How is it that despite my best intentions I still end up eating too much food on Xmas day?
I tried to be good. Just a little bit of ham…..and pork……..and chicken………..and turkey…………..and potatoes…………and pumpkin, sweet potato, roasted beetroot and carrots.
I blame my mother’s Xmas pudding. It was SO good. SO good. And combined with the custard and whipped cream………….my tastebuds were having tiny orgasms in my mouth. SO good I went back for another slither.
Plus there was all the lovely fresh fruit. And a gingerbread house.
And cheesecake……….but I didn’t have any cheesecake.
Then I needed a cup of tea.
It’s 8pm and I still feel like I’m going to explode.
As much as I am complacent about the whole idea of Xmas this year, I know that I would be the victim of a lynching if I did not produce my shortbread biscuits. I have been baking this particular recipe for approximately 18 years and giving them out as Xmas gifts for, possibly, 14 years.
Every year it’s the same. I find myself standing in the kitchen over the course of two or three evenings baking away. More often than not the temperature in the house is not terribly conducive to the idea of baking, but bake away I must.
Fortunately tonight the conditions were excellent for baking a biscuit made with an awful lot of delicious butter. Two batches done. Two more to go.
Someone I work with, who shall remain nameless but she’ll know who she is when she reads this, suggested to me today that I could just go out and buy shortbread. *GASP* The thought of buying shortbread simply never crosses my mind.
The thought that DID cross my mind was, quite simply, not baking any shortbread at all this year.
Can you just imagine the disappointment??!!!! Can you visualise the looks of excited anticipation being wiped away in seconds as the horrible realisation that they were not getting their Xmas shortbread registered in their brains?
What idiot starts baking Xmas shortbread when the temperature is 35 degrees celcius outside, in a house that has an inadequate air-conditioning system?
Ooooo….that would be me. Ā š
The reigning Queen of Procrastination has decided that tonight is the night to begin baking her annual batches of Xmas-themed shortbread. Why? Because baking in heat is more appealing than going to the local shopping complex to begin Xmas shopping.
Yes. You read it correctly…begin. I have not yet begun my Xmas shopping. Not really anyway. I have happened upon a a couple of things when I haven’t been looking, but they are not for family. I have no bloody idea what I’m going to do for them.
I’m going to share something a little abstract today because I’m in an abstract kind of mood. (Sleep deprivation will do that to a person)
My lemon tree is laden with beautiful juicy lemons and though I do use a lemon every day at breakfast time, there are still far too many for me to use before they begin to fall off the tree and rot on the ground. So the time to juice has begun.
I have lived in this house for nearly eight years and this wonderful tree has delivered its bounty without fail but there are times of the year when there are simply no ripe lemons to be picked. Year after year I have had to fork out big bucks at the Fruit & Veg store to buy lemons for my daily fix when my tree has none to offer. And I have resented paying for those lemons, when all along I should have been using my brain and juicing the excess lemons and freezing the juice in ice-cube trays.
I mean…..Duh!!!
I juiced and froze from the last harvest and the frozen supply kept me going for months. (I did squeeze a heck of a lot of lemons) I didn’t have to buy a single, over-priced lemon which made me gloat a tiny bit before I kicked myself for being so stupid for seven years.
I will share the lemons with my friends. Always happy to share the bounty. But I will also continue to squeeze two cups of juice a day and store the frozen cubes away like a squirrel preparing for winter.
Spring has to be one of the most miraculous times of year. Suddenly, magically, those branches that looked lifeless and bleak have begun to grow leaves. TreesĀ are festooned in a riot of colour and perfume as blossom and flowers greet the sun. The sound of bees drowns out the sound of traffic as these busy workers frantically dash from flower to flower gathering pollen and by doing so they begin a valuable sexual, plant-reproductive process.
The busy bee-dance from flower to flower connects boy flower-bits to girl flower-bits and girl flower-bits to boy flower-bits which in turn transforms pretty flowers into delicious fruits. Complicated I know, but where would we be without our apricots, lemons, oranges, bananas, strawberries, plums, peaches and apples?
The transformation from flower to fruit is so fast. Only last week I was photographing the apricot blossom and those bees. Already this week I can see the fruit starting to form. Tiny, fuzzy little balls of green where just a few days ago flowers bloomed.
Now I just have to wait patiently for nearly three months before I can enjoy the fruits created from the labour of those busy bees.
The only thing that put a damp rag on today was the fact that it was not terribly warm. Me no complain. It is only the fourth day of spring, and the weather is going to take time to improve. I can’t even complain about the fact that I worked for a few short hours this morning because I managed to achieve that wonderous feeling of completion. Those pesky ‘must do’ things that I ‘couldn’t do’ through lack of available free work time finally got done while I manned the reception desk. š
So I tootled off to lunch feeling pretty good. Yes, I went out to lunch. A deliciously, decadent long lunch. A deliciously, decadent long lunch at a cafe with a beautiful, panoramic view of the Maribyrnong River. Certainly not a cheap lunch, but I won’t be eating dinner tonight.
And one of the highlights of this cafe, apart from the delightfulĀ vista, is where it is situated. In one of the best garden nurseries in Melbourne, Poynton’s. Here, the staff are incredibly helpful, the plants are in excellent condition and you can wander up to the cafe to enjoy breakfast, lunch or a lovely tea or coffee and cake when the urge takes you.
Poynton’s is always bursting with colour. It is a crazy photography person’s dream. I had to physically restrain myself from pulling the camera out of my bag the moment I arrived as I was expected in the cafe for lunch. I had to reason with myself and inwardly tell myself that the flowers would still be there after I had enjoyed lunch. I’m sure that my body was visibly twitching with frustration as I walked up to the cafe.
Sadly, there was one group of flowers that were not there when I left the nursery at nearly 4pm. Actually, that is not quite correct, they were there, they just were no longer blooming. Sun chasing flowers that had already closed for the day. They looked incredible when I arrived at 1:15pm, they were nondescript at 4pm.
Photographer’s regret. That missed opportunity.
So I have two choices. I can either make sure I allow myself extra time to get somewhere “just in case” I need to take photos, or I can spend the rest of my life apologising to people for running late because “I was on time but I had to stop and photograph a flower, a person, a building, a car, a something………………….”
Let’s be honest here. I’m never going to be soĀ organised that I will allow extra time to be somewhere. So to my friends and family I extend my apologies now. If you love me you’ll accept the way things will be. I really am sorry. But I can’t stop it. This photography is my addiction. (Well, it’s one of my addictions)
Yes. It is my birthday. I went to bed and to sleep last night aged 47 and awoke this morning aged 48.
Do I feel 48? No.
Did I feel 47?? No.
Do I think I should ‘act my age’?? Why start now?? š
Am I enjoying all the birthday messages from friends far and wide? Absolutely!! I’m a Leo girl. If there were no adoring friends I would be curled up in a corner sulking.
It has been one of those real marvellous Melbourne Winter’s days. We have had wind, rain, sun, heavy rain at school pick-up time, sun, drizzle, foreboding dark clouds, wind, more rain and temperatures that barely reached double figures.
On days like todayĀ all I want for dinner is some hearty food. Hot, hearty, tasty, filling, comforting food. A home-made soup, a roast, a casserole, a stew or a vegetable packed risotto. These are what my body craves when the weather is bleak.
Unfortunately, I usually don’t decide this until after I finish work at 5pm. By the time I get home there is no time to make soup, slow-cook a casserole or stew or cook a roast. Well, there is…….. but I do like to eat before midnight. š
But there is time to make my favouriteĀ risotto. A Woman’s Weekly recipe that I have adapted to accommodate my occasional need for vegetables. Tomatoes, carrot, zucchini and spinach…..sometimes sweet potato too.
And tonight it was a mighty fine risotto, even if I do say so myself.
Once again #1 son decided that time with his mates was far preferable to having dinner with his mother. I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that my little boy is a young adult with his own transport and his own life. I am very pleased that this has happened and I most certainly do not begrudge him the freedom that he is now enjoying.
My issue lies with the fact that he never knows if he is going to be home for dinner until around 5pm and will rarely accept an offer from me for a home-cooked meal a day or two in advance. No decision is made until he fields all the possible social opportunities. Unless it is really important and I make him put it in his diary, I cannot guarantee his attendance at the dining table.
It wouldn’t bother me so much if I was already cooking for 3 or 4 people, but if #1 son is not home for dinner it means that I am just cooking for one………me.
When #1 son was home for dinner regularly, I would make an effort to cook a proper meal, making sure that we were getting a healthy meal. Like all good mum’s it would be meat and three veg, or a nice vegetarian pasta, or a chicken and salad dish. But cooking for one can be a real downer, especially if you know that you will be doing the dishes by yourself as well. If you cook with it you have to clean it. So often I decide not to cook.
However………………
Sometimes I get that ‘bugger you’ mentality and decide to cook something really nice, just for me. Tonight was one of those nights. And I get a secret pleasure in knowing that when he arrives home later and the magnificent smells of my sensational evening meal-for-one make him question what I have had for dinner, I can tell him and watch his face drop as he realises what he has missed out on.
Sometimes it will be my favourite dish of eye fillet with scalloped potatoes and glazed carrots. Sometimes I will cook a mini roast dinner with a golden chicken kiev. Tonight it was fish and chips. A lovely piece of flake coated lightly in cornflour and shallow fried in the skillet accompanied by chunky hand-cut chips. A generous grindingĀ of salt and couple of quarters of lemon off the tree out the back for seasoning and flavour………
Comfort food indeed. Delicious. (and only the skilletĀ to wash)
I dream of owning a beautiful Kitchenaid mixmaster. A shiny red one with all the attachments. It would sit proudly in my magnificent custom-madeĀ kitchen. The kitchen with soft-closing drawers, pantry shelves that pull out so that all the space is accessible, where the bin is hidden in a special cupboard so the dogs can’t reach it but the son can’t forget to empty it…………
There would be very few cupboards in my magic kitchen, apart from the pantry, because cupboards are awkward. Drawers are the way to go. Pots, plates, cups, glasses, Tupperware!!!!. Put them all in soft-closing drawers. Ā Can you just imagine the Tupperware drawer? Goodness, I’m getting excited just dreaming about it. Imaging not having to get down on your hands and knees to climb into that annoying corner cupboard.
But I can’t get a shiny red Kitchenaid mixmaster. There are two reasons for this. Reason number one: The PRICE! Have you seen the price of one of those babies!!! That’s almost two weeks wages for me. Unless I received a nice little windfall I couldn’t possibly justify buying one. And then, if I did score a nice little windfall, I’d rather put it towards a decent holiday or theatre tickets or a new lens for my camera or a new full-frame camera.
But the biggest reason of all is reason number two: My grandmother’s Sunbeam.
I inherited my Nan’s Sunbeam mixmaster Ā about eighteen years ago. I have been mixing cake batters, creaming butter and sugar, whipping cream and mixing icing in that Sunbeam for years. It’s almost an antique. š Ā I could’t bear to see it shoved to the back of a cupboard.
No. While there’s life in the old Sunbeam, she shall be the one that I place on my twenty year old kitchen bench-top. It shall be Nan’s Sunbeam mixmaster that continues to mix together the ingredients for the pudding mix cake, cream the butter and sugar for my choc-chip biscuits and whip the cream for the dessert.
And every time I bring her out I will remember my Nan.
A photo a day for 365 days.........and beyond 