ragingyoghurt

Category Archives: boy

beneath the sombre pall that descended after the lavish turkish feast that was last night’s dinner…

[ lavish turkish feast interlude ]
it was the first birthday party of the boy’s sister’s kid, a smiley half australian-half turkish boy who grabs at my glasses whenever we meet. there was a kid’s party in the park with rolled-up jam and vegemite pinwheel sandwiches (not in the same pinwheel) and avocado and shredded carrot finger sandwiches, and pass-the-parcel with a jackson five live tape soundtrack, and bubbles, oh — and kids. so many kids. and then there was a grownup party back at the house with dolmades and olives, pide with a mean beetroot dip, four kinds of shish kebab: beef; chicken; veggie, with mushroom, green capsicum, asparagus and haloumi; and seafood, with scallops with the roe on, and green capsicum. and salads, including one with green beans and broad beans in yoghurt. and a great dome-shaped pavlova sandwiched with yoghurty cream and raspberries and rose syrup and covered in sugared rose petals. yes there was.

…we awoke this morning, confused. the words, “very depressed”, were put forth by a member of this household, in a tone of voice that could not have been flatter or sadder. but the confusion was because, despite the fact that everyone i know and most people in this country whose blogs i read appear to vote for not john howard (and also not any of those loopy christian / family values / otherwise insane parties), and despite the awful campaign ads and the shouting and pointing and jutting-out lower lip and overall less-niceness of the man, and um, the stuff that’s been done in the last few years… going to war, locking up children behind barbed wire, that sort of thing… it is john howard who’ll be putting on his tracksuit and power-morning-walking his victory lap for [undisclosed period of time] to come.

how can it be?

posted by ragingyoghurt on 10 October 2004 at 12:58 pm

permalink | filed under boy, dinner, misc

what better way to start the week than plunder the magazine cupboard for another stack of old magazines to cast upon the steadily growing pile by the door. after a lengthy bout of procrastination, the cull finally began in earnest mid-last week.

started off with the “wallpaper”s and “the face”s, which were easier than i expected. and then a stack of those trendy, purposeless magazines out of LA or new york — easy. then the “esquire”s, which were a bit harder because there are actual articles in there that i found myself re-reading, including a trio of david sedaris stories, and a 1999 interview with osama bin ladin, and a bunch of randomness by ted from “queer eye”, like the one where he gets a fragrance made up especially for him, called “ted” . still, nothing i couldn’t add to the pile by the door.

this morning though, i have unearthed a couple boxes of ten year old “spin”s. the stacks of pulpy paper covered in grainy grungy photographs of kurt, the stories about river phoenix dying on the sidewalk, the introduction of alanis, the reviews of “pulp fiction” and “bakesale”. so now i’ve got “bakesale” on the CD player as i speedread courtney love’s lollapalooza diary and bloody hell it’s like a trip down memory lane.

a few days ago the boy was mocking “all those memories” but he has little idea of what’s tied up in these boxes of “spin”s. it’s all about the waking up in the middle of the night to pearl jam songs on the radio, the university work experience at a pop (culture) magazine, the design school major projects about rock music and junk food, the graduating and getting a job at the pop (culture) magazine, the shameless ripping off of other magazines for design tips… the design award, the gradual boredom and disillusionment with working on a magazine, the exiting the industry, the occasional yearning to be moving those slabs of words and pretty pictures around a page again…

posted by ragingyoghurt on 27 September 2004 at 10:55 am

permalink | filed under bookshelf, boy, soundtrack, werk

hem. yesterday, after years of gazing up at the maple syrup shelf in the supermarket, i finally decided to spend $6.99 on 250ml of real canadian maple syrup rather than $3.99 on half a litre of made in australia maple-flavoured syrup. and the thing is, i think i might prefer the cheap stuff; it tastes more mapley.

o.0

still, the french toast and boysenberry yoghurt didn’t seem to mind being drenched in it this morning.

—

yoghurt-buying conversation, sunday

me: mmm… that passionfruit yoghurt is so pretty [indeed it had a golden swirl throughout, and was studded with beady black seeds], but the boysenberry looks tasty [i like the look of a thick layer of pulpilicious purple berry pooled at the bottom of the container].
boy: get the boysenberry. it’s always a tasty berry.
me: i don’t think there are any berries that are not good and tasty.
boy: well. there’s poisonberry.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 21 September 2004 at 9:20 am

permalink | filed under boy, breakfast, shoping

this week’s getting away from me again, but oh how good it feels to see the deadlines falling away. before the coming weekend tumbles unto me, i thought i’d just record for posterity the following facts about last weekend:

1. there was a drive beyond the blue mountains and up mount canobolas in orange, where capital W weather was experienced — water fell from the sky, simultaneously, in three states (liquid, solid and um, flakey with six points), whited out the view in a fourth, and there was a windchill factor that made my skin break out in a welty rash not ten minutes out of the car.

2. there was, from a bakery in oberon, a wagon wheel as big as nellie‘s head.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 19 August 2004 at 4:28 pm

permalink | filed under boy, nellie, snacks, trip

i’m doing too much. i’m not doing enough. either way it seems to have resulted in this field of blog lying fallow.

aside from the nonstop happy rollercoaster of my sister being in town, i’m also working to a handful of print deadlines. this basically means that any given day involves moving between a pastry and a computer, maybe even three or four times a day. sometimes a great distance across inner-city suburbs is walked to get to a pastry, other times i only have to stumble downstairs to the kitchen. on these occasions, i hope the foetus is absorbing any extraneous kilojoules.

this morning, what awaits in brown paper bags strewn across the kitchen counter are: a blueberry brioche, a custard brioche, the biggest custard-filled, caramel-topped profiterole in the world (which the boy bought because of its resemblance to the enormous, pulsating, million calorie, poison-creme-filled dessert offered to homer in food critic mode), and a loaf of sourdough spelt fruit bread…

do your teeth hurt? a pot of strong black bush tea will help.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 13 August 2004 at 8:04 am

permalink | filed under around town, boy, cake, kid, nellie, snacks, werk

electric bread machines? feh.

i have a boy who makes bread.

and then leaves three dough-streaked mixing bowls and a plethora of mixing utensils and a couple of baking trays in the sink. and a dusting of flour on the kitchen counter.

but still. bread.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 29 July 2004 at 8:43 am

permalink | filed under boy, grumble

crap. clearly, i have lost the ability to write. a whole week since getting back from whirlwind vacation jaunt, and alls i’ve had time for is to post a picture of a sugar-crusted apple turnover that was eaten on a sunny, grassy spot in narooma. a week gone by filled with werk to be done, dishes to be washed (and cups… so many cups), and um, actually that seems to be it. what the hell?

so, yvette, while that last “entry” may have appeared random, it was actually intended that a roundup of the fun and hijinx surrounding the pastry would soon follow.

alas. but look:

it was a short but intense roadtrip, bookended on one end by enormous and tasty fish and chips at summer-in-wintertime jervis bay, and on the other by a whole grilled trout with buttered almonds and three veg up in the wintery mountain town of adaminiby, “home of the giant trout”. in the middle, aformentioned apple turnover, not quite enough baked treats from bakeries in small coastal towns, a cooler bag full of flavoursome mandarins that the boy had picked off his nanna’s tree just the week before, a visit to the bega cheese factory…

…cheese samples, more breathtakingly gorgeous beaches than you could shake a bit of driftwood at, and — two hours in from the sunny south coast — alpine climes in the snowy mountains.

strange. we awoke in our toasty roadside motel, too early, to the sound of revving 4WDs and families setting off for the snowfields. watched the parade of beanies through the picture window, drinking motel tea and breakfasting on anzac biscuits. hot showered, dressed, stepped outside… and the snow had come to us. it was a just light dusting, and good lord! just like the books said! six points, and all unique! not quite an hour after driving past the statue of the trout in the town centre, there we were standing on the site of the old town of kiandra, except that kiandra was not visible under two feet of fresh powder snow.

well, i was surprised, anyway.

and now, bloody hell, a week’s gone by, and what i’ve done is dishes, and scanning, and fixing up scans, and moving stuff around a page. this week coming up brings more (and more) of the same, but hurrah, culminates in the arrival of nellicent, who’s been meeting, greeting and eating her way around the world, and finally, oh my god, makes it here.

yay a yay.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 26 July 2004 at 9:38 am

permalink | filed under boy, breakfast, dinner, lunch, nellie, snacks, trip

away… away… away down south in… um, dixie.
farewell!

posted by ragingyoghurt on 14 July 2004 at 8:57 am

permalink | filed under boy, trip

hurray for the queen; if not for her royal highness, there would be no public holiday to celebrate her birthday, in a land sorely lacking in public holidays. monday, given the choice between filing photocopies into a stack of new folders, and going for an excursion to cabramatta, the boy wisely chose not to file. that’s why he’s the school teacher. not too soon, we were on a good train — an express service with no stupid, reasonless stops inbetween stations, and airconditioned — whizzing our way out west.

a very short walk from cabramatta station, we fell into a small dimsum factory and found ourselves in possession of a small paper bag each of assorted dumplings. not ten minutes later, i was perched at a bakery counter, handing over $1.20 for a wedge of pandan chiffon cake. we decided we had to put a stop to this disgraceful behaviour by sitting down to lunch.

egg noodles, glisteny with garlicky oil, and an assortment of roast duck and porks.

something happens to the boy, where having eaten his fill, he is rendered incapable of thinking about and preparing for subsequent meals. fortunately i am free of this sad affliction, and despite our post-lunch activity being primarily the quest for a bamboo steamer (so much harder to find than you would expect in such an intense asian community), my cloth bag slowly (quickly) filled up with these:

an assortment from lawrence cake shop: green and red jelly cakes, a pandan slice and — oh happy nostalgia — a cream horn; and this:

the label says “sticky rice cake”, but in fact it is black sticky rice, and pandan flavour sticky rice, and sandwiched inbetween, mung bean paste and shredded coconut and ground-up peanuts, wrapped in a pancake. surprisingly, the rice is sweet, the mung bean salty, and it is all extremely flavoursome;

and a tub of ginger flavour tofu pudding, and bag of dried longans from thailand.

we were there only for two and a half hours, but it was freakishly warm for winter, and we were wilting. later that night, a dinner made up of a selection of exotic cakes revived us.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 15 June 2004 at 1:08 pm

permalink | filed under around town, boy, cake, lunch, shoping, snacks

when a salmon dies, does it know that it will be wrapped in a strip of prosciutto and roasted and served up alongside a pile of sauteed vegetables? will it take its revenge by cunningly concealing a larger than expected bit of cracked black pepper, so that midbite, a boy with a slightly cracked but otherwise intact tooth will hear a loud crack in his head, wash his mouth clear with a swig of pink grapefruit fizzy, and discover that said tooth is now a third smaller than it used to be?

—

while i’m here, and while zucchini are like, $1.99 for a bundle of seven or eight, i could tell you to sautee some bacon, onion, garlic and cubed-up zucchini. add chicken stock and simmer. blenderise most of it and simmer a bit more. sprinkle with toasted flaked almonds. think about doing the same with a head of broccoli. mmm… green(ish) soups.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 30 April 2004 at 8:47 am

permalink | filed under boy, dinner

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