Moon cheese pie with a cup of starshine

2nd Childhood

2011-09-13T12:46:00.000-07:00

I must admit; at times traveling with a six year old and your mother seems beyond madness. For six is a funny age, it seems to be the point where little people start becoming real people. Speech has become fluent, they don't fall down as much and you start to feel that they may have enough sense not to run in front of cars or throw tantrums over the colour pink. However they are still small enough to be scooped up in your arms and cuddled in public without squirming away from 'embarrassment'.

However my notes on this age are nothing compared with the great writer A.A.Milne. In fact his understanding of the age of six is demonstrated in his masterpiece entitled 'Now We Are Six'.
When I was young the title of the book confused me, a little. Now 'we' are six? Why wasn't the book written only for me, for I am six, yes me, not you, me. At the ripe old age of 20 something I have finally gained enough wisdom to see why 'we' are six. For when you are in the company of a six year old there is no other age to be. That is why it felt so right to get up at 6am this morning when Alex started chattering away in whispers of "Are you awake, sis? Pst, hey are you awake?"
"Well yes dear Alex, I am now." How can you be mad though? When you know today will involve throwing sticks off a bridge and seeing the circus.

Now if you have had the joy of reading any works by A.A.Milne you will know that there is a 100 Acre Wood and in this wood lives a bear called Pooh and all his other unlikely English forest friends. This forest is known formally as Ashdown Forest. We kept our eyes peeled for kangaroos, a donkey, a tiger, a piglet or even an owl but they didn't seem to be in season. What we did manage to find though was 'Pooh Bridge' and from this bridge you may play a game called 'Pooh sticks'. I know it all sounds rather vulgar but you are six and these things do not occur to you yet. Before you take the short 10 minute woodland stroll to the bridge you should collect some sticks because you won't find any around the bridge. My winning tip is to get a wand length stick and prune it so that it has one leaf at the top for speed and easy recognition. Once at the bridge you stand on the left side and drop your sticks at the count of three. Then you dash madly to the other side and wait for the gentle current to grant you victory. This is then repeated, many times until you run out of sticks or patience at repetitive tasks.

In the evening it was time for Gifford's Circus, their final performance for the Summer. I was a little doubtful that the plot of War and Peace could be depicted through acrobatics, I mean it did take me two years to read the entire book. How the Dickens do they expect to cram it into two or so hours with an interval? Well somehow they managed it. Of course the plot was cut down to some very basic themes - there was only one death instead of many, there was juggling and fire throwing, horse riding and peasants singing. In fact there was lots of signing and dancing which really kept the whole show together especially when backed up by a live band to keep everyone's spirits soaring along. This is as far as I will critique the show because it was really the whole atmosphere created that was most pleasurable. There was a big tent, horses tethered outside and people of all ages enjoying the show and feeling part of the circus family for just one special night. It was simply brilliant and the best thing was you didn't have to be six to have a magical time.

Hever Castle

2011-09-10T11:23:00.000-07:00

Well mummy and Alex arrived in London not in the best shape I must say, apparently migraine sprays do nothing at high altitudes. Has any one else experienced this and if so did they manage to find a fix it? I fear poor mumsie is already dreading the return 22 hour flight back to Melbourne. Thankfully once grounded the spray did it's thing and we were ready to pick up our hire car and get touring.

On arrival at the Avis car rental desk the lovely gentleman behind the desk needed only a second to take in Alex skipping around our pile of luggage before saying "Madam are you aware that the car you've booked is a sports car with - some infathomable amount of - horsepower and start speed?"
Mum replied that all she had wanted was a Citroen because last time she toured Europe with daddy they had a Citroen and she was very happy with it, bless her. The gentleman made some minor adjustments to the booking and we left the depot in a zippy 4 door Ford Fiesta with the soothing voice of the GPS lady guiding us onto the M25.

There had been many plans for this first day but with mother feeling a bit delicate we decided to scrap them and achieve one visit; Hever Castle the childhood home of Anne Boleyn. The journey to Kent from Heathrow was surprisingly quick even though mummy refuses to do anything but 10 miles under the speed limit. We arrived at the castle and decided that elevenses were the first item on the agenda. The middle of the cafe had more cakes than you could poke a fork at resting on it. Including a delightful homemade Victoria Sponge cut into even more delightfully unequal pieces. Off course we hand picked the biggest slices onto our plates and Alex decided to have her first scone of the holiday. I think the greatest appeal for Alex is that the jam comes in mini-pots (must keep in mind that this fascination with the minute could be disastrous if she discovers the mini-bar at the next hotel we stay in). After 3 cups of tea each we felt ready for anything.

Hever Castle was picture book perfect. The castle is not massive but the rooms are decorated to perfection and the carved wood paneling is something special. Apparently we have William Waldorf Astor, to thank for this and the wonderful gardens. The gardens have some great features for keeping children entertained, the adventure playground was so good that I couldn't resist running around with Alex. I resisted the pull of the water maze for the sake of my attire while Alex felt no qualms with walking into a shower.

In the afternoon we drove down tiny little tree lined streets and through umpteen little villages with funny names. To sum up our delight in England I will use mother's quote of the day "I just want to hug everything!"

In defence of granny panties

2011-08-16T01:56:00.000-07:00

This morning I was flipping through the very serious news headlines of Ninemsn when one caught my eye. It was about Taylor Swift's 'wardrobe malfunction' during a concert which exposed her apparent lack of 'underwear fashion sense'. Admittedly I am not a Taylor Swift fan, I think she looks and sings like vanilla, but I respect her far more after witnessing her underwear choice.

For seriously, what is so wrong with granny panties?

They're flattering, comfortable, come in 3 neutral colours and if you get the more modern styles they even prevent VPL's. The only conclusion I can come to for their bad press is because the patriarchal structures in society insist women can only be attractive if they are made to submit to being uncomfortable. This must be the only reason, because for the life of me I can not remember seeing any woman in a g-string without feeling quite repulsed. According to society's ideals women should walk around with the equivalent of dental floss between their bottoms or wear itchy synthetic materials of the most awkward cuts so they can be a potential breeding ground for thrush. This is not sexy. It's demeaning and impractical. Women should be able to walk out the door each morning feeling confident and ready for anything, they should not be taking the last minute to adjust their knickers before it becomes impossible to do so in the public glare.

Many may argue that granny undies lack sex appeal but in my opinion a woman confident and relaxed is sexy. If men are intimidated by confidence they are relying on the desperation of women to get out of their uncomfortable situation as a possibility to score. This is a sign of major character flaws, most notably communication skills and charm. It also brings them down to the mentality of rapists who get off from making women vulnerable in a subjective position. This may seem a little extreme but I'm not saying that women can't wear g-strings or other impractical underwear if they choose to, but it must be their choice not a patriarchal pressure. Also if I want to wear granny undies to get about my work I don't want some asshole writing that I'm unfashionable and lacking sex appeal. As Bridgette Jone's proved granny panties are not a chastity belt.

So I can't believe I'm saying this but bravo Taylor Swift. I still don't like your music but maybe you are more of a feminist than I thought. Now get back to work and write some better songs.

Ugly Vegetables

2011-02-27T10:45:00.000-08:00

I think the first notable change I made to my host family in England was suggesting the wonders of a weekly organic vegetable box delivered to your door. My hint was to my utter surprise enacted upon instantly and since then I have had the pleasure of getting to plan my weeknight meals around seasonal produce and have been saved the depression that comes from visiting the 'plastic' veggies (sometimes even pre-cut!) at Tesco. The delight of wondering what will be awaiting me at the front door Thursday morning is thanks to the wonderful people at Riverford. Most of the vegetables are your familiar faces broccoli, carrots, onions and always a bag of potatoes. However I'm getting acquainted with a few new faces who I can only describe as 'deliciously ugly'.

The two ugly vegetables I have had the pleasure of meeting recently are Celeriac and Swede. The trick to getting along with these characters is to remove their tough skins and reveal their softer insides. Once this is done you will have the beginnings of a really good meal, read below if you dare associate with the deliciously ugly ones.

Celeriac and Pear soup

1 onion, chopped
clove of garlic, finely diced
1 celeriac, peeled and chopped
4 pears, peeled and chopped
500ml of good quality vegetable stock

Get out a medium saucepan and pour a generous amount of olive oil into it. Then add the onion and garlic, allow it to frizzle but not burn. Once the aroma of onion is invading your kitchen it's time to add everything else including the vegetable stock. Allow the celeriac and pears to soften in the simmering stock for about 20 minutes. Then turn off the heat and allow it all to cool for 5 minutes. Put the mix in batches through a food processor. Then serve it hot in some nice bowls on a cold day.

Potato and Swede Bake

1/2 swede, peeled and finely sliced
2 large potatoes, peeled and finely sliced
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and finely chopped
125ml vegetable stock
125ml milk
nutmeg, salt and pepper
parmesan cheese, grated

Get a medium sized baking dish and grease the inside with butter. Line the base of the dish with 1/2 the swede slices and the 1/2 the potato slices on top. Sprinkle all the garlic over it and hen get out your nutmeg and grate lots of it on top as well as a good shake of salt and pepper. If you want a creamy bake you could spread some creme fraiche on as well. Then it's time to arrange the other 1/2 of your swede slices on top and then the potoato slices on top again. Get the stock and milk you have kept on hand and cascade over your assembled mountain. Then get out your parmesan cheese and grate as much as you want on top of the bake. Put into a medium oven for about 60 minutes but if your oven has a habit of burning things as mine does do check on it at 40 minutes because it may be brown, crisp and very edible.

Now to finish I will talk of someone beautiful who I haven't had the pleasure of meeting. Alys Fowler is a divine Kitchen Garden Goddess who is responsible for a television show that is actually worth watching, The Edible Garden. Up until recently you could download episodes from the BBC itvplayer but unfortunately this no longer seems possible. If you can get you eyes on an episode do. She is my idol and therefore I think she deserves your worship. Also unlike my vegetable friends she is very easy on the eye. Happy cooking and looking.

Love London

2011-02-19T03:46:00.000-08:00

Today is Saturday and I am doing loads of washing and ironing so I can pack my bag for our family trip to Devon tomorrow. The only good thing about today is that it's raining outside so I'm not really missing out on anything. While I undertake these domestic tasks I have been reminiscing about my previous weekend which was spent with Maddy in London and culminated in a delightful Valentines picnic on the Monday back in Kent. So instead of giving a long chronology of what happened in the past I decided to give love a list of my loves from the weekend.

1) Vintage Laura Ashley Dresses
Our Saturday morning was spent wandering down Portobello Road. We had a delightful time perusing antique stalls, then food stalls and finally clothes stalls. At one of the later stalls we managed to find a collection of Laura Ashley dresses that had been handily hemmed to more modern and practical lengths. I bought a long sleeved dress in Autumnal plum and green while Maddy bought a bright short sleeved summer dress that is sure to be worn at an Italian Villa in a few months.

2) Lulu Capes
At another stall in Portobello I spied the most magnificent cape. It was a blue check fabric 100% wool, handmade and lined. The lady behind these wonderful creations gave me her card and I still really want that check cape but I must be practical and 2 capes would really be too much for one backpacker. If you are not as concerned about excess luggage as I am you can order a cape online from
www.lululondon.com (I couldn't access the site from my computer but I put it anyway in hope that your computer will)

3) Red Velvet Cake
To finish off an exhilarating yet energy depleting shopping session we stopped at the Humming Bird Bakery. We shared a piece of the famous Red Velvet Cake and managed to demolish it on the side walk while watching the crowd of late comers (tourists) stream down the road. We vowed then and there to recreate the cup cake version of the cake for Valentines and the result is depicted below. They tasted as good as they look!

4) Picnics in Parks
On Valentines Day we sat down on a huge tree stump in Knole Park and filled grainy rolls with butter lettuce, goats cheese, beetroot and walnuts. We didn't share any of our lunch with the herds of deer because the signs told us not too and if truth be told I didn't even think of leaving a crumb for them. However we did manage to admire the deer from a respectable distance as we walked through the woodlands and reluctantly said goodbye to such noble animals. What we got in exchange 30 minutes later was a feral pack of school children who invaded the car, damn Mondays.

Hello England

2011-02-17T05:13:00.000-08:00

So I know it has been ages since I last wrote a post but a friend suggested that this would be a good way of sharing my cultural experiences (yeah right) as an Au Pair to 4 children in Kent. Let's call them Caroline (pre-teen), William (preparing for 11+ with 4 tutors!), Harry (middle child) and Bobby (youngest at 6). As you can guess, all the children are very close in age and therefore constantly competing with each other. By the way, when I say competing I mean fighting.

So today I escaped the 18th Century stone house and went off to view my first ever hunt. I didn't really know what to expect, I was just given instructions to drive to the pub in a village 10 minutes away. As I drove up the hill I spotted 3 red coats, 2 blue coats and a pack of hounds waiting around outside the town pub. It seemed like all the unemployed locals were also out to view this unusual spectacle, appropriately attired in tweed coat, caps and wellies. I sauntered up and tried to act natural in my Hunter wellies but I think my constant picture taking was a dead giveaway. I thought that perhaps the hunt was only made up of 5 riders because it was a week day but half an hour later the rest of the field showed up. The master gathered everyone together and outlined his battle strategy for the day and then the horn was blown, rather feebly I must say, and the horses walked off down the road.

I headed back to my car perfectly happy with the sight I had just witnessed and decided to head home rather than trying to work out where on earth the hunt was actually going. I drove out of the town and got to the top of another hill close by where there seemed an easy pull over area that others had already taken advantage of. I stepped out of the car next to a small wooded area which two old men in green were watching intently. I didn't really know why they kept staring at an unmoving thicket of trees but I'm glad I decided to follow their lead because in a mater of minutes I saw the fox scampering out of the bushes. I'm not sure if it was a he fox or a she fox but it was much bigger than I expected and not red but fawn coloured. There was no mistaking it for a dog though because it wore a foxy grin and seemed to be working out how to avoid the dogs yapping in the distance. So I saw the fox but where were the hounds? We waited another good 10 minutes before the scarlet coats came trotting down the road while the dogs bounded along the woodland path that fox had already deserted. We informed them of our sighting and a lady in blue got out her mobile phone to update the rest of the field, obviously technology is catching up with tradition. I then walked further down the road to a clearing over looking the fields below. My final view of the day was the hunters going for a good gallop up another hill to try and get the fox which was suspected to have gone through the village. I called it a day after this because I am not vaguely familiar with these country villages and felt like I had got my share of luck for the day. View halloo!

Why I don't hate Monday

2010-07-19T03:28:00.000-07:00

Maha! While everyone else was slaving away at another miserable Monday, I was enjoying a delightful three courses with my friends at Maha Bar and Grill. Yes I know you hate me, but please do keep reading.

For starters we had the mezze which incorporated lots of yummy things to spread on warm Turkish rolls. The best tastes were the beetroot dip and the marinated olives, the rest were all good but not rave worthy. The only negative I can say at all about the lunch was that a second serving of rolls should have come out as soon as the first were finished. Instead everyone was left to pick at the dips with forks, until some forward thinker on our table requested more bread, and once this request had been satisfied there was little left to spread on the new rolls. But this was a tiny inconvenience and for the rest of the meal I was continually impressed by the attention to detail and wonderful standard of service.

So next course, the sahen kbeer (large plates) which was blissful. I could have eaten the entire plate of butter fish that came to the table, it was mildly chilli seasoned, oh so tender and perfectly cooked. Gosh I think I am actually drooling while typing. There was also a vegetarian option of cheese filled ravioli, nice but not exceptional. The sides however were exceptional, a refreshing cucumber and lettuce salad evenly coated with a zesty cream dressing and a bowl of fried rice with mustard seeds and almonds. The meat eaters present did inform me that the goat was very good, but not as good as the fish. This can be proven by the reluctance of our only male dining companion, who was told to 'be a man' and finish the last forlorn looking steak.

The best part of the meal and the real reason we all gathered at Maha was the fabled Turkish Delight filled doughnuts. Yes, they are amazing. I could have eaten all three, but restrained myself. So go on, you've been meaning to try them and you should. They reminded me of the poshest jam doughnut known to humanity and they really do go down a treat in comparison to the ulcer inducing sweetness of say the Vic. Market variety. Equally fantastic though was the coconut cake topped with honeycomb mousse and complimented by what tasted like a bread and butter ice-cream. Gosh if I went back for dessert at Maha I would have trouble choosing whether to have the doughnuts or the cake.
The final component of dessert was a shot glass of chocolate cream with a rose water froth, though it was in no way unpleasant to spoon this sweet stuff into my glutinous gob, it was definitely punching above it's weight when placed in the ring with the other sweets.

The final part of this exemplary lunch was the Turkish cologne that was spritzed onto our hands. The fragrance has wafted around with me all day, constantly reminding me of just how wonderful a Monday can be.

Hot Chocolate Review #4

2010-06-11T04:56:00.000-07:00

Cafe Vue Soy Hot Chocolate
Location: Little Collins Street
Price: $6.50
Take-away: Yes
Temperature: Well warmed

The French do 'classic', oh so well. Not surprising then that the hot chocolate I ordered at Cafe Vue was a classic beauty. Alas one must be patient and observe etiquette while they wait for a table, but will be rewarded if they do. A little note, if seated at the coffee tables in the corner gently nudge your dining companion to the cork while you claim the padded bench, if you are as ruthless as moi. Carry on.

Once seated you must order a Soy Hot Chocolate and if peckish the Pistachio Cupcake, which is green heaven on a plate. The hot chocolate will be transported to your lips in a smooth red tea cup of generous proportions and excellent quality. You will marvel at the pale cocoa milk froth as it bobs on your upper lip and long for the milky soft chocolate that lays below. The flavour could be described as chocolate neutral; an excellent balance between bitter and sweet. This is the comforting hot chocolate, that feels like home, but tastes much better. I admit the price is a bit rich, but then we are on the other side of Elizabeth where people supposedly work hard and definitely pay hard.

Melbourne Hot Chocolate Review #3

2010-05-28T20:11:00.000-07:00

Location: Lygon Street (other franchises elsewhere)
Cost: $5.90
Temperature: Piping Hot
Take-away: Yes

This week I got acquainted with my old amigo, San Churro's Spanish Hot Chocolate with Hazelnut. This drink used to be called Baci Hot Chocolate but obviously word must have got back to management that Baci is an Italian delicacy and not authentically Spanish. Therefore it has now been given a name that I can't quite remember but I'm sure it started with A, so after extensive research of the Spanish word for Hazelnut I conclude that the new drink must be Christened Avellano or something of the sort.

So does a hot chocolate by any other name still taste as sweet? Yes. I enjoyed possessively mulling over my hazelnut hot chocolate while others walked by on Lygon Street and looked longingly through the windows. I sat there a while because the serving size is very decent and with the heat that the hot chocolate comes to your table at it's best to go slowly if you don't like scorched taste buds. I think this temperature is great though because no-one likes a cold chocolate (unless it's iced), the only minimal downside to the temperature is that a slight skin of chocolate can form on top if you don't keep stirring your cup of delight. I say delight because I feel that is the best word to describe the flavour, there is the delicious base of Spanish Chocolate that is full yet not heavy, and then the Hazelnut dances delicately on top adding a zing to the overall taste. The texture is not rough but I've definitely had smoother.
So will I be meeting my old amigo again? Most certainly!

Melbourne Hot Chocolate Review #2

2010-05-15T05:25:00.000-07:00

Max Brenner's Hot Chocolate
Location: Melbourne Central
Temperature: Warm
Cost: $6.00
Take-away: yes

I've tried lots of hot chocolates at Max Brenner over the past 4 years and a worrying trend has come to my attention. I'm no Commerce student so I don't quite understand what the technical term for this is but basically the price of the hot chocolate has increased steadily and the quality has decreased steadily. The hot chocolate is still a good beverage, but I have that devil of prior experience whispering in my ear "It used to be better...and CHEAPER!"

I hate to seem like an old biddy, but back in my day, you could afford a hot choclate and would get two waffles without dinting your wallet. These waffles have now been reduced to waffle and the ice cream, chocolate pot and strawberries on the side are no longer 'standard' but classified as 'extras'. Damn it Max, you've sold out. You have turned the purest form of love, the love of chocolate, into a slogan. That ain't right!

Sure the Hug Mugs and Alice cups are darling and there's enough 50's nostalgia to sink the Good Ship Lollipop, what really matters is the hot chocolate so this is my honest review.
Max Brenner's milk chocolate has this delicate hint of caramel/toffee?...Well something sweet that my tastebuds can't identify but always want more of. You know it sounds a lot like sugar, but this lovely taste is the basis of all the Hot Chocolates. I've tried the Original, Danish Toffee, Waffle Ball and American Marshmellow all made with Milk Chocolate and I will base my comments on the later mentioned.
I first had this drink a few years back but can still remember how good it was. The chocolate liquid was densely flavoured with caramel undertones and enhanced by the layer of mini-marshmallow that floated mellowly on top, gently nestled in milk froth. Ahhhh.
That experience was tainted last week by the watered down chocolate liquid that had a distant memory of caramel flavour and two cheap marshmallows plopped unmelted in 2cms of froth. The worst part is that this experience cost me at least $2 more than the last!

No one likes to be cheated and that is the feeling I get now whenever I walk into Max Brenner's. It's like Max has become the unfaithful lover who I keep running back to hoping I will get back the joy I once had. Alas I have been scorned enough and for the good of my morale and my mortgage, I'm not going back.
Just a note for those who do enter Max's den, get the chocolate brownie with ice-cream for $8.50 as it's the only reasonably priced and rewarding experience on the menu...also invite me, so then I would only be eating there out of social politeness.

Melbourne Hot Chocolate Review #1

2010-05-07T22:24:00.000-07:00

So it may be because I'm still hungover at 3:30pm on a Saturday and feeling quite sorry for myself, but I'm beginning to crave some human conversation on my blog that I or a very close friend haven't typed.
The reason I started this blog was to get people out and about, enjoying the food and other delights of Melbourne. So please, yes I am pleading, if you go and share my experiences that I've blogged about TELL ME! I don't mind if you want to challenge my reviews, suggest places I should go or tell me how much you like my shoes.

I also understand that when you want something to happen you have to do a bit of hard work yourself. Thus I have decided that every week you lovely readers will get a review of the best Melbourne Hot Chocolates. I know it will be hard for me to drink a hot chocolate every week but it's a chore I must do.

Thus we begin

Brunetti's Italian Hot Chocolate
Locations: Carlton, City Square and Camberwell
Cost: $4.40 with cream.
Temperature: Hot
Take away: Yes

First times are usually a disappointment. It can be awkward, heart breaking and uncomfortable. Much like my first Italian Hot Chocolate at Brunetti’s. I was seventeen and trying ever so hard to grow up. I had become acquainted with cappuccino and sushi and believed I was ready for European Hot Chocolate. From the first sip I was sad. I could barely manage a few gulps of the rich concoction. Bitterly disappointed I swore I would never try it again, ever. However those few sips were enough to corrupt my taste buds, as I sipped on lukewarm chocolate from ‘coffee shops’ I dreamed of the chocolate intensity that had so briefly coated the back of my teaspoon.

I gave in a year later as I struggled through my first year of university. Inconvenient two hour class breaks and the chill of Melbourne’s winter could be fixed with one cup of Brunetti’s Italian Hot Chocolate. The serving size is a small glass, although it may look small it's just right. The liquid chocolate is dark and rich with a taste that verges on the right side of bitter. It is incredibly smooth and evenly coats the back of your teaspoon. I prefer mine without cream on top, but it is not ruined by the addition. To increase the delight, do buy one of their scrumptious little biscuits to go with it. There’s nothing wrong with a bit on the side ;)

Curry time!

2010-04-19T01:51:00.000-07:00

So I was all on Facebook chat instead of doing my essay which is due tomorrow and I was chatting to my friend Abbey and somehow I got her to agree with me that I should go get curry. So I scurried (haha) down the road a few meters and ended up in Indian Tukka.

I have only recently (like a year) become acclimatised with Indian food. Because well lets just say...I don't like spicy food! Okay I've admitted it, I can go cry into my lemon and herb Nando's seasoning and drink a glass of water or two.
Because I can't handle spicy foods I was convinced by all and sundry that I would never be up to the challenge of Indian food. So whenever Indian was put forward as a valid dinner option I would put on my best toddler face and say "I don't like Indian" and all would obey for fear of seeing a teenage girl throw a Clueless tantrum.
Then one day I was in Paris, it was Bastille Day and when in Paris one must do as the French, be all patriotic and what not and eat curry. To my surprise - no burnt mouth, no drinking a fish tank of water and none of the dreaded Dehli belly that my mother had so adamantly claimed was the fate of all Indian diners.

So the point of the story is...
You should go eat at Indian Tukka, right now. It's located practically on the corner of Victoria Parade and Wellington Street. The people who run it are very friendly and polite. Tonight I ordered the Saag Aloo (Potatoes cooked in a rich puree spinach sauce) it was delicious and will surely get me through the last 500 words of this essay. I have also tried the Navrattan (Vegetable) Korma warmed up for breakfast straight from the fridge, this is thanks to the wonder that I call Abbey. No one else in the world could bring flowers to your party and leave you with curry.
Also the Naan bread is really, really good. Get 2 serves trust me, or as my mum would say "Go Girl!", actually maybe she was talking about the essay.

Alright I'll stop procrastinating, but here's the Take Away number 9419 4199 or 0425 711 674, use it!

Squirrelled away

2010-04-11T21:55:00.000-07:00

It's cold. I now wear my cardigan instead of carrying it and my circulation is already being aided by woolen socks worn night and day. This change in weather has influenced my eating habits. I have become much less inclined to venture out of doors or it may also be due to the large amount of mid-semester University assignments I should be doing...right now. But it's best not to think about reasons and instead focus on results.
30mins prior to this post I just consumed the most delicious meal made all by myself in my shoe box apartment and toy sized kitchen.

The recipe is from Sophie Dahl's cook book 'Voluptuous Delights' which I highly recommend you obtain and devour. I know you may be a little hesitant about a cook book written by a model, as we all know Kate Moss will not be producing a cook book in this lifetime. But then Sophie Dahl is a very different type of model (she eats...a lot) and is also the most divine looking creature on the planet. Her cook book is sectioned off into seasons so I started with the first recipe in Autumn - Poached Eggs on Portobello Mushrooms with goat's cheese.

They key to the deliciousness of this recipe I believe lies in the use of fresh ingredients.

Mushrooms:
I sourced my fungi from the Wild about Fruit: Farm Shop on the Cnr Edward & Coldstream West Rds, Coldstream. This is were I buy my fresh produce each week on the way to my parent's farm in the Yarra Valley. These field mushrooms were incredibly cheap and taste sublime. Trust me you haven't eaten a mushroom until it's been picked from an open field. They make supermarket mushrooms taste like cardboard.

Goat's Cheese:
The best soft cheeses in Melbourne I believe reside in one building, The Yarra Valley Dairy. For this recipe I used the marinated Chevre Medallions, alas I am also obsessed with the marinated Persian Fetta and the Black Savourine.

How to assemble:
De-stalk 2 large field mushrooms, place in a frying pan and douse in olive oil, top and bottom. While this is cooking, take a free range egg and poach it. I find using glad wrap to be the fool-proof way but whatever poaches your yolk is fine. When the mushrooms are browned and tender, move them onto a plate to cool.
Line the base of a flat bowl with baby spinach, place the mushrooms on top and then the poached egg should be transferred without the glad wrap to rest upon the fungi. Generously crumble goats cheese all over and you have heaven on a plate-bowl.

Enjoy my dears and stay out of the cold.

Healesville Hotel

2010-03-15T03:09:00.000-07:00

Oh Autumnul breeze, how delicious it smells. The heat of summer begins to dull and suddenly things apart from ice cream seem to be edible. To celebrate my extended palate I decided to take advantage of the Coldstream Hills Restaurant Express which is part of the Melbourne Food and Wine Festival. This mumbo jumbo of marketing names will allow you to get 2 courses, a glass of wine and tea or coffee at 70 top notch restaurants in Victoria. So today I took mummy along to the Healesville Hotel for a well deserved break from the toasted sandwich machine at home and the chance to get a bit tipsy before 1 o’clock.

If you have no idea where Healesville is, I will give you a quick idea. It’s in the Yarra Valley (where lots of grapes are grown and trampled on) and is about 20 minutes on from Lilydale Station (the end, yes the very end, of that train line). It’s a nice drive and the valley is at it’s best at the moment; green rolling hills, blue skies and crisp leaves. The scenery of the hotel is also quite nice: friendly green walls, pressed tin ceiling and an airy relaxed feeling. We were seated at a window where the sun shone in gently and complemented our glass of White Harvest wine, the hotel’s own label.

The normal menu of the Healesville Hotel changes seasonally but due to the Express deal we were offered a menu of two options per course. I am genetically predisposed to dessert, as is my mother, therefore the two courses became main and dessert. I did glance at the starters, I’m sure there was something that contained smoked salmon and a pea soup.
For main I picked the vegetarian option of Zucchini and Spinach Lasagna and mother chose the carnivorous option of Duck with Roasted Figs. While waiting for our course to come out we were offered fresh bread twice and we accepted once. The double offer of bread and the ample supply of butter on the table made me a very happy lady; for I lament the lack of bread in any place but the RSL these days. I mean low-carb was so last decade, it’s time to bring back bread, pretty please! Sorry about that little rant, back on track.

Mains were presented to us by a charming man who informed me that the rainbow of petite tomatoes scattered around the lasagna came from his garden. He also informed mummy that the figs her duck rested on came from a tree in the waitresses’ garden. As you can tell the service was friendly and relaxed. In fact the waitress gained my utter admiration when she managed to get rid of a wasp in our window by accurately swatting it with a table fork, now that’s service. Once nature was taken care of I could tuck into my meal. The lasagna was superb; forkfuls of soft cheese, fresh pasta and spinach layered in-between and the little tomatoes all went down a treat. Mother adored the salt rubbed duck and thought it was cooked “just right”. She also mentioned that the portions were “ladylike” and I do agree with her. I was thrilled to have something that was ‘just right’ but those with Bearish appetites would not be satisfied with the Goldilocks serving size. In which case they should probably not refuse the second offering of bread.

Ah dessert, two options again. Strawberry and Rasberry Tart or a Trio of Ices. Mother commented that the Ices sounded like something from an Enid Blyton book, but the literary connection was not enough to tempt us from the berry tart. We both devoured it from the crisp outer shell all the way to the last scrape of gooey vanilla custard. Some plump red berries were pierced onto the fork in the middle of this sugar deconstruction.

Perfectly full mother and I walked out of the Healesville Hotel and had only gone three shops when we discovered the perfect ending to our outing, shoes! There in the window of the Black Cat Boutique was a pair of shiny plum brogues that looked good enough to eat, let alone wear. So we hurried inside...and now my dears I sit typing away in my stockings and bra for I refuse to take off the plum shoes tied to my feet.

Smith Street

2009-11-30T20:39:00.000-08:00

I have lived just off Smith Street for over a year now and in that time I have observed the rate of shop changes, which rivals the housing repossession rate in America. The shop owners seem to delight in packing up all their goods and moving them to the next block for a change of scenery. Luckily for the overworked Smith Street sign writers there are two shops that will probably still be in the same place tomorrow - Smith St McDonald's and Melissa's Cake Shop. I have too many stories about Smith St McDonald's, all tinted with an alcoholic haze, so I will write about Melissa.

Melissa's Cake Shop is a relic from the bustling Smith St of the 1960s; back when housewives kitten heeled across the pavements, nothing except Church was open on Sunday and linoleum was groovy. From a time when Greek's and Italian's were new immigrants to the 'lucky country' and brought with them delicious recipes with long names that are still being mispronounced.

"I'll have a Spanner...(long pause)...co-op-pita?" Says the still helmeted cyclist, who then hurries out sinking teeth into pastry and a little bit of serrated paper bag edge. I do believe the plastic curtain tendrils of the door that inflict annoying cheek slaps are payback from the Melissa staff for the amount of massacred Greek words they listen to each day. But trust me, it's worth it.

The pastry is flaky yet crisp, the spinach to cheese ratio is spot on and the size makes it a substantial lunch. My only dilemma is choosing whether to get Spanakopita or Tiropita. I usually do a quick calculation of my supposed iron levels. If I feel a little low and unhealthy I go with the spinach filled and therefore iron containing Spanikopita. If I feel well and defiant...I trust in my youthful health and demolish a very cheesy (no spinach) and therefore unbelievably delicious Tiropita.

The pastries are what people walk off the street for at Melissa's, but if you have time I insist you pay the extra 20cents and eat in. It's really special. The chairs are brown, the floors are brown and the table tops are beige faux-wood paneled linoleum (try saying that with a mouth full of Baklava). Each table has a little flower arrangement and paper serviettes. Nothing has been changed since the 70s, including the extensive drinks list which boasts milk shakes, spiders AND thick shakes. There is even a handwritten sign tacked onto the wall, 'Chai Latte Available', Melissa has moved with the times. Beware that if you plan on drinking in the presence of this lovely decor it will cost you 50cents more than take away.

Also it is a 'cake shop', so you can purchase sweet treats. I have only tasted the baklava, which was a excellent. But I urge you to be less health conscious and try them all. I have my eye on, but have managed to resist, the syrup drenched wedges of cake and the white powdered mound of Kourabiedes. My resistance is weakening though and you may have an add on to this review soon.

So do practice your Greek and order a Spanakopita or Tiropita from Melissa's Cake Shop, but do remember they're not open Sunday.

God Save Afternoon Tea

2009-11-27T12:32:00.000-08:00

Busy, busy, busy! I adore being busy, there is nothing like having little calendar boxes to look forward to. Unfortunately busyness can get to the point of consumption; every event becomes another dreaded chore and you feel the calendar grazing your cheek as it flips through your life. At this point I like to organise every meal, because no matter how busy you are, food will need to be consumed for your important continuation in the great calendar of life.

May I suggest, afternoon tea?

May I also suggest that it be at the Hopetoun Tea Rooms in Melbourne's Block Arcade?

My first outing to the the Hopetoun was as an infant in the superior company of mother and grandmama. From then on days in town were always fueled by scones and sandwiches at the Hopetoun. Alas at this bratty age I did not share my mother's love for the place and would frequently whine abominable sentences such as "I want a Happy Meal, such and such plastic figurine is all I will ever want or need in life." Well, maybe I indulge myself and was not quite so polite or philosophical. It still doesn't change the fact that I would drag my patent leather shoes into shreds and sit glaring at the brocade walls as mother tried to force nourishment and refinement into my obstinate self.

Time continues and now I am a young lady who looks and acts a lot like my mother, and therefore delights in afternoon tea at the Hopetoun. Recently being a very busy lady I arranged to kill two birds with one scone (sorry I think puns are scrumptious) and combined mealtime with meeting mother, sadly grandmama passed away in the middle of infancy to now.
We shared a delightful meal of non-stop chatter and gossip, encouraged by the devilishly brocaded walls and unwitting persons who tread the Block Arcade tiles. To nourish I ate three asparagus rolls which were just a bit too heavy with mayonnaise and selected a dessert worth writing about. The Almond and Coconut Cake was heaven with a scoop of ice cream and a fresh strawberry. The texture was smooth and there was no hint of dryness or age. The flavor was not too sweet as is the case with many store dessert cakes, and the ice cream added a lovely base to the delicate coconut/almond combination. After dessert I regretted not getting the cucumber sandwiches which are perfect for summer and would have anticipated the delicateness of the dessert. Mother dearest went very traditional and digested pin wheel sandwiches and almost all of her plum pudding which was particularly fine and filling.

My only warning to other Hopetoun tea goers, is to ask for a jug of hot water with your pot of tea. That way you will get three cups each from the pot, instead of two. Also the service is more casual due to a change in ownership but one must move with the times and be a little more assertive for good service.

Happy Hopetouning!