamie Oliver is pretty much a household name. Why do people like him? Because he’s passionate. That true love of his shows. A good example of this is his recent committment to his Food Revolution, surely he wouldn’t do it unless he was nothing less than 100% passionate about what he was doing?

“Nothing great in the world has ever been accomplished without passion” – Christian Friedrich Hebbel

So should you curb your passion?…I don’t think so. Maybe contain it a little sometimes when needed, try not to let ego involved, but otherwise let it run free. Find out what’s important to you and have an opinion.

Apathy doesn’t change things, doesn’t get people involved, and it certainly doesn’t inspire.

Passion does.

So bring on that passion, and let me hear it.

What do you feel passionate about?

The real food companion

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Finally! In my hot little hands I have the The Real Food Companion by Matthew Evans. Now I have been waiting for this book patiently for quite awhile now and finally here it is…sorry did I say patiently?… impatiently for quite awhile now. Matthew Evans, other wise known as Gourmet Farmer, known formerly as Chef, and Food Critic.

Was it worth the wait?

*big sigh*…yes.

This book is really something special. He writes so passionately about what he believes in, I think it would be very hard not to get caught up in that enthusiasm and run with it. It’s a truly wonderful book full of backgrounds, information, ethics and not to mention delicious ‘real’ food recipes. It’s the kind of book that you curl up on the couch and read from beginning to end not wanting to put it down, (if it wasn’t for The Monkeys, so you have to frequently keep putting it down) book marking page after page to go back to.  For me, true escapism into a world that I hold really, really important. Your belly and your soul are left feeling nurtured.

From making your own mascarpone to Tiramisu. The dilemma of what egg to buy, to Lemon Curd and mayonnaise. Heritage breed meats and a Beef, Coconut & Lime leaf Curry (very tasty that one.) At 574 pages, its got a whole lot and then some, in it.

So a new book to be putting under my pillow, Bourke Street Bakery Cookbook move over please…


My hero, my coffee

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Sitting in a cafe trying to concentrate on the papers in front of me, my brain was idle. Thoughts were wondering and I couldn’t keep track of what was in front of me.

Damn it. The barrister gave me decaf… It’s not working.

Psychologically my brain started to give up. What was the point in studying if it was going to be half hearted attempt. I needed the vip and vim to keep going. To register what I was reading properly. My shoulders slumping, my eyes half closed, my mind was already on a beach in the Pacific some where. Lazy waves, sliding up to the shore, the warm sun beating down on me, the distant cry of a …

Just then, out of the blue. Like a super hero charging through the crowds, with arms out stretched calling to me. Calling my name.

Ta dahh!!

Caffeine.

It hit. With arms outstretched, my head slightly tilted back. I relished its embrace. The world had realigned, my soul uplifted once more. My pen speeds up, my thoughts sharpen, the words on the papers no longer blur. My papers once again my friend rather than foe.

My hero, my coffee.

birds and the bee

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from  The Winds Message

A.B ‘Banjo’ Patterson

There came a whisper down the Bland between the dawn and dark,
Above the tossing of the pines, above the river’s flow;
It stirred the boughs of giant gums and stalwart iron-bark;
It drifted where the wild ducks played amid the swamps below;
It brought a breath of mountain air from off the hills of pine,
A scent of eucalyptus trees in honey-laden bloom;
And drifting, drifting far away along the Southern line
It caught from leaf and grass and fern a subtle strange perfume.
It reached the toiling city folk, but few there were that heard–

The rattle of their busy life had choked the whisper down;
And some but caught a fresh-blown breeze with scent of pine that stirred
A thought of blue hills far away beyond the smoky town;
And others heard the whisper pass, but could not understand
The magic of the breeze’s breath that set their hearts aglow,
Nor how the roving wind could bring across the Overland
A sound of voices silent now and songs of long ago.

Follow on effects

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I was thinking the other day about how a person can be effected by what ever they are watching on TV or a computer. Musing about how the effects may be so subtle that the person may not even be aware that it has had an effect. Obviously it depends on the programme, type of person, circumstances etc etc. But on a basic level, how could you not be effected after watching a programme for an hour?

Three examples came to mind.

Monkey Boy after watching a children’s programme, promptly leapt off the couch when the Tv was turned off, and ran into a bedroom. Out he flew again, with a blanket draped around his shoulders, flying off to save somebody in need of rescuing. I had vaguely been aware that they had been talking about superheros on the TV, and now I had my very own little superhero dashing about, helping any needy children in his path. This I thought was sweet. He hadn’t been watching for that long, and the superhero theme stayed on and off for the rest of the week… What do you think Superhero’s eat for lunch Mama?

Notching up a few more years, there is a certain teenager in my life that loves to play warcraft computer games. Too me its boring, repetitive, antisocial, violent…etc etc…To him I’m an old bugger that just doesn’t ‘get’ it. I’ve tried to look at it from his perspective, but I still struggle. Why would I want to pretend to kill a lot of people? After an hour of killing, maiming and hunting other cyber people, how could I not be effected by it? I’m not saying replicating the exact same behaviour, but even minor changes such as being a little more antagonistic, quick tempered, and anti social. All these things have an effect, especially if they were being played for long periods of time and frequently. Could a person really play something like that for extended times, and then instantly flick over to be all sweetness and light?

That’s not to say I’m all sweetness and light myself.

The Wire is a programme that I really like. The box set, with all 5 seasons sits comfortably in our lounge room. It’s well written, it’s adult, it’s clever, and it’s intriguing. I don’t want to be a policewoman after I watch it, and I don’t want to be a drug lord… I do however have quite the ‘potty’ mouth after watching it. Words just sort of slip out a lot easier after watching an episode. The Monkeys are in bed, so they don’t hear anything that they shouldn’t be and 20 minutes later my saintly words are back in my mouth where they belong. Right back to be the sweetness and light that I usually am.

Similar things could be said about reading books. If you are reading a little Shakespeare before bedtime, will a few words of “doth”, “hast”, “hither” and “thee” slip in before switching off the light?…Goodnight my beloved, where for out thy pillow, sleep be upon me as I shall be wanting to rise in the morrow, and bake a morning crust….

…or some such words.

Just as any of these similar scenarios could be seen as detrimental, they also could be seen as a positive and do nothing more than inspire and provoke greatness in people. A book that prompts a best selling writer. A reality cooking show prompting a child to become a successful chef. Or simple blog reaching out to someone, encouraging them to do humanitarian work in a needy country.

No words of wisdom here with this topic unfortunately, just merely musing…

How does watching TV or reading effect your language or behaviour?

7 little things…

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In the last week, I have been passed on three lovely “get to know you” awards (sunshineaward.jpg and onelovelyblog.jpg ) to me by three equally lovely people (Clutterpunk, Light Shade of Green and Twisted Vines). It really is lovely to feel part of a bloggy community.

…and really?… you actually want to know 7 MORE things about me?…Alrighty then.

1/ I love vintage kids books. The original Grimm Brothers stories, and all the wonderful pictures people have put to the stories over the years… I say pfffft to Disney, give me gore.

2/ I knew my man was the one for me when I found out he could quote as much from the movie ‘The Blues Brothers’ as I could. Who needs visuals when between the two of us we could go through the whole dialogue and soundtrack….obviously as kids we had far too much time on our hands.

3/ I am fascinated with all things related to women’s health, pregnancy and babies. I’m a hands on belly kind of gal…beware.

4/ I love nothing better than a daggy dance off. One day I will get to Wrong Prom if it kills me.

5/ As a kid I could make an Iced VoVo biscuit last a full 20 minutes. First you got to nibble and grind all that biscuit off with your teeth and then the you slooowly sucked the marshmallow and jam until it just disolves. I always was a saver not a scoffer…oh how things have changed!

6/ In my dream kitchen everything would either be retro, or brand spanking new and still looks retro, and all in a lovely retro green colour.

7/ My ultimate dream would be to own a B&B in a foodie orientated area, the area full of lots ‘green’ like minded souls. Where the local river is heard with swimming kids jumping off ropes, the star lit night is filled with the sounds of laughing and drums. Jagged snow capped mountains dot the distance and my espresso pot is always at the ready for people dropping by…ahhhhh.

Passing on to 7 other great bloggers-

cookbookmaniac

ecomilf

frugalistmassive

heidiannie

littleecofootprints

slowlivingessentials

zebbakes

pain and cooking

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Eyes filling with fresh tears

Not unshed tears, but tears not shed for that day.

A sob sits at my throat, wanting to take over

Its not my sorrow though, its not my sob to have.

The pain is yours, and it truly breaks me to know how grief sits so close to you.

To be able to take that away for you, if only for 5 minutes,

Let your heart, mind and soul rest a while.

As my own tears fill, my heart pounds at the thought of it all,

And what you and your family must now go through.

Say the word and I will be there…

****

For me food and emotions go hand in hand. When it’s someones birthday, I want to celebrate and make them a cake. When someone goes through a wonderful milestone, I want to show that I am so very happy for them and make them something delicious to rejoice in that. Just is the case when something sad happens to someone. The best way I know to say I’m so sorry that this is happening, I bake.

When someone you love hurts, and nothing I can ever do will ease that grief for them. All I have is endless hugs and combinations of butter and sugar.

My cooking says, I am here… I am so sorry that you are going through this… I am thinking of you….

Sorella, a Chocolate Strawberry Tart for you.

The art of conversation

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When was the last time you had a good conversation? I mean a really good conversation.

What makes a good conversation? This really depends on the person or people who are talking. Everyone’s ideal could be completely different. You can do courses, read books, go to seminars, and practice practice practice until your tongue is bleeding and ears are throbbing, yet still conversation can be tricky at times for some people.

My conversation skills went down the gurgler after I became a mum. My husband was working long hours, my at home conversation was limited to baby/ toddler talk, and when I did meet up with other parents. Conversation was always peppered with “Watch out.”  “Hang on”. “Not so many.” “Turn around.” “Are you ok?” “Poo?” “Oh we have to go now.” Times that by two if you are conversing with one other parent, times by three if there are three of you etc etc. Conversations are left hanging, statements are left unchallenged and you just do the best you can in the crucial few seconds you get together to talk.

At home, husband gets back knackered from work, you are so starved of adult conversation- so blurt out a whole days worth of stored up conversations from your head in the space of one minute. Words roll out quicker than a toilet stop in an Indian street diner. Kids haven’t seen Dad all day and excitedly do the same.

Public speaking? I would  rather eat my own elbow… At no point has public speaking been a comfortable place. I know for a lot of people public speaking can be tricky. Sweaty palms, talking too quietly, talking too fast, fidgety fingers, saying the wrong things, mental blanks…

Mental blanks, now there is something that went hand in hand for me on becoming a Mama. Along with being starved of adult conversation, your brain turns to mush. No really it does. Those lovely hormones rolling around your body that let you concentrate on making this baby and then bonding with this baby when born, turn everything else to mush. Anything not crucial and to do with that babies welfare gets pushed to the side lines waiting to be retrieved when ever possible at a later date. It could be weeks, months or even years before those brain cells make their way back to where they can be used again. Frequently I would be conversing, saying something I felt really passionate about, I had the floor, the attention was mine and…. I would forget.

Just like that. Mid sentence and my thoughts have fled. No idea what so ever in what I was talking about. That’s fine if you are with another brain-cell-on-holidays mama that can identify with it as she has had her own fair share of cell withdrawals, but for someone that hasn’t had this happen, they look at you like you are quite nutty. How the hell can you forget what you are talking about when YOU are the one talking?? Sometimes I found it really frustrating, but the second time around, I just thought… ah, well…next time….wonder what I was talking about?…oh what a cute little baby he is.

My hat certainly gets taken off to any parent that can be sleep deprived, breastfeeding, juggling older kids and still able to hold their own in a corporate meeting, engage in conversation about up to date world politics or competantly do anything that involves words longer than milk and poo.

It came to a point when I was in a social setting where I had been so starved of conversation for a period, that I put about a months worth of words into the space of 20 minutes. My tongue was on speed and it wasn’t pretty. I left the gathering exhausted and thinking, “What the hell was that!!”

Vowing not to let that happen again, I slowed down. I listened, really listened, I thought about what I was going to say, I reflected and then responded.

It made a difference. Suddenly conversations were easier again. I didn’t have to blurt everything out in seconds, scared that this was my only chance to voice my thoughts while The Monkeys were distracted and I had someones attention. And if I do forget to say something, or get distracted or just simply think of something else to add, well this is where the wonders of technology come in, I can text, email or phone my add ins. As The Monkeys get older, the brain cells are slowly making their way back to an almost functioning level of competence. It sneaks up on me, as I excitedly realise that I just managed a WHOLE conversation, remembered what I was talking about, didn’t get interrupted by kids, and engaged in a discussion….

…and I like that.