I’ve been staying up later than usual these last few nights (which is still pretty early for most grown-ups). I’ve been eating dark chocolate and doing some creative writing. I am an incredibly undisciplined writer, but I’m determined to get at least one of my perpetually unfinished stories done.
Writing, for me at least, is equal parts pleasure and pain. It takes me forever to get into a groove and I perpetually edit-as-I-write, and am way too critical of my work. All of that said, when I do get into the groove and the words start to flow and my ideas take shape on the page, well, nothing feels quite like it. Continue reading “Sprout Salad with Crème Fraîche Dressing”
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”