the brussels sprouts that made me fart all night long
the watercress that i floated on a clear golden broth of chicken
the ginger was for tea, the butter on my morning toast
a pilaf that was more vegetables than rice, the way i like the ratio these days
sneaky mid-winter tomatoes for my mid-winter birthday (they were goood)
and a mango juice in bali that i can't get out of my head, this rainy 'ole morning.
it's all lookin' good.
The asparagus was boring - too woody, too old - but a gentle little braise of spring(ish) vegetables and potatoes, cut into tiny dice, then spooned over quinoa was in order. Just what was needed.
Hothouse eggplant and ginger, a perfect partnership, the next night set this gut right again.
I'm going to be an aunt for the first time, and these little sweeties are the cakes mum made to take to the celebration. The adults were a little shy to start - so, much, work - but the kids? No such compunction.
We quickly followed their lead.
She's damn talented, mum. I just don't have the patience for such things. From the Planet Cake Cupcakes book, methinks, but I'm sure she'll correct me.
There are all kinds of pretty happening in my tiny front garden. Long-stemmed roses, old-fashioned fragrant varieties, ramble among camellias, hydrangea (pruned just in time), geraniums, a magnolia tree trained years ago into a heart shape and a thick carpet of violets. I'm trying to honour the old lady whose romantic house this is by tending her garden as if it were my own.
Turns out I love roses, which is good, 'cos our country garden has approximately 3 million of them.* When they finish blooming and send out their glossy red hips, this Rosehip Sherry is the first recipe I'm going with.
Any other ideas you'd care to share?
*(only a slight exaggeration...far out...)
I've been loving the Word of Mouth column in Saturday's Age so much of late that it didn't occur to me that the words "This is Annie Smithers' last column" might appear this week, if indeed ever. Bugger.
So pleased, then, that I felt it necessary some weeks ago to start clipping and saving my favourites, 'cos the Age's A2 section isn't published online* and today's column, about the Hungry Gap between the colder months, was a beauty. Wish I could share. Perfect reading on this wintry election day.
*Well, not as far as I can tell. If you have to google anything for more than a few minutes, it ain't there, I say.Half-toy, half-pretending-to-be-serious medium format camera, the Holga is tricky to get right, but when you do, your heart will leap and make the wait - between shooting and getting the film back - that much sweeter.
Film is magic. Nothing proves that more than a cheap, plastic Holga.
My tips? Load it up and go, but the following are things I've lived and learned along the way.
Helpful: This incredibly useful website will be your friend, especially the Troubleshooting section. Bookmark it immediately.
Read the manual. I must admit to being very bad at this usually, but the Holga manual only takes about 15 minutes to read from back to front and back again, even if you're a slow reader. It's about as basic as a camera gets, the Holga, but it makes dreamy photos because of its simplicity. Go with it.
Relinquish control. At least for a while. You can learn to wrestle it back later on, but start out expecting little and you'll have much more fun, I promise.
Throw away the lens cap. You will forget, you see - voice of experience, here - to take it off and waste both film and money. You only get 12 negatives per roll of 120 film. Wastage is bad.
Tape it up. Holga's are well known for leaking light into the film. Sometimes this will work in your favour, but mostly you'll just want to cry. Grab a roll of gaffer/electrical tape and seal that camera back tightly, baby.
A pain, but worth the effort. Really.
Use the 'N' setting for a while. It's tempting to play with the 'B' (bulb) setting, but stick with 'N' (normal) 'cos otherwise everything you shoot will be a blur. Again, you'll cry and again, wastage is b-a-d.
Oh, and shoot in strong, natural light.
Take it with you everywhere. Weighing it at a tiny 250 grams, a Holga weighs less than the average paperback...so don't leave the house without it. You never know, you see, when the light - and the moment - will be just right.
Well, it's the Easter long weekend and, to celebrate, a competition is in order.
Because Kathryn and I want An Honest Kitchen to be a living, organic project - something useful, too - we set up a flickr group where we post some of the steps we make along the way. We'd love you to join us there and some of you lovely people already have. As such, we've decided to run a competition and give away some copies of our upcoming Autumn edition. We think it's our best edition yet.
Now all we need is you.
We want you to photograph something you've made from any of the editions of An Honest Kitchen. If you've adapted it to suit what you have in your fridge or pantry, all the better. Tell us which recipe it began life as, and tell us how/why you adapted it to suit your needs in a few sentences. Then, if you have a flickr account, upload your photograph to the group. Kathryn and I will select our favourite shots and ideas but we're not necessarily looking for the prettiest. Points will be awarded for originality and creativity: we'd like you to have fun!
Even if you don't have a copy of An Honest Kitchen, we still want you to participate! By clicking HERE you can download 3 recipes from the sample editions listed (one from each ed.) for free.
Non-bloggers and those without a flickr account are encouraged to join in - we'd be absolutely chuffed to receive your input, too. Simply cook your chosen dish, adapt it if you like, and take a photograph. Then send it along as an attachment to my email address:
lucindadoddsATyahooDOTcomDOTau (replacing the AT with @ and the DOT'S with .'s)
and I'll set it all up for you.
Entries must be received by midnight, Sunday the 18th of April (Australian time) and winners will be announced on the 20th of April - our official release date.
And for those of you with a twitter fetish, you can follow us there, too: we're @AnHonestKitchen.
Autumn is my favourite time in Melbourne. There's golden light in the afternoon, cooler nights and, best of all, there are dog walks along the beach to be had.
Which is good, 'cos the dog and I are getting a wee bit thicker 'round our middles.
The long, uninterrupted walks of the cooler months mean we all get back on track, weight-wise. Phew.
It wasn't bad, this summer. Some days were bright blue and breezy, but the hail and subsequent dumping of rain that came yesterday? Divine. If not a little destructive...
Autumn suits me so much better. I'll admit though - and anyone who knows me will find this statement highly unusual - I didn't hate this summer. Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles.
Summer nights in Matarangi (New Zealand) were perfect as the new year clicked over. There were only a couple that made me grump about back home, too.
Most sunsets, in fact, were glorious.
So it's farewell summer, but hell-o Autumn.
I'm off to the airport to collect Kathryn, as we'll be shooting a large chunk of the next edition of An Honest Kitchen over the next couple of days. Very excited. Some of the recipes I've been getting a squiz at...you won't be disappointed.
We'll keep you posted on our flickr group. Come and join us there, will you?