Since she was born, W has spent some time almost every day hanging in the kitchen with me while I cook. When she was a tiny bub she would be in the sling carrier, or lying on her rug on the floor. Since about the age of six months, she would either sit in her high chair in the middle of the floor or, her favourite spot, up on the bench where she can watch the chopping and stirring and cutting right up close.
These days she likes to get in on the action. When I’m mixing together a salad or whisking eggs she always wants a turn with the spoon. She steals veges off the cutting board for a taste, and likes to grab handfuls of oats to put in the pot when I’m making porridge. Her favourite refrain in the kitchen, said with a questioning sing-song lilt, is ‘Waratah helping.” Continue reading “Pink Grapefruit, Olive Oil & Poppyseed Cake”
It’s Monday night. The weekend just past was a busy one. I spent all of Saturday out at Beaudesert for work, getting home in time for dinner, showers, storytime with the kids, then bed. Sunday flew past as Sundays are wont to do and suddenly it was the start of a new week. It was grey and drizzly all day, fine almost-rain that shrouded the city in mist. The streets were quiet. I dropped W at daycare and met a friend for coffee. I bought a book and read while T slept.
And now, it’s Monday night. Both kids are sleeping and I’m sitting curled up in a corner of the couch with my big slouchy woolen jumper on. There is a rhubarb-orange crumble in the oven (and some vanilla bean ice cream in the freezer), all ready for the eating. The sound of the rain is complimenting the scent of oven-browned crumble. I’ve started watching Orange is The New Black. Tonight my big plans include getting into bed, watching an episode, and eating crumble. Continue reading “Pan-Fried Greens with Brown Rice & An Egg”
Take bread away from me, if you wish,
take air away, but
do not take from me your laughter.
– from ‘Your Laughter’ by Pablo Neruda
I’m all about lists at the moment. Grocery lists, work lists, shopping lists, ten-year planning lists. Writing out the lists makes me feel as though half the work is done. An extremely easy sense of accomplishment. Here is another type of list; the list of a tired woman with two very small and very beautiful children. Continue reading “Pear & Cardamom Spelt Scones”
It was S’s birthday on Saturday. He isn’t one for big fusses, so we didn’t do a whole lot. Went to the market as usual in the morning, taking our time over croissant and coffee. S headed out in the middle of the day while W was sleeping to pick up a homebrew kit, and then we spent the afternoon eating and laying about. For dinner we strolled down the road for fish and chips, enjoying the balmy Brisbane air.
We realised that S is now closer to fifty years old than to twenty. It’s a strange realisation, not least because being twenty only feels like yesterday. It is a world away in some respects (in a nostalgic but also thankful kind of way) but it is hard – for me at least – to imagine myself as anything but a young person. I guess age creeps up on you slowly; perhaps because I’ve never felt too concerned with the number. Turning thirty for me was no big deal. And besides, thirties is still young. Right?! Continue reading “Raspberry, Pistachio & Rosewater Pavlova”
“I gut fruit with my mouth
push tongue into black belly of papaya
peel lychee with teeth
bite into ripe pear
suck on stone of mango
all of this, over the kitchen sink
middle of winter…”
From ‘at the thought of you’ by Warsan Shire
I love this poem – it is so visceral, almost tactile. There is something about the imagery that is raw and ripe – you can almost taste the mango juice. It is also delightfully sensuous and subtle. Of course, it is also a most fitting poem for a foodie blog! Continue reading “Almond, Orange & Olive Oil Cake”
One of the reasons we moved somewhere warm and tropical after Melbourne was that we were sick and fucking tired of the endless Melbourne winters. Every year it seemed as though the bitter cold weather dragged out for longer and longer. Our small terrace house was narrow and old, and only had heating in the lounge room; in winter going to the bathroom in the middle of the night was an extreme sport.
Brisbane, on the other hand, has over 300 days of sunshine a year. It is warm enough to wear sandals most of the year, and even in the heart of winter there is really no need to wear gloves (my poor leather gloves have been sitting unloved in the closet for over three years now!). It is so lovely to live in a climate that doesn’t demand a scarf collection, but every now and then I miss the trappings of cold weather…
Continue reading “Rhubarb & Hazelnut Crumble Cake”