“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”
– from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
Imagining the impossible is a wonderful thing to do. Children are, of course, experts at this. Ground down by reality, us adults need a little more practice. Cooking is, I find, the perfect conduit to the creative. In the same way that the paradoxical ‘going forward and standing still’ of train travel lets the imagination break free, so does the paradoxical ‘action and waiting’ of cooking. A flurry of cutting and slicing and chopping followed by a slow methodical stirring; sifting and stirring and kneading and then sitting by the oven, waiting. Plenty of time to imagine the impossible. Continue reading “Chia Bowl, 2 Ways”
Breakfast has always been one of my favourite meals of the day. I’ve never been able to skip it. I love taking my time over breakfast – eating, reading, chatting. I also heartily approve of second breakfasts. In fact, one of the best things about weekends is second breakfast. Followed by brunch, then lunch. And then you can start planning dinner. But I digress…
I tend to get into breakfast grooves. As a uni student living in Carlton, most every day for about two years I would have a big bowl of muesli for brekky while reading my school texts, followed by a percolated coffee and a cigarette sitting on the green bench in our freezing cold courtyard. When S and I were first hanging out, getting to know one another, whenever he would stay over breakfast would be down at the uni cafe – almond croissant for him, orange poppyseed muffin for me, long blacks and hand-rolled cigarettes for both of us. Continue reading “Bircher Muesli”
On Thursday S suggested that we go camping on the weekend. And so we did. We chose Springbrook National Park, mostly as it is close by and we were only going away for the one night. After a quick market run to stock up on supplies, we packed the car and drove up early Saturday morning. W snoozed in the back for much of the drive and we arrived at the park in time for lunch.
Once we turned off the main highway, the bush around us was all tall trees disappearing into the sky, pale green leaves dry and dusty, trunks blackened by an old bush fire that ripped through the region some fifteen years back. After we set up camp we took a stroll through the bush, along the ridge line looking down at the waterfall, clouds skimming across the sky drawing us in and out of the sunshine. Continue reading “Blueberry Buckwheat Porridge”