Through My Kitchen Window

Ongoing "Duckssess"

2012-02-12T19:40:00.000-08:00

Duck no 12

Darling Issy came up from Melbourne recently. She was utterly intrigued with "Mother" Mitchell's success in hatching 13 little duckies. All healthy, all under the loving care and welfare now of a real "mother duck" at Philomena and Romano's place. It's been duck action for the last three weeks and as much as they were cute and fluffy and entertaining, I'm glad to see the back of them.

All fun and cuddles till it pooped on Issy's neck.

Now we've had the duck experiment which that was extremely successful, and big round of applause for Mitch. He did extremely well. The question now is, how will he go with the chicks. He has two fertile eggs in the incubator. Oooh, look what I can see peeking out from inside the incubator.

It's a big wide world out there - how do I get out of here!

Yep. Mitch. You did it again. What a terrific effort. There is one thing that sets this little chicky aside from the newborn ducks. One hell of a cheeping noise. My goodness - this little chick nearly drove me nuts. Cheep, cheep, cheep. All afternoon long. Couldn't wait for Mitch to take this little fellow down to Philomena's. He was a particularly noisy fellow; we've had chicks before and I couldn't believe how loudly he chirped.

He cheeped so loudly that he attracted our chickens to come and take a look. See! I wasn't kidding. Cute, but oh what a pain in the ears! Not even a day old and this little blighter is as lively as can be. Great. Terrific. Ongoing success. Happy for you Mitch. Can he go now? Please..........

It's Raining Ducks

2012-01-26T16:13:00.000-08:00

My boy came home from his grandparents place with an incubator. Our beautiful neighbours Romano and Philomena had some duck eggs. Romano felt the duck had sat for far too long and the eggs were "past it". He was about to turf them. Mitch asked for the eggs and away he went. Setting up the incubator, monitoring the temperature to the exact 10th degree - my goodness I thought he was a fusspot. Nevertheless, he persevered till he felt the temp was correct and away went his little experiment. I really never expected anything to eventuate.

Monitoring day in day out for five days; a crack. The air was filled with excitement as he kept checking the progress of the cheeping sounds coming from within the egg. Nicole and I were given our "orders" in case the duckling hatched whilst he was at work. Sure enough, he was at work. Nicole shone the torch religiously to see the hatching in action. A limb tore through the shell. She called me. I came running. The limb had gone back in. Sure enough, the little blighter was on it's way.

By the time Mitch came home, he was a mother, perhaps I mean father, well maybe nurturer would be best; after all he nurtured this cheeping little creature to life. After a long chat on her facebook with over 30 replies, Nicole considered all the suggestions for a name. Fran it would be.

Nicole and one day old "Fran"

Fran was adored for a whole day and a half. She chirped incessantly until two days later she was joined by another two siblings. Three ducklings quickly turned into nine. There were no more names after Fran - I think the novelty wore off quickly. The newspaper changes, the replacing of water, the topping up of food and the "ducky" smell was taking it's toll. Mitch took them down to Philomena and Romano's. They were adopted immediately by another mother duck. It was amazing apparently - I didn't see it. She took to them like a "duck to water". Happy ending.

Huddled and Sleeping

Mitch has had a 100% success rate so far. There are still some eggs left to hatch, but they will be going straight from incubator to neighbour. It's been a lucky week for duckies.

I should mention, this was Mitchell's experiment. What he really wants to have a 'crack' at are chickens. The eggs have been ordered and they're on the way. With Mitch at the helm, his "chicks" will be metaphorically speaking, very lucky duckies.

❄❄❄

☛ If you can spare the time please read the post where I ask you to kindly support us to Help Save Numinbah Valley

....................................

"Kanye" Make Tasty Hummus!

2012-01-24T18:20:00.000-08:00

If I said "Kanye West" to you, would you know who or what I was talking about? Admittedly it was raining on our tin roof making it difficult to hear, when my daughter said his name. I replied with "can I what...?"

We had just come home after spending a couple of relaxing hours at the farm. Feeling calm and refreshed, a leisurely evening watching the Australian Open would cap our lovely day.

About 6.30pm Nicka tore out of her room with an OMG look on her face. Sorry dear, but I've never heard of Kanye West. It was the Big Day Out, the day would finish with the highlight act being this Kanye West. Nicka had missed calls only to find out she had half an hour to get to destination xxxx, meet up with her photographer friend, get to the Big Day Out and meet with Kanye West's first cousin Tony Williams. A private photography session in Kanye West's dressing room had been arranged.

"Have fun, drive safely" I yelled out to her as she flew out the door. Mitch looked at me and said "I swear mum, when that girl was born she was touched with a rainbow". I agree with him. She has had a lucky streak in life. But then she was born on a day filled with nines. Would you believe she turned 9 years old on 19/9/1999? What can I say - she's lucky!

Bottom line, she returned home the next day with a totally satisfied look on her face. I detached myself from the computer, turned around and listened to the events of that evening. She showed me her VIP backstage pass. Okay; nice (actually I wasn't that impressed - now if we were talkin' country singer John Williamson then I'd straighten up).

I hear how she and her friend Brooke watched the whole show with the family and friends of Kanye West right in front of the stage. Apparently all the media and photographers were ushered away when his show started and when security came up to Brooke and Nicka to move them, Tony said 'leave those girls, they're with us". And so here was my Nicka, with her friend and Kanye West's relatives and friends in front of the stage with a barrier and literally thousands and thousands of fans behind them. Even I had to laugh at that.

She later meets Kanye West in his dressing room. There is an after party at Versace Palazzo and she and friend Brooke are invited. They go. The girls spend time talking to Tony Williams; he's after shots for an album cover. Brooke mentions Nicole's European Adventure photographs to him. He pops onto her facebook, peruses them and says to Nicole "you didn't take those". Sounds like he was impressed. Gee, thanks Tony, so I'm not just a biased mother after all!! He looks over her other photographic works and he even leaves a comment on her facebook page.

Enough said. It'll be interesting to see what may eventuate. Such is life with my Nicole. It's unpredictable and just when I could murder her (not the tidiest person on the block), I sit here bemused. Earlier that day I yelled at the mountain of washing she dumped in my laundry basket, watched as she later rode the new quad bike up and over the hills on our farm - stopping and patting cows along the way and later in the evening she finds herself in Kanye West's dressing room with Kanye dancing 1/2 a metre away from her. It's all too much! A reality check please. How about some humble hummus - with a twist of course - none of that plain stuff please; after all, we've been touched with fame.

Hummus with Caramelised Onions.

230gm cooked chickpeas (I cook heaps & keep small bags in the freezer, canned is fine but please rinse & drain well)
1 very large onion
2 tablespoons tahini
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 cloves purple garlic, crushed
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
warm water
salt & cracked pepper
extra olive oil for frying onion

slice the onion; place in frypan with approx. 3 tablespoons olive oil; fry slowly for about 20 minutes or till onion has softened. Increase heat a little; watch till the onion browns nicely - not blackened - add about 1 teaspoon of sugar. Cook for a minute or so; set aside; allow to cool.
in a small processor add all the listed ingredients including the onion except for warm water. Process well. The mixture should look pasty and may be a little dry. Add about 3 tbsp water. Process. Keep adding water and perhaps a little more oil or lemon juice if desired till you reach a nice spreadable consistency. Be mindful the more water you add, the less intense will be the flavour.
taste your end result; add more salt, pepper and more sugar if desired, but I found the caramelised onions added a beautiful sweetness to the dish and no further sweetness was required.

I'll admit right here that I've actually never been a fan of hummus. I eat it because I know it's good for me. I find canned chickpeas are always more bitter than chickpeas I soak and cook myself. Not sure why, but that's my experience. Some hummus that I've eaten has a bitter aftertaste which I really dislike.

I thought I'd try a sweet onion touch to the recipe to see what a difference that may make. I can't tell you how delicious it is. No one in my family will eat hummus. Invariably I always have leftover that's been sitting in the fridge for too long which the chickens happily devour. They won't be devouring this lot. I demolished it in two sittings. It was absolutely the face lift that my hummus needed. I won't make it any other way from now on. I think I just made hummus 'famous'. At least it will be if Nicole has anything to do with it!

A "Cause" For Cake

2012-01-17T15:14:00.000-08:00

Some cake was definitely a good thing today. Drizzly and cool the day called for some relief from the turbulence of the last week, the last few months - well the last couple of years actually. At first I wanted no part of the "debacle in the valley" on my blog. In fact, Through My Kitchen Window actually helped me temporarily escape all the unpleasantness. Today however, I've changed my mind and I've decided to not only post about it but to use it; hopefully to advantage for our "cause".

Our Cause: I feel privileged to belong to a wonderful, caring group of citizens who are standing up and making their voices heard. We are a peaceful, civil people who are choosing to exercise our democratic right to speak out. We've been to court on several occasions and even though the judge has deemed the business in the valley 'unlawful', they continue to operate. They have friends in high places; they have managed to get away with just about everything. Believe me when I say we have fought long and hard already and we're determined to see things through. No matter what the obstacles, we'll continue to fight.

Which brings me to you. If you're reading this post, then I'd very much appreciate if you would please take a look at our newly constructed website. We are adopting a new tack and taking things into our own hands. Our website will explain the issues and we aim to inform people about the upcoming sought after change of zoning in this rural paradise. We live in a rare gem of a place in the world which needs protection and preservation; not financial exploitation for a select few.

Please read the website; then, the thing I'd wish from you is to kindly "Like" us on your facebook account; nothing more nothing less; we'd greatly appreciate your support on this. Our local councillors will be getting information about the website in the near future. If they see a heap of 'likes' it may help them to take greater notice. You never know. They won't be voting for a long while yet, but we're not chancing things till the last minute; the object is to get them onside now.

The head of Planning and Development will not be present when the next round of voting takes place. He is crooked. He influenced enough councillors last time to win the vote to allow this 'unlawful' business to continue. The vote was seven for to six against. We did have councillors there who had major issues with the development. A bittersweet narrow loss. It would appear not long after this time, the planning boss was reported to and investigated by the Crime and Misconduct Commission. After months of investigation they handed down the decision and found he had a 'conflict of interest' in the matter and that he should not have been present at the time of the vote. The punishment was pitiful. Two weeks of counselling and out of pocket expenses spent engaging his own lawyers. Too bad about the fall out and the ongoing consequences affecting good people's lives. Bottom line - this councillor won't be able to help his 'friends' this time during the discussion and vote, but he can certainly continue the personal lobbying for them behind closed doors.

We need people power. My friends and I have not been down the 'mass people power' road. And when I say 'my friends', I'm talking about a group of people I'd never met until this 'injustice' brought us together. We range in age from 76 to 5 years of age. We include people who have lived in the valley for more than forty years. The elderly members should be out and about enjoying their retirement. Instead they have chosen to stand up and work tirelessly writing letters, phoning government departments, attending court and so much more. It's too important not to do it, they tell us. They have good days and bad days, but they're hanging in there. In for the long haul they tell us. We laugh, (yes we've laughed on occasion). One man said he hoped to be alive when we finally win. On both counts, I hope he's right!

This upheaval has gone on for long enough. Since May 2008 in fact and we're tired. Blow after blow, we continue to pick ourselves up, shake off the dust and soldier on. At this point I would like to say, we're not people merely jumping on a band waggon fighting for a cause because we have nothing better to do. We all have better things to do. Why would we sign up for personal stress, illness, depression, sleeplessness, losing weight, putting on weight and even being admitted to hospital (on the actual day in court)!

All of this has been brought on by power hungry people who think they can do whatever they want. One set of rules for the masses, another set of rules for them! Our children have witnessed this in sheer disbelief. We decided that as adults and as parents we needed to set an example for our kids. Have courage, remain civil (very hard at times), be truthful (it's easy to remember - the truth is always the same) and no matter how many times you've been knocked down - get back up and keep going.

Please pop over and take a look at the website - Save Numinbah Valley and Natural Bridge -remember 'Like' us and tell others to 'Like' us too, just above the "no quad" symbol. I'll reopen my comments at Through My Kitchen Window which I deactivated a couple of months ago, just in case you have any questions. If you choose to read the development application, be warned, it's monstrously long! In the application they will come across as incredibly considerate, caring people, who have done things professionally and correctly and who abide by all the conditions and follow all the rules. Don't be fooled. Take it from those of us who live right next door and see exactly what it is they do! There are simply too many of us who know the truth! We can't all be wrong. We've already been through so much, and yet in a way, we're starting all over again. Sigh.

Orange Almond Cake
(no book used -I made it up as I went along)

135gm reduced salt butter
in between 3/4 cup & 1 cup caster sugar
rind of 1 1/2 oranges, washed, scrubbed and finely chopped
3 eggs, separated
2/3 cup of self raising flour
1/3 cup of plain flour
1 cup almonds(skin on), processed till fine
1/3 cup room temp milk
freshly squeezed orange juice

beat together butter, sugar and rind till pale in colour and well combined. Took me about 10mins.
add three egg yolks; mix till well blended - no more than a minute or two.
using clean beaters, whisk the egg whites till nice and frothy but not too stiff
add a couple of tablespoons of orange juice to butter mixture; whisk a little to 'loosen up' mixture
add finely processed almonds; whisk till well blended
add sifted flours, milk, 1 tablespoon orange juice & 1/2 the beaten egg whites. Using spatula, fold together till mixture almost comes together
add remaining egg whites; fold through gently
pour mixture into well greased and lined baking tin
bake for 55mins in preheated oven on 130degrees celcius.
allow to sit in tin for five minutes. Turn out on rack; allow to cool. Serve with cream if desired.

PS: Whenever there's been a meeting or a gathering for our "cause", it's never been without lovingly put together food beautifully presented on country kitchen tables in various homes. Of course I love to contribute to the food on these occasions. I feel humbled to know all these good people. At this time, I'm reminded of a quote I used in one of my earlier posts. It just seems to be so appropriate right here, right now.

"The importance of jam and cream in bonding a community should not be underestimated"

From the notebooks of Dulcie May Booker

"Gran's Kitchen".

What A Season!

2012-01-07T23:32:00.000-08:00

The farm has been so beautiful lately. All the rain. Everything looks so vibrant, fresh and green. The stock have been blessed with good feed and there has been no need to sell any of our animals this season. Looks like the season may well continue. I for one, am absolutely loving the cooler summer compared to the normally hot, sticky Aussie summer. Please Mr Weatherman, keep it up!

I posted some pictures from my walk just the other day. No - it's not Ireland - it's Australia - in the heart of summer. Unbelievable!

The clouds moved and the light circled around the trees in this pocket on the hill - so pretty!

The cows will be in heaven once they're allowed in this beautiful "kikuyu" paddock

The crystal clear water in our river glistened - so calming for my soul

View from the river flat

This next fellow showing good potential for a future 'Papa' bull.

A Beautiful Country Cookbook

2012-01-05T23:10:00.000-08:00

Blueberry Pikelets

This Christmas, the present that I loved the best was "The Country Cookbook" by author Belinda Jeffery. In the lead up to Christmas, I said to the kids, "no more cookbooks please"; truly; I have no space left on my bookshelf. I absolutely do not want to donate any more of my cookbooks. I've made three separate bundles to give to Lifeline and I simply don't want to do it again. They're too meaningful to me and to who I am. One things for sure, if I change my mind and do put together another lot, then this book won't make the bundle. It's definitely a keeper - in fact it's located right at the top of my 'regularly used books" pile.

My darling daughter Larissa, who now resides in Melbourne, chose to buy and then lug this rather heavy book home on the plane. I'm so glad she did. It's lovely. Issy(nickname for Larissa), said she was in the shop 'Books For Cooks' when she struck up a conversation with the shop assistant describing me and my cooking. She said the assistant picked up this book and said sounds like this is exactly what your mother may appreciate. Larissa said she thoroughly checked it out; remember; I'm tough about what goes on the shelf these days! Issy said she felt warm and connected to the writing as it reminded her a lot of me! "Mum, the author has lovely recipes and she accompanies them with stories and she lives in a beautiful part of the country, just like you do". Well, I don't know about the 'lovely recipes' part, but I do associate cooking with stories and we certainly have a magnificent place in the country. Thank you my very thoughtful daughter!

And thank you to Belinda Jeffery for your lovingly put together "seasonal jottings and recipes". The Rosella Jelly has absolutely bowled me over - even more so, when I read it thoroughly to see that I make a jelly not too different to her method. I feel really pleased about that. But jelly isn't on my agenda or my mind today. I want something less complicated and time-consuming. The Blueberry Pikelets caught my eye. I had a punnet in the fridge and everything else except for the buttermilk. That didn't stop me. I'm very much an improvise or "substitute with" kind of cook.

Blueberry Pikelets
(adapted from The Country Cookbook, by Belinda Jeffery)

1 cup SR Flour
1/2tsp bicarb soda
1/4tsp salt
2 tbsp caster sugar
1 free-range egg
1 cup milk (the cookbook says to use buttermilk)
20gm unsalted butter, melted
extra butter for cooking
1 1/2tsp vanilla extract
2/3 cup blueberries, fresh or frozen
butter, or jam and thick cream, to serve (Belinda's recommendation)
home-made lemon butter and whipped cream to serve (my recommendation)

Tip the flour, bicarb of soda, salt and sugar in a bowl; whisk to combine. In another bowl, whisk together the egg, milk, melted butter and vanilla extract. Mix well.
Pour the liquid into the flour mixture; beat well till it comes together and is lump free. I find the best way to achieve this is to pour only half the liquid in first and mix vigorously. When the lumps are gone, whisk in the remaining liquid. I left mine to sit for about 15 mins. Add the blueberries.
In a large non-stick frying pan, melt some butter; drop spoonfuls of the batter into the pan. Allow for spreading; do not crowd the pan. You really must use a gentle heat or else the pikelets will go brown quickly. If this happens, the batter won't have risen adequately and the blueberries may well fall out of the pikelet upon flipping. Keep the heat low; watch the batter rise nicely around the blueberries; when bubbles form then carefully turn over. Using a paper towel, wipe the pan each time before adding another lot of batter; not necessary of course; but the residual butter may turn them brown too soon.
I'm a little pedantic and chose to wipe my flip every time I turned over a pikelet. The blueberry juice will stain the flip and I wanted my pikelets to look as "unstained" as possible for my photo. Told you I was pedantic. You most likely won't bother, but the blueberries will definitely become soft and juicy if you cook them for too long. Like much of cooking, it's a balancing act.

My pikelets didn't seem to rise as well as Belinda's judging by the photo in her book. Perhaps the buttermilk may have added to the height; not sure on this one. Either way, they're yummy. Such an 'aussie' food. Enjoy!

I adore lemon butter; add some cream - a heavenly mouthful

With a cup of tea of course!

Utopia Exists

2012-01-02T16:20:00.000-08:00

I have two extraordinarily talented daughters. Today, I focus on my youngest daughter Nicole. She spent most of yesterday engrossed; sketching, colouring and creating her latest work. I've asked her for a print. As a little girl, she loved the Disney movies: "Fox and the Hound", "Pocahontas", "Beauty and The Beast", too many to mention. But her all time favourite story was "Bambi". It stays with her to this very day. In this crazy modern world, I feel heartened that there remains an innocence and a hope for "happy endings", somewhere in Nicole's beliefs. It comes through in her art. Take a moment to observe and enjoy her latest work. She used no illustration or picture as a guide.

One of her earlier sketches - 2008

Me, Myself and Lamb

2012-01-01T15:15:00.000-08:00

I made this beautiful lunch yesterday. Home alone and hungry, I decided to fulfill my new year's resolution. "To be kind to myself and to value myself". I've lost sight of looking after myself for the last three years. High time to get back on track and stop the neglect.

I didn't flinch at preparing such an elaborate meal; I was hungry; it's the first day of the year and what better way to begin the year and to honour my new year's resolution.

Marinated Lamb & Veggies

a rib rack of lamb
1 fresh pomegranate
garlic cloves
fresh thyme leaves
cracked pepper
french mustard
olive oil
lemon

To marinate the lamb; in a dish:

squeeze 1/2 a pomegranate mainly for the juice ( a few seeds won't hurt)
add only a little fresh lemon juice
4 cloves roughly chopped garlic
heaps of cracked pepper
several sprigs of thyme
1 tablespoon french mustard
a good slurp of olive oil

Take the lamb and massage the marinade all over the meat. Cover; set aside for no more than an hour; preferably out of the fridge. It will bake better at room temperature.

Preheat your oven to fairly hot. In a hot fry pan, add some oil and sear the lamb rack on both sides till nicely browned. Place straight into the hot oven and bake till desired. I don't like mine pink, so I baked mine for 30mins. Allow to rest for at least 15 minutes before slicing the cutlets.

Add a little water to the dish the lamb was baked in; swivel to release the nice bits stuck to the base and to collect any remaining juice. Strain this through a fine sieve; reserve.

I served my lamb with creamy mashed potatoes, buttered green beans and strips of carrot and sweet roasted, marinated beetroot. I topped the lamb with some home-made tomato relish and I drizzled some of the reserved pan juices over the lamb.

Not sure how it looks; but it tasted bloody beautiful! Happy New Year to me. And yes to more looking after me too!

A Merry Mousy Christmas.

2011-12-22T22:09:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas To All Creatures Small.........

......................And Great

I hope your day is filled with love, joy and family blessings.

Birthday Thoughts and Memories

2011-12-14T19:26:00.000-08:00

I'm fifty two today and I wish I could transport myself to where this photo was taken just a few months ago. Nicole took this picture. The day was nearing it's end and I remember feeling fabulous and free in what has to be one of my favourite places in the world. Rovinj.

It's a very popular travel destination for Europeans in the know. Seriously. It's beautiful. It amazes me that the western world hasn't woken up to the beauty of Rovinj. Western travel obsessions always seem to include France and Italy. The Europeans however - they know about this little gem of a place. And they come. I was even surprised to see a few Americans there this time. Perhaps, they are waking up to the Romance of Rovinj. Next time you are in Venice, consider ferrying your way across the Adriatic Sea to the coast of Croatia. Rovinj is virtually straight across the waters from Venice. About 4 or 5 hours. I didn't take the ferry, but in the summer season it runs frequently.

It's impossible not to feel moved by this place. I raved about it incessantly to the girls before we went there, to the point I felt certain they'd be let down. You know the feeling - when someone goes on about something so much, that when you experience it for yourself, it doesn't quite reach the expectation because such a high standard was set. I needn't have worried. They fell in love with Rovinj.

They too were entranced by the old, cobble stoned alley ways weaving through the town. The sea lapping against the walls of the town. The art. The crafts. Rovinj is the place where all the artists in the land converge to showcase their works during the summer months. Nicole was beside herself. If there was ever a place we needed an empty suitcase, it was here. We could of filled it up in no time, with all kinds of original works, some reasonably priced, some not. It's an artist's wonderland and the location is like no other.

At one stage, Larissa, Nicole and I parted company. We all went our separate ways and we decided to meet up again in a couple of hours. This is the kind of place one needs to be alone. To feel truly part of the place; to wander; to breathe; to admire; to soak up the atmosphere; to feel lost and yet to feel completely free.

I recall meeting up with the girls. They looked radiant. They sat underneath an umbrella at one of the coffee shops down by the sea. They seemed totally relaxed. Their faces satisfied. Rovinj does that. Solitude and calm immerse your body. I remember feeling wonderful and confident and happy to be alive. Nicole, once again, your photo is marvellous. You captured your mother well my dear. It brings me joy and it reminds me of a truly special time in a truly special place. At my age, what better way to celebrate a birthday.

I'll never forget the brewing storm.

A Crafty Christmas

2011-12-13T14:55:00.000-08:00

At our final craft club meeting, we had a lunch gathering and a secret santa exchange of gifts. Our gift was supposed to be "crafty" in a small way, in other words, we're supposed to make something. I already had some preserves in the cupboard, but I was very pleased with the fabric bon bons I made. Very pretty. I filled one with nice choccies and was rather chuffed with the outcome. The ladies were getting so used to all my cooking stories, I think they'd forgotten I could sew! They were pleased and so was I.

Doesn't a fabric bon bon make a nice change? It feels so personal. I'm happy.

I couldn't resist adding two of my latest preserves; jaboticaba jelly and roasted capsicum sauce.

I think I met the criteria for putting together a small, crafty christmas gift. See you next year ladies!

Lovely and Lush

2011-12-09T06:29:00.000-08:00

How lovely you look on our beautiful, lush farm. I just adore this photo Nic.

Audrey?

2011-12-09T06:22:00.000-08:00

You remind me of Audrey Hepburn in this one. It's beyond me how on earth you manage to take such good shots of yourself my girl.

Nicka 'n da Nederland

2011-12-09T06:06:00.000-08:00

You certainly loved your time in the Netherlands my girl. Congrats on a wonderful collage of photos. Judging by all the comments you received, I'm not the only one liking this one. Marvellous job Nicole.

Nicka living the dream - 'the woodlands'

Our Very Own Hidden Treasure

2011-12-07T16:18:00.000-08:00

Honestly Nicole. How can you not become successful with wonderful work like this? I know you loved the place. And in your photos it shows. I look at them often. I smile. I remember this world. This world I took you to discover. And discover you did. The afternoons you disappeared; with your camera in tow and your fantastic 'eye'. How well you captured the essence of the place. How you fell in love with the place. How you never saw anything like it. The words you used to describe it. Magical, a fantasy world, "sound of music", "lord of the rings", breathtaking. Now, you understand why your brother went on so much about the place only two years earlier. Why he wants to buy property there. While the untouched primitiveness remains. And to think you belong here. You have blood that came from here. How special we feel. To think the world doesn't know about it. For us it's a good thing. If the world did know about it, the world would invade. The beauty and the primitiveness would be lost. Let's hope it stays undiscovered and this place will always be open for us to stay, to visit, to belong. I'm so glad you loved Montenegro.

Jaboticaba Jelly No. 2

2011-12-07T15:30:00.000-08:00

Remember guys when I made my first lot of jaboticaba jelly. I certainly didn't have a problem with the jelling, that's for sure. Also, Pa and Mitch thought it was too sweet. The fruit was definitely ripe. They are a funny thing the jaboticaba fruit. If you recall, they can be green as green and appear to have ages to go before they ripen. One week later, they are full, big, purple as purple can be and I was scratching my head wondering when the hell did that happen. A few days later, and they've fallen off tree or left fermenting on the tree or the birds have helped themselves to the lot. Bottom line, there isn't much time once the fruit has ripened. You need to be prepared and you need to be on time.

Next time I think I'll make a batch a little earlier, if I can read the blessed things correctly, and see if that makes a difference. Just to see how it goes. Otherwise, I'm pretty happy with my second batch. The first jell I made was way too firm. Almost like a jelled lolly. I don't want that. A proper jelly should spread nicely and break up easily. Mitch suggested to take out the added pectin stock that I added to the first batch. You also recommended I reduce the sugar to 60%, didn't you Mitch. That was a good thing.

Follow the method exactly as for the first jaboticaba jelly. The measurements for the second batch were:

2.200mls jaboticaba juice
1340 gm castor sugar (60% ratio to the juice)

The only other thing I would add to the first recipe is; boil till you hear and see the mixture 'plopping heavily' and lift the wooden spoon high above the mixture to allow some of the jelly to drip. If it's almost set, the last couple of drips on the spoon should be thick and not falling into the mixture. Your wooden spoon is a good way to read the readiness of the jelly. Also, run your finger down the back of the spoon to see how well the jelly separates and has jelled. I find this so much easier than doing the "sample on a saucer", that all the books seem to recommend.

Don't hesitate to remove your boiling jelly if it looks like it will spill over the sides of the pot; it will! Remove from heat; allow the mixture to drop; place back on heat and keep boiling. That's the thing with jell. It needs to be watched and you absolutely must not have a lot in the pan to begin with. That's why I had to make my jelly in two batches. This pot is perfect for a roughly two litre quantity. Anymore and I'd be in trouble. The picture above is not far from jelling point and I am using the rapid boil method.

Oh just one more thing. This fruit appears to be really quite acidic. It really is rather like a grape and they sure can be acidic. Perhaps next time only a little bit of lemon or lime juice needs to be added, if at all, and the apples I added with the jaboticaba fruit could also be reduced or even eliminated. Anyhow it all needs to be played with till I reach the perfect texture and taste. I must consider these things next year.

Oh and another. Philomena and Romano came over and collected half a bucket of fermenting fruit underneath the tree. Remember. Mano distilled it with 'his recipe' and made almost a litre of jaboticaba grappa. Gotta love our Romano. Wasn't it amazing! So clean on the palate. I could of drunk the bottle and I never feel that way about Romano's normal grappa. Next year, we must lay out a tarp underneath the tree to collect any fallen fruit. Hopefully we'll have buckets of the fruit so our darling Mano can merrily distill heaps of the stuff.

Anyhow, I know you'll be proud of me Mitch. I was cleaning up and found this scribble on some paper. I almost threw it out. You roused on me telling me to update and record exactly what I did when I made the better batch. So here it is my boy. Not to mention, it'll be easier for me next time round.

Wondering.........

2011-12-04T16:04:00.000-08:00

For today at least, I'm really glad you don't read my blog Mitch. You'd die. I often wonder where on earth my caring, unassuming, quietly confident, level headed and amazingly bright boy came from. They all say you're like my Dad. In so many ways you are; in other ways, you absolutely are not. You are you. I feel positive when I say you are a rare being. You know what I mean. And so do your sisters who I feel positive would wholeheartedly agree. As would Philomena. Romano. Smiljana. And the relatives in Montenegro, all of whom love and respect you. They tell me their hearts ache to see you again.

I wonder how your first day is going. You could have taken the easy road. Dad's engineering company can always use clever people. Did I tell you how amazed I was to hear you traipse the streets of Brisbane. Knocking on doors. Searching and asking who might take you on for your final work experience. A place prepared to be the focus of your last uni project. You could of consulted the uni to do the searching for you. Knowing you, I guess you didn't want to settle for any place. Certain things interest you, certain things don't. You've figured out early my son, aim high, you just might find it. I don't know who you are Terry, but thanks. You won't regret your decision.

And your proud, proud mother cannot contain herself. It's beyond me. How did you not jump up and down when you received your final results. What a year! Come on! Fireworks - something - anything! All those Distinctions and High Distinctions. Mechanical Engineering! And to be shortlisted on the Dean's very own Achiever's Of Academic Excellence! Are you kidding me!!!! But no. You read, you smile, you sigh with relief. And then you ask me what's to eat Ma?

Treat him well please Terry. I hear your company has never had uni students before. I hear my son is your first guinea pig. I hear if all goes well, you will begin a program for other students to follow. Why has this happened? Because you my dear boy, turned your back on the easy option, followed your heart and knocked on doors. You inspire me every day Mitchell and you don't even realise it. I can't wait to hear how your first day went. I wonder what you'd like for dinner tonight?

A New Path

2011-12-04T06:31:00.000-08:00

Photo taken in Bath, England, by the wonderful photographer 'Nicole'

I need a change. I've been doing my 'mostly' food blog for almost three years. I don't feel like I'm getting anywhere. I've decided things need to change. I'm not prepared to keep on going with the current formula. Spending time posting. Sometimes way too much time. Waiting for comments. Comments that arrive few and far in between.

My 'stats' tell me that I get a small, but decent number of page views. Not really sure what I'm expecting, but it doesn't feel rewarding. I think other bloggers will agree when I say that it's 'comments' that make it worthwhile, that make you feel heard, validated and appreciated. Comments keep you motivated and driven to keep posting. Whatever it is that I'm doing, I'm not doing it right.

Next week I turn 52 and I feel like I've been in a three year rut to be honest. The year I turned 49 was a turnaround year for me. Good and bad things happened. The bad things have kept me stagnant and the good things have kept me comfortable, safe and unadventurous. I need to find 'adventure'. I've been seeking it in the wrong places and my blog for one, hasn't brought me the satisfaction that I thought it would. So. What am I to do.

For starters, I'm removing the 'comments'. If I do that, then I won't expect anything and I can't be disappointed. I'm also reducing the number of food posts. I was a volunteer telephone counsellor with "Lifeline" for a good number of years and I know and understand the benefits from writing about one's thoughts and feelings. This blog will now include journalling of my thoughts and feelings, mostly directed towards my kids, but also to me. It's amazing the clarity that one can achieve through talking or writing. I'm feeling better already.

Thanks if you've been one of my rare visitors.

Okay kids. This is for you. I'm your Mama, your Ma, your Mammoolie. I'm so proud of you all that I could burst with pride. This place is for you, about you and about me too. Hope this fresh new outlook at Through My Kitchen Window brings me greater joy as I'm tired of blogging for the sake of it. I want to blog for the meaning and you guys are my meaning.

Good bye to the old Through My Kitchen Window. Tomorrow is a new day.

You have a wonderful eye Nicole!

Grumpy Greetings from "Gundy"

2011-12-03T03:17:00.000-08:00

An angry sky looming and a river set to swell yet again - "Goondiwindi"

We set out to the new place with camper van in tow. The van had been relegated to the farm years ago; unused and destined to remain that way. Hubby decided we'd stay overnight in the camper and give our just-arrived from overseas daughter a look at his new property in Goondiwindi. The place is almost eleven thousand acres. An undeveloped jewel of a place; waiting for a man with a vision. The previous owners are beautiful people. But they never really made use of the land and all it's amazing potential. It's an astoundingly mammoth task. Is my Hubby up to the task? We'll see what unfolds.

A quick supermarket stop in town and we headed out to our property, admiring all the impressive cotton plantations along the way. Has there ever been a season this good?

The cows arrived only half an hour after we did. It takes surprisingly little time to unload. After a long trip they were well and truly into the grass. Welcome to your new home girls - all 63 of you. Now, if we could only find another couple hundred to join you - the season is great and finding good cattle ain't easy.

We set up camp. It rained overnight. There were three drips in the van; what a nightmare. How could three drips make such a mess. One o'clock in the morning I needed a 'loo' trip. I nearly slipped arse over head on the slippery floor; woke everyone up; jolted into action. Containers under the drips; towels used as mops, zip up the screens. We found we weren't prepared anywhere near enough. It became cold and we were short on warm throws and blankets. All night tussling over the odd blanket ensued.

Heaps of things went wrong; claggy soil sticking to everything; motorbikes not starting; car getting bogged, van getting bogged, fish not biting, encounters with snakes and a hungry goanna, weather seeing us sweat then freeze then sweat again, etc etc. My daughter found it all good fun and adventurous; my son took it in his stride; Hubby always makes the best of any situation; but me; I became grumpy. I just didn't see the funny side. I think I'm getting too old for this.

Nicole on the trusty old postie bike

Nicka loved the place. Although we didn't get to see the property on the other side of the road. It was way too wet and getting bogged was a certainty. Nicka did however see that the photographic possibilities out here are endless. The Australian Bush and all that goes with it. The wildlife, the flora, the huge skies, subjects too great to list. She can't wait to come back again, armed with her proper camera gear to go shooting. I'm so looking forward to her landscape work out here. For today at least, she was my subject. I'm no photographer. But it's pretty hard to go wrong when my subject is this beautiful.

My arty daughter posing on the tractor. At home she had loads of fun editing & creating a postcard effect.

Boo Boo's Home; Chicken Noodle San Choy Boy & Me "Unplugged".

2011-11-27T21:04:00.000-08:00

Nicole's favourite food

Her plane was early. Even so, we made it to the gate in time to greet a dishevelled, overloaded back-packing, complete with Furry Foxy's head sticking out of the backpack, tired looking girl. She left in May. Twenty years old. Twenty one and seven months later. Home again. Apart from my stint with her in Europe for six weeks and then another four weeks with elder sister, she's travelled alone.

She looks contented. Satisfied. A shake of the head; a wide smile; a slight bow. I read her body language. To me it said, I made it. I did it. I'm home. I suspect the innocence is gone. I've hung onto my "little" girl's innocence for quite a while. But even I can see. It's gone.

There's no point being sad. How can she venture out into the big, wide world and not have grown? When Pa asks her what has she learned, she replies; "I'm really not that stupid."

We hear as she talks about feeling independent, feeling unafraid to ask questions or simply talk to people, hiring a bike and cycling 43kms in the Netherlands - alone. Stopping to explore, take photo's and crying at the sight of a windmill. Making plans and reservations, taking risks, making silly mistakes, trusting her instinct. Yelling at would-be thieves trying to rob a tourist in Barcelona only to have the robber chasing her down the street. Oh dear. Did I really have to hear that.

From rowing in picture perfect Lake Bled, freezing to death in Prague, partying like crazy in Budapest to learning about the Berlin Wall on a three hour walking tour; she did her own thing. She made her own choices. She learned. A lot. And she said that she found no matter how 'bad' or 'hopeless' some situations appeared; she learned that things always had a way of turning out.

Like the time in the Netherlands on a busy Saturday night when every hostel in town was booked out. She considered spending all night in MacDonalds because there was no accomodation anywhere to be found. She said she went for a walk and virtually stumbled into one of the better hostels in town. She decided to ask if it were possible to put down a mattress in the hall. The place was chokkers with people trying to check in and the girl behind the reception said to my Nicka; "you must have an angel looking over you". She had just put down the phone after a rare cancellation. She quickly made the reservation for Nicole before it was taken. I said to Nicka - I rather hope that angel was my mother. Nicka smiled; she felt the same way.

Nicole

No point going on. Bottom line is, she's home safe and sound and very much a different girl. Wiser, confident, full of self-belief, stronger. Yes. Stronger. She carried up to thirty kilos on her back. Her arms and legs have never been so muscular. The best thing? Her discovery that far from being 'stupid' (her words, not mine); she's a smart and capable girl. It took travelling to Europe and spending most of her savings to find out. In my book, money well worth spent.

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Nicole's favourite dinner is my version of 'san choy boy'. Here is the long awaited recipe Boo Boo(nickname) - I've only been promising to post this for the last three years. Now. If I get hit by a bus tomorrow, I can rest in peace; you have your recipe. I hope your welcome home meal lives up to your expectations. It's good to have you home my littlest munchkin. (At least till the next travel bug bites).

Chicken Noodle San Choy Boy

650gm chicken breast, roughly chopped
4 or 5 finely diced green shallots or one bunch chopped chives
6 or 7 cloves of good quality purple garlic, crushed
2 medium carrots, finely diced
3 noodle cakes, I use the brand 'Fantastic'
oyster sauce
sweet chilli sauce (optional)
crisp iceberg lettuce

I use a small food processor. Put half the roughly chopped chicken in the processor with half the shallots and garlic; whizz till processed - you don't need to whizz the heck out of it. Place in a bowl; repeat step with the remaining chicken, garlic and shallots. Put contents into the fridge till ready to cook.

In boiling water, cook the noodle cakes for about two or three minutes - no more - you need a little firmness to them. Drain water immediately; rinse with cold water till completely cooled; place noodles in a bowl filled with water. They will continue to swell while you cook the other ingredients.

Put the finely diced carrots into a microwave safe dish; add a couple of spoonfuls of water; cook on high for two minutes. Set aside; covered.

Heat your wok till quite hot; place about three tablespoons of peanut oil in wok; toss in the chicken, garlic and shallot mixture. Using a wok chan, move the contents of the wok around in an even action. You may need to add more oil; the chicken is breast so there's really no other source of fat. Cook for about five minutes; but not too long because you don't want the meat to dry out.

Place the carrots into the meat; swirl around. Cut the noodles up in the water. Not too much. I find scissors really good for this. Drain noodles really well. Toss into the centre of wok; add some more oil if desired; I do; cook till completely heated through.

Now the part you need to decide for yourself. I add about 1/2 bottle of Maggi's Oyster Sauce. A full bottle is 275gm. I know. It's quite a bit, but my family love the flavour. Mix through till well heated. Place into a serving dish; set aside.

Take a head of iceberg lettuce. You need to be a little choosy here; a crispy good heart is essential. Using a paring knife; take out the core of the lettuce; discard. Put the upside down lettuce under the tap; fill with water; sit for a few moments; turn upside down on the sink to allow the water to run out. I find this is the best way to loosen the leaves from each other.

Carefully jiggle the first leaf off - you don't want to rip it as this is the case for your filling. If the leaf isn't quite loose; repeat the process of filling the lettuce up with water through the core; upturn on sink again. It should peel away easily if you do this a couple of times. Still. You need gentle hands here. Take as many leaves as you need; spoon your filling into the centre of the lettuce cup; add some sweet chilli sauce if desired; wrap &; don't worry about the drips.

Where did those years go?

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Sorry for the long post but I'm outta blogland in the next few days with loads to do!

The lovely Brydie at cityhippyfarmgirl has tagged me to answer a few questions. I'll do my best.

Through My Kitchen Window Unplugged

What or who, inspired you to start a blog? I figured starting a blog would be a great way of learning how to use the computer. I was a complete novice and terribly afraid of the "delete" button. As a totally technology challenged idiot, I couldn't keep bugging the kids and my Hubby to keep showing me "how to....." every time I made a mistake. Given that 'food' is a passionate interest, it made sense to start a food blog. I've learnt heaps, with heaps still to learn. Geez. I only figured out how to 'link' not that long ago. What can I say! I'm over fifty! That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.
Who is your foodie inspiration? When I lived in Wollongong, I worked for my Hubby's aunt. She was one of the senior test cooks at the Australian Women's Weekly up until the late 1970's. She would of easily made Food Editor after Ellen Sinclair, except that she resigned. The travel time to get to Sydney was too long. Pamela Clark got the job. Peg went on to establish her very own successful catering business in Wollongong and she taught me heaps. I was her very first assistant and I loved every second of the work. Hard, but oh so rewarding. Thanks Peggy.
Your greasiest batter-splattered food/drink book is? You gotta be kidding. I treasure them too much. I keep the books well away from the stove or prepping stage.
Tell us about the best thing you have ever eaten in another country, where was it, what was it? Hard one. Tossing up between a simple pasta cooked in the best quality olive oil, garlic and parsley; in Zadar, Croatia. Honestly - I couldn't believe it; simplicity at it's absolute tastiest. If pressed for an answer, I'd have to pick the meal at Cafe Europa in Montenegro. My plate arrived with home-made chevups and spicy chicken, cubed potatoes cooked in olive oil and herbs, some kind of savoury rice and a shredded cabbage salad. On the side was a generous dish of salad greens, cucumber, tomato, onion, capsicum and olives. And in the middle of the table was a huge basket of home-made bread. Get ready. My meal cost five euros. There were four of us and the total bill came to twenty six euros. Including drinks. I've never seen such a spread for the price. Amazing value for sure; but the whole thing tasted so damn good that my son and I still talk about it.
Another food bloggers table you'd like to eat at is? Zurin at Cherry On A Cake. Although I don't think that I could eat. I'd spend way too much time admiring her beautiful presentation and fine food artistry. Apart from being one talented lady and a great cook, we've bonded well in cyberspace. I can see us chatting for hours at the table, just like a pair of long lost friends.
What is the one kitchen gadget that you'd ask Santa for this year(money no object of course)? Easy. An ice-cream maker and it's already on the list. I hear the elves are out researching the net for performance reviews as I write.
Who taught you how to cook? Not my mother. She died when I was not quite two years old. I'm completely self-taught.
I'm coming to you for dinner, what's your signature dish? Strawberry and Blueberry Tart. I haven't made this for yonks, but I can tell you I entered this recipe in a national Western Star Butter competition years ago. I made the finals. Fifteen of us from all around Australia were flown to Sydney, where we had to replicate our recipe before an audience and three judges at the Sydney Entertainment Centre. There was only one winner; I was one of the fourteen runner ups. Hehe. Gosh that was such a fun day.
What is your guilty food pleasure? Chocolate.
Reveal something about yourself that others would be surprised to learn? Writing about my Berry Tart has reminded me of the competitions I loved entering. This was years ago though, I rarely enter anything these days. I've had some great wins along the way. One of my fav's were the "Dob In A Mum" competition on TV with Geoff Jansz - I was the Queensland finalist and Geoff made my Beef Stir-fry on tele and he said my name eight times. I nearly died. Hehe. The Win Your Weight In Chocolate Competition holds a very special place in my heart; my very first competiton ever. And I guess my most famous win was in the Australian Good Taste magazine about ten years ago. Two thousand people entered the "Meet the Naked Chef" competition and yours truly won. Yep. I spent half an hour in a private cocktail party with Jamie Oliver himself. I asked my friend Kim to accompany me on the trip to Melbourne for the three days. We stayed at the Grand Hyatt, had VIP passes to the Good Food Show and free entry to any of Jamie's shows, free gifts and books and a signed music CD and cookbook by Jamie himself. I'll never forget my friend Kim, who before we left to go to Melbourne, asked, "who is Jamie Oliver". These days she shakes her head in disbelief. Hope I haven't bored you, but I've had such fun recalling some of those days. I could go on - but I'll leave it there.

In My November Kitchen

2011-11-16T15:31:00.000-08:00

I made fourteen assorted jars of jaboticaba jelly. Two have already gone. Lots left for Chrissy presents.

I purchased three rustic-looking, metal trays from Wheel and Barrow. I adore them. I managed to part with one and donated it to our recent Make, Bake and Grow fundraising event.

I have such a weakness for bookstores. The following newest titles are still on my kitchen table because I can't find any room on my overloaded book shelf.

I won the honey at the Make, Bake and Grow Day.

Given that we have cows, how on earth could I pass up this creamer and mug. I bought 4 of each; one set for me and more pressies for Christmas.

Looking 'through my kitchen window', I can't wait for the bananas to ripen. It's been a long time since we've been able to keep a bunch intact given the bats around here.

The same goes for the peaches. It's been years since we've had them last this long!

I made a long bar version of my dear neighbour's choc-marble cake.

In my kitchen, I look at our back wall and admire the painting that has given us so much joy over the years. It's been an absolute favourite with my Hubby and youngest daughter Nicole, who is still on her travels in Europe. Whenever I find myself missing her, I glance up at the painting and she feels close again. I'm sure Nicole will be saddened to learn the artist David Boyd, died last week.

I wish I could share the whole painting with you.

The "In My Kitchen" concept belongs to Celia. Pop over for a look at her wonderful blog.

Make, Bake and Grow Day

2011-11-14T19:58:00.000-08:00

"Good-Old Fashioned Home-Made Goodies" - proudly made by me

The table above displays the following home-made donations:

sweet orange marmalade
mulberry jam
jaboticaba jelly
strawberry jam
kiwi jam
chocolate mud cake
choc chip macadamia bikkies
coconut ice
caramel macadamia fudge
Bailey's chocolate fudge
&
My recipes, a bottle of Bailey's, strawberry tea cup & saucer together with strawberry scented tea leaves, strawberry tin for tea leaves, chocolate coffee cup with saucer and dessert plate, a packet of CWA scone mixture, rustic rounded metal tray, tea towel and a wooden spoon.

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Recently we had a "Make, Bake and Grow Day" out in the valley. It was held in the heritage-listed, century-old community Hall. The idea was to raise funds to help renovate the kitchen which is most overdue for an uplift. The lovely craft ladies having tasted some of my preserves and other goodies, asked me if I would be prepared to 'create' the major prize. They were having their annual cent auction and the prizes had to be made or grown.

All very nice, but let's face it. Even in the country there are people who simply don't have the time any more to do things the old-fashioned way, so we did end up with the odd donation of knives, books and other wares that weren't home or hand made or grown. All for a good cause, so we can't be too fussy. However. I don't fall into that category. I'm into old-fashioned. I made, I preserved, I baked, I even printed recipes from my blog to prove it. You may recognise some of them. I felt obligated to uphold an authentic "Make, Bake and Grow" theme and I think the ladies were absolutely delighted with what I managed to put together. A fair bit of work on my part, but I loved every second of it.

Setting Up - Prizes were placed behind the ticket numbers

There was a good showing of people from the valley and my daughter Larissa was the first winner of the evening. She won the tea pot with cosy prize package as shown in the corner. The tea cosy was knitted by an eighty year old lady and Larissa just loved it.

Friends sitting opposite me were delighted to win a prize containing my carrot cake.

The very same friends went on to win this prize including my Jaboticaba Jelly!

I burst out laughing when our other good friends won a prize containing my orange marmalade

with recipe and mandarin jam. I wanted to win them back! They said they'd sell it to

me and I replied I didn't have the money for such a quality prize. So many laughs we had.

I won this gorgeous door stop. I had a rather good evening actually. I also won a hand sewn

country apron with two pot holders made from the same fabric and heaps of other goodies, including

a set of knives. More laughs. I came home and Hubby claimed them. We'll need to stock the

house on our new country property soon , so he was most pleased.

I took samples of my bikkies, fudges and coconut ice for people to try. Turned out to be a good move. We sold more tickets. Sooooooo funny!

The hand-stirred Bailey's fudge was beautiful - even though my arm nearly dropped off making it!

A terrific night was had by all and the Old Hall continues to bring people together - as I look at the faces of the valley pioneers hanging on the walls, I can only hope they'd be happy to see their country values and community spirit still alive today.

Basil Fawlties in the Country

2011-11-12T23:21:00.000-08:00

Looking "Through My Car Window" at our new place.

My son was in two minds about taking precious study time off to see our new property. The curiosity got the better of him. He drove off with Hubby at a ridiculously early hour with the intention of returning home at a ridiculously late hour. On the same day. Otherwise he simply couldn't go. His final exam is this week.

The plan was simple enough. The excavator from our farm reached the new place last Friday. The new house is to be transported in two sections by two semi's on Tuesday. The beams ordered from America were out there and waiting to be arranged.

So. Their intentions were simple. The remains of an old cottage exist by the river. Go through the wreck and salvage anything that looks 'interesting.' Using the excavator, knock it all down. Clear everything so that the area is ready for next Tuesday. Sounds a lot? Sure, but if you have any idea of what an excavator can do, it's boys playing with toys really; these things can move mountains in a very short amount of time.

As I understand, everything was going well and the two of them had accumulated a big pile of rubbish in all the demolition. Hubby, who is usually very mindful and sensible, decided they would light the rubbish and burn it off. In hindsight, not a good idea. Apparently there was an old fuel container nearby. Yep. It blew up and set the whole thing raging; the fire spread and the two of them lost control.

Hot, dry and loads of kangaroos everywhere - this is real Australia

Hubby raced up to the house. The people from whom we had bought the place were away for the weekend in Maleny. We gave them the okay to live on the premises for another six months; they were due home on Monday.

Hubby broke into the house and telephoned the fire brigade. They would be thirty minutes. Our closest town. He was very concerned about the power pole as it was in the line of the fire. He ran back to help poor Mitch, but it was too late. The fire had reached the pole. The next minute sparks were going off on in all directions. Needless to say, the power leading to the house went out.

The two of them battled away till the fire brigade arrived. Exhausted and defeated it sounds like they dropped like flies when the firemen took over. Not yet sure how long it took to put out the fire. Well. Bushfire actually. It's the Australian bush and we are in an Australian summer. Don't want to imagine how badly all this could have turned out.

Bottom line is the fire was put out and I'm sure the people of this town will be wondering about the 'newest people' to have entered their district. Will they think we are total goons and most likely 'cityfolk' who don't have a clue? Most likely.

Five o'clock in the afternoon I get the phone call and a rundown of the day's events; 'we're going to be late as we've had a little accident'. Funny that. I bet if I were responsible, it would have been a major accident. But in Hubby's words, just a 'little' accident. Okay, what now. And take it easy on my boy. He needs his wits about him this week.

They can't leave the place with no power. They decide to stay overnight in a motel in town and find out where and how they can get a generator to link up to the house. That will be a job for the morning.

So much for my boy taking much needed time-out for a relaxing and exciting drive to our new place. And helping his Pa just a little. I can't help chuckling as I sit here and wait for Basil and Manuel to come home.

Jaboticaba Jelly

2011-11-05T20:21:00.000-07:00

Jaboticaba 'Jewels' ripe for the picking

Have you ever seen a fruit tree like it! A jungle of jaboticaba fruit. Attached to the truck of the tree. The stems and the branches too. Amazing!

The jaboticaba fruit is native to Brazil and it is best described as a tough-skinned purple grape-like fruit. The whole fruit is edible, however, the skin can be slightly bitter and there is a softish pip in the middle. Entirely edible. But the gorgeous part of this fruit is the colourless flesh, sweet and juicy. Hubby tends to pop the whole thing in his mouth, then spit out the pip and the skin after extracting all the flesh. I can handle the pip well; I think the roughage is good, however sometimes the skin can be too bitter to handle. My dear neighbour Philomena downs the whole lot. It's all a matter of taste.

And so the time had come for me to pull out the pot and get into the mode for jelly-making. I really didn't feel like it to be honest, but I guess cooking and eating seasonally doesn't come with the luxury of when it suits me. The fruit is ready now. If I wait any longer the birds will suss out the fruit and decimate the lot in a couple of days, sometimes even one day. No joke!

I took a couple of bowls and filled them in next to no time. The palm of my hand was full every time I reached in to pull them off. The bowls were quickly filled.

They look like purpley black marbles

The good thing about a making a jelly compared to a jam is that it's not necessary to be too pedantic. Simply wash off anything foreign and make sure that the fruit you use is not damaged. That's pretty much it. If the stems are on, that's fine. Let's Jell!

Recipe Ingredients:

Whole jaboticaba fruit
3 green apples, fresh as can be will provide greater pectin
1 whole lemon or lime, straight off the tree if possible

Place the jaboticaba fruit in a large heavy-based pot, together with chopped up apple, unpeeled, uncored, unseeded - in other words the entire apple. Extract as much lemon juice as possible, add to the fruit along with any lemon pips. I used lime because I had no lemons, but I feel that perhaps lemon is the better citrus choice. Add enough water to only just reach the top of the fruit. Make sure you use your hand to press down the fruit when adding water, because the fruit can float invariably causing you to add too much water.

Place lid on pot; bring to boil; reduce to a simmer; simmer for about twenty minutes. Take off lid; using a potato masher carefully press down on the hot fruit to help squish out the fruit. Be very careful you don't splash it up and burn yourself. This step is important for maximum flavour, but care is needed so you don't get scalded with squirting liquid.

I took about five minutes to do mine; return the pressed fruit back to the heat; continue to boil gently for another 20 or 30 minutes. Lid off this time. Remove from heat. Your liquid should be very dark in colour.

Carefully line a colander with double strength muslin squares; place this into a very large stainless steel bowl; carefully pour the entire contents of your pot into the muslin. You can check out the way I do this step in my purple cherry jelly recipe.

I placed the first liquid to come through into a glass bowl and set it aside. Using a strong wooden spoon I tied the muslin onto the wooden spoon and hung it over another bowl to catch the trickling juice. Use whatever method suits you. Just remember, don't press the jelly bag at any time to try to extract more juice. We want an unclouded jelly, although I must admit in the case of the jaboticaba with the fruit being soooo dark, I do wonder if it matters.

I left the bag to hang overnight.

The jelly bag next morning - such a lovely colour

I measured out the juice that was collected. Way too much so I decided to halve the quantity. Don't every be tempted to use a full pot of juice to make your jelly. Not three quarters and even half full would still be pushing the limit. You see, once the sugar is added and the rapid boil is on, your liquid rises up and could easily spill over the sides of the pot. Or, spit up at you or over the sides of the pot which is even more dangerous.

I ended up with;

2050mls of jaboticaba juice

I used the rule of three quarter cup of sugar to one cup of juice; therefore I needed;

1530 white sugar

For further pectin I added 3/4 cup of home-made liquid pectin stock. Check out Celia's how to make this.

In my clean, heavy based pot I added the juice, sugar and stock. Stir over a medium low heat stirring constantly to help dissolve the sugar. If the sugar bubbles before dissolving; remove from heat; reduce heat; and continue to stir till you have no sugar granules in your juice.

Increase the heat to high; allow to rapidly boil but watch the pot! I had to remove mine from the heat a few times because my pot was half full and it rose to the top. It would of spilled over for sure if I hadn't removed it from the heat. Control the heat, by raising or lowering depending on the boil and the height of the 'rise'.

Keep checking for the 'set' of jell that you like. I probably took mine a little further than I should have. It was a firm set and in hindsight I would have preferred a slightly softer set. It doesn't affect the taste though. The boiling time of this jaboticaba jelly took 35 minutes; quite a while in terms of jellying.

Just bread & butter with jaboticaba jelly. Simple, wholesome and good.

The verdict?

There was a definite 'tangyness' that I didn't expect. Not quite sure whether it was as a result of the freshly picked lime or the extra pectin, but it was quite noticeable. I think next time I would reduce the level of added pectin and use a lemon instead of a lime. My son and Hubby both thought there was too much sugar. Oh dear. And I used the three quarter rule too. Oh well. There is a lot of sweetness in the jaboticaba flesh so perhaps less sugar for the next time.

And a next time there will be. How on earth can anything be perfected unless 'you have a go'. There is definitely room for perfecting; but I shall let you in on a little secret. My family and I are very harsh critics. It's like full on master chef judges around here. If I didn't have a little kitchen confidence, I think I would've shut shop ages ago. Just as well I can handle the food critics around here. Incidentally, the people to whom I have given little pots of jaboticaba jelly are absolutely amazed and they just loved it! So there you go.

Saucy Strawberry Jam

2011-10-18T02:16:00.000-07:00

Walking past the fruit shop the strawberries jumped out at me. The sign said two 500gm punnets for $4. What value! The sign also said 'strawberry season over". I thought I should buy some and turn them into a jam. The 'Bake, Make and Grow Day' is the last day of October and I figured what better item to donate than homemade jam. I grabbed two punnets.

I made some strawberry jam for the show earlier this year. Three small jars are still left. I was really pleased with how that jam turned out, chunky pieces together with a very good jell set. How about being a bit adventurous? Let's do something slightly different this time. How else do you know, if you don't have a go? Okay.

I pretty much made my own rules. By the time I cleaned and hulled the strawberries, I had 840gm of strawberries to work with. The bottom of the punnet revealed some spoilt fruit - typical. Discard those.

Now for my version.

Mariana's Latest Strawberry Jam Version.

840gm strawberries, hulled, cleaned and cut into smallish wedges
680gm castor sugar
juice of 1 freshly picked lime
6 tablespoons of Celia's home-made pectin stock
1/4 cup water

Place the strawberries, lime juice and water into a large pot. Cook over a low heat for about 10 or 15 minutes till the strawberries have softened to the point where they could fall apart quite easily. Pour the sugar directly into the middle of the mixture. Carefully mix into the strawberries. Add the pectin. Stir gently. Stir over a low heat till the sugar has well and truly dissolved. Increase heat, bring to boil, reduce a little and cook till you achieve preferred setting. Be careful your mixture does not catch on the bottom of the pot. Keep checking by putting your wooden spoon into the centre of the mixture from time to time. Refrain from stirring. The cooking fruit and sugar should not be stirred whilst boiling. You may need to skim foam and scum from surface of the cooking jam.

Allow the jam to sit for about five or more minutes before pouring into washed and sterilized jars. Seal immediately. I put my jars into a water bath and boiled for about eight minutes. Well and truly sealed now.

This recipe produced five lovely pots of strawberry jam

Verdict: Fantastic! Delicious! Wonderful balance of sweet and tangy. Not sickly sweet. The jam was more of a soft jell than I usually prefer. A little saucy actually. But I liked it. Really liked it. Gorgeous colour too. Not cooking it for as long as usual has produced a lighter but more vibrant colour.

Mitch thought it was delicious. He has almost eaten one whole jar. Hang on - I'm supposed to be donating this lot. Anyhow; be brave; discovering new ways can be exciting and soooo rewarding. Especially if it goes well. Cup of tea and scones with cream and saucy strawberry jam anyone?

In My Kitchen

2011-10-15T22:46:00.000-07:00

A touch of Rovinj, Croatia - beautiful handmade aprons for the girls

My European trip wasn't about having a spending spree. It was more about taking the girls to see where their deceased Grandfather was born; meet relatives for the first time and experience a place in the world that is vastly different to their Australian way of life. Mission accomplished. However, I still managed to pick up some nice 'little' things along the way. The girls had quite a bit of fun with purchases; but we needed to be mindful the whole time about luggage weight.

And so here I begin an "In My Kitchen" segment with some of our European purchases. The lovely Celia from Fig Jam and Lime Cordial is the lady behind the concept of "In My Kitchen". Her blog is full of wonderful stuff, but I am quite partial to her Jam and Preserve section. Very, very useful info!

I hope you like some of our treasures - we were only interested in things made in their country. In Italy especially, we were often told "no china, no china". I was rather pleased to see their pride with "Made in Italy".

In my October kitchen..........

A touch of Spain - inspired by Picasso do you think?

A touch of England - Nicole reminded of her love for the Animals from "Farthing Wood".

A touch of Venice - I can never have enough "Turkish" coffee cups

Another touch of Venice - fridge magnets

A touch of Bergamo, Italy - 1 of the 2 cups I purchased, hand-made and hand painted - amazing!

A touch of Montenegro - Turkish coffee overload

A really cool bottle opener complete with Montenegrin emblem

A touch of Milano - from the duty free shop

A touch of Serbia - we would have bought the entire collection if only we could!

I could keep going. I actually bought more than I realised! I know one thing. Next time, less clothes and more room. Especially for crafts and artworks.

And finally ...............

Two beautiful handmade personalised aprons for me. From Venezia, Italy.

Mulling Over Mulberries

2011-10-12T17:44:00.000-07:00

Mulberries picked straight from our tree - not "bush" - tree!!

Two days after my return from Europe, one of our lovely 'pensioner' chookies went missing. We only had three left. At a guess, they're around seven or eight years old. Not sure if she 'up and died' or a fox happened along. Simply not a trace. No feathers, no sign, no nothing.

As I was so focused on the ground searching for her, I cruised past the mulberry tree without even looking at it. What did catch my eye however were the number of mulberries on the ground. Looking up, I nearly died. Mulberries everywhere. What the??? It's October! We never have mulberries in October! Late August to mid September and that's the season over. At least that's what it used to be.

What a surprise! After feasting my face, my mind turned to "what can I make". I haven't made mulberry jam before. Let's give that a go. A recipe search indicated mulberry jelly too, but I wanted something that retained the whole fruit. Jam it is.

Intensely flavoured Mulberry Jam - you simply can't buy the stuff - gorgeous!

My score? Pretty good. In hindsight, I would have mashed the fruit a bit more, as there were whole pieces of mulberry throughout the mixture. My son and Hubby loved it. They thought it tasted, would you believe, 'just like mulberries!' Gosh I laughed. The flavour was undeniably intense and sooo real.

Another kilo or so a few days later. Another mull. Together with some green apples that I found in the crisper since before I left for Europe - that's right - about two months ago - I threw together an apple and mulberry crumble. My goodness!!! Delicious!!! The 'old' apples were fine and the mulberries worked brilliantly.

Close your eyes and taste that fruit.

The mulberry season is short. A couple of weeks and the mulberries are over. For this year at least, my mulberry love affair will last so much longer. Aren't home-made jams the best? I do feel blessed. What a fortunate find - largely due to an 'unfound' chookie.

Mulberry Jam

1.8 kgs of mulberries
1.2 kgs of castor sugar
1 freshly picked lime
100 mls home-made pectin stock

Place the mulberries, sugar and juice from one whole lime in a large cooking pot. Allow to sit for about half an hour so the sugar may further extract juice from the mulberries. Mash a little, add the pectin stock, turn heat on low setting. Using your wooden spoon, continually stir the mixture till the sugar has dissolved. Increase the heat; cook for about ten minutes or till the jam comes together. Be very careful that the mixture doesn't 'catch' on the bottom of your pot. Place the wooden spoon into the middle of the cooking jam to check from time to time. Pour the jam into washed and sterilized jars. Lid immediately. Store in a cool, dark, dry place.

Apple and Mulberry Crumble

6 green apples, 'old' is just fine
2 or so cups of whole mulberries
1 lime
castor sugar

Crumble Topping

3/4 cup of plain flour
3/4 cup of dessicated coconut
1/2 firmly packed brown sugar
90gm melted butter

Peel and evenly chop your apples. Place in a pot with about six tablespoons of castor sugar, the juice of one lime and approx. 2 cups of water. Bring to boil, simmer, till apples are softened but not falling apart. Drain the syrup; reserve. Set aside.

Put about half a cup of the syrup plus one tablespoon of sugar over the mulberries. Mix and allow to macerate. It doesn't matter for how long. Mine sat for a couple of hours. Once the apple has cooled, mix together with mulberries, juices too. Carefully mix so as not to break up too much - I like to see whole pieces of fruit throughout the dish. Place into a baking dish. Pour over another half a cup or so of the reserved apple syrup.

Make the crumble topping by mixing all the ingredients in a bowl. I used my hands to do this. When the mixture begins to 'crumble' from the palms of your hands, then it has pretty much come together. If there are greasy lumps still, then add a little more flour. Rub again. Your mixture really needs to have an even crumble texture. Sprinkle this over the fruit; place into a moderate, preheated oven; bake for about 20 minutes till topping is a nice, golden brown. You should also notice some lovely purple juice coming up the sides of the dish. Cool a little; enjoy with vanilla ice cream or thickened cream. It's just too good!

A Whole New World

2011-10-07T19:16:00.000-07:00

How peaceful is thy valley...............?

Travelling is an eye opener. Not just for where I've been or for where I was going. But for what I left behind and for that which awaits me upon return. Truth is, I didn't enjoy this trip as much as the one I had two years ago with Mitch. Juggling continual translations between the relatives and my girls was wearing. Making all the decisions about what to do, where to go, with whom to stay was quite stressful. Trying to meet everyone's expectations and trying to make it all work took a bit of a toll on me in the end. Don't get me wrong. The trip was great and I was grateful for the wonders of travel. But still. It fatigued me far greater than I imagined.

And when things got a little too much, I turned my thoughts to home. Somehow it made things better. I told myself, just get through this and then the safety and the comfort of home will be around the corner. Having said that, it's amazing how many things can happen during one's absence.

How green is thou valley

Neither my Hubby nor I were home when the judge handed down his verdict. He ruled in our favour and it is now official that the business next door gained an illegal approval and that they are indeed operating unlawfully. So there we were scattered all around the world when the decision came through. Our happiness however is short-lived. They continue to operate and they seem to constantly find ways of getting around and out of things. It's still a long road for us to shut them down. It may never happen. But it ain't over yet.

One thing however that is bothering me, is my strength and fighting spirit. Life is short. How much longer do my loved ones and I want to keep going with this. I've felt angry today. Angry at the fence sitters. Angry at the people who should be speaking up and supporting the good guys. Angry that they want the same outcomes as we, but are unwilling to put their necks on the line. Angry that some people have valuable information which could help us, but are too afraid or simply choose to not get involved.

When all is said and done, no matter what the eventual outcome, we can hold our heads high. We had a go. We are still having a go. If we don't succeed in the end, at least we had the balls to have a go. Hubby has gained enormous respect from all of this, but I don't give a hoot. I'm angry. Those people who respect our family can go and jump. If you want to play it safe and have someone else fight your battles for you, then in a way I almost hope we lose. This valley doesn't deserve my Hubby. Nor me for that matter. I was looking for a new community to support, help grow and build. I thought I found you. In a way, I'm glad this has unfolded, because it has shown me that you are not worthy. I have no enthusiasm or desire to help this community whatsoever. Your loss.

A glimpse of the future

Now for the good news. Hubby has gone and bought himself another property. It's impossibly exciting. The future, the plans, the road ahead to a brand new venture. We are going to be cotton farmers. Along with all the other hats my Hubby wears, this one is going to be a mammoth challenge. But it has given us something to get excited about. This place is in country Australia - in the outback and it is totally unused. Hubby has to start from scratch. It's my dear Hubby to a tee. He could of purchased a beautiful, well run, ready to go cotton farm just up the road. But that just ain't my Hubby. His sense of adventure and having a go is as strong today as it has ever been. He wants to develop the whole thing from the ground up and so there you have it. Cotton farming. It ain't gonna happen overnight, but it will happen.

As for me, a new community lay ahead. Hopefully, one with a whole lot more resolve than the 'valley'. The signs are good. The people are honest and the people are workers. Real workers. I guess to survive in country Australia you absolutely need to be. To my Hubby - I sincerely hope that you have found your dream place and that your dreams can finally be realised on an Australian outback station.

Looking "Through My Car Window" at our new place

I left for Europe six weeks ago, and I've come back to a whole new world.

Unveiling Venice

2011-10-03T09:39:00.000-07:00

We savoured every moment during our glorious gondola ride.

One night and two days in Venice. I left my girls behind, our faces stinging with tears as our time together in Europe ended. I waved till my arm dropped off until the girls and the platform disappeared. I actually spent the whole time on the 2 1/2 hour trip to Milano thinking about our time in Venice. It surprised me. Venice. Wow. I had some very unspectacular reviews on the place and it completely took me by surprise. I guess everyone has a different experience, but I loved it. I really didn't expect to love it. Far from it. Which is why I didn't allow myself much time in the first place - I knew I wouldn't be there for long as I had preconceived notions. I would simply go so that I could see for myself how unspectacular it really is. So I thought. I was wrong. At least for me. I was wrong.

Yes Venice was spectacular. The crowds however were horrendous. And that's my only qualm. But. Then again. The place was loaded with atmosphere. People from all walks of life, from all around the world, all walking together or into each other.

I found myself more tolerant in Venice. I hate crowds. But here it suited the place. Pushy waiters, in-your-face street sellers, tacky tourists, uptown girls, gawking guys, wheeling suitcases and feeling I would be knocked over any minute. I handled it rather well. I liked it.

I loved walking behind my two gorgeous girls and watching the admiring glances of young menfolk, old too, and the envious casting looks of some women. Hmmm. I rather enjoyed it all! I felt quite tickled with the attention the girls were getting. I even had one man ask me were they sisters and was I the Mama. He shook my hand, said 'bella' pointing to the girls and said 'you dunna good job'. I laughed my head off. That was simply one little episode. There were heaps just like it. And we kept a sense of humour about it all and we embraced the ways of the Italians. It's who they are. Brash, arrogant, in your face, helpful and unhelpful, honest, eager and real. No facade. No pretending. It is what it is. They seemed to communicate with their physicality and their actions, which didn't always speak louder than words. They speak pretty loudly. And I loved it.

I wish I had more time in Venice. My fault. It goes to show. It doesn't pay to have preconceived notions. Or to think someone's view will be your view. I guess you really need to go and see for yourself, but for me at least it was marvellous. The chaos, hot-blooded men, the canals, the rustic walls, pizza and pasta, venetian masks, gondolas, the whole damn lot. I found myself feeling warm and open in Venice. So did the girls. We embraced it for all that it is and we felt the Venetian response. I absolutely loved it.

Fun in Venice

Going With The "Flu", I Mean "Flow"

2011-08-07T15:39:00.000-07:00

Sunny yellow flowers in a wet July Sydney - I wonder if my aunt can remember her garden

My breath is noisy and my breathing is heavy. A dry, deep cough erupts from time to time and I need extra breaths to recover from the coughing. OMG. Just ten days away. How on earth am I going to recover in ten days. I've done nothing. Absolutely nothing. Issy comes home from Melbourne tomorrow night. So really, only eight days until we leave for Europe. I feel so unprepared. Heck. I am unprepared.

My time in Sydney was awful. Their wettest July period for more than sixty years and there I was. Driving around from nursing home to hospital to shop to library and back again. Not sure where I caught this awful bug, but it sure latched onto me. I can't remember the last time I had such a bad case of the flu. Worse still - I passed it onto a VERY busy Hubby and an only just returned to university boy. I was not the most popular person about - that's for sure. Still, I didn't have to face them very much as three days straight in bed helped me to avoid their own battle with this damn flu.

Two Days Later: I hadn't quite finished the above paragraph, when I received a phone call from my son. He decided to drive to his old school, a river nearby, and collect some river weeds for the fish in our pond. Unfortunately his 'old' car didn't seem to like the fuel he had just put in and it literally coughed it's way to a standstill on a very busy road. Another OMG. With only me at home, off I went with a large jerry can and smaller jerry can, tubes and a funnel. We ended up having to drive to a local shopping centre to look for a siphon and another funnel. No good. Off to the motor store. Found something. Back to the hospital carpark and then walk to the bridge where the car had died. It took hours. And after finally getting all the fuel out and refilling with a premium fuel, she still wouldn't start. With my 'flu' weakness beginning to set in, I couldn't stand this any longer; so I dragged a reluctant Mitch home. A phone call to Hubby and an hour later the trusty four wheel drive went down to tow back the boy's car. In the dark. Home and safe again.

So now Larissa is home. The weekend flew. A little too busy. Not the best outcome for my condition - should of rested more. The countdown is on now. We talked last night and my plan of how we would do this trip went out the window. Flights from Venice to Dubrovnik were ridiculously expensive. So the plans have changed. Issy found flights to Dubrovnik from Milan much more reasonable. So we'll do that. Stay in and around Milan for three days and then fly to Dubrovnik. Bus our way down to Montenegro like I did that time with Mitch. It was sooo stunning - can't wait to see the girls faces when we get to the Bay of Kotor. Meet our rels and stay in Montenegro for about three weeks.

Then I thought instead of bussing our way back up to Dubrovnik, I will check out the bus options to Sarajevo in Bosnia and do that instead. I've heard it's a beautiful part of the world, very hilly and forested, so that may be the way to go. After that train or bus to Dubrovnik and start the trip up the Adriatic Coast. Split will be a major stopover. A day or two there and then some island hopping and ferrying and scooting about will definitely be called for. I'm excited for the girls with this leg of the trip.

On to Zadar for a day and then perhaps another stop before Pula; not sure where though. In Pula for a couple of days, maybe a trip to Bruny Island. Visits to Rovinj (can't wait - I just love Rovinj) and then the beautiful Porec from where we shall catch a ferry and make our way across the Adriatic to Venice. Spend however long there before I bid the girls farewell. Back to Milan for me to catch a plane home - six weeks should be up by now. The girls will bus onto Slovenia together, and there is talk of trips to Budapest, Prague, Berlin, Warsaw. That will be their's to work out.

Issy only has another month after me; she should be back late October. And Nicole. She will turn twenty one in September, so the three of us will do something special that day! She is due to return home late November so we will see if that happens. Her travelling has been so successful to date that if it continues and she still has some dough left, she may extend her stay and be back at Christmas. Who knows! She has certainly turned into a world beater and she is doing it very well. You are brave Nicka - I could never have travelled alone like that at your age. Heck. I hate travelling alone now!

So there's the plan. Now off to begin some very overdue preparations. Cross finger's for me. I so desperately want to fully recover from this cold. One week to go. A summer/autumn Europe. Sounds good.

Rovinj - can't wait!

Lucky Cows

2011-08-03T17:54:00.000-07:00

Patsy is always at the forefront of the girls - the click of the camera caused her much curiosity otherwise she would have lunged forward for her regular nuzzle and pat (hence the name Patsy).

I wonder if our lot know how lucky they are? My guess is they do. I'm so proud of my Hubby. He has a high regard for the welfare of his animals. It shows. And it doesn't stop there. When he sold his steers last year, he wanted to know exactly where they were going. The new owner. The type of country where they would graze. The number of cattle on the property. When all the boxes were ticked to his satisfaction, they sold. He didn't care about how much money they fetched. He wanted his fellows to go to a good home. That's it.

His pride and joy bull was sold earlier this year to a lovely bloke in the valley just up the road. Hubby gave him a fantastic deal by taking a lot less money than he was worth. Hubby knows where he lives and he can visit him whenever he wants. We are hearing fabulous reports from the owner who is delighted with him. And so is the owner's eighty five year old mother who loves 'Bully' to pieces. She named him "Bobby McGee" and she visits and pats him every day. Can you believe it! Patting a bull! A happy chappy he is. And so is my Hubby who continues to receive updates on his progress and his condition.

If all cattle owners in Australia were like my Hubby and the fellow up the valley, we would have a land filled with lucky cows. And none would be shipped live to Indonesia. Because the destination and the procedure that followed them would've been thoroughly checked out. That's what caring custodians of these animals do.

I'm sure that exporter's of live cattle care about the welfare of their animals. Still, I have difficulty accepting that the live export has gone on for years and no one knew about their treatment in those awful abattoirs. If follow up had occurred then surely someone knew about it. A cheque in the hand and a bolt securing the gate shut, should not be the end of the owner's interest. At least not in our books.

Here is our Elfy She is alive and well and thriving. I showed up with some bread and grain. She spotted me from afar and here she is bolting down the hill in an attempt to scoff her face before the others cotton on and make the charge too.

Where is your tag Hunny Bunny?

Mitch is about to get licked while trying to feed one lovely lady.

Comfortable in each other's company

Preserving Madness

2011-07-16T20:31:00.000-07:00

Well I did promise. So here a few of the recipes I entered in our local agricultural show. I was soooo pleased with some of my preserves. I had a full shelf of interesting and varied preserves, both sweet and savoury. I gave away lots of little jars to friends and fellow comrades. I remember this one morning when one of the ladies in our group dropped by with some information for the court case. I laughed as I watched her face. She said it was better than eating at the fanciest of places. I lightly toasted some pasta dura bread and pita bread. A row of little jars surrounded the bread and cheese platter and my dear "E" didn't know where to begin. She sampled Pumpkin Chutney, Corn Relish, Roasted Capsicum and Eggplant Chutney, Tomato Relish, Sweet Mustard Pickles and Pickled Beetroot. The Pumpkin Chutney was her prize choice of them all. I'm pleased to say she had what seemed an awful time trying to choose. I think she approved of them all!

With the scones I served an array of the following; lemon butter, passionfruit butter, strawberry jam, mandarin jam and kiwi jam. I have never made a kiwi jam before. I picked the kiwi fruit the day before from our twenty year old vine. It's a long time overdue that I finally make something out of them. "E" was blown away. The kiwi jam was amazing, the strawberry sensational and the passionfruit butter - OMG. I'd never made passionfruit butter before. Let's say it won't be the last time either.

Issy's favourite preserves were the Roasted Capsicum Sauce followed by the Pumpkin Chutney and Corn Relish.
Mitchell's fav's were the Strawberry Jam and the Roasted Capsicum Sauce.
Hubby's fav's were the Sweet Mustard Pickles and the Roasted Capsicum Sauce.

As for me - the passionfruit butter. It was heavenly. I do have a soft spot for my Orange Marmalade, but the rest of the family doesn't like marmalades in general because of the rind. Oh well. The Roasted Capsicum Sauce was a revelation; thank you to Sally Wise for her recipe. The judge gave this preserve a second place.

Unfortunately Sally, she didn't give any prizes to your Pumpkin Chutney, your Corn Relish or your Pickled Beetroot. She did however award a first to your Sweet Mustard Pickles, so thanks for the recipes.

The judge also awarded my kiwi fruit jam with a second place - I was pleased as the jams drew the greatest number of entries. So there's the preserves report for 2011.

The following recipes are from this book - she is very wise is this Sally.

Ingredients

Method

What a winner this recipe turned out to be! We love it and I recommend it.

I baked my beetroot instead of boiling - a lot more robust that way.

Sally calls this recipe 'piccalilli' but sweet mustard pickles is close enough.

Sweet Mustard Pickles

My only blue ribbon in the preserves - what a toughie this year turned out to be!

A big thumbs up from Hubby - hardly any left!

No award this year - but I was delighted with my orange marmalade

I spotted this jam in Sally Wise's book - with loads of mandarins I gave it a shot. Gorgeous colour and heaps of flavour.

I added some lemon rind to this recipe which was rather noticeable. Not enjoyed by some, but I liked it.

A solid favourite in our family - good old tomato relish

Gosh I could keep going; no kidding! I also entered a lime syrup, lemon butter, lilly pilly cordial, strawberry jam, garlic and chilli flavoured olive oil. June was definitely a month of preserving madness. And I loved every minute of it!

Back in August - off to Sydney.

Panna Cotta With Fragrant Finger Limes

2011-04-17T01:12:00.000-07:00

Initially, I was excited when Hubby brought home his newfound finger limes. Marmalades and cordial were a few of the ideas I came up with on how to use them. I said to Hubby I needed to go and collect more of the fruit. After a chuckle and a curious grin, he tells me those five finger limes were the sum total of what was left on the tree. Zip, zilch, zero. Nothing left. I was mortified. My excitement quickly faded. Hubby had collected the whole yield; all five of them. Isn't that funny? I'm laughing now, but at the time....not amused.

Back on went my thinking cap; I simply had to do something. I have no idea why 'panna cotta' came to me. Infact I've never made one before. But, like a lightning bolt, the idea struck me and I was sold. I needed to find a recipe and so I drudged my way through some cookbooks (quite a chore for me of late), and there it was. On page 200 of "The French Women Don't Get Fat Cookbook", I spotted my guinea pig recipe. I had all the ingredients, so the rest was easy. I replaced the vanilla extract with the finger lime. Time to discover my newfound flavour.

Panna Cotta with Finger Limes

(recipe adapted from The French Women Don't Get Fat Cookbook"

by Mireille Guiliano)

1 tablespoon unflavoured gelatin

2 tablespoons cold water

225ml whole milk

450ml cream

110gm castor sugar

5 finger limes, each one chopped into small pieces

In a small glass bowl, quickly mix together the gelatine and the cold water. Zap in the microwave till you can see the liquid begin to froth and rise. Turn off. Allow to sit.

In a saucepan, bring the milk, cream, sugar and finger lime to a moderate heat. Take off the heat temporarily. Using a potato masher, gently squish and squash the fruit well into the liquid. It took me a couple of minutes; the purpose was to extract as much of the finger lime flavour as possible.

Return to the heat; bring to a scalding boil. Remove; whisk in gelatine; make sure it's well dissolved. Strain liquid into a pouring jug; press the finger limes to release any remaining juice or oils. If some of the lime balls escape back into the liquid, that's fine.

Divide the mixture among eight ramekins and cool to room temperature.

Cover with plastic film and chill for at least four hours, overnight preferably.

To unmould, just before serving, dip the ramekins on at a time in a bowl of hot water for a few seconds. Run a thin knife around the edge of each ramekin and invert onto your plate.

Verdict: Hubby really, really liked it. I thought it was pretty good for my first attempt. The flavour of the finger lime came through very well. It was rather subtle and not at all zingy. I like zingy though. I also would reduce the gelatine. Maybe two teaspoons, instead of a whole tablespoon. I think it needed more "wobble" - that would be my preference. I will definitely make this panna cotta again, with less gelatine and I think the vanilla would be just the go. Thanks Mireille.

PS: I have a son knee-deep in uni assignments at present, therefore he gets priority over the computer. Not that it matters; other areas in my life are in need of my attention, so I'm having a blogging break and hope to see you in a couple of weeks. I hope you all have a safe, wonderful and happy Easter. If you'd like some inspiration for the "natural" way of making Easter Eggs, be sure to drop in and see Philomena's method.

Potrk

2011-04-17T00:49:00.000-07:00

With Easter fast approaching, I can see the posting going down hill for a while. It already has, so for this reason I've lumped together quite a few photos. They are all pictures taken around my uncle's place in the small village of Potrk, Montenegro.

Every day, a few trips need to be made to the downhill mountain spring to collect fresh water. It's our drinking water, washing water either for dishes or clothes or personal bathing. This is it. Our water supply. No running taps here. The water is so fresh and clean and cold. You'll be amazed that people actually live like every day. The novelty will wear off quickly though - walking downhill with empty water bottles is easy - hauling them uphill ain't quite so easy.

Prehistoric-looking hand-made tools. They are still used to this day.

You'll see these haystacks all over the countryside.

The neighbours chookhouse. So many textures in surrounding structures. You're gonna go crazy.

The fields your Grandpa roamed and worked as a young lad.

The storehouse

My Uncle Manolje

"Through My Uncle's Kitchen Window"

Crafty Ole Ducks

2011-04-12T16:28:00.000-07:00

I attended the School Of Arts Hall in our farming community the other day. The purpose was to have Nicole take some photos of in and around the Hall for sign related possibilities. Inside, I was intrigued to discover the local ladies craft club, which was held once a month. The six members in total were having a lovely morning tea, table filled with home-made goodies, the air infiltrated with laughter and talk. I let Nic go off and explore while I sat down to warm welcoming faces, a cup of tea and plates all plunged in my direction. I felt cemented to my chair. I forgot what I came for. I felt like I was among old time friends I hadn't seen for ages. A couple I knew only in passing; to the others I was introduced.

The ladies all showed me their projects. I was smitten. It reminded me of years ago, when the kids were little and I spent every spare waking moment at the sewing machine, churning out creations. I think I may have even shed a tear. Nostalgia does that. Right?

They all got up after morning tea, and stood side by side along the century old table in the corner of the Hall. I watched them all, standing, near the big window with the best light, as they continued to work. Applique was the theme of the day.

I wandered off to where Nicole was taking photos in one corner of the Hall. She'd fallen in love with one lady's incompleted knitting blanket. Her camera was getting a workout. Something happened to me at that moment. I can't describe it. I swung around and purposefully walked up to the ladies. "What do I need to do to join your club", I heard myself ask. Their delighted looking faces responded; "we've heard about your famous apple turnovers; to sign up you'll need to bring a plate of those every time", said one lady. Everyone cracked up laughing.

What can I say. I'm hooked. I have three weeks to think about my intended project. I hope I don't get too hooked. If I do, I may have to rename my blog to Through My Sewing Window, as the whisk and the spatula may well become replaced with the needle and thread.

PS: All photos in this post were taken by my daughter, Nicole.

Smokin'

2011-04-12T15:28:00.000-07:00

Wandering through the markets in downtown Bijelo Polje in Montenegro, this stand caught my eye. It took me a moment to twig. I initially thought to myself "what interesting looking bread". Upon closer inspection, I realised this man was selling tobacco.

Pavlova And A Little Kitchen Instinct

2011-04-10T16:59:00.000-07:00

I'm feelin' pretty pleased. And happily contented. The above picture is my idea of heaven. And that bit of heaven has gone straight to my stomach. Fortunately, I've done lots of mowing lately (push mower of course), so I'm feeling slightly fit. And this of course is my excuse to indulge a little. I can afford it; so I tell myself.

But what I'm feeling really pleased about is how I threw my pavlova together. I used no recipe. I figure I've made enough to just go for it. I've been doing a fair bit of this lately. Not referring to recipes that is. I can't remember the last time I used a recipe for a butter cake or a sponge. I just do it. And they have never been better.

Years ago I was in a place where trying to perfect dishes and putting together cookbook recipes has sometimes overwhelmed me. I think I was missing 'instinct'. By golly, I've loads of instinct in other areas (my girls can vouch for that), so why not in cooking?

After a lifetime of practise, I feel truly comfortable and confident in my ability to cook. Finally. The cookbooks do still come in handy (the preserve books have been getting a workout lately), but I don't oggle at the pics and study recipes like I once did. I roughly recall from 1980ish, a couple of days never went by without me referring to one of the Australian Women's Weekly Cookbooks. Heck, hours spent drooling over them to be honest. Times have changed. My collection of the AWW cookbooks is not far short of one hundred and I can only imagine the dust collecting on them now. Not looking.

It's been a long road of practise and blunders and success that's made me today's cook. And today, I see what's in my fridge, freezer, the pantry, the garden and the fruit trees which determines my ingredients. Then I visualise a dish. Once I've decided on what to make, the preparation and the method seem to flow easily. And best of all. It's fun. I even look positively toward cleaning the dishes! But that's another story, another post.

How about you? How often do you refer to cookbooks? Do you rely on them to cook? How long would you be able to cook for yourself or for your family without using a cookbook or any cooking reference? You may surprise yourself. A little kitchen instinct can take you a long, long way.

Pavlova: Based On Years of Practise and A Little Instinct.

seven egg whites (cause that's what I found in my fridge)

approx 1 1/2 cups castor sugar

generous teaspoon of vanilla extract

2 teaspoons of cornflour

2 teaspoons of white vinegar

cream of tartar

Using an electric mixer; whisk the egg whites with two generous pinches of cream of tartar. Years ago I loved watching Geoff Jansz on 'What's Cooking". I'm talking sometime in the late 1990's. Geoff always used to go on about adding cream of tartar to egg whites to help stabilize them. I've always remembered his advice and I religiously do it.

After a couple of minutes, increase your speed to the highest setting; add half the castor sugar; carefully - don't just dump it in. Beat for about five or six minutes; then add the remaining sugar and vanilla extract. Continue beating for another five or six mins; use your spatula to make sure that any sugar granules on the side of the bowl are properly incorporated.

When your mixture looks stiff and glossy, add the two teaspoons of cornflour followed by the vinegar. Mix for another minute. Done.

Take a baking sheet that has been lined with baking paper. I very lightly grease with olive oil spray and dust with extra cornflour. Give the baking sheet a good whack to release excess flour not sticking to the paper. Brush this off. If you like you can draw a round circle on the sheet; but I don't. Besides I don't want my food in contact with lead pencil. Or you can draw underneath the paper and stick this side directly onto the baking sheet. It will be easily visible on the other side.

Plonk your pavlova mixture into the centre of the baking sheet and shape as desired. I do feel it's important to not keep it smooth. Create ridges around the edges and it will hold better than if you level the whole thing out smoothly. My experience is that you'll get some cracks on the pav and they're always worse and harder to handle if the pav is smooth.

Place into a cold oven. Not preheated. At least that's what I do. Crank up the oven at a low temp. I turn it on to 110degrees celicus with the fan force. One and a half hours later; turn off the oven. Don't open the door. It's best to let cool in the oven overnight - or for several hours preferably.

If not using immediately, remove the paper or if you like or simply cut the paper around the pav and leave it on. Put into an airtight container and store in a dark cupboard.

Abandoned

2011-04-10T15:06:00.000-07:00

Trekking through the mountains in Montenegro, you will see quite a few uninhabited houses. My cousin tells me that many of the old folk have either died or left because they can no longer work their land. All to often, the younger offspring choose a city life. Some houses have been abandoned for over thirty years. I had quite a few pictures from which to choose. You'll have an absolute ball photographing these places. I can see you getting lost for hours and hours.

Heavenly Lemon Butter and Tricky Chickies

2011-04-07T22:54:00.000-07:00

I said to Mitch that I thought something was up with the chickens. I've heard clucking noises around the house lately and sure enough, the eggs in the chookhouse have ceased. So where have they hidden their stash. Mitch played detective - but it didn't take long. He knows his chickies well and they trust him. They took him straight to the scene of the crime. In the long, green grass, there was the evidence. Neatly hidden. Six eggs. He took five and left one behind.

The weather has been rather cool the last couple of days, so I felt the eggs would be fine. I couldn't believe nothing had eaten them. They did a good job hiding them. No sooner had Mitch placed the eggs on the kitchen bench, I went out to check the spot. Just in case any of them decided to lay another egg.

Looks like there's movement at the station

Walking away very cautiously

Avoiding eye contact and trying to look unsuspicious

Ah hah. Another one. I take the freshly laid egg and leave the marked one.

I separated the eggs and checked the yokes and the whites. All clear. Now, what to make with them. I already knew the answer. It had to be lemon butter.

My lovely friend "E," returned two preserve jars last week, so I think she was giving me a hint. She said the lilly pilly was a real talking point with recent visitors. But it was the lemon butter, she really loved. So I handed her a jar of my very ordinary crabapple jelly till next time. I can already see her lit up face, when I present her with a little pot or two of this bright yellow, tangy taste sensation.

Lemon butter is one of my favourite things. I love it on scones, pikelets and sponge cake. For me however, nothing beats lemon butter with freshly home made meringue or pavlova and freshly beaten cream. I don't loosely use the word "heaven" - but this combination takes me straight to heaven.

Lemon Butter

6 egg yolks, as fresh as possible

220gm castor sugar

190ml freshly squeezed lemon juice, strained

220gm unsalted butter, cubed

rind of one lemon

Place the egg yolks, lemon rind and sugar in a glass or ceramic bowl. Using a whisk; beat together thoroughly for about five minutes till pale and thick.

Add the strained lemon juice; mix till well combined. Pour mixture through a strainer; return to the bowl and set over simmering water. Stir continuously for about 12 or 15 minutes; till mixture is cooked through and leaves a thick coating on the back of a spoon. I use a wooden spoon.

Remove from heat; add the cubes of butter a couple at a time, stirring till melted. Keep adding till all the butter has been added. Pour into sterilized jars. Seal immediately. Keeps in the fridge easily for a month.

PS: I've tried many, many recipes over the years for lemon butter. I can honestly say this recipe has evolved from all my experimentation. I've tried to make one that appeals to my taste, to the thickness of the product, to the colour and to the method I prefer using. I do like the old-fashioned way of using a double boiler and stirring till done. And the whisking of the sugar and the eggs right from the beginning also helps to "pale" the yellow. Our egg yolks are that bright that sometimes the lemon butter comes out orange. No joke. This step helps to maintain a nice lemon colour. It's been many years in the making, but this is my true and tested recipe that always gives me the results I'm after.

This recipe made six little pots containing 100gm each,
plus one jar containing 190gm.

It's All In The Attitude

2011-04-07T05:00:00.000-07:00

Meet "Garo". He's lucky to have a name actually. They don't really name their animals up in the boonies. He lives two houses down the mountain from my uncle's place in Montenegro. His owner tells me, when he was just a few weeks old, the rooster came along and pecked him in the eye. It hasn't stopped him from being an affectionate and a completely tear-around-a-million-miles-an-hour kind of dog. Clearly, Garo isn't missing out on life because he only has one eye. He is a gorgeous dog, and Mitch picked him up every chance he had. That is, when he was able to catch him.

So here I sit, feeling sorry for myself because of my bung eye at the moment. Searching for my next photo, I couldn't go past Garo. I think someone is trying to tell me something. I should stress less and not lose time worrying about things I have no control over. Little Garo doesn't mope around. Infact his behaviour suggests, he has absolutely no limitations whatsoever. Funny how one can stumble upon a message without even realising it. I think a positive attitude is in order. Tomorrow morning, I'm going for a run.

Finger Limes

2011-04-05T23:36:00.000-07:00

Hubby brought home some finger limes yesterday. He pulled them off a very scrawny looking tree on our farm. He discovered them about a year ago and he brought them to my attention, but I wasn't very interested. Today however, is a different day. Whilst reading "The Land", he spotted a very interesting article and he promptly sent me an email. The link is here if you'd like to read about the exciting news. The finger lime has received the Fruit Logistica Innovation Award.

The article says "Limeburst Fingerlimes was awarded the top gong at Fruit Logistica in Berlin, the largest fruit and vegetable trade show on the planet." Apparently it's the first time the award has gone to a non-European nation. According to Hubby, this is BIG. The Limeburst Company is set to make squillions. Good on you Aussies! Hooray.

I wondered what could I do with this strange new fruit. A quick search and I see the word 'marmalade'. Drawn like a magnet to the words jam, jelly or marmalade I checked out a couple of sites. I see a company based in Byron Bay that makes finger lime marmalade. Jeepers. The jars look lovely, but... One jar cost $3.50 and it was only 40gm. I wonder if that price was determined before or after the award!

Yep. You guessed it. Finger lime marmalade is definitely on my agenda. The ones Hubby brought home were too small. They get bigger, but they are still only the size of a finger, so not that much bigger. I'm going to do some more exploring.

The Farm - one year ago

Hubby finished off his email by saying; "our little farm has it all". I'm beginning to think he's right.

Do You Feel Lucky Kids?

2011-04-04T06:37:00.000-07:00

Not a spectacular photo by any means. Why did I post it? It's a picture of the schoolkids in their lunchbreak. The place is Tomasevo, six kilometres from Potrk in Montenegro. It sits smack bang in the centre of the town. There were two teachers. The other side of the court (not in photo), had this many kids again, but I can't give you an exact number. We were told they were not allowed in the school building during their lunchbreak; everyone including the teachers had to remain outside until the bell went. I recall seeing one ball and lots of kids chasing either the ball or each other. We took a peek inside the school building and there was very little in the way of computers or electrical equipment. Infact, we saw none.

What I remember most was "hearing" the kids. They sounded happy and free. They were vocal and buzzing and yelling and simply puffing themselves out making the most of their time before going back indoors. Mitch thought it was fantastic. He made a few interesting comments. He wondered if the kids thought they had it rough being in a school with hardly any equipment. He also wondered if the kids knew how blessed and lucky they were to be surrounded by beautiful green countryside and breathing in the pine forest fresh air. I suspect not. To them, it's what it is and they probably don't even see it.

My most interesting observation - I didn't see any fat children. Not one.

Philomena's Apple Cake

2011-04-03T06:01:00.000-07:00

Philomena tells me she fell in love with this cake when she first tasted it back in the early 1970's. It was made by a Hungarian lady who lived in the former Yugoslavia, however Philomena is not sure of the cake's true origin. My hubby and I adore this cake and I couldn't let Philomena return to Pula, (if her house sells), without giving me a demonstration of it in her very own kitchen. She did. And now I can keep her recipe alive and pass it onto others who will no doubt adore it too. Philomena has no children and she is thrilled to hear me posting her recipes. She said she feels like a part of her is being kept alive through my personal recordings and blog posts. It's the least I can do. Thanks Philomena. Yet again.

Philomena's Apple Cake

Sponge Ingredients

6 eggs, separated
6 tablespoons castor sugar
6 tablespoons plain flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon cocoa powder
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Apple Filling Ingredients

1 kg peeled green apples
8 tablespoons sugar
120gm custard powder or 100gm if prefer a softer, not so dry filling
vanillin sugar or vanilla extract

Topping Ingredients

600ml thickened cream
4 tablespoons very fine granulated sugar or icing sugar
Grated chocolate

Method:

Make the apple filling. Chunkily slice up the apple to make up one kilo. Place in your pot; add sugar and 1/2 a litre of water. Cover the pot with a lid; cook apple till softened but not falling apart. We don't want pureed apple but it must be well cooked just holding it's shape. It is best to remove the lid a couple of minutes before taking off the heat.

Once the apple has reached a soft, mildly mushy consistency, pour into colander; drain well; reserve liquid. Return this liquid to the pot. Combine the custard powder with about 2/3 cup of water; mix well to ensure there are no lumps. Add about a teaspoon of vanillin sugar or vanilla extract. Mix well. Heat the reserved apple liquid in the pot and when it reaches a boil, remove from heat. Whisk in the custard mixture; return to the heat. It's critical to continue whisking the whole time till the custard thickens. You will find the custard begins to turn into an orangy colour, and is very thick and requires vigorous mixing. Continue to mix and cook through till the mixture is very firm.

Place the cooked apple into the pot and continue to mix and combine all the ingredients, breaking up the apple as you mix. Remember, we don't want a puree but we do want a pulpy, broken down apple with a few bits of apple for added texture. Continue this process in a gentle manner for about five minutes. Remove from heat; set aside to cool.

Philomena's Way - To make the cake; whisk together the sugar and the egg yolks with an electric mixer. Beat for about 5 to 7 minutes, till the mixture is thick and yellow. In another bowl, mix the egg whites till just firm peaks. Add the sifted cocoa powder, baking powder and plain flour into the beaten egg yolk and sugar. Philomena used a whisk to combine these ingredients.

When all the ingredients have been incorporated, (not easy with a firm mixture); gently as possible add this to the beaten egg whites and whisk. Once again do this with a light hand so you don't knock out too much of the air.

My Way - To make the cake; whisk together the sugar and whole eggs and vanilla extract till thick and ribbony. This will take about ten or twelve minutes. Using the whisk from the electric mixer, carefully mix through the flour, baking powder and cocoa powder.

Pour into a rectangular high-sided tin greased and lined with baking paper. Philomena's old fashioned method of greasing the tin is to generously spread pork fat all over, heavily sprinkle with flour; shake the tin vigorously and upturn to rid the excess flour. You choose which ever method suits you to grease your tin. Bake the cake in a preheated oven at 175 degrees celcius for about twenty minutes or till done when cake is springy in the middle. Remove when baked; upturn onto a cake rake; allow to cool.

Beat the cream and icing sugar till nice and thick but do not overbeat till buttery looking.

To assemble cake; place the sponge onto a long tray. Carefully and evenly spread the cooled apple all over the sponge. Make sure you reach all the corners and that the spreading is as level as possible.

Over this, spread the beaten cream and sugar mixture as evenly as possible. Sprinkle with grated chocolate.

Refrigerate for at least a couple of hours. It's better if left to sit overnight in the fridge. Serve into cut up squares. It's a fantastic crowd pleaser dessert. I particularly love the fact that it isn't loaded with butter or too much fat, so it makes for a perfect ending without feeling heavy or stodgey. It is so different but somehow the ingredients all come together in a way that truly works. I will always be reminded of "Mina" when I make this cake and that in itself is enough motivation for me to keep the tradition going.

Note:

I did a couple of things differently. Firstly I had left over apples from my trip to Armidale a few weeks ago. They aren't granny smiths, but I used them anyway. That's why the apple looks rather yellow as opposed to greenish. I also had about 1.3kg of apple. I upped the sugar by one tablespoon but left everything else the same. The cake was forgiving and it all came together beautifully.

I also overlooked adding the amount of sugar to the cream that Philomena recommended. Instead I added about two teaspoons. It was totally fine. I'd probably do the same thing next time.

Meat, Meat and More Meat

2011-04-01T22:25:00.000-07:00

Grilled and barbequed meats. What can I say. I thought that Aussies were renowned for being the best "barbequers" in the world. After my taste of barbequed Montenegrin meats on a beautiful sunny day in the mountains, I'm torn. Actually I'm not. The Montenegrins get the blue ribbon hands down. It was divine. Smokey, unburnt, cooked through and melt in your mouth. Simply sensational.

Mitch said to me he refuses to view any of the pictures of the barbequed meats that he ate whilst there. He said he didn't want to be reminded of them because it would be too hard to bear. He claims it was the best cooked meat he has ever eaten.

My Plate

My only qualm with their cuisine is that meat is their number one food. Tonnes of it. Everywhere we ate, there was always four or five different cuts of meat. Their speciality was in the grilled and barbequed cuts. They do it remarkably well. I looked up the Lonely Planet to see where Vegetarians might dine in Montenegro. You don't want to know the answer. If you're a Vegetarian, my advice to you is - dream about Montenegro, enjoy the pamphlets and the documentaries. There's no doubt the scenery is a visual feast. But that's about the only feast a Vegetarian will get in Montenegro. You'll starve.

Drizzly Day In Paradise

2011-03-30T22:18:00.000-07:00

"Prosuma Biogradska" in Montenegro

We had a drizzly, wet walk through the beautiful Biogradska Gora National Park. I took this picture In October when the water would have been at it's lowest level. During April or May the water reaches it's highest peak and is crystal clear. I can't begin to describe the sweet smelling air - it was so intoxicating. You'll have to go there and find out for yourself. I do think the moisture in the atmosphere helped to produce the amazing scent. Apparently there is a phenomenal diversity of flora, trees and shrubs in this environment. Several summits in this forest reach 2000 metres above sea level. A truly spectacular place.

The Cemetery

2011-03-30T00:43:00.000-07:00

One of my favourite photos in Montenegro

I felt a little unsure about posting this picture. Scanning through all the cemetery shots, I kept coming back to this one.  I was reminded of a very special moment. A moment like I have never before experienced in a cemetery.

Here in Australia, I was brought up where going to the cemetery required a certain demeanour. To dress in black, to look sad (even if I wasn't feeling sad), to speak softly and to carry out rituals of which to this day I'm uncertain as to their meaning.

So when in Montenegro my uncle and my aunt suggested one fine day we go the local cemetery, I was a bit hesitant. I knew that I had to go at some stage. I needed to pay my respects to my grandmother and my uncle. My grandfather who was killed in the war has his name written on the memorial stone. He died during the bombing of Bijelo Polje and his body was never recovered. So his remains are not in the grave.

It was a beautiful day. The walk was pleasant, the views amazing and we even picked fresh walnuts from a tree by the roadside. It was a four km walk. The cemetery was in the most stunning position. Set high upon a flat area of the mountain, it was peaceful, breezy and inviting. I wandered all around. My uncle showed Mitch and I the memorial stone of our family. This was the picture I almost posted - but it just didn't feel right.

We spent ages looking at many of the graves and their stones. We constantly chattered. Sometimes we stopped. We tidied up some graves and some tears were shed for my aunt's side of the family. Then we happened upon a huge concreted grave with no stone. It belonged to my uncle and my aunt. I recall my aunt telling my uncle to go inside and check it out to see if the structure was still in good condition. My uncle asks Mitch to give him a hand to move the concrete slab which opened up at the base. I didn't know what to think! Am I supposed to be sad here or what? I literally saw my uncle climb inside while my aunt sat on top yelling out questions to him.

My uncle echoes back to us that he found a newspaper in there. My aunt jokingly says, "good, it'll give you something to read when you go to live there permanently". My uncle belts back "you'll be needing it before me". My aunt says to Mitch and I, "quick, let's shut the door so he can't get out".   This friendly taunting of one another continued till my dear uncle crawled back out, replaced the slab and we all sat upon their final resting place.

The jibing continued and I couldn't resist taking a photo of them. My aunt said that she wasn't going to let Mitch go back to Australia and that there was room for him directly "down under" too.   Far from sadness, I experienced laughter, joy and love on top of the mountain in the Potrk cemetery. I had a wonderful day.

What A Week

2011-03-29T08:34:00.000-07:00

Leftover Christmas Cake to the Rescue

It's been one of "those" weeks.

First I jab my eye whilst gardening.

See the doctor. Eye Drops. Painful.

Then the courtcase. Stressful.
Another day. Unresolved. Delayed till June.

A business trip ahead for Hubby.

The day before he leaves he can't help himself. Things to do.

Working with machinery, he virtually pulls out his fingernail.

Off to the hospital. He winces. Oh God. Now that's painful!

Does he lie down and relax for the remainder of the afternoon? Nope.

Off to the farm. The heifer's need tick treatment.

I race to get his antibiotics.

Next day he's gone.

I get an email. He's safe. He arrived.

No mention of the finger - I did ask.

Another email. Lovely shots of the wildlife in a lowlands reserve.

Damn. Why didn't I go. Hang on. This was supposed to be a business trip!

I guess it is Sunday.

I go and check the cows. No water in two of the troughs. What now? Help.

Next day, clean up house. Cook a nice meal.

The new boyfriend comes to meet us. From Melbourne. Must make an effort.

Today the eye is sore again. I check. B....... hell! An ulcer. A corneal ulcer.

I use old medication. Too tired and couldn't be bothered going to the doctor again.

Feeling a little emotional and sore and sorry.

Glad to be alone.

Glad to use my little blog as a sounding board.

What does one eat during testing times?

Thank goodness for puff pastry.

Thank goodness for homemade frozen food.

Nothing pretty about cabbage rolls.
They freeze well, taste good and are extremely healthy.

Morning Mountainside In Montenegro

2011-03-28T20:23:00.000-07:00

I had such a hard time trying to choose one of Mitchell's photos. During our two week stay in the hills of Potrk, Montenegro, he would regularly get up early, grab the camera and go for a walk. There were a couple of mornings where the fog was so thick, he tells me he could hardly see where he was going. The relatives were very worried about him and they talked of sending search parties after he didn't return for hours. I assured them he had an excellent sense of direction. He came back every time to some very relieved looking faces and he must have wondered what was all the fuss about. I later learn that brown bears and wolves once roamed these very same hills and mountainsides. I emphasize the word "Once". Still, one never knows.

If you are reading this my dear Nicole, then I would like to draw your attention to a few details that may interest an aspiring photographer such as yourself. Sometimes, one has to make sacrifices for one's job. In this particular case, one needs to rise early. Five or six o'clock in the morning. The cow milkers will be up. For them it's a regular occurrence. For you, getting up at this hour will most certainly present some challenges. However, think of it this way dear. This place has never before seen the likes of someone with the photographic equipment that you possess. Most likely never will. Tourists simply don't go out of their way to come to Potrk. You could say it's a little off the beaten track. My point? Use your splendid gear, use your wonderful photographic eye, rise early and go capture those majestic mountain scenes in Montenegro that await you. Especially on those hauntingly beautiful, foggy morns. Mitch managed to get some rather nice shots with our very average camera. I can only imagine what you can do. Don't miss this opportunity! You must sacrifice. Get up early!

The Full Monty-negro Loo

2011-03-26T07:02:00.000-07:00

This is a photo of a typical loo in the village of Potrk; Montenegro. This one in the foreground, belonged to neighbours two homes away from my uncle's house. Wait till you see my uncle's loo Nicole. It's situated on the slope of a hill. I had many a tricky morning making it to the dunny without falling over. I recall getting to the door and taking a deep breath because I made it. Especially on foggy, dewy mornings where the grass is wet and slippery. The upshot is, when you make it to the loo and then back out again, you can stand there and take in the most amazing view of the mountains. It's stunning. Almost worth having to put up with the loo. Almost.

PS: If you don't like the option of using the loo, then the alternative is to choose a bush.

The Shop

2011-03-24T04:17:00.000-07:00

Zoritsa is sitting in front of the shop. She has shifts and swaps with her daughter-in-law and her son. Their shop services the village of Potrk - the village where your Grandfather grew up Nic. You'd be surprised at just how much this little shop can hold. Packets of cereal, sugar, flour, heaps of tetra packs containing long life milk, stock, juice etc. Cigarettes, alcohol and loads of soft drink. So if you get a craving for some coca cola Nicole, you don't have far to travel. It's about 1/2 km from my uncle's house. If you tell them you're from Australia (you won't have to as they will surely know - it's a small town), I guarantee you will get the item for free. Most probably with a chocolate bar thrown in. These people are just too good-hearted. Heaven knows how they make any money.

PS: Looks like I broke another rule. I missed a photo yesterday. I know you'll forgive me Nic and Stormy but for the rest of you maybe in a couple of months I can reveal what has been going on behind the scenes at TMKW. For now I'll simply say it was another day in court. Most likely to continue for another couple of months.

Art Imitating Life

2011-03-22T06:00:00.000-07:00

Artwork on the wall of a bakery in Split, Croatia

The real thing in downtown Pula, Croatia.

I know. I broke the rules and posted two photos. I hope you like it. I absolutely adored the "hanging". It's made from material and I found it utterly charming.

Risky Business

2011-03-20T22:27:00.000-07:00

Safety Regulations don't exist in Montenegro

Plum Cake All Round

2011-03-19T21:57:00.000-07:00

Plum cake anyone? Stuttgart, Germany

For some perspective, take a look at the lady's hand holding the knife. You get a better idea of just how "little" is this cake. What interests me is the size of the oven that baked this cake. I wish I had asked more questions about it at the time.

The Hunter and The Cook

2011-03-18T23:04:00.000-07:00

Last week Mitch left the wedding with his grandparents about 10pm. We stayed on. I know it was way past Grandpa's bedtime, but I wondered what my son's motive was for leaving early. We soon found out. Driving up the long gravel country road we came to the gate. I was mortified. The gate was open! It was almost midnight. Oh know. Who forgot to shut the gate? If there is one thing about country properties you must always do, it's shut the gate. I was so stunned to see the gate open, that I overlooked seeing my son, standing there next to it with a big grin on his face. I needed a moment to find my bearings. Do you know the feeling? When something isn't as it should be.

There he stood in full glory, gun strapped over his shoulder, holding two rabbits. I wound down the window to take a look. He proudly announced he was heading up to the house but first he needed to collect the other two rabbits he left by the shearing shed. He happily stated, "four bullets, four rabbits". Crickey. Won't Grandpa be pleased.

There are signs the rabbit population in rural Australia is getting out of control. Again. It's never-ending. The eradication program about fifteen years ago certainly slowed them down, but eradication is never going to happen. It's all about control really. At the moment, they are hopping about in huge numbers again. So before Mitch blows his trumpet too loudly; to be fair there are heaps of them about. I'm sure Grandpa would be happier if he were to stay for a month and wipe out 4,000 of them. That's no exaggeration by the way.

After our six hour drive home, Mitch got out of the car and immediately raced down to Philomena's with his rabbits. He came back and said, "dinner's this Thursday". Hurray. For me, this means a night off cooking. But mostly it means a gastronomic delight at our wonderful European neighours place.

Our sprightly seventy year old Philomena

Just when I thought this lady can't surprise me any more; there she goes again. The pots are bubbling away filled with her lovingly homemade food. The rabbit casserole in one pot and in another - the biggest pot of homemade gnocchi you will ever see. I turned around to look for the other twenty people that must have been coming. The table was only set for five. Philomena says, "you always need a little bit extra". Need I say more.

Philomena's French-Style Aussie Rabbit

In a glass or ceramic dish, marinate the following ingredients for 24 hours.

2 game rabbits, each cut into eight pieces

2 onions, wedged

2 carrots, roughly chopped

1 bottle of red wine

Drain well. Reserve wine. Discard onion and carrot. Pat dry rabbit pieces really well.

Ingredients

8 button mushrooms, quartered

8 -10 French eschallots

2 cloves garlic

a small whole piece of smoked bacon (about 200gm at a guess)

6 tablespoons of cognac preferably; brandy can also substitute

butter

olive oil

bouquet garni of your choice

salt

cracked black pepper

Take a solid frying pan or pot;over high heat seal the rabbit in a combination of butter and oil till nicely browned. Take out of pan.

Remove any burned bits. Philomena stresses this is most important or it can spoil the entire dish. In the same pan, add a little more butter, one tablespoon flour and return the rabbit. Cook over a high heat working very quickly moving the rabbit around constantly. You need the flour to just starting turning a nice light brown in colour. Sounds tricky doesn't it? Immediately add 6 tablespoons of cognac or brandy and flambe. I guess until the alcohol disappears.

To this add the reserved marinated red wine, two large cloves of crushed garlic. And enough water to only just cover the rabbit. Bring to boil slowly; reduce heat; simmer for half an hour.

In France Philomena talks about these tiny champignons that apparently we can't get here in Australia. Instead, she said take about 8 very small button mushrooms; quarter.

Take 8 to 10 French eschallots; cut into wedges. In a small frypan with a little oil, brown the eschallots. When almost done; add diced pieces of dry, smoked bacon (all the fat cut out). Philomena says she only uses the meaty bits off the bacon. Add this to the eschallots and only heat up for a minute. Basically to just release the flavour.

Lift the lid off the simmering rabbit; add the quartered champignons, the browned eschallots and smoked bacon. Season well with salt and cracked pepper and add a bouquet garni of your choice. Mix well. Simmer over a low heat for approximately two hours. Philomena says your timing of the cooking depends largely on the age of the rabbit. She sensed that Mitchell's rabbits were younger and only needed a minimum. My goodness. I thought this took long enough.

Check the liquid from time to time. Toward the end of cooking time if there is too much liquid; leave uncovered; reduce till you reach the desired consistency of the sauce.

Philomena says to remove any greasy spots floating in the dish. You may well have little or none. But if you do, then this will be from the added ingredients as the rabbit is almost fat free. She also says that in France this dish would have some cream added right at the end. She prefers it without the cream and I think I agree. It seemed rich enough without it.

Serve with your favourite carbohydrate. And lots of green salad.

Bon Appetite! Literally.

Thank you to the hunter and the cook. Our meal was fit for a king. Merci.

Biogradska Boats

2011-03-18T07:05:00.000-07:00

On a misty, drizzly afternoon my cousin raced home from work to take us to Biogradska National Park. It's in Northern Montenegro, about half an hour from Belo Polje. We arrived in miserable conditions. Hardly a person in sight. Perfect. We had the whole park to ourselves and we all giggled like children. Mossy rocks and slippery tracks in our path, but we managed to stay afoot. The rain increased steadily, the fog and mist started to set in. The forest was stunning. I'll post some photos at a later time. But for today I have chosen to show you the beautifully hand crafted boats securely locked by the jetty. I suspect they'd have to be. Aren't they gorgeous. The timber used to build them came directly out of the forest. I only wish I could remember the type of wood from which they were made.

Rovinj

2011-03-17T04:05:00.000-07:00

We spent two fascinating hours in an Istrian town called Rovinj. It was here I bought your lovely purple swing dress from a little shop by the waterfront. I loved this place. Totally captivating. Charming. Entrancing. I was soooo hooked. Nowhere near enough time to explore. A storm literally blew us off our feet. The rain pelted and we dashed back to the bus. I still think of this place. I want to go back. Maybe we can even catch the ferry across the Adriatic Sea and go to Venice. Mitch wouldn't do it. He still had issues with Australia knocked out in the world cup by the Italians in 2006. He refused to set foot on Italian soil. Isn't he a card! Maybe you and I can go this time Nicole.

The Countdown Begins

2011-03-16T15:58:00.000-07:00

Nicole - the little old house in which your grandfather was born.
You won't believe how small it is and you will wonder how on
earth did seven children and two adults live in there.

Whilst cleaning up my photo files, I stumbled across the photos I took two years ago on my trip overseas. I enjoyed going through each and every one. So many memories came flooding back. It also drew my thoughts to my youngest chick who is due to leave the nest in a couple of months. She's booked in late May and her dream of going to England is finally going to happen. She's worked hard, saved hard and she deserves it. There are still a lot of questions that I don't feel she has satisfactorily addressed. I guess I want her to be prepared for the uncertain scenarios ahead. She however, wants to spread her wings and fly. Impulsively. Without planning. And see where she lands. Oh dear.

Nicole is an aspiring photographer. In many ways she already is. She works in the field, but I guess it's the dream of running her own business and being creative and able to sell her own artistry that is the desired goal. I know she'll get there one day. She's too good not to. I thought of her on many an occasion when I went this last time to Europe. Nicole adores old and ancient. Rocky, woody, muddy. Ruins. Ricketey fences. Cracked and broken walls, tiles, bricks, stone. But mostly clouds. The sky. Trees.

When I took Mitch to see his late grandfather's homeland in Montenegro, there were so many times we said, "if only Nicole were here". All the subjects she adores were around us. Everywhere. I recall my cousin getting so frustrated with my clicking at all the ruins and old houses. He simply couldn't understand the fascination. He made me laugh one day when he exclaimed, " everyone in Australia will think we are hit with an earthquake every day after they see your photos". He only wanted me to take photos of the "good bits". You know. The bits that are touristy and flashy. I didn't want to know.

Montenegro is a photographer's dreamland. I took loads of shots, but I have an ordinary camera and I am certainly no photographer. I figured if I have enough pics, then surely something will turn out. I'm excited for Nicole. Montenegro has huge mountains, rocky terrain, the cleanest water in Europe on Durmitor mountain. Goat tracks for roads, people still riding horses or donkeys to the markets. Poor cars. Heaps of empty houses in the hills and mountains. Many of which are falling down. Old handmade tools that farmer's still use.

Nicole won't be able to keep up with the subjects. The place is loaded with textures. The place is real. It's backward. She will go to places that the normal tourist will not go to or see. This I know because I will be taking her. With my relatives that live there of course. Yep. Looks like I'm going again. I haven't booked yet. But it seems I've been 'ordered' to go. I guess one must listen to orders.

So I have decided here at Through My Kitchen Window to post a picture from my previous trip every day leading up to Nicole's departure and perhaps even after. It's a way of building up the excitement I suppose. For her and for me too. The usual recipes and stories will continue. The photos are an added extra. Hope you don't mind.

Photos may also include places visited in Germany, Serbia and Croatia.

Jellied Over and Out

2011-03-15T16:32:00.000-07:00

Quince and Crabapple Jelly

I have some grand ambitions at times. Never having cooked with crabapples or quinces before I figured it'll be easy. A jell is a jell after all, right? Yes, but it does pay to know and understand the fruit. I don't know or understand a crabapple or a quince. I don't know when they are almost ripe, ripe, overripe or no where near being ripe. I don't know them.  Nor did I particularly enjoy working and cooking with these fruits.  Sitting here, I've arrived at a few conclusions. And that's good. Sometimes one needs to go through misspent (is that a word) time, effort and cost to realise and recognise "the bleeding obvious".

I should stick to what I know. And to what I like.  And to local. Seasonally local ought to be the only way to go. Tropical fruits. Citrus fruits. Native fruits like the lilly pilly, the jaboticaba, kiwi, paw paw, Davidson's plum. These are trees on my doorstep. These are what I should stick with. The crabapple and the quince are not native in my part of the world. It'd be okay I guess if I was familiar with them. Or, if I felt nostalgic childhood memories. But I don't.   No wonder I didn't feel any "pings" of excitment when I was cooking with them. Niente.

It feels special to collect fruit straight from our trees. It's worth the effort and the time to preserve them.  I know the kind of season the tree has experienced.  Are the blemishes on it's fruit from lack of water, or too much water?   Not enough fertilizer or yes that fertilizer did it the world of good. Taking out that pine did the lime tree wonders. Finally it saw the sun again. I know my fruits. I know the trees. I know the conditions and the season preceeding the fruit. Stick to what I know.

I followed the instructions as per usual for a jelly and I made a batch of crabapple jelly. Colour - gorgeous. Jell set - perfect. Taste - not sure. Mitch sampled some and he made a perfectly sensible observation. It left a "powdery" taste he said. He was right. Very powdery, furry-like and quite acidic. We could only think that we used fruit that was too underripe.   Why didn't someone tell me this! Why didn't someone who knew this fruit tell me? We should never have picked them. The truth is, it suited me to pick them because I was down there at that time. So the fault lies solely with me. The crabapples weren't ready.

Crabapple Jelly with not an air bubble in sight. Stunning colour too - oh well

I was handed a bag of quinces and told to "toss" them out if they were rotten. Rotten? How do I know? I haven't used a quince before. I later learned they're supposed to be yellow in colour. In the meantime, I peeled away the blackened marks off the very green, rock hard quinces and decided I would make a jelly. Problem; there wasn't enough of the fruit to justify making a jelly, so I threw in some crabapples to bulk it up a little. Besides, I read this fruit needs extra pectin for a good jell set. "Twenty minutes cooking to soften" I read. No way. I checked again at forty minutes. Crabapples fairly soft; quinces pretty hard still. Sixty minutes; not falling apart but soft enough. Bottom line- the quinces or what was left of them I should say, were too firm and not ready either.

So why give them to me? Or perhaps I should say, why did I accept them. I have grand ideas. I overlook the realities sometimes and all I see is the end picture. I see lots of lovely exquisite little jars of jewelled jellies - all varieties - and everyone will think I'm so clever.

Far from feeling clever, I feel a little defeated and I feel I've wasted the better part of a beautiful sunny day. So the lesson for me at least is to keep on preserving and trying to perfect the fruits that actually have meaning to me. Fruits I to which I feel a connection. Local fruits. Fruits in my own backyard. I've come to the realisation, I simply can't do everything.

It was the perfect setting for a jell. Never mind.

PS: The quince and crabapple jelly actually had a nice flavour and a gorgeous peachy colour. For some reason heaps of air bubbles formed quickly and were trapped during the pouring stage. They're clearly visible and I'm not happy. The crabapple jelly left a dry taste and really didn't have any flavour. Disappointing. I won't post the recipes. There's no point really.

She's Apples Mate

2011-03-14T04:41:00.000-07:00

Freshly picked apples from a tree by the roadside in country NSW Armidale

Freshly picked crab apples from my mother-in-law's country garden

Preparation for Crab Apple Jelly

My beautiful newly married niece with the man of her dreams

The week-end was glorious. Great weather, great company and lots of happy faces.

Home again. Heaps of fresh fruit. The kitchen awaits.

Through My Kitchen Window turns two today. It's been an up and down kind of year. And that's okay. As an Aussie might say, "she's apples" or "no worries mate".

Dressing and Readdressing

2011-03-07T19:22:00.000-08:00

On the weekend my daughter and I spent an entire day shopping.  We are attending a wedding next weekend and we left dress shopping a bit late.   I had the money. What I didn't have was the inclination or the desire or even the interest to find something. I'm still looking. Yesterday I bought a Veronika Maine purple top to go with a Laura Ashley swing charcoal skirt. I'm not happy. I don't mind the skirt, but now I think the top is better suited to pants. Off I go today in another direction. I don't know when the outfit or the top is going to jump out at me; but it better be quick.

It was in Brisbane that we shopped and I hardly ever go there. The few times I've been, I've always taken the train. Hubby suggested that we drive. It's only an hour away. I do like train travel though. I find it relaxing. What I don't like about train travel is the price.  Governments are constantly pushing us to take public transport to alleviate the traffic on the roads.   I think we should too.   Late last year the cost of an adult return ticket to Central Brisbane from the Gold Coast was almost $27. Together with my younger daughter who was not studying at the time, there was no concession to be had.  I spent over fifty bucks to get to Brisbane and back. Yep.  Let's all take public transport. What a joke!

My eldest daughter did a search on google earth (amazing) and found a couple of carparks in the city.  It was only ten dollars for 24 hours smack bang in the city centre.   I guess you also need to factor in the cost of fuel to the ten dollars.

However in our case, it's hardly noticeable. We drive a Toyota Prius. Hubby is always going on about how everyone should be driving these vehicles. I won't pretend to understand all that this vehicle can do, but it does seem amazing. There's been heaps of roadworks in our area lately. The other day, I was detained for about fifteen minutes on the road, till we were allowed to pass. Imagine. The cars banking up was ridiculously long. It made me think. Fifteen minutes of engines idling - not going anywhere, all the while fuel is being consumed. Ouch.

However in the Prius, not a problem. When the car isn't moving, it doesn't use any fuel.  Don't ask me how. But that's a fact.   So when I'm at stoplights or held up in ongoing roadworks, I don't have a guilty bone in my body.

I heard Hubby telling our neighbour Romano the other day that the Prius uses less fuel to get around than does his motorbike.  No wonder all the taxi drivers up here have switched to using the Prius. They must be saving oodles of money and oodles of fuel.

I won't bore you with all the benefits of this vehicle, but we are happy with it.  I was also happy when we arrived at the carpark to discover that "hybrid" vehicles were half price. Thank you Brisbane City Council. We spent an entire day parked in central Brisbane for five dollars. And the fuel there and back cost between eight to ten dollars (almost 200kms).  At last.  Something to smile about. Now all I need is a dress.

Mariana's Dressing - changes every day of the week. Here was last night's version.  Due to the extreme emulsification I created with a generous blob of grainy mustard, I added water. Apart from thinning it down, it reduced the vinegary tang. Plates were mopped clean with bread and I must say, it was particularly delicious.

In a small mixing bowl add:

2 cloves crushed garlic

1 teaspoon caster sugar

lots of cracked pepper

generous dash of salt

1 teaspoon grainy mustard

1 good squeeze fresh lemon juice

3 teaspoons balsamic vinegar

3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Whisk furiously. Watch it become fabulously thick and almost mayonnaise-like. Add 2 or 3 teaspoons of room temperature water, depending on how runny you like it. I added 2 teaspoons and it was still quite thick. Spoon desired amount over your salad. Refrigerate any remaining dressing. Simply delish.

Look who decided to drop in during
the photo shoot of my salad. It's Jean-Pierre.
What a lovely site I have looking
"Through My Kitchen Window".

Purple Cherry Jelly

2011-03-02T18:50:00.000-08:00

I was hoping for the colour purple.  It didn't happen. To be honest, I kind of expected it. I'm friends with the lovely lady selling preserves at our local farmer's market. Late last year I found a jaboticaba jelly on her stand and I grabbed it. The jaboticaba is a Brazilian tree grape with a deep purpley skin. And the jelly is what colour you may ask? Not purple. So I had an inkling my purple cherry wasn't going to give me the colour for which I yearned.

As for the taste. I'm happy. Subtle with absolutely no hint of bitterness or sourness. You have to be careful with lilly pillies. If picked too early they can be awfully sour. Not this one. I had a taste.   It was slightly acidic but refreshingly pleasant. Much milder than the pink or red varieties.

This led me to reassess the amount of sugar I would put in. I decided I wouldn't do the usual one cup sugar to one cup liquid. I reduced the quantity of sugar and this allowed the flavour of the purple cherry to really come through. It wasn't dominated by the sugar which can often happen with sour fruit when too much is added in an effort to eliminate the souriness. I did this last year with one batch of my red lilly pilly. It was way too sweet and the flavour was completely lost. I ended up dissolving the whole batch with hot water, and turned it into a cordial.   Funnily enough, the flavour came through as a cordial but not as a jelly. Strange.

The other surprise I had was with the jelling of this fruit. I have never before achieved such a jell. I mean so firm and fast set. Hardly a wobble. It reminded me of the real turkish delight. You know the rosewater jelly squares tossed in icing sugar.

The jell set in the pot very quickly.

I did some troubleshooting and this is what I came up with;

perhaps the fruit already contained a lot of pectin.
I added lemon juice twice; once to the fruit when cooking and then again to the strained liquid.
The lemons were greenish and picked straight from my tree so the pectin would have been at it's highest peak.
I used a couple of apples when cooking the fruit. The storeholder at the market said they were picked the day before and with the apple season just starting, I guess the pectin levels in those would have been really high as well.

All in all, I can only summize that the acidic levels were too high.

Am I disheartened with my jelly? Not on your nelly. As with everything, it's all a learning experience. And a talking point. Especially the lengths we went to in acquiring them. I am reminded of this everytime I look at my jars. They make me smile.

My helpful boy and I begin the arduous process of filtering through and sorting the goodies from the baddies. It took ages.

The baddies

The goodies

In a large, heavy based stainless steel pot, I added:

1.9kgs of thoroughly clean and unbruised purple cherry fruit

350gm wedges of unpeeled apple (as freshly picked as possible) - pips, stem and all

1 freshly picked lemon which produced 45 ml lemon juice - add the pips too

Put in enough water to just cover the fruit. Press with your hand to ensure the top level is reached as the fruit will otherwise float. This lilly pilly was much lighter than the other varieties, so be mindful.

Cover with lid; bring to boil; simmer steadily for 20 minutes. I lifted the lid after 5 minutes to discover the colour was completely stripped. The signs were early. The colour was not "hardy" and had already leached into the water. With the red lilly pilly it takes a lot longer to "lose" the colour.

After 20 minutes, use your wooden spoon or even a potato masher and give the mixture a good smashing. Just to break it up a little. This helps to release the flavours, the pectin and any remaining colour.

Replace the lid; continue to simmer for another 20 minutes.

Pour into a double muslin lined colander placed inside or over a large bowl.

I used my rolling pin to which I tied the muslin using some twine. Make sure the twine is strong because it will need to support all this weight. Tie a couple of times if necessary.

Place overnight in a cool, safe spot. I placed my rolling pin between two chairs. I also emptied the liquid in the above picture into another glass bowl as the muslin bag was almost touching the liquid. By the following morning I only had about another cup. Most of the liquid will definitely come out when you initially secure it. Whatever you do, don't squeeze the bag. It really will come out cloudy if you do and we are trying to achieve a nice, clear jelly - so don't be tempted to do this because you think you will extract more liquid. You will, but you risk losing your clarity and you'll make your jelly work harder with the extra scum it needs to remove.

I ended up with 1.180ml of strained liquid. I placed this back into my heavy based pot along with another 40 mls of freshly picked and squeezed lemon juice. Bring slowly to almost a boil. Take off the heat. I added 750gm caster sugar. Don't just dump it in. I carefully poured the sugar into the centre so it didn't splash all up along the sides of the pot. It's important to dissolve it well in order to prevent any crystallisation occurring. A bit like toffee I suppose. I used my wooden spoon to carefully stir through the sugar. Return to a gentle heat and continue stirring until the sugar is totally dissolved. I did this for about six minutes. Just to be sure. Turn your hotplate to it's highest setting and allow to rapidly boil.

The above picture was taken after 5 minutes of rapid boiling.

Using a long metal spoon, remove the scum away from the sides of the pot. It should be browny in colour like the above picture. If it's white then you may be removing the good stuff.

Another surprising thing - I hardly had any scum at all in this jelly. I usually have quite a bit in the red and pink lilly pillies. Perhaps because of their beardy bits - I'm really not sure on this one, but definitely less scum with the purple variety. Great.

Almost 20 minutes boiling and we're nearly there. Notice the gorgeous cerise colour coming through and the scum has risen and settled around the sides. That means it's away from our jelly - perfect.

I do the jell test and I'm amazed. I've never seen anything like it. The jell is setting on the spatula. It's spectacular. At this point I am so thrilled. It's been worth it. The boiling process in all took 22 minutes. It varies every time, which is why it's important to do the jell test when you see the liquid foaming up high and making a "plopping" sound. It means the jelly is just about there. And as you see from my pic above - I'm there.

There are plenty of websites describing how to sterilize jars. Check them out if you aren't sure how to do this. Using a paper towel thats been wrung out in boiling hot water, I wiped away the scum from the direction inwhich I intended to pour. This way the jelly didn't collect any of the scum. I poured the jelly into a hot, glass jug and straight away I poured this into my sterilized heated jars. Lid immediately. I filled three little 40ml jars, three 100ml jars, one 190ml jar and I had about a cupful I placed into a bowl. Sure it's a lot of work. Probably for not much gain. But the process is wonderful and I learn something new every time. It's hard not to feel satisfied.

Chasing Purple Cherries

2011-02-28T02:46:00.000-08:00

How about a drive to the farm for a little relaxation today? "No worries" replies my Hubby. "By the way, look what I found the other day".

Out from his working shirt pocket he produces a couple of berries. Purple ones. We gather round. A search on the internet and it seems they are called 'purple cherries'. Purple they are, cherries - well not as I know them to be. I break one open and I'm immediately in familiar territory. A lilly pilly. Hubby has his doubts. After all, lilly pillies have little hairy beards underneath and these didn't have those.

They smell like lilly pillies and they have that distinct, white, powderiness in the fleshy part. Mitch and Hubby do more research. The purple cherry tree can grow up to 45 metres and is native to our corner of the world. Sounds promising.

Hubby tells us he saw scatterings of the berries in the river beside our bridge. They have come downstream. The question is how far did they travel? Where is the tree? The current in our river is fairly strong, so they could have travelled from anywhere up the valley. Wouldn't it be lovely if the tree were on our place. The next thing I know, I'm changing into long pants and boots. My afternoon of relaxation was about to turn into an afternoon of adventure and discovery.

Half an hour and we're at the farm. The afternoon is glorious, overcast with a slight breeze. Not too hot. We hop on the quad and head up the hills to check all the cows. Looks like the "fly and tick deterrent rubs" are working well. The cows look clean, healthy and happy. Back down to the river. I spot some purple cherries in the water that have been trapped in floating debris. Aren't they a pretty colour?

We follow Hubby along the overgrown river bank. During the recent floods this was all under water, so I walk very cautiously. Before you know it Hubby is out of sight, but Mitch has kindly decided to stay behind his plodding mother. We begin to spot some of the fallen cherries along our trail. We come to a clearing and Hubby stands there looking up at this particular tree. There are cherries under the tree but we can't sight anything directly above. This is one tall tree. We climb up the river bank hoping to have a better view to the tree tops.

There they are. We spot a sprinkling of them dancing in the breeze. There are birds in the tree. Good. They must be safe to eat. As for getting to the cherries. Forget it. The tree is right on the river, metres away from the bank and ridiculously tall. There is no way we can reach them. It wouldn't be worth it anyhow, as there are hardly any left.

We all feel chuffed that we have discovered this tree on our property and we head back to our undercover area to have a beer and a chat. After about ten minutes, Hubby looks up, points and belts out "Hooley Dooley! There are heaps of them". We look over and we have a view directly of the tree from our rest area. Overhanging the river, were a mass of purple cherries.

A zoomed in picture as close as I could get to the purple cherries.

"You'll never know if you don't have a go!" These words need to be engraved on my Hubby's headstone. It describes him to a tee. Any 'normal' person would think, that's it, they can't be reached, let's be grateful we found the tree and be done with it. Not my Hubby. The mind is ticking. A plan is hatched.

I'm standing on the bridge listening to the loud antics in the bushes. I can't see a thing. The next thing, Hubby races down the bridge holding a strainer he finds in his shed. He sits by the bridge. Waiting. He begins to scoop. One cherry. Another. And another. Oh look out. There's quite a few going by. Quick. Catch them.

I'm handed the strainer and ordered to not let any cherries get away. The problem is there are two directions from which they are coming, so this was one rather demanding request! I begin dashing up and down the bridge, bending over, scooping as I go. The run ceases. I don't have many, but it's a start.

I see Hubby disappear along the bank carrying a rope with a huge metal bolt attached to one end. Heaven knows what he is up to. I hear Mitch and Hubby. Loud exchanges. Water splashes. Trees swaying. Bushes bending. "Watch out!" Crashing sounds.

My orders resonate from somewhere in the bushes. "Hun!!! Get ready!!! They're coming!"

I stand at the bridge, armed with my strainer, whilst my eyesight strains trying to spot them.

It doesn't take long. One cherry. Two. Three. One. Two. One. Quick. To the other side. Oh know, missed one. Back to the other side. A whole group of them. Forget bending. I'm lying on the bridge, desperately scooping with one hand whilst trying to stop the others with my other till I can get the strainer facing them. Ahhh. Some are getting away.

This went on for half an hour. No kidding. Hubby came down and relieved me for a bit, while I took some photos. Then I took my station again. Another fifteen minutes and I gave up. Enough. I spotted the odd one here and there. The bucket was surprisingly filled and my bottom was unsurprisingly sore. Enough.

My goodness. My afternoon was an entertaining, unpredictable and a scrambling affair. I had a ball. I later learned that Mitch had a near disaster with the bolt. It just missed him as it swung past in the air. Turns out he was in the tree!!!! Lucky I couldn't see any of this from the bridge, or I truly would've been ranting.

I'm home. I only learned of purple cherries this morning. After a "Basil Fawlty" afternoon, I have enough cherries to justify making a preserve. Looks like Lilly Pilly Jelly is on the cards. Hopefully a beautiful jewelled purple one. Hubby fears the preserve may turn out to be a murky brown colour. The colour purple is very tricky to achieve, I'm told. And the colour on these cherries don't seem to be as concentrated as it is in the pink or the red lilly pilly. Those varieties I know very well.

As for the purple cherry; I have decided to continue on with this journey and see where it leads. Hopefully, Purple Lilly Pilly Jelly is coming up.

PS: Twenty nine years today. My life has been unpredictable, never boring, challenging, exciting, fortunate and blessed. All because of you. And like your purple cherries; I never know what's around the bend.

Happy Anniversary Dear.

Pulling Strings

2011-02-24T03:09:00.000-08:00

Jean-Pierre the butcher bird

Meet Jean-Pierre. He's been visiting us for about five months. Early January, Mitchell and I went to Sydney for a week and after we returned there wasn't any sign of him. No more Jean-Pierre.

Mid February morning and it was Mitchell's birthday. I glanced through my kitchen window and there was our beautiful butcher bird. He was sitting on the chair that I dared not move since he last visited. It was his stage. He used to sing us songs from that chair. The most wonderful warble I have ever heard.  One particular morning he sang his little heart out. It was mesmerizing and I was actually moved to the point of tears. He has never quite repeated that performance.

Mitchell was so happy to see his little friend had returned.  Their relationship had been slowly developing. Naturally food has been the motivation for Jean-Pierre's visits. It's amazing what stringy little bits of meat can bring. He was confident enough to sit and eat from Mitchell's knee.   Then he disappeared. It's been a while now and I guess a little trust needs to be built up again before that happens.

What a wonderful birthday surprise!  After all this time, fancy Jean-Pierre showing up on my birthday, he said. I told my son we mother's can pull strings when the need arises. I had organised for Jean-Pierre to come precisely at that time. What? You don't believe me! Wait till I tell you what I pulled for my son's birthday two years ago.  Mitchell still shakes his head in disbelief.

Here's a clue. We're going to see John Williamson's 40th anniversary concert in Brisbane soon. Mitchell's favourite songwriter and singer. He absolutely adores him. We went to Twin Towns last November to see his show and we haven't stopped playing his songs ever since. Gosh, that man has written some great and memorable songs. He is our very own dinky di Aussie living legend.

Now, what do you think the chances are of getting this Aussie legend to phone my son and wish him a happy birthday. Not great? Never underestimate the power of a determined mother. Like I said, we sure can pull some strings. Arranging for Jean-Pierre to come and sing precisely on his birthday was actually harder than getting John Williamson to call my son and say "gudday". But I did.

Now. I rather fancy the idea of John writing a song about our Aussie butcher bird. Somehow I don't think he'll like his name. 'Jean-Pierre' isn't very Aussie after all. Jeepers. Maybe they could sing together. Imagine John singing and Jean-Pierre warbling in the background. Or maybe John can whistle or play the harmonica with Jean-Pierre out front. Ohh the possibilities. Must dash. I hope I haven't run out of string.

Best Ever Dark Chocolate Mudcake

2011-02-22T19:51:00.000-08:00

I don't recommend having mudcake too often. Sinfully rich? Yes. Deadly on the waistline? Yes. Momentary bliss? Yes, yes, yes!

My son made one request for his birthday last week. A mudcake. I've made quite a few in my time and at a guess I would say we'd average one mudcake a year. The last mudcake I made was for my 50th, which was December 2009. I do receive an order from time to time, but that doesn't count.

For this particular mudcake I used a good quality chocolate containing 70% cocoa. I also used for the very first time a high baking tin, lined inside and outside too. I poured the mixture into the tin only to discover it reached the top of the tin. There was no allowance for the cake to rise and I didn't think one lining of baking paper would be able to support heavy mudcake mixture. No panic. I lined the outside of the tin a few times and tied with twine. The cake rose beautifully and the lining did it's job.

The cake stood tall and high. I iced it with the ganache until it set. It took about fifteen minutes of swirling and twirling with a steel spatula and a serrated knife. The weather was humid which didn't help. It did however help to produce a beautiful gloss. Mitch was tickled when he saw it. Philomena thought I bought if from the shops. I finished it the day before his birthday.

Mitch cut into it and a piece came out beautifully dark, rich, intact and oh so moist. Evenly all the way through. The trick is to enjoy wafer thin slices. It can keep for ages. Ten days later and we still have some left. I've had four visitors at different times this week who all sampled the cake. Serve with some cream and fresh raspberries soaked in Cointreau. I simply can't describe it. The silence at the table whilst eating was a good indication. At least I hope! Take it slow, enjoy every mouthful and make sure your piece is thin. Pure indulgence.

If you'd fancy a go; here is my chocolate mudcake recipe.

My tip: enjoy it long, enjoy it slow, enjoy it once a year.

Quick Vegetable Throw-Together

2011-02-18T19:47:00.000-08:00

I can make a quick meal when I must. And boy did I do this one quickly. I received the call that my friend was being released from hospital and she would be at our place in twenty minutes to collect her vehicle. Undergoing a huge amount of stress and not looking after herself properly; meaning not eating well; I couldn't resist. I decided to have a handy vegetarian meal ready for her to take, so that at least she didn't have to worry about cooking tonight.

This is what I made from ingredients that were in my crisper, pantry and garden.

Peel one sweet potato; oil and season with a little salt and pepper. Cube evenly into small pieces and bake on a high heat. Mine took about fifteen minutes.

Throw a pan onto the stovetop; chop two brown onions and sautee in some olive oil. Sprinkle lightly with some salt as this helps to draw out the moisture from the onion and ensures faster cooking. Add some crushed garlic; I put in about 8 cloves.

Upon browning; I added the cut-up stalks from one whole bunch of broccolini. Save the tops for the last five minutes. I found 1/2 a zucchini. Dice and add to the pan. Keep mixing to ensure the mixture does not burn as I used a medium to high heat.

Reduce heat; add corn kernels from one cob of corn. Mitch raced down and brought me one from his garden. Just gorgeous. Add one roughly chopped roma tomato for a little liquid; place lid on pan and cook for a couple of minutes.

Take off lid; add a can of whole tomatoes that has been blitzed; so juice and all the contents. Increase heat; allow to bubble for a couple of minutes. Add extra cracked black pepper, a heaped teaspoon of sugar; salt to taste and the tops of the broccolini. Mix well. Contine cooking on a medium to high heat. I wanted to reduce the liquid as much as possible.

I had some home cooked chickpeas in the freezer. Use a can if you choose. I defrosted them by placing in water and rinsing till all the peas were separated from each other. When the liquid in the frypan has reduced by half; throw in the chickpeas and cook for a further couple of minutes.

Remove from heat. I placed the entire mixture into a glass bowl set over a rack to help cool as fast as possible. Take the baked cubes of sweet potato and carefully stir into the mixture.

I sprinkled the lot with some of Philomena's beautiful parsley. Done.

After a cup of tea, some of Mitchell's birthday cake and a healthy chat; I packed her off with the vegetarian throw-together which I really enjoyed concocting. She was of course delighted; but mostly relieved I think. I know I would love to have a night off cooking!

Now. What's for our dinner tonight? Looks like leftover cabbage rolls guys. Again.

Home-made Gherkins

2011-02-12T19:35:00.000-08:00

Mitchell's homegrown and preserved gherkins

Mitch made these just over two weeks ago. He grew the little cucumbers himself. Not without drama. The vine began to climb and weave through the pool fence and our Josie the Kangaroo had quite a bit of fun pulling the little fellows off the vine. No kidding. She was turning into quite a pest. We reprimanded her constantly. She received the message and finally left them alone. This left just the bugs. A nuisance, but an expected one. Mitch was vigilant every afternoon, checking on them, watering and manually removing any unwanted visitors. He never once used a pesticide. His cucumbers were truly 'organic'. And yummy.

Our Mitch is turning 22 this week. As I sit here and ponder, I can't think of anyone his age that is remotely like him. He is certainly a 'rare' boy. He is quiet, self-assured, smart, loves older folk and is a true "greenie" in every sense of the word. I could honestly write pages about my "special" boy, but he would hate that. As much as I am bursting at the seams to tell the world about my beautiful son, I must contain myself and simply count my blessings.

Philomena and Romano adore him to bits. Philomena tells us of her plans to take Mitch to Croatia when they return there to live for good. She talks about finding a "good" girl for him. We all laugh as she tells us how she intends to find this girl. Our crazy neighbour declares, "the girl who has no trouble lifting a shovel and digging, is the girl for him. No fancy makeup. No fancy clothes or shoes. No smoking. No drinking. And, most importantly, she must know how to cook!" We all crack up with laughter as I have a feeling Mitchell's future betrothed doesn't actually exist. Still, we all have a mighty good chuckle listening to Philomena.

I can't take any of the credit for Mitchell's gherkins. He has done it all. The only thing he asked of me, was for a recipe explaining how to preserve them. I lay out my table with about seven books each containing it's own version for pickled cucumbers or gherkins. He perused them all, picked one, and proceeded with the recipe. He went to the shops to get mustard seeds and Philomena gave him fresh grape vine leaves from her vine and fresh dill sprigs from her garden. Everything else was in my pantry.

The result. They looked fantastic. We found eating them on their own a little strong. The vinegar certainly dominated, but the taste of the cucumber and other flavourings were not lost. Infact they came through brilliantly when eaten together with some cheese or ham and crackers. The gherkins also had a lovely "snap". I mean, they weren't soft and mushy. They retained a firm bite. I am really impressed son. His father was blown away. "More. Make some more mate", he pleaded. Our Mitch is working on it.

Home-made Gherkins

(adapted from Jams and Preserves by Nerys Purchon)

125gm salt

4 cups water

500gm fresh gherkins or small Lebanese cucumbers

2 teaspoons mustard seeds

1/2 or 1 teaspoon black peppercorns

several fresh dill sprigs

2 cups white vinegar

extra 2 teaspoons salt

2 teaspoons sugar

a couple of fresh grape vine leaves; optional

Mix the salt and the water in a bowl until dissolved.

Add the gherkins and leave for 12 hours, stirring often. Drain. Rinse several times.

Layer the herbs and spices with the gherkins in a wide-mouthed sterilised jar or crock.

Bring the vinegar, extra 2 teaspoons salt and sugar to a boil in a non-aluminium pan. Pour over the gherkins.

Seal immediately with a non-metallic vinegar-proof lid.

Leave for at least two weeks before opening.

Corn - Cooked or Killed?

2011-02-07T00:14:00.000-08:00

Mitchell's homegrown cooked corn. Each kernel is sensationally sweet and juicy. Perfection on a plate!

You're probably thinking I must be feeling lazy here at "Through My Kitchen Window". Fancy blogging about simple cooked corn. Sometimes however, the simplest things to cook are often the hardest thing to get right. Think MasterChef last year. Think the CWA night. Simple scones and plain cake. Easy right? So why did the contestants claim it was one of their hardest challenges. Strange isn't it?

Now take my absolutely, amazingly, brilliant neighbour Philomena. She churns out culinary masterpieces almost every day of the week. Can someone then please explain to me how on earth she can destroy, I mean, annihilate, - simple homegrown corn. Totally inedible. I'm taking a moment here, because I am still in shock. Philomena's homemade gnocchi and homemade sauce - amazing. Nothing in the world like it. Fabulous. The corn- overboiled, dry, shrivelled up. Tasteless. Awful. Honestly, it would be better to have eaten it raw.

Staggering corn

Now I have had other corn experiences like this one. Usually it has happened in homes where there are southern Europeans. It appears they generally overcook corn. Rule number one; don't overcook corn. Especially if it's young and freshly picked straight from the garden.

I'm so thrilled with Mitchell's gardening efforts. He has really taken to growing veggies this summer. Given the crazy climate we have experienced, he has done a brilliant job. The cucumbers have thrived. The eggplant is coming. The tomatoes are getting hammered. Not sure how they will go. The corn? Glorious. And why wouldn't it be. His corn has been pampered and peppered with love every day. Testing weather and testing pests have all been very, well - testing. But he has hung in there, tended to them regularly and we have all benefitted from his hard work and wonderful harvest.

The last thing in the world I want to do then, is to 'stuff up' cooking his labour of love. I can say with complete confidence, "our method" is tried and tested and terrific. Every time. Sometimes, simple corn ain't so simple.

Cooked Corn

Take a deep saucepan or pot. Remove the husks from the corn and any remaining "hairy" bits still attached to the corn. Cooking won't remove them, so you really need to get them off before cooking.

Place the cobs inside the saucepan. Make sure they are lying flat. Put in just enough tap water to cover the cobs. Bring to boil. Do not salt the water! Do not add oil or butter! As soon as the water comes to the boil, take off the heat immediately. If the corn is absolutely young and fresh, drain immediately. If the corn is a bit older, allow to sit in the hot water for an extra couple of minutes. No more! Drain. That's it.

If not consuming right away, place the lid back on the pot at an angle. This allows the corn to stay heated without continuing to "steam". I use a pasta pot which has a lid containing many holes. I find it's the perfect utensil in which to cook my corn. It can stay that way perfectly till the rest of the dinner is complete. If you see any 'wrinkling or shrivelling' of the kernels, I'm afraid you've cooked your corn for too long. Or, perhaps the cobs were too old to begin with. Either way; Kaput.

There was a time when I salted and generously buttered my corn. My Hubby and the girls still do. Mitch and I however, enjoy it straight from the pot. As is. No butter. No salt. Why tamper with perfection.

Thanks Mitch. Take a bow.

Moist Chocolate Cake and A Happy 50th Dear!

2011-02-05T15:21:00.000-08:00

My family's favourite chocolate cake

As per request: no party. No fuss. Philomena and Romano early for coffee. A day with family. A handful of gifts. The hand-made desk calendar complete with photos of you and your life and the personalised beautiful card hand-made with love from your children.

A scorching February, summer day. A glorious swim in the river. Laughing all the way till we reached the swirling rocky holes. Lying there. All of us. The gushing water washing over our bodies. So invigorating, so fresh, so wonderful.

A bumpy ride up the hill. Your adult kids scrambling all over the trailer. So much laughter. So connecting.

A bush barbeque. Night descends. Mossies and bugs attracted to the light. And to our plates. Squealing daughters. Fire out.

Return home. No power. A single bat created a shortage. Workmen and trucks line our street. Working to restore. I wake up on the sofa. It's one in the morning. Lights on. Fans on.

We hope you enjoyed your fiftieth dear.

As for me, I look forward to sharing your "big" present with you. Many trips and adventures ahead. Can't wait.

From your loving wife.

Recipe for our family's favourite chocolate cake

Pumpkin and Sultana Scones

2011-02-02T15:06:00.000-08:00

A trip from Sydney always involves a stayover at the home of my inlaws. It is almost smack bang half way to our home, making it ideal for a stopover and perfect for a family catchup. We decided to stay an extra day. Mitch and his cousin who happened to be there at the time had loads of fun talking about guns and shooting and the next thing the evening and the following day had been organised. Wood ducks was going to be a first. However the usual hunt for rabbits and foxes was firmly on the agenda. If you hadn't guessed already, we are well and truly in the country.

While the boys were off doing "boy" things, I spent a delightful morning doing nothing other than chatting, sharing and watching my mother-in-law put together three trays of pumpkin scones. She informs me it was her second attempt. I can't remember what happened with the first. I had to laugh as she bakes on her own terms. She is averse to anything being wasted. She has been this way ever since I can remember. So when the recipe calls for two cups of cooked mashed pumpkin, and she has two and a 1/4 cups, guess what happens to the uncalled for extra quarter. In she goes. If the mixture gets too mushy, then a little extra flour can be added to compensate. Bottom line; no waste; thank you very much.

Pumpkin and Sultana Scones

2 cups of cooked and cooled mashed pumpkin, (mother-in-law used the Kent variety)
4 cups of self-raising flour
2 eggs
2 tablespoons softened butter
4 tablespoons sugar
1 heaped tablespoon skim milk powder
a couple of 'fistfuls' of sultanas

The above quantity of ingredients are for a double batch. Halve the quantity if you prefer to make fewer scones. This batch produced about thirty scones.

Method

Beat the mashed pumpkin with the eggs. Add the flour, sugar, softened butter and skim milk powder. Using a large spoon, bring together without mixing too vigorously. Throw in the sultanas. Mix through. I love her "measure" description as "fistful". Isn't that delightful?

Take a third of the mixture and place onto a very well floured surface. You may find the mixture rather "wet", but that's okay. This really helps to make a beautifully soft and moist scone.

Don't be concerned with kneading. It will be too difficult due to the "wetness". My mother-in-law simply shaped it into a round and with a heavily flour-coated knife, cut the round into thirds. She marked each third with another three slits, so that there would be three scones from each third. With a large knife, lift each third onto a greased baking tray.

Repeat the above procedure two more times with the remaining mixture. She managed to fit three trays into her gas oven. She used a moderately hot oven and baked them for approximately fifteen minutes. You need to know your own oven and adjust accordingly.

I must admit they were really delicious. On their own or spread with butter. Yummo.

Sunning himself on this rock, the real lizard that used to
live here was sadly taken by prey. Most likely a hawk or eagle.
Mother-in-law placed this fellow on his spot as a reminder of
his existence. I don't think this one is going anywhere.