The bread crumbs and everything!
Beans, leeks and onions,
Sage from the garden,
Bacon and tinned tomatoes.
Simmering, bubbling...
Happy sausages
Greet us from the roasting pan.
The in-laws liked it.
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Monday, February 21, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
You might think that any old chump can cook fried rice.
Well you'd be right! This was a piece of piss to make (but tasted significantly better, I assure you). Usually we would use grated carrot and zucchini in our fried rice but this was more of a "whatever we have in the fridge right now" version.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Learning about learning
I admit I haven’t driven in Crunk even once since we got back to the city, but I was making some nice progress for a while there. I’m starting to get the hang of the 3-point turn. Becoming more familiar with reverse. Actually using the handbrake. If only all the driving test involved was getting from Mum and Dad’s place to the swimming pool and back, I’d ace the thing. And with car ownership comes other random tidbits of basic knowledge that escapes the licence-less, like knowing how to fill up with petrol. I’d never used a petrol pump until a couple of months ago. Wild, eh?
My nerves in the kitchen are getting their exercise too – the further I go along with this, the more I think I have a proper phobia. When I think things are going badly, my heart sinks with titanic momentum. If the instructions don't make sense, I break into a dizzy, anxious sweat . It’s not just nerves about getting a meal right. I have some serious issues here. I thought that if I kept experimenting, kept trying, this would improve – and in a way, it has. I’m at ease with the meals I’ve practised a lot. I’m very good at chopping. Similarly with my scrapbooking epiphany, if I can’t see how the whole meal is going to pan out, this becomes a problem. I put my faith in recipe books and halfway through, realise these recipe books were not necessarily made for panicky kitchen-inept types such as myself. I need to be told exactly what to do. Cooking for dummies. I fall into traps where I interpret things wrong, and when I am right, I second guess myself. If somebody else is there, watching, this somehow drains any faith I had in myself at all. All this ‘learning’ makes me feel very childish sometimes, which is sort of the opposite effect of what I was hoping for.
It confuses me that I do not feel this way about baking. Flour, eggs, buttering cake tins… this is a different, friendlier and more familiar world. A lot is to be said for having spent so much of my childhood with a cheeky finger in the mixing bowl. I have a lot more instinct for it, and this more than anything makes the gulf between baking and cooking feel very wide and real. Because I like cooking. I’m just not very good at it. Maybe it also has something to do with the fact that if you mess up a cake, you don’t get dessert, and that’s not really a big deal. Even a bad dessert is generally kinda good. But if you mess up dinner, then everyone goes hungry and is grumpy and hates you. That terrifies me.
Anyway, I’m a pro at schnitzel now. Roast vegetables make a good side, or mashed potato, and I can do both of those confidently. I’m getting the swing of chicken saltimbocca (although I can never ever remember what it is called). I can probably put risotto under my belt. I’m on my way to perfecting pasta bakes and sausage cassoulet, but they are a work in progress. Not unlike my maturity, perhaps. Look ma! I can feed myself and my husband! I’m almost a grown up!
My nerves in the kitchen are getting their exercise too – the further I go along with this, the more I think I have a proper phobia. When I think things are going badly, my heart sinks with titanic momentum. If the instructions don't make sense, I break into a dizzy, anxious sweat . It’s not just nerves about getting a meal right. I have some serious issues here. I thought that if I kept experimenting, kept trying, this would improve – and in a way, it has. I’m at ease with the meals I’ve practised a lot. I’m very good at chopping. Similarly with my scrapbooking epiphany, if I can’t see how the whole meal is going to pan out, this becomes a problem. I put my faith in recipe books and halfway through, realise these recipe books were not necessarily made for panicky kitchen-inept types such as myself. I need to be told exactly what to do. Cooking for dummies. I fall into traps where I interpret things wrong, and when I am right, I second guess myself. If somebody else is there, watching, this somehow drains any faith I had in myself at all. All this ‘learning’ makes me feel very childish sometimes, which is sort of the opposite effect of what I was hoping for.
It confuses me that I do not feel this way about baking. Flour, eggs, buttering cake tins… this is a different, friendlier and more familiar world. A lot is to be said for having spent so much of my childhood with a cheeky finger in the mixing bowl. I have a lot more instinct for it, and this more than anything makes the gulf between baking and cooking feel very wide and real. Because I like cooking. I’m just not very good at it. Maybe it also has something to do with the fact that if you mess up a cake, you don’t get dessert, and that’s not really a big deal. Even a bad dessert is generally kinda good. But if you mess up dinner, then everyone goes hungry and is grumpy and hates you. That terrifies me.
Anyway, I’m a pro at schnitzel now. Roast vegetables make a good side, or mashed potato, and I can do both of those confidently. I’m getting the swing of chicken saltimbocca (although I can never ever remember what it is called). I can probably put risotto under my belt. I’m on my way to perfecting pasta bakes and sausage cassoulet, but they are a work in progress. Not unlike my maturity, perhaps. Look ma! I can feed myself and my husband! I’m almost a grown up!
Friday, January 7, 2011
Meditation in more ways than one
In the interest of keeping on top of my blogging, here is one. I sweep the contents of my desk with my eyes, looking for inspiration. They waver on a half-eaten candy cane. Sugar for breakfast? Sure.
Another office refurbishment, another anxious search for a new meditation pod. They have built some curiously titled “shoosh rooms” and while I’m not entirely sure of their true purpose, I am hijacking one every day at 11am and sitting in the dark. Concentration, or lack of it, is a difficult thing to achieve just now. My success sort of works on a swinging scale. More often than not I’m avoiding the audio, such as the binaural recordings, and trying to just take myself out of the space I’m in, mentally. Focussing on the shapes that float in front of my closed eyes, or the steady beeping of a crane. Then from a corner of my brain, a little face pokes into view and goes ‘hey, I wonder how Carla’s baby is going?’ or ‘I should check that lottery ticket, I’m probably sitting on half a million’ or ‘one day Bear Grylls is going to eat something poisonous and die’. And I humour it for a moment, not realising it’s an evil trick on myself. Then I’m like “waaait a minute”, and breathe deeper, and focus on that floaty red circle again. For a few seconds, at least.
I think distraction is the real key. It’s like when I’m doing a hard cycle, or if I’m in the swimming pool – swimming is by no means my forte – keeping my mind pre-occupied leaves my body open to do what it’s supposed to do on its own. So I will think about the lottery, or Bear Grylls, and then I’ll be at the other end of the pool. That doesn’t really work with meditation. In times of extreme internal commotion, I have taken to counting, forwards and backwards, without stopping. It sounds loco, but it means all I have room to think about is the numbers. There is a downside in is that it doesn’t always relax me, even if I am breathing deeply, however I like to think of it as a type of a cerebral spring clean. It’s also why I enjoy logic puzzles so much.
I also did my first pasta bake on Wednesday night, under Ben’s supervision. He was multi-tasking, working on his bike in the kitchen at the same time. There is something reassuring and warm about this domesticity we have created. Sometimes we long for a place we no longer have to pay rent on, large enough for a dog, and three kids, and one of us earns enough that the other can stay home and perpetuate the domestic wonder. But other times we are stoked just looking at our retro coffee table/radiogram that we scored on eBay and the glorious red fruit bowl we’ve been hunting down for 6 months, and eat pasta bake, and listen to episodes of This American Life. It is necessary to meditate on these things, rather than waste energy with the other 7.5 hours of the day. It is a shame to waste anything, really, but particularly energy.
And with that... I'm off to meditate.
Another office refurbishment, another anxious search for a new meditation pod. They have built some curiously titled “shoosh rooms” and while I’m not entirely sure of their true purpose, I am hijacking one every day at 11am and sitting in the dark. Concentration, or lack of it, is a difficult thing to achieve just now. My success sort of works on a swinging scale. More often than not I’m avoiding the audio, such as the binaural recordings, and trying to just take myself out of the space I’m in, mentally. Focussing on the shapes that float in front of my closed eyes, or the steady beeping of a crane. Then from a corner of my brain, a little face pokes into view and goes ‘hey, I wonder how Carla’s baby is going?’ or ‘I should check that lottery ticket, I’m probably sitting on half a million’ or ‘one day Bear Grylls is going to eat something poisonous and die’. And I humour it for a moment, not realising it’s an evil trick on myself. Then I’m like “waaait a minute”, and breathe deeper, and focus on that floaty red circle again. For a few seconds, at least.
I think distraction is the real key. It’s like when I’m doing a hard cycle, or if I’m in the swimming pool – swimming is by no means my forte – keeping my mind pre-occupied leaves my body open to do what it’s supposed to do on its own. So I will think about the lottery, or Bear Grylls, and then I’ll be at the other end of the pool. That doesn’t really work with meditation. In times of extreme internal commotion, I have taken to counting, forwards and backwards, without stopping. It sounds loco, but it means all I have room to think about is the numbers. There is a downside in is that it doesn’t always relax me, even if I am breathing deeply, however I like to think of it as a type of a cerebral spring clean. It’s also why I enjoy logic puzzles so much.
I also did my first pasta bake on Wednesday night, under Ben’s supervision. He was multi-tasking, working on his bike in the kitchen at the same time. There is something reassuring and warm about this domesticity we have created. Sometimes we long for a place we no longer have to pay rent on, large enough for a dog, and three kids, and one of us earns enough that the other can stay home and perpetuate the domestic wonder. But other times we are stoked just looking at our retro coffee table/radiogram that we scored on eBay and the glorious red fruit bowl we’ve been hunting down for 6 months, and eat pasta bake, and listen to episodes of This American Life. It is necessary to meditate on these things, rather than waste energy with the other 7.5 hours of the day. It is a shame to waste anything, really, but particularly energy.
And with that... I'm off to meditate.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Christmas
Anyone for Yule Log?
Ducky-wuck: before.
Ducky-wuck: after.
Voila! Dinner is served. With crispy potatoes and honey mustard carrots.
Don't forget the orange sauce.
Dinner: after. Cider courtesy of Monteiths. Also, if you're wondering why we have 3 rubix cubes on the table, it's because 2 of them are salt and pepper mills. The third one is an actual rubix cube put there to confuse people.
Merry Christmas! Best one ever.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Come on! Let's Boogey to the Elf Dance!
Merry Christmas! I'm sitting in the kitchen wearing a brand new 'Scotland' apron (thanks Adam) which I have already managed to coat in such things as flour, icing sugar, chocolate, oranges, and duck juices. This morning I made my first 'Yule Log' (up until yesterday I'd never even heard of one) but turns out it is mostly just a swiss roll. I've now got a 2kg duck slow-roasting in the oven thanks to Crash Test Kitchen - so if it doesn't work, I'm blaming them. It came with vegetable stuffing already included thanks to the excellent folks at Gus's and I'm planning to do up an orange sauce with some roasted vegies to boot. It's a little nerve racking, this being my first Christmas dinner, and me having no back-up plan if it fails, but I figure, how hard can it be (she says flippantly, ignoring everything she has learnt thus far)? The trickiest part is making sure the oven temperature stays true.
I actually forgot how awesome Christmas is. Ben is working which is a big pile of plops but we had a lovely morning opening gifts and skyping with the Scottish contingent. Life is wonderful.
Keep your fingers crossed for my poor little ducky-wuck, and I'll keep you updated.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Saltwater wells in my eyes...
I am a few days behind on my blogging. I made my first schnitzel on Monday night and it was good. I took a photo which I’ll post when I make the quantum leap to plugging my camera in.
Secondly, a new postcard arrived. Even though the deadline has passed, this is actually a good thing – I don’t think anyone else noticed, but I totally miscalculated the number of challenges on my List page. I counted 4 of Jacob’s challenges, and there should only have been 3. So I only had 28. But now I have 29 again. So it’s ok.
Yay! A happy face in the mail, upside down in an envelope as a reflection of her journey from right-way-up-London to wrong-side-down-Sydney, and a lovely letter to boot. There really is nothing to brighten the soul like a handwritten letter. Thank you, Karen.
The new challenge: “Create a protest song, warning of the dangers of climate change. Once completed, give the song to an environmental charity and get them to put it on their website. We need you to help save the planet!”
I puffed my chest out. Saving the planet has a nice ring to it. My 25th song for the year. This will be my most prolific period, like, ever.
Secondly, a new postcard arrived. Even though the deadline has passed, this is actually a good thing – I don’t think anyone else noticed, but I totally miscalculated the number of challenges on my List page. I counted 4 of Jacob’s challenges, and there should only have been 3. So I only had 28. But now I have 29 again. So it’s ok.
Yay! A happy face in the mail, upside down in an envelope as a reflection of her journey from right-way-up-London to wrong-side-down-Sydney, and a lovely letter to boot. There really is nothing to brighten the soul like a handwritten letter. Thank you, Karen.
The new challenge: “Create a protest song, warning of the dangers of climate change. Once completed, give the song to an environmental charity and get them to put it on their website. We need you to help save the planet!”
I puffed my chest out. Saving the planet has a nice ring to it. My 25th song for the year. This will be my most prolific period, like, ever.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Overwhelmed
I am now officially too busy to do anything, ever. This is multi-tasking at its most ridiculous level. It's Monday morning and I am no longer in denial about my desire – nay, necessity – for energy drinks. I’m wondering exactly at what point I decided my life wasn’t full enough as it was, who had spiked my drink at that time, and how I should punish them. Unfortunately, the more I think about it, the more acutely aware I am that this was my own preposterous idea.
What Would Danny Wallace Do? Quit his day job? If my day job was writing articles for the paper about how awkward my life is, it probably wouldn’t be this crazy. It would fuel itself. I bought ‘Awkward Situations for Men’ on the weekend as a reward to myself and am hoping it will somehow inspire me… another idea that is slowly dawning on me as not-very-well-thought-out. Also, the 22nd is 4 days away and I still have 2 songs to write. This is a problem because I have choir tomorrow, dinner on Wednesday, and band rehearsal on Thursday, but I’ll figure it out somehow.
I was asked to join Briscoe as a full-time band member, to which I immediately reacted in 2 ways: soul-leaping joy, and brain-constricting tiredness. Dusker have a lot of shows coming up, which means more frequent rehearsals, and doubling that worries me. But, you only get out what you put in, eh? I love that band too much to turn it down. I was thinking about sticking with the gospel choir longer-term but now know that the only sane thing to do would be to drop out once we’ve done a live performance and I can tick the box; free up some time for the next thing. I rode my bike again today but my head and lungs were working against my legs, and it felt like pedalling while being hugged by an octopus. I know I’m in an emotional trough right now and this will pass soon enough, but the fact of the matter is I’m still in a trough, and the pigs are looking in, and it smells a bit like rotting food scraps.
BUT! We booked our flights back to the UK over the weekend (our departure date is July 24th, 2 days after my 30th) AND we bought a car. Damn straight, we are people of action. It’s a 1997 VW Polo and it is Fully Sick, something us middle-class inner-west vegetarians-on-Thursdays bicycle-riding herb-growing white folk are going to have to work on. We’ve already removed the crass medallions from the rear view mirror and the Everlast car seat covers, but it’s the embarrassingly loud modified exhaust muffler that really needs to go. I’ll post a picture of it once I’m a bit more organised.
Our rescheduled horseriding lesson is happening this Saturday, so now we can even drive out to Glenworth Valley instead of catching the stinky old train. Amazing.
We also bought a new Jamie Oliver cookbook, 30 Minute Meals. I really dig the style it has been written (step by step through the whole meal, not just one section of it at a time. So for example it tells you to take care of the potatoes after you’ve done your bit with the meat, and then while the potatoes are doing their thing you go back to turn the meat and then you can start on the salad, or whatever). He’s still Jamie Oliver though so mostly it’s hard for me to get past the fact he’s a bit of a twat, but I have warmed to him somewhat over the years. Still, I resent having to go hunting for fennel seeds. Also, it took me 50 minutes to cook only 2 of the 4 components of his 30 minute meal, but that's probably saying more about me than it is about him. Just as well it tasted good.
What Would Danny Wallace Do? Quit his day job? If my day job was writing articles for the paper about how awkward my life is, it probably wouldn’t be this crazy. It would fuel itself. I bought ‘Awkward Situations for Men’ on the weekend as a reward to myself and am hoping it will somehow inspire me… another idea that is slowly dawning on me as not-very-well-thought-out. Also, the 22nd is 4 days away and I still have 2 songs to write. This is a problem because I have choir tomorrow, dinner on Wednesday, and band rehearsal on Thursday, but I’ll figure it out somehow.
I was asked to join Briscoe as a full-time band member, to which I immediately reacted in 2 ways: soul-leaping joy, and brain-constricting tiredness. Dusker have a lot of shows coming up, which means more frequent rehearsals, and doubling that worries me. But, you only get out what you put in, eh? I love that band too much to turn it down. I was thinking about sticking with the gospel choir longer-term but now know that the only sane thing to do would be to drop out once we’ve done a live performance and I can tick the box; free up some time for the next thing. I rode my bike again today but my head and lungs were working against my legs, and it felt like pedalling while being hugged by an octopus. I know I’m in an emotional trough right now and this will pass soon enough, but the fact of the matter is I’m still in a trough, and the pigs are looking in, and it smells a bit like rotting food scraps.
BUT! We booked our flights back to the UK over the weekend (our departure date is July 24th, 2 days after my 30th) AND we bought a car. Damn straight, we are people of action. It’s a 1997 VW Polo and it is Fully Sick, something us middle-class inner-west vegetarians-on-Thursdays bicycle-riding herb-growing white folk are going to have to work on. We’ve already removed the crass medallions from the rear view mirror and the Everlast car seat covers, but it’s the embarrassingly loud modified exhaust muffler that really needs to go. I’ll post a picture of it once I’m a bit more organised.
Our rescheduled horseriding lesson is happening this Saturday, so now we can even drive out to Glenworth Valley instead of catching the stinky old train. Amazing.
We also bought a new Jamie Oliver cookbook, 30 Minute Meals. I really dig the style it has been written (step by step through the whole meal, not just one section of it at a time. So for example it tells you to take care of the potatoes after you’ve done your bit with the meat, and then while the potatoes are doing their thing you go back to turn the meat and then you can start on the salad, or whatever). He’s still Jamie Oliver though so mostly it’s hard for me to get past the fact he’s a bit of a twat, but I have warmed to him somewhat over the years. Still, I resent having to go hunting for fennel seeds. Also, it took me 50 minutes to cook only 2 of the 4 components of his 30 minute meal, but that's probably saying more about me than it is about him. Just as well it tasted good.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Of course, of course...
Ben was working on Saturday, so I played all domestic-like and cooked up some pork chops with a rosemary, lemon rind and garlic marinade. I also roasted up some potatoes, parsnips and pear (damn straight), which much to my relief not only cooked right through but also didn’t burn to a crisp and actually tasted pretty good. Win.
Guess what I’m doing on Saturday? Go on, guess.
No, it’s not going to the dentist.
Guess what I’m doing on Saturday? Go on, guess.
No, it’s not going to the dentist.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Zoom zoom - Mach III
Things I learnt from driving lesson #3:
1. Marrickville is mental.
2. The clutch doesn't need to go in every single time you use the brake. Wow! This makes pulling into curbs, slowing behind other cars, etc a whole lot easier.
3. Reverse parking: line up your mirror with the car in front. Look for your 45 degree angle marker by aligning something with the end of your wing mirror. Do a full rotation of the wheel. Back up. There was some other stuff but I've forgotten it now. So basically I can do half of a reverse park.
4. Commentating myself is helpful when I would otherwise forget what gear I'm in. "Two to three. Three to four. Four to three. Crap, what gear am I in?" The answer is three.
Apparently I am improving! That's what my instructor says anyway, and is reassuring since I felt pretty downhearted just before the lesson. Best gear changes so far. Only 2 stalls. Too many yellow lights. Busier traffic. More jerks on the road beeping their horns and cutting me off. So this is driving, eh?
Meanwhile, I've got some vegetables roasting in the oven and I don't feel very confident about them. Please be ok, little vegetables. Please be ok.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Risotto
I love the look on Jeremy's face in the first photo.
All in all, a successful evening... we were left with cheeks sore from smiling and bellies full from eating.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Kitchen epiphany
Cooked dinner for Carla & Jez on Friday night – my first risotto. It mostly went ok, but the rice wasn’t quite cooked even after all the stock had been absorbed, so Ben had to give me a few helpful pointers. He also made some kick-arse garlic bread and we added a salad to boot. And the verdict? They both had seconds and even admitted to being full at the end of it. With Jeremy being quite a strapping young lad and Carla having earned an extra appetite since picking up a uterus hitchhiker, that was an achievement in itself. Win! They’ve got the pictures on their camera so you’ll have to wait for the photos.
I’ve very quickly learnt that recipes aren’t really my bag. I’m one of these people that skims through cookbooks and food websites, kind of scrunches their nose up at everything, and then proceeds to make it up. Cooking is very different to baking, and I grew up clinging to Mum’s metaphorical (and literal) apron waiting for my opportunity to sift flour or stir in the chocolate bits, so I’m ok with baking. And baking requires strict adhesion to recipe. One of the joys I’m discovering with cooking is that I can just make stuff up as I go along, and as long as I don’t do anything too ridiculous, it’ll probably work out. It doesn’t really matter too much how many carrots you put in or how much wine gets added (although I find ‘just a bit more’ to be a good rule), just trust your taste buds. It’s fun.
I also spent an hour cycling around Centennial Park with Carly on Saturday morning. What a fantastic way to start the day! Sunshine, puppies, the wind in your face. We managed four laps and probably could have managed another hour. We took it at leisurely pace, maintained a conversation the whole way around, and it was a lot easier than I remember it being. The only problem was, I was knocked out by a headache in the afternoon, even after taking pre-emptive painkillers. I think I am allergic to endorphins. It sucks. Actually it is because I get "exertion headaches", even though I didn’t feel like I was exerting myself all that much. Stupid exercise. This could pose a problem on the day of the event, but this 'exercise intolerance' feels like such a cop out that I am determined to ignore them. The doctor says 1 in 100 people or so get them but there’s nothing I can do about it that I’m not already doing, so, whatever. Anyway, the moral of the story is, I can cycle for an hour without wanting to die, so that is very exciting news. I think it was about 15km or something, so now I know I can get at least a 6th of the way to Wollongong.
I’ve very quickly learnt that recipes aren’t really my bag. I’m one of these people that skims through cookbooks and food websites, kind of scrunches their nose up at everything, and then proceeds to make it up. Cooking is very different to baking, and I grew up clinging to Mum’s metaphorical (and literal) apron waiting for my opportunity to sift flour or stir in the chocolate bits, so I’m ok with baking. And baking requires strict adhesion to recipe. One of the joys I’m discovering with cooking is that I can just make stuff up as I go along, and as long as I don’t do anything too ridiculous, it’ll probably work out. It doesn’t really matter too much how many carrots you put in or how much wine gets added (although I find ‘just a bit more’ to be a good rule), just trust your taste buds. It’s fun.
I also spent an hour cycling around Centennial Park with Carly on Saturday morning. What a fantastic way to start the day! Sunshine, puppies, the wind in your face. We managed four laps and probably could have managed another hour. We took it at leisurely pace, maintained a conversation the whole way around, and it was a lot easier than I remember it being. The only problem was, I was knocked out by a headache in the afternoon, even after taking pre-emptive painkillers. I think I am allergic to endorphins. It sucks. Actually it is because I get "exertion headaches", even though I didn’t feel like I was exerting myself all that much. Stupid exercise. This could pose a problem on the day of the event, but this 'exercise intolerance' feels like such a cop out that I am determined to ignore them. The doctor says 1 in 100 people or so get them but there’s nothing I can do about it that I’m not already doing, so, whatever. Anyway, the moral of the story is, I can cycle for an hour without wanting to die, so that is very exciting news. I think it was about 15km or something, so now I know I can get at least a 6th of the way to Wollongong.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Birds in the trees, toad in the hole
Ben told me I’m not allowed to lie in this blog post, so here’s what happened. We didn’t start at Manly the way we were supposed to. We caught a bus to Spit Bridge, wandered around trying to find the beginning of the trail, then walked the 10km to Manly. It was the perfect day for it – dappled sun through the trees, dogs frolicking in the shallows of every bay, a pack of babybels in our bag for any cheese emergencies. It took us something like 3.5 hours, including a coffee break at Clontarf and various pauses to take in the scenery. I can’t believe I’ve lived in Sydney for 10 years (on and off) and never done the Manly Scenic Walk. It really is quite stunning. We even spotted some new birds, both catching a glimpse and hearing the distinctive call of an Eastern Whipbird, and following a couple of charming little New Holland Honeyeaters.
We did not, however, follow the instructions. I didn’t start at North Head. At Manly, tired and relieved as the sun started to set, I wondered “What would Danny Wallace do?” I answered myself “He’d force himself to walk the extra 90 minute round trip to the Head and back, blisters and all, and make his long-suffering partner join him, and do it with way too much enthusiasm, in the dark”. Needless to say, I did not follow Danny’s imaginary lead. I know I’m supposed to go in one direction, with each walk taking up where the other left off, and I am already cheating. Is it so bad if I do the extra 45 minute trek to North Head later? I’m still going to pick up from The Spit next time... I’m still going to make it around the whole harbour... My eyes are wide with innocence and longing... Grant me absolution!
We made it home in reasonable time and Ben gave me a lesson in onion gravy while I attempted to make my first ‘Toad in the Hole’. How British of us! It’s basically sausages floating in batter, which I know sounds incredibly appealing, but just go with me on this:
It was nom-worthy. Since it was my first go, I used a recipe, but I think I can probably do it from memory now. Probably.
Monday, August 9, 2010
I'm a fish, yo!
Carla and Jez and junior (very recently discovered to be pink flavoured) have decided I should learn to cook a meal for each day of the week without using a recipe. Kitchen anxiety is something Carla and I have shared over many years, but I think we’re getting better at it. I like this challenge.
I cooked salmon and fried rice last night, which I kind of already knew how to do, so I’m not sure if that’s cheating. But I didn’t use a recipe, and Ben ate all of it, so it must have been ok. Admittedly I did have to make 2 trips to the shops after realising we didn’t have certain ingredients, and in the end still didn’t have soy sauce, but I couldn’t be bothered going back a third time. So, I can definitely get better at this.
I forgot to take a photo of it, so instead here’s a picture I drew in Paint:
As tasty as it looks!
(ok, picture may not be entirely accurate. Fish was filleted and therefore did not have creepy head still attached and was certainly not speaking. And come to think of it, it was not nearly as phallic as that. Also, bed of rice looked a lot more like rice and less like kitty litter. Anyway.)
Planning to next tackle a vegetarian dish - we practice “Meat is Murder Thursday” (thank you Morrissey for the name) so as to make sure we have at least one meat-free day a week, plus we have loads of vegetarian friends so it would be nice to be able to cook for them too. To counter, there’s a lamb cutlet recipe on Masterchef I’m keen to take on. And if Heath’s challenge pans out, I’ll need to learn how to make lasagne too... but that’s another story for another time.
I cooked salmon and fried rice last night, which I kind of already knew how to do, so I’m not sure if that’s cheating. But I didn’t use a recipe, and Ben ate all of it, so it must have been ok. Admittedly I did have to make 2 trips to the shops after realising we didn’t have certain ingredients, and in the end still didn’t have soy sauce, but I couldn’t be bothered going back a third time. So, I can definitely get better at this.
I forgot to take a photo of it, so instead here’s a picture I drew in Paint:
As tasty as it looks!(ok, picture may not be entirely accurate. Fish was filleted and therefore did not have creepy head still attached and was certainly not speaking. And come to think of it, it was not nearly as phallic as that. Also, bed of rice looked a lot more like rice and less like kitty litter. Anyway.)
Planning to next tackle a vegetarian dish - we practice “Meat is Murder Thursday” (thank you Morrissey for the name) so as to make sure we have at least one meat-free day a week, plus we have loads of vegetarian friends so it would be nice to be able to cook for them too. To counter, there’s a lamb cutlet recipe on Masterchef I’m keen to take on. And if Heath’s challenge pans out, I’ll need to learn how to make lasagne too... but that’s another story for another time.
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