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Technorati Profile </TD> <TD VALIGN=TOP> <!-- here is where the entries will go --> <p> <center> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/fishdream.gif"> </center> <p> i have <b>so many</b> things to tell you, like the dream i had last night, where i was watching some sort of animal conservation tv show, and one of the scenes to tell you to conserve animals was a large platter of chinese whole steamed fish, with delicate brown sauce and sprigs of coriander <b>and three whole steamed baby platypuses</b>. <p> o.0 <p> i woke up and stayed that way for hours, seeing those glistening platypuses in my head, listening to the seagulls across the water and thinking then that daylight was almost upon me. (it wasn&#039;t; i eventually got back to sleep again.) <p> i have lots to tell you, but i am consumed with work, and my computer now shuts itself down every hour and a half, so you see, i really have to prioritise my computer usage. <p> say, have you seen <a href="http://lobstersquad.blogspot.com/" target=new>lobstersquad</a>, a foodblog with drawings&#63; <p> <p> Served on Friday, September 22, 2006 at 03:07 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('220906');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('220906');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/clogs.jpg"> </div> <p> going walkabout. <p> <p> Served on Friday, September 8, 2006 at 08:20 a.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('080906');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('080906');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/marketmushroom1.jpg"> </div> <p> sometimes you know the solution to a problem. that is, you know of its existence, independent to the relevant problem, but you haven&#039;t quite put the two together. <p> for example, i&#039;d known about the <A href="http://www.organicfoodmarkets.com.au/ofm.html" target=new>orange grove organic market</a> since shortly after i moved into the area. i&#039;d also known that the 445 bus sort of headed in that direction. but to me, the market was always just a little bit too much of a walk. i&#039;d say it would have taken over half an hour to hoof it. it was only recently that it clicked that i could take a bus there, and that the bus actually stopped right outside the market. brains -- what would we do without them&#63; <p> saturday morning, we walked to the bus stop with a spring in our step, and not too long later, we were on the bus with three other families with young &#039;uns. off the bus, there were kids, and dogs, and sunshine, and bouncy castles. it was spring! <p> we did a couple of laps around the market, with no particular plan, just to see what was available (which was <b>lots</b>). i take a little while to warm up at markets, but then once the first purchase is out of the way, it always spirals out of control. <p> as it happened, that first crucial purchase involved standing in front of the artisanal lemonade stall for longer than you might expect. there wasn&#039;t actually a queue, mind, it was just me trying to decide if i wanted the pineapple lemonade -- a great beehive of glass filled with sunny yellow, with small chunks of fresh pineapple floating inside -- or the raspberry lemonade -- deep red, and copiously seeded. there was also a rather complex looking ginger ale with bits of chopped up chillis and other vegetation, but i thought that i&#039;d save it for when i didn&#039;t have to share with the kid. the lemonade guy recommended the pineapple... and it was nice and all, but i was too busy trying to drink my share of it, before maeve guzzled it all. the last i saw, her grimy little paw was sloshing about in the dregs, fishing for the fruit. <p> but so. now the purse strings had been freed! there was interesting bread, but we already had two loaves at home. there were two stalls with pink lady apple pies, but it was too soon after breakfast. there was some lovely rose geranium soap, but it was $5.50 a bar. we worked our way through the maze, accepting samples of nougat and oranges and raspberry ricotta cake. the south american food was inviting, and the calabrian too. the g–zleme ladies were there too, with variations i hadn&#039;t yet encountered: organic chocolate and banana (must have been $15 g–zleme). <p> i bought: a brown bag of pink ladies; a packet of <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/news/Good-Living/Charcuterie-salute/2005/03/14/1110649118765.html" target=new>eumundi smokehouse</a> double smoked bacon and a red wine and garlic salami; a small tub of gympie farm butter; a tomato and olive pastry, for sustenance; and some mushrooms. <p> ah the mushrooms. they were spread out in boxes across the counter: button, swiss brown, oyster, king brown, shitake, enoki, chesnut. i wanted them all. "can i buy a mixed selection&#63;" i asked the mushroom man, and "how much are they&#63;" <p> "they all cost the same," he replied, "$4.50 for a hundred grams." he even measured out 100g of oyster mushrooms, so i could see what 100g of mushrooms looked like. and then i asked for a 400g mix of the five more exotic funghi. <p> there were so many, he packed them into two of his sturdy brown bags. "$18," he said. <p> see, i <i>know</i> that four times $4.50 is $18, but somehow i didn&#039;t do that calculation in my head when i put my order in. and so when we caught the bus home, i had just under a dollar left in my wallet. but a bounty! of tasties! in my shoping bag. <p> dinner was fettucine with a myriad of mushrooms, fried with bacon and garlic in gympie butter. all together now: <b>mmmMMMmmm</b>. <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/marketmushroom2.jpg"> </div> <p> <p> Served on Sunday, September 3, 2006 at 09:05 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('030906');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('030906');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/circle1.jpg"> </div> <p> earlier in the week, we were on our way to starbucks to try the new signature hot chocolate, when we stopped by the menu posted outside circle cafe. top of the hand-chalked specials list was <b>turnip and chesnut soup</b>! <p> it was so unexpected, interesting and enticing, that i immediately pulled the plug on the starbucks idea. maeve didn&#039;t seem to mind; "this one&#63;" she said, "climb stairs&#63;" and up she went. <p> the soup was a lovely shade of camel, sweet and smooth -- a potage, if you will. even maeve liked it, although she had her own plate of sourdough toast with grilled mushrooms and roma tomatoes to contend with. but the trouble with soup is that it leaves no room for belgian hot chocolate, to say nothing of the chocolate brownies doing laps in the revolving dessert case up front. <p> so when <a href="http://www.blurty.com/users/sgpcarla" target=new>carla gypsygirl</a> came to visit us friday lunchtime, bearing gifts of ice-cream hairclips and rainbow beaded bracelets, we went back to circle. you must know by now that my favourite lunch is breakfast, and that is what i had. the all-day big veggie breakfast is similar to the all-day big breakfast: eggs, mushrooms, hashbrown, tomatoes, and sourdough toast, with a mountain of sauteed spinach replacing the tangle of bacon and sausages (which is what carla had to counter the effects of a dodgy chicken dinner. props!). <p> <i>half</i> the big veggie breakfast though, is not quite enough to fill a belly; after maeve polished off all the tomatoes and half the mushies and an unexpected amount of toast, i was back at the front counter ordering my belgian hot chocolate <i>and</i> the lucky last brownie on the tray. the brownie is studded through with big chunks of chocolate, and is served warm so that all those chunks go moist and runny. <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/circle2.jpg"> </div> <p> i had ordered it to share, three ways, but i think that the kid won that battle. of course. <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/circle3.jpg"> </div> <p> <p> Served on Saturday, September 2, 2006 at 09:50 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('020906');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('020906');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <center> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/msstickers1.gif"> </center> <p> my computer shut itself down twice today. once while i read about <a href="http://www.stellou.com/" target=new>stellou</a> tripping about the french seaside, slippery with butter; and once while i read about <a href="http://www.blurty.com/users/sons" target=new>sons</a> swanning about the lindt cafe, buttery with pain au raisin. i know it seems like i&#039;m not doing very much work at all, just frittering away my time blog-reading, but it&#039;s not true at all (and fritters are yummy!): the wound care manual, despite some last minute surprises, is tapering to a close, and the catalogue for the yoof culture exhibition is steadily picking up speed and megabytes. <p> [ might i say that the material submitted for the catalogue is a complete contrast to the wound stuff: a CD containing the text documents, including a complete list of captions for the pictures, which came on their own CD. and a hard copy of the text, marked up with which pictures should go where. <i>and</i> there is barely a tab in all 60 or so pages. ] <p> the computer&#63; i cannot send it away to the tech monkeys, because i need it, for <strike>blog reading</strike> work. maybe in three weeks, after the deadlines are over, but for now i just save a lot, and hope the files don&#039;t become corrupted as a result. and that mr computer doesn&#039;t get worse through my wilfull ignoring of its sickness. i mean, i&#039;m not <i>really</i> ignoring it... just neglecting it. and the thing is, it turns itself off, and i wait half an hour, and then it lets itself be turned back on again. <p> this morning, my martha stewart e-newsletter arrived, and alerted me to the existence of these charming labels for one&#039;s <a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/page.jhtml&#63;type=content&id=channel1060060&catid=cat21434&navLevel=3&site=kids" target=new>school notebooks</a> and <a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/page.jhtml&#63;type=content&id=channel190543&catid=cat21434&navLevel=3&site=kids" target=new>lunchbags</a>. i <b>love</b> the diabolical messages in the too-cute drawings ññ the cruel playground taunting of the little pig who can&#039;t wait for lunch; the unspoken fates of the white mouse who thinks science class is cool, and the squirrel who may be allergic to nuts; and the best one: the stereotypical asian kid who&#039;s really smart and knows it, and is clearly cruisin&#039; for a bruisin&#039;. <p> <center> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/msstickers2.gif"> </center> <p> or maybe i&#039;m reading too much into it. back to work! <p> <p> Served on Friday, September 1, 2006 at 11:39 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('010906_2');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('010906_2');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/raspricottabagel.jpg"> </div> <p> i read somewhere that the ricotta you buy from the deli section of a supermarket has a higher water content than the ricotta you buy from an actual deli. this means that supermarket ricotta will give you a mushier result to your recipe. that aside, there is also the risk that the server will scoop your ricotta with the same ladle he previously used for someone else&#039;s olive tapenade order. eaten straight, your ricotta will have an particular savoury edge. <p> you can fix this by beating the ricotta until it goes creamy, and then adding vanilla and icing sugar to taste, and beating some more. fold in some raspberries, frozen ones even, thawed overnight. <p> i&#039;d been thinking about this raspberrry ricotta since the sandwich picnic the other sunday, and made a small batch midweek. it takes just minutes to whip up, and you don&#039;t even need chocolate bread; it&#039;s just as delicious on a toasted blueberry bagel. perfect for an early weekday breakfast while watching <a href="http://www.atomiccartoons.com/flash_bettypage.html" target=new>atomic betty</a> with the kid. <p> <p> Served on Friday, September 1, 2006 at 09:47 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('010906');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('010906');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/poffertjes.jpg"> </div> <p> it was a cakey sort of weekend. <p> saturday morning, me and the kid walked up the hill to the church fete. i&#039;d been working up her enthusiasm since the day before, saying things like, "do you wanna go to the <b>fete</b>&#63;" and "we&#039;ll meet our fate at the <b>fete</b>!" and "there&#039;ll be cake!" <p> back in may, we went to the fete at birchgrove public school. there were singing children, judo displays, a giant slippery dip, a petting zoo, lote tuqiri, and a cake stall with interesting, upmarket offerings such as austrian apple cake and an <i>$18</i> loaf of banana bread. <p> there were no famous people at the church fete -- well, i suppose <i>god</i> was probably there -- but the cake stall was brimming with affordable treats. when we passed by the second time and maeve made a lunge for the pink cupcakes, the old lady behind the table reached into a large jar and handed her a biscuit. it really doesn&#039;t get more affordable than that. but still, a ziplock bag of apple slice <i>and</i> a pink cupcake set us back just $3.50. <p> we bought a pair of wooden salt and pepper shakers ($2) and a handful of children&#039;s books (four for $1), by which time maeve had finished her cupcake, so we headed out to the "cafe" area and had a plate of scones with cream and jam ($2.50). all before 11.30am. <p> 8 o&#039;clock sunday morning, i said to maeve, "hey, do you wanna go on a train today&#63;". she seemed agreeable: "oooookay." this was good, because saturday night i&#039;d discovered that the olympic park market had a <a href="http://www.sydneyolympicpark.com.au/Visiting/Whats_on/events/all_events/just_deserts_-_pudding_and_pie_at_the_boulevard_markets" target=new>sweet pudding theme</a> and was <i>all things cake</i>! <p> as it turns out, it <i>wasn&#039;t</i> all things cake -- just a ho-hum row of tents selling stuff and another row of tents selling regular festival/market food <i>and</i>, at the end of it all, a large tent with a bunch of empty tables and a demonstration kitchen up front; after the bus and two trains out there, we&#039;d still arrived too early for things to have been set up. so we found a playground, and watched little sk8er bois at the skate park, and chased magpies, and examined the magnificent pole display outside the main stadium, and wandered back to the big tent to find that the first demonstration started in 15 minutes! <p> it was just enough time to join a short queue for dutch poffertjes, and to secure a table not too far back from the stage. our healthy serve ($6.50) of bite-sized pancakes, fried in purpose-built moulded pans, in what looked like quite a bit of melted butter, until golden-crunchy-brown on the outside and fluffy on the inside, came topped with a warm blueberry compote and icing sugar. it&#039;s true what they say, a dusting of icing sugar makes anything look good, even when it&#039;s served in a plastic takeaway tub. <p> but now, here&#039;s joanna savill introducing the husband and wife patissiere team from beb fine patisserie on broadway. today they would show us how to whip up a frangipane tart with cinammon chocolate ganache and caramelised pears, in just over half an hour. olivier offered such tips as "it&#039;s a fruit tart, so <b>don&#039;t be afraid</b> to put big chunks of fruit in it. when i go out and buy an apple pie, and you see the apple filling, it&#039;s only 1mm thick... it makes me... it makes me <b>crazy</b>!!" and "when you make a ganache, if you use chocolate with 50% cocoa, the you would use the same amount of cream. if you use a higher cocoa content, then you must increase the cream in proportion, accordingly. for example, if you use 120g of 72% cocoa chocolate, then you should use about 150g of cream. because the higher the cocoa content, the harder the chocolate." beatrice (beb) weighed in with, "you can use any fruit you want, according to your tastes. but if you use just almond meal in your frangipane, then you can use raspberries or blueberries; if you use some hazelnut meal in the pastry, the taste is stronger than just almonds, so maybe for the fruit, you should use apples or pears." <p> there you go: pastry-making, a sort of exact science. <p> maeve was surprisingly obliging, even after the poffertjes ran out, sitting through the display of mixing and melting and joanna&#039;s inane patter. it was only in the last minutes that she went a bit limp and began to emit a whining noise. even pointing out the trays of sample tarts that would soon come around didn&#039;t help. but when the server came by and handed the lady at our table a slice and then whisked the tray away without looking our way, the child (and i) were stunned into silence. from the two spoons on a tiny plate, it appeared that we -- strangers! -- were meant to share the tiny slice. clearly, they assumed that we would be brought together in the spirit of cake, but they had no idea of the child&#039;s appetite... and besides, our table companion had already licked the plate clean. <p> some desperate arm waving soon set things right; there is no such thing as pride when it comes to chocolate dessert. <p> the next demonstration was a stawberry marscarpone cake from yellow bistro in potts point, but we were crashing towards naptime. a steaming hot japanese-style pork bun ($3), all tart and gingery on the inside, was enough sustenance to keep us going on the two trains and one bus back home. <p> <p> Served on Monday, August 28, 2006 at 01:26 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('280806');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('280806');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <center> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/maevelaptop.jpg"> </center> <p> last night after my computer died, i hopped over to the one across the room and blogged about it. after a little while, i heard a clicky-clunky noise from deep within the silent beast. and twice more. and then when i casually pressed the startup button on my way to bed, it did. <p> it&#039;s working fine today, but every now and again, the clicky-clunky noise. unsettling. i know i shouldn&#039;t think too hard about getting a new computer, because old faithful here will pick up the vibe and then cark it for sure. this is what happened to my previous machine. it was working fine, and then i bought the G4 and while it was still sitting in its box waiting to be set up, the powermac 7200 looked across the room, rolled its eyes and breathed its last. <p> maeve of course already has her own laptop. there was an ad in a magazine the other week, from which i cut out an almost life-sized keyboard. i glued it onto the corner bit of a nappy carton, and viola: she spends a good few minutes on her typing each day. these are precious minutes! <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/maevelaptop2.jpg"> </div> <p> i&#039;ve been a bit slow on the crafting pickup, but <a href="http://ellaberry.typepad.com/pointysister/" target=new>amber</a> has a terrific thing going on at <a href="http://kidscraftweekly.com/" target=new>kid&#039;s craft weekly</a>. go look. <p> <center> <a href="http://kidscraftweekly.com/" target=new border=0> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/kidscraft.gif"> </a> </center> <p> <p> Served on Friday, August 25, 2006 at 04:19 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('250806');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('250806');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> my computer shut itself down twice today. the first time, earlier in the afternoon, brought about a great sense of unease as repeated pressings of the startup key resulted in no start up. the guy on the apple helpline was quite helpful... but for the first few minutes didn&#039;t seem to understand that i wasn&#039;t using a laptop computer. "so you mean like, a desktop computer&#63; with a separate screen&#63;" <p> he then tried to figure out which model it was. "the 2003 model&#63; with the mirror front&#63;" i laughed darkly. "no, it&#039;s 2000-ish." i think my computer predated whatever he had handy on his system. but somehow we managed to locate the little (4mm square) silver square button with the black circle in the center, next to the battery, tucked away in the hinged door of the CPU. i pressed it, and nothing happened. i was already thinking about laying out the wound care manual again, from scratch, but then the second time i pressed it, it worked. <p> i backed up my work folder. <p> and then just ten minutes ago, my computer turned itself off again. apparently something is making it blow its own fuse. i&#039;m thinking of checking into a hotel for a weekend; i think that might help. <p> the second time it blew though, i figured work was over for the night, and hopefully when i press the secret button tomorrow morning, it will deign to start up. i suppose i&#039;ll have to think about procuring a new computer. this raises several unpleasant issues... like how it won&#039;t be able to boot up in classic mode, and how i&#039;ll have to update a bunch of murderously expensive design software... with the money i won&#039;t have left over from buying the new computer. <p> it will also put a kink in my plans to buy organic meat. i&#039;m almost all the way through "the ethics of what we eat", and the current chapter is sort of pushing the "vegans are better for the environment" angle. i do not think that i will become vegan, so yesterday i bought an organic chicken. it was on special at the supermarket for just a whisper over $20. the whisper is the hushed tone in which you say the price. who knows what the normal retail price is&#63; <p> i stuffed it with mushrooms, sage, garlic and butter and surrounded it with potatoes, pumpkin and carrots. i put it in the oven, and then maeve and i went to the playground. when we returned, dinner was almost ready. the mushrooms were especially tasty, having cooked in chicken juices. but was the bird itself more delicious and tender than its pitiful, debeaked cousin&#63; <p> when the boy returned a few hours later from the prefects&#039; investiture, he said he couldn&#039;t tell the difference. but then he&#039;s hard to please. <p> the previous night i made what i&#039;d considered a satisfying and well-considered meal of fettuccine pre-primavera: pumpkin, zucchini, mushrooms and chickpeas in a garlicky-tomato sauce. the boy peered closely into his bowl, then disappeared into the kitchen. he returned with a tin of tuna, which he tipped it into his bowl before stirring unceremoniously. <p> yeah, a weekend in a hotel -- just me -- would be nice. i wonder if there&#039;ll be room service. <p> <p> Served on Thursday, August 24, 2006 at 09:05 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('240806');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('240806');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/sandwichlabel.gif"> </div> <p> it&#039;s all about time management innit&#63; if you get it into your head that you might make something for a sunday picnic&#63; the monday plan to meet up for a hot chocolate on sunday morning quickly snowballed, and suddenly, a sandwich and dessert picnic was only a handful of days away. not even <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/news/national/nice-day-for-a-white-spreading/2006/08/15/1155407810468.html" target=new>a freak hailstorm</a> could put us off. by friday, the sun was shining again. <p> <b>friday morning</b> <br>playground excursion, followed by supermarket excursion, to buy such exciting things as almond meal, cocoa and icing sugar. i&#039;ve spent days convincing myself that i can make macarons, though i haven&#039;t quite decided <a href="http://www.notebookmagazine.com/food/article/full/424/French-almond-macaroons" target=new>from</a> <a href="http://www.alacuisine.org/alacuisine/2004/11/macarons_imbb_1.html" target=new>which</a> <a href="http://www.davidlebovitz.com/archives/2005/10/#000137" target=new>recipe</a>. <p> <b>friday afternoon</b> <br>naptime for some, half an hour spent pushing almond meal through a sieve for others. have i made a horrible mistake&#63; it&#039;s not too late to just buy a packet of bisuits from the deli up the street. still, small circles are dutifully drawn on sheets of baking paper. when maeve awakens, the electric mixer goes on; the batter does not "flow like magma". in fact, it&#039;s a real bitch trying to pipe it through the unwieldy cookie press into 80 or so small discs. <p> when the boy gets home from work, i am still brandishing the cookie extruder like a pistol. a cup of tea later, boy takes kid to the park, i do some "real" work, the biscuit dough sits for a couple of hours to develop a skin. <p> <b>friday evening</b> <br>while the biscuits bake, i make a quick salmon congee for the kid. after the biscuits bake, i realise i can&#039;t be bothered making a "real" dinner, so it&#039;s salmon congee all &#039;round, supplemented with a plate of frozen dimsims, steamed, for the boy. the biscuits look nothing like what they&#039;re supposed to. <p> <b>saturday morning</b> <br>awake too early. playground excursion involves <b>two</b> parks -- at the second one, a charming boy steps on maeve&#039;s head as he asserts himself on a climbing thing. supermarket excursion for... <br> <center> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/shopinglist.gif"> </center> <p> <b>saturday afternoon</b> <br> back home, i make lemon curd with the egg yolks left over from friday&#039;s biscuit recipe. the boy goes out to watch a football game. make maeve a sandwich and sterilise a jar while she eats. activate some yeast in warm milk. sift flour and cocoa. let maeve pretend to mix the dough... pretend to let maeve mix the dough&#63; knead the dough. the dough feels nothing like it&#039;s supposed to. dough rests, maeve naps, i make chocolate ganache. <p> maeve wakes. dough is punched down. biscuits are sandwiched with ganache. they <i>really</i> do not look anything like what they&#039;re supposed to. an apple does not appease maeve, so it&#039;s off to park #3. <p> <b>saturday evening</b> <br> boy not home from football. just the two of us for dinner: panfried salmon with capers, mashed potatoes, steamed beans and corn. bread goes in the oven, bread comes out of the oven. it looks... only somewhat like how it&#039;s supposed to, but it smells deep and chocolatey. whisk ricotta with a dusting of icing sugar, vanilla and lemon juice. for dessert we each lick one whisk bit clean. <p> boy not home from football. wash the kid. read to the kid. kid goes to bed. boy txts to say that he&#039;s out drinking and will be home tomorrow. put some frozen raspberries in the fridge, to defrost. <p> <b>sunday morning</b> <br>while maeve breaks fast, i fold raspberries into ricotta. slice chocolate bread -- why is it so dense&#63; why is it so wet-doughy in the middle&#63;&#63; it&#039;s not too late to dash up the street to buy a loaf of white bread for emergency plan B lemon curd sandwiches, is it&#63; passable bits of chocolate bread are sandwiched with ricotta mixture. a jasmin tea bag is chucked into a bottle of iced water. we scrub up, we are out the door! the bus is coming! keep walking, maeve! <p> halfway to the bus, meet the boy driving home. he does the right thing and offers to drive us to the park. <p> a glorious time is had by all: after a civilised start across the road at <a href="http://www.tobysestate.com.au/" target=new>toby&#039;s estate</a>, we traipse back to the park: <a href="http://grabyourfork.blogspot.com/2006/08/spring-picnic.html" target=new>helen</a>, <a href="http://thefoodpalate.com/2006/08/springpicnicsandwich/" target=new>deborah</a>, the kid and i, to find a shady sunny spot close to the playground. we unpack a picnic of sandwiches to find that everyone&#039;s had cheese on their minds, and chocolate. helen&#039;s sister arrives with husband, babies, and more cheese in the form of a whole greek ricotta cake. <p> this sort of fun, it could go on forever, except it&#039;s way past naptime, and there&#039;s a bus due, and a funky brown <i>something</i> wafting out of maeve&#039;s nappy. we bid our farewells amongst hurried gifting of chocolate and cheesecake, and then it all collapses into a three-hour nap for the kid, and me&#63; i eat my rare and precious <a href="http://thefoodpalate.com/2006/08/tea-with-monsieur-truffe/" target=new>mountain pepper truffle</a>, from deb, (and i cunningly leave the <a href="http://grabyourfork.blogspot.com/2006/08/lindt-chocolate-sale-eastern-creek.html" target=new>single origin lindt</a>, from helen, for later) and then collapse too, on the couch, to watch "the incredibles" supplementary behind-the-scenes dvd. <p> this behind-the-scenes stuff; always fascinating. like the way you get to see how half the recipes went a little bit awry, and somehow at the end -- through the magic of springtime and cheese sandwiches -- it all tasted just fine. <br> <center> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/macaron1.jpg"> </center> <p> <p> Served on Sunday, August 20, 2006 at 05:18 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('200806');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('200806');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/ganache.jpg"> </div> <p> ah, blogging, that thing i used to do. <p> such is life in balmain... <p> we went to the toyshop the other day, and while i paid for the kid&#039;s latest booty: two paintbrushes and a fetching nylon smock, the counter lady asked if i was a member of their loyalty scheme. she went on to explain that the scheme was: for every dollar i spend "on toys", i get a point, and when i have collected 400 points, i get a $40 voucher. <p> thing is, i actually do like to collect points and get vouchers (and the like), but i also like to be realistic, and so i asked if the points had an expiry date. she hesitated, looked momentarily bashful, and then said that i would have six months. <p> "wow. um, i don&#039;t think i could spend $400 on toys in six months," i said. <p> "people say that," the counter lady said encouragingly, "but then they do!" <p> "it&#039;s true!" said a lithe woman who had just entered the shop. "you&#039;d be surprised! it all adds up!" <p> i paid the counter lady $20.45, and she printed out my receipt and showed me where i could see my points balance. "only 380 points to go!" i exclaimed gamely... except it wasn&#039;t -- the computer had only given me 19 points. i&#039;ve barely begun and already it&#039;s a losing battle. <p> then we walked a block up the street to a cafÈ for some orange-ginger juice and a babycino, and the counter guy was <a href="http://blogs.smh.com.au/entertainment/archives/videohead/005462.html" target=new>steve bisley</a>. <p> but the reason why there&#039;s been no time for anything else is that for the last couple of weeks, i&#039;ve been immersed in the eye-straining, RSI-inducing, yet educational world of laying out (and proofreading, and copyediting) a manual on wound care. oh the three different numbering/labelling systems <b>in the same chapter</b>! oh the glamourous photographs of sliced-open toes! oh the email of amendments that arrived yesterday, which says: "page 225 should be relocated to page 180. urgosterile is a dressing! you may have to renumber the pages! sorry lah!" <p> quite. <p> so. <p> now for something completely different. my head is in sandwich mode, and springtime, and picnics! these last couple days i have washed many mixing bowls, and many things have been mixed in-between. i&#039;m waiting for a pot of chocolate ganache to cool down. and already there is a sweet and tart by-product of yesterday&#039;s eggwhites: today&#039;s lemon curd. <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/lemoncurd.jpg"> </div> <p> <p> Served on Saturday, August 19, 2006 at 02:49 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('190806');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('190806');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/custardmochi.jpg"> </div> <p> sometimes (though not often!), you may not want an inventive maccha-infused, bean-studded bun from a shiny modern asian bakery. sometimes, the exercise of walking the edge of chinatown in search of a printer capable of spewing out a two-metre wide poster will put you in the vicinity of the grimy little chinese bakery perched above the burlington supermarket. <p> you may have already bribed the child to get back in her pram again, after the half-hour wait for the bus, and the half-hour busride, and the half-hour spent looking at polypropylene samples in the backroom of said printer, with the promise of a bunshop. <p> so there you have it. <p> where the newer bakeries may have 20 or so cases filled with all manner of bundom and flossy bread, this one -- and i have no idea what its name is; i just call it "the chinese bakery on top of burlington supermarket" -- has a small wall of nine. but the nine cases hold more than what we need. it is always difficult to choose just one, from the bank of old-skool classics: pork with pickled mustard bun, ham bun, curry bun, taro bun, pineapple bun, pineapple custard bun, pineapple red bean bun, chocolate bun (filled with solid slabs of chocolate in lieu of the chocolate creme patisserie you might be expecting), those tall spongy cupcakes... <p> but here is an empty case, containing <b>none</b> of the bun i really want: the best ever baked charsiu bun, with a sweet sticky glaze and a sweet sticky filling containing actual bits of meat (rather than bits of fat and gristle). i looked around, panicked, those minutes passing all too slowly until a cheerful girl emerged from the inner sanctum with a fresh tray. <p> they were still warm. <p> i tonged one, and then two, and then a pineapple red bean bun, and then an afterthought, this ethreal "sticky rice with custard". a soft, moist mochi (even a day later) in a coconut coat, with a pale yellow centre. it was sweet and delicate, and why have i never bought one before&#63;&#63; <p> we ate the pork buns on a park bench, before a steadily advancing arc of seagulls, pigeons and ibises. at the end, maeve wore a joker smile of red and sticky. <p> <p> Served on Friday, August 4, 2006 at 02:28 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('040806');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('040806');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> there has been <a href="http://thefoodpalate.com/2006/07/food-co-op/" target=new>some</a> <a href="http://thefoodpalate.com/2006/07/food-co-op-ii/" target=new>discussion</a> of late, about organic fruit and veg boxes... seems like something&#039;s in the air; everybody wants one. <p> last week, instead of buying a fancy cookbook by a cute chef, i got "<a href="http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2006/05/26/1148524874515.html&#63;page=fullpage#contentSwap2" target=new>the ethics of what we eat</a>" (peter singer and jim mason). by page 30 i had an unsettled feeling in my stomach that i feared might only be quelled by vowing to eat just freetrade, organic, amazonian chocolate for the rest of my life. but of course, it will all come down to drawing lines. i&#039;m only midway through the book now, and i don&#039;t know where those lines will be drawn. however, i have decided to buy organic/free-range meat for now. <p> i was buying free range eggs already, but the weekend paper brought news that "<a href="http://www.smh.com.au/news/national/layers-of-intrigue-as-the-barnyard-becomes-a-battlefield/2006/07/28/1153816381490.html" target=new>the big buggers in the cage industry have been passing off barn eggs as free-range for years</a>". this was swiftly <a href=&#039;http://www.smh.com.au/news/BUSINESS/No-evidence-of-egg-substitution-AEC/2006/07/31/1154198046617.html" target=new>refuted</a> by the egg corporation, so who knows what i&#039;ll find in my carton next week. <p> lunchtime today though, after an hour in the playground, the kid and i shared a big vege breakfast up the street. the scrambled eggs tasted of salty butter, as did the four bits of turkish bread toast and the sauteed mushrooms and baby spinach. there was also a grilled roma tomato and a veggie patty, made up of corn, chopped-up green beans and grated pumpkin, held together with more egg. the breakfast included a small pot of tea and a large glass of orange juice, pretty awright for $15. it fed the two of us, and there was egg to spare. <p> hopefully a chicken didn&#039;t sit, beakless and bald, in a cage, in vain. <p> <p> Served on Tuesday, August 1, 2006 at 03:18 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('010806_2');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('010806_2');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/mario.gif"> </div> <p> i was cooking dinner on saturday night -- <br>- char siu and zucchini omelette <br>- steamed soft tofu with shitake mushrooms <br>- stirfried choisum in oyster sauce with dried scallops <br>-- when the kid wandered in and started getting in the way of sharp knives and hot dripping liquids. she also has that trick where she opens the utensil drawer and picks this ladle or that pair of tongs, and scatters it to the four winds, um, corners of the room so that apart from the dishes and the pots and pans, i will also have these extra bits to wash up. you know that trick&#63; <b>argh!</b> <p> i shooed her out. "how hard is it to keep a kid entertained while i make dinner&#63;" i wondered aloud to the boy, who lay sprawled in front of the tv, nattering to his out-of-towner friend. <p> "i&#039;m sorry&#63;" said the boy, all indignance. "i&#039;ve been entertaining her <b>all day</b>!" <p> at which point i laughed such black hiccups of laughter that i might&#039;ve fallen over. because somehow, "all day" to the boy means the two hours between 9.30 and 11.30 that morning when he took her up the street to get the newspaper and some groceries. before which i had gotten up and made her breakfast while he lay in bed for a while longer. and after which he provided her a nutritous lunch of a finger bun covered in pink icing and coloured sprinkles. and then he read the paper while i read her stories and put her to bed. and then he had a nap. <p> after dinner, the out-of-towner said, "wow. that was certainly the healthiest meal i&#039;ve had in a long time"... which i chose at that point to take as a compliment, and now i&#039;m not so sure. and then the boys went off to see radio birdman and drink themselves into a stupor, while i did the dishes, bathed the kid and put her to bed, and then listened to the monstrous drunken snores wafting down from upstairs in the too-early hours of the morning. they were still snoring when i got up to make the kid breakfast at 7.30, and snoring still a couple of hours later when the kid and i left to go to the park so that we would not be in the way of one snoring boy on the sofa upstairs, and another snoring boy freshly transported to bed downstairs. <p> boys suck! boys who "mention" that they&#039;ve bathed the kid three nights in a row, after conveniently forgetting the 30 or so nights over summer when i performed such duties while they tooled about in their country estates, and the casual throwaway "i&#039;ll put her to bed for the next month" they utter on their return. boys who do... boys who don&#039;t... <p> whatever. <p> i have found myself about to be in an exhibition, as part of <a href="http://www.sydneydesign.com.au/sd06/&#63;s=pages&id=2" target=new> sydney design 06</a>. a friend of a friend this, designers dropping out that, and suddenly i&#039;m scrambling to get an old illustration printed up to the size of a wall. you can see this wall at <a href="http://horusanddeloris.com.au/" target=new>horus and deloris</a> for a couple of weeks, from saturday. <p> <p> Served on Tuesday, August 1, 2006 at 03:10 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('010806');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('010806');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/nigellakuchen.jpg"> </div> <p> i made this! <p> a thing of beauty, adapted from nigella lawson&#039;s kuchen recipe in delicious magazine. this one has grated lemon rind mixed into the bready dough, and is topped with cherries, almonds, raw sugar and mixed spice. it&#039;s just out of the oven! i&#039;m excited! <p> <p> Served on Friday, July 28, 2006 at 05:52 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('280706_2');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('280706_2');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/greenteamelonbun2.jpg"> </div> <p> a surprise midweek jaunt into the city put me once again outside the plexiglass lockers at <a href="http://www.breadtop.com.au/" target=new>breadtop</a>, looking in. the buns sat there, glowing a faint green... and then i bought them, finally. <p> a single hefty green tea melon bun, and a bag of six little green tea buns, filled with red bean paste. <p> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/melonbread.gif" align=left>the green tea melon bun -- where the melon refers not to a flavour, but the crisscross pattern on the surface of the bun -- has all its flavour concentrated in the crust. you crunch through this sturdy green armour to get to a plain yeasty sweet bun beneath. it&#039;s like <a href="http://www.rmlicensing.com/ENG/Sanx/kogepan.htm" target=new>kogepan</a>&#039;s friend, melon-pan, come to life! a life that sadly came to an end after dinner wednesday night, washed down with a pot of jasmin green tea. mmm... <p> the next morning, a green tea-red bean bun fulfilled its destiny. this bun had green tea flavour (and colour) all through the soft dough, and contained just the right amount of sweet red bean mash. <p> the <i>next</i> morning, the kid and i, and another kid and her mum, trundled down the street in the rain, to <a href="http://aboutlife.com.au/" target=new>about life</a>, again! clearly i am deluded about the amount of money i&#039;m earning with my high-flying, stay-at-home mothering, extremely-part-time graphic designer job (except, i&#039;m not, because i just calculated my entire year&#039;s earnings for my tax return, and even though i thought i was doing <b>more</b> paid work than last year, i actually ended up with <b>less</b> money! sucks when that happens!) <p> but my $9 bowl of mushroom soup made it all better. up on the chalkboard it said "cream of mushroom soup", but after interrogating the countergirl to find out if there were actual mushroom bits in it, i was delighted to receive an enormous bowl of pureed brown mushrooms, with mushroom bits, slices even, all the way through. <p> maeve ended up eating most of the oversized inside-out unagi maki that i&#039;d thought we&#039;d share. it was a splendid vision in the glass case, its outer layer made up of artfully sliced avocado and seaweed sprinkles. it came with a salad of lightly dressed rocket leaves, and a little receptacle of wasabi and soy sauce fish. <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/eelnori.jpg"> </div> <p> we are thinking of moving in. <p> <p> Served on Friday, July 28, 2006 at 05:10 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('280706');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('280706');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/baconandeggs.jpg"> </div> <p> back when i worked on a pop magazine, deadline morning would see stuart the subeditor hunched over my desk, cutting back stories with one hand while the other clutched a glistening bacon and egg roll for sustenance. this was at least eight or nine years ago, and between then and now, i have intermittently thought about acquiring a bacon and egg roll, usually when i walk past one of those greasy-spoon hole-in-the-walls about the gritty city. it&#039;s never actually happened though, either because i&#039;ve somehow convinced myself that it won&#039;t be as good as i&#039;m anticipating, or because i think that i can taste it in my head and that&#039;s what it will be and that is good enough, or because i fear the bacon will be too fatty, or because i&#039;d rather, at that particular moment, have a goat cheese and basil omelette, or mushrooms on toast, or pancakes with berries, or whatever. <p> this morning, we met the boy&#039;s family for breakfast, at an old skool italian coffee shop on the very edge of leichhardt. the breakfast menu consisted five items, three of which were: bacon and egg roll ($5), bacon and eggs on toast ($7), and bacon and eggs on turkish bread($9). the other two were bacon, eggs, tomatoes and mushrooms on toast, and toasted focaccia -- i really do not like focaccia. but because i really do like turkish bread, that is what i had. <p> it was amazing! i should have given in years ago! <p> what a fool! <p> <p> Served on Sunday, July 23, 2006 at 08:58 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('230706_3');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('230706_3');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> perhaps you&#039;ve stumbled across "<a href="http://www.readysteadycook.ten.com.au/home.asp" target=new>ready steady cook</a>" in the pandora&#039;s box that is afternoon tv, a sort of cooking gameshow which pairs everyday people and their bag of random groceries with actual chefs (think darren simpson rather than huey or aristos). maybe your favourite chef on the show is tobie puttock, because of the way he curls his lip with scorn at the showoff host, or because he seems irritated at the contestant he&#039;s been dealt, if she is more inclined to chat vacuously to the host than to chop the spring onions. because he&#039;s, like, sort of cute. <p> you may then already know that he will be heading the melbourne franchise of jamie oliver&#039;s fifteen restaurant, and that he has a cookbook just out, "<a href="http://www.penguin.com.au/lookinside/spotlight.cfm&#63;SBN=1920989501&Page=Details" target=new>daily italian</a>". from this book came the recipe for friday&#039;s potatoes. <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/tobiepotato2.jpg"> </div> <p> sliced potatoes baked in milk with rosemary and garlic. it comes out with a curdly-crunchy crust. the perfect accompaniment for salmon panfried with capers, and a melange of green beans, broccoli and peas cooked up in a tin of tomatoes. <p> <p> Served on Sunday, July 23, 2006 at 03:03 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('230706_2');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('230706_2');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> i&#039;d thought that posting my $70 grocery receipt was an invitation for admonishment or ridicule, but no. well, perhaps there was some eye-rolling at your screens, or mutters of "why don&#039;t you give that money to <i>me</i> instead&#63;" that i don&#039;t know about. still, i was touched by the outward show of support and understanding of my spendthriftiness. which is how i found myself back at the very same <a href="http://www.aboutlife.com.au/" target=new>emporium</a>, with <a href="http://www.thefoodpalate.com" target=new>deborah</a>, attending a short presentation on how to increase our energy. <p> it amounted to the instore nutritionist sitting at a small table reading a short essay off a sheet of paper, while showing us a variety of grains, legumes and other healthy things that would help with the necessary nutrients. there was a brief and awkward pause while a girl&#039;s baby choked on a mouthful of apple, and then there was question time, during which another girl asked what effect on her blood sugar it would have, to put four or five spoons of sugar in her cup of tea. <p> but of course, the food tour was just an excuse (for me anyway) to trawl the aisles of wonder once again. it was enough fun just to look, and think about buying the box of inca red quinoa, or the carton of italian chocolate cornflakes -- it had a lovely illustration of a monkey on it. in a fit of restraint, i bought just a loaf of bread (sprouted rye and spelt, with a whiff of caraway), and a piece of cheese (organic parmesan). <p> that morning, it had rained until just before the kid and i left the house, paused for the ten minutes it took for us to walk up the hill, and then resumed. and then it stopped again. and started again, harder. it was all right for maeve, under plastic, but i was quite sodden when we pulled up outside the store. and so after the morning lesson and the circuit round the shop, when we looked out the windows to see that it was pelting down again, we thought it was best that we sit down to something to eat. <p> hurray! <p> before too long we were all perched on the shiny white stools at the counter. "babycino!" yelled the kid, as the miniature paper cup approached. and then coffee and hot chocolate and deb&#039;s enormous stack of brown flour pancakes with marscarpone, maple syrup and strawberries -- how&#039;s that for healthy <i>and</i> decadent -- and a great platter of smoked salmon, brie and dill omelette with thick slices of wholegrain sourdough for maeve and me. we tried our hardest to eat everything, and then we surrendered and went across the road to the common ground bakery. <p> "ah," deb had said earlier, as we stood in the bread aisle, debating, "that is the bakery where the men all have beards [an anagram of &#039;breads&#039;!] and all the girls have long hair." <p> it is true. the girls also wear long skirts, and blouses of flower print. such a girl, behind the counter, talked up the <a href="http://www.noborders.net/mate/what.html" target=new>matÈ</a> latte, and sold me a loaf of mountain berry bread. the same bread is sold back across the road at about life, but when you buy it at the bakery, it comes with a festive sprinkle of flaked almonds. <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/commongroundberry.jpg"> </div> <p> contrary to its name, it is packed with plump raisins, dates apricots and walnuts. it has a sugary glaze and an aura of brandy. these bearded men and long-haired lasses, they sure know how to have a good time. <p> <p> Served on Sunday, July 23, 2006 at 12:50 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('230706');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('230706');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> i was giving the kid a bath this evening, when the boy came in and casually perched himself on the toilet (do not be alarmed; the lid was down). he said, <p> "tim sent me an interesting website today." <p> "..." <p> "it&#039;s a collection of streaming 80s videos." <p> "oh, like music clips&#63;" <p> "yeah. guess what the first song i picked was." <p> "ummMMM. something by duran duran&#63;" <p> "no, but something remarkably similar." <p> "..." <p> "it was &#039;tarzan boy&#039; by baltimora!" <p> there followed a brief interlude in which we sang the "oh oh oh-o-oh-o-oh-o-oh-oh oh oh-o" chorus, after which i asked, <p> "have they got a-ha&#63;" <p> "i don&#039;t know. i didn&#039;t check." <p> <a href=http://www.insuranceandnews.com/" target=new>but i did</a>. and i played, in this order: <br> the flame, by cheap trick <br> take on me, by a-ha <br> somewhere in my heart, by aztec camera <p> after which i had to get up and walk away, before i clicked on scritti politti ("oh patti (don&#039;t feel sorry for loverboy)") or... bonnie tyler ("total eclipse of the heart"). <p> <p> Served on Friday, July 21, 2006 at 11:05 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('210706');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('210706');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> as good as a holiday. <p> <center> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/aboutlifereceipt.gif"> </center> <p> <p> Served on Sunday, July 16, 2006 at 04:48 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('160706_2');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('160706_2');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> the thing about having a list of things you might like to do when you go somewhere, even if it&#039;s a very small list, is that you might end up not being able to do any of it. so that even though you might have eaten chocolate until it seeped out your pores, the fact that you didn&#039;t eat <i>any</i> chocolate from the </i>one</i> place you really wanted to... well, it makes you feel like you&#039;ve sort of failed, doesn&#039;t it&#63; <p> right now i would like to go to a nice hotel, just me, where there is room service, an in-house DVD library, and a cakeshop next door. <p> i need to recover from my week away: <p> --- <p> by the time we get to melbourne, at 3pm on a friday afternoon, we have already been on the road for a couple of days. this means there have already been <a href="http://www.rutherglenvic.com/whatsnew_more.asp&#63;whatsnewID=36" target=new>pies filled with lamb mince in rich brown gravy</a> and <a href="http://www.beechworthbakery.com/" target=new>pies filled with creme patisserie and syrupy raspberries</a>. in fact, as a testament to the cake frenzy i found myself in on thursday afternoon, the recipt from the bakery reads: 1 beesting, 1 snickerdoodle, 1 raspberry harvest cake, 1 fruit eccle, 1 cup of tea. it wasn&#039;t all for me! i like buying cake for other people! <p> our brand spankin&#039; new serviced apartment (complete with stainless steel galley kitchen and villeroy-boch china) is touted as being on the edge of <a href="http://www2.visitvictoria.com.au/displayObject.cfm/objectid.00045DAB-5BD8-1A6E-A1D280C476A90000/vvt.vhtml" target=new>carlton</a>, so i kinda figured we&#039;d be feasting italian every day. however, the reality is a billowy outpost quite a hike away. nevertheless, it is on the tram route straight to the city, so before too long we&#039;re riding into the sunset and reacquainting ourselves with the monstrosity that is <a href="http://www.federationsquare.com.au/" target=new>federation square</a> <p> - it&#039;s not as ugly as it used to be - <p> and having hot soupy noodles in chinatown. <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_01.jpg"> </div> <p> and then what does one do in melbourne on a drizzly friday night, when holidaying with a toddler&#63; one takes the kid back to the hotel, washes her and puts her to bed, puts the boy on babysitting duty before he can arrange to go out drinking with his friend, and then one <b>catches the tram back into the city to see <a href="http://www.youami.net/" target=new>you am i</a> at the forum</b>. <p> i&#039;d seen the poster as we walked along the twilit streets and thought i&#039;d call up to see if there were still tickets. who knows&#63; who knows if people still go out to see 90s aussie rock&#63; maybe it would be sold out. but it wasn&#039;t. when i rocked up (so to speak), the crowd was like the mid-to-late nineties; comforting, in a way, like so many plaid shirts. the theatre is a gorgeous old building, with a gilded foyer, and a hall full of banquet seating. there are classical sculptures perched over the bar, and the domed ceiling is blue like the evening. i found myself a spot inbetween the dancefloor and the seats, on a step, so i could see. <p> i last saw you am i, like, in 1998. <b>so long ago</b>. friday night, they sound the same (maybe louder). sound as ever, as it were. tim prefaces every second song with, "you think <i>that&#039;s</i> a corker, wait till you hear this one!" (and it&#039;s true!), and punctuates with windmills. it&#039;s all fun and good until the stupid girls in <b>two</b> groups to my front and back start getting drunk and falling over. on me. repeatedly. and they think it&#039;s funny, and their friends do too. and what the hell is wrong with people these days&#63; well, what is wrong with girls then, because the boys in the group look over my way and smile, and say things like, "would you like to stand in front of me so you can see&#63;" and "i have a spare beer, would you like it&#63;" <p> even though i turn on my heels right after the final encore, and bypass the merch stand selling footy scarves with YOU AM I woven into various team colours, i miss the last tram and walk for a bit in the rain before a taxi comes by. it&#039;s nice. <p> the next morning we walk past bakery lane... <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_02.jpg"> </div> <p> ...en route to the <a href="http://www.qvm.com.au/home.php" target=new>queen victoria markets</a>, with its aisles upon aisles of fruit and veg, and its warren on delicatessenal delights such as picked octopus and festive sausages (you will see, if you squint, one of these starbusts says "wedding sausage"). <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_03.jpg"> </div> <p> but i resist the lure of the salami, and even the hot kranski with sauerkraut. or any number of continental pastries; this morning the spinach and cheese borek calls to me. it all works out in the end though, because the boy goes back in after his sausage, and reappears with a wedge of kolace: a yeasty base topped with poppyseeds, sugary ground walnuts, sour cherry jam, and soft white cheese. thank you, boy. <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_04.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_05.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_06.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_07.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_08.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_09.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_10.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_11.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_12.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_13.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_14.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_16.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_17.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_18.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_19.jpg"> </div> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/winter06_20.jpg"> </div> <p> come back later. i&#039;ll tell ya all about it. <p> <p> Served on Sunday, July 16, 2006 at 11:25 a.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('160706');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('160706');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> back to the comforting clicky-click of one&#039;s keyboard, one could spin fanciful tales of homely cakes that one encountered in the wintery sou&#039;-eastern wodge of this great land. <p> instead i shall spleen about some ridiculous developments in the field of convenience foods that i&#039;ve seen advertised in the last couple of days. <p> <b>1</b> the "cafÈ menu" range recently introduced by a prominent instant coffee conglomerate includes four varieties of cappuccino (eg. <b>sweet cappuccino</b> -- "authentic cafÈ quality coffee targeting younger drinkers, those new to coffee or those who prefer a sweeter, milkier cappuccino"), and perhaps too many flavours of latte, the stupidest being the <b>chai coffee latte</b>. it&#039;s not even the (you might think) tautologicality of the name for a milky tea drink, it&#039;s that it actually <i>is</i> a coffee beverage blended with a spice mix of ginger, nutmeg and cinnamon. <p> <b>2</b> the newly-implemented flip-top lid on tubs of ice cream. apparently this makes it "easier", though the ad didn&#039;t specify what exactly we would find less challenging. certainly, i was more puzzled. <p> who thinks up these things&#63; argh! <p> i&#039;m sure these are at last partially responsible for the worrisome dream i had last night. my recurring stress dream, i might have mentioned, is my teeth shatter and i chew on them, grinding them down like broken seashells. a few years ago, i bit into a stale rice cracker, and part of my molar did break off, around an old filling; i sat there a while wondering, am i dreaming, or am i awake and my tooth just broke. argh! my other stress dream, which i&#039;ve had maybe twice, though several years apart, is where i can see parasitic worms floating around inside my stomach, and also involves walking through a shiny white laboratory with stylish stainless steel table lamps. <p> in last night&#039;s dream, i realised too late, as i was getting a sandwich for dinner, that the pearl jam show started in half an hour, and it would take me at least an hour to get there. and even more horribly, i had forgotten to go to the previous night&#039;s concert, and had also forgotten to sell my spare ticket. i believe i may have sobbed. somehow, i made it there in time, and my only concern was how a short person gets a good view of the stage. phew. <p> <p> Served on Friday, July 14, 2006 at 11:30 a.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('140706');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('140706');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/backpack1.jpg"> </div> <p> it is with some sadness that i am retiring my faithful old backpack, with its frayed edges, wayward (completely broken off, for the second time) shoulder strap, and gruesome stains on the inside. i bought it several years ago in a shop full of cute things in new york city, and even then, i think it hung around my cupboard for a few months before i finally put it to use. this was some time in 1998, and the first time i carried it out, i stowed my takeaway salad lunch, and when i got back to my desk i discovered that at the bottom of my pristine bag was a puddle of oily, vinegary salad dressing. that first week, every time i caught a whiff of the lingering odour, i felt a little bit sour. <p> this bag was mostly waterproof (from the outside, at least, and hey, it had kept the salad dressing sealed in), and it was the perfect size for carrying magazines around. it had a recipe for cherry pie on one side, and on the other, "fluffy pudding". it was made by <a href="http://www.superplanning.co.jp/e/e_concept/eng_concept.html" target=new>super planning co.</a>, who also brought you <a href="http://www.mrfriendly.co.jp/fr_net2/03_mrf_dailystore/index.html" target=new>mr. friendly</a>. a pedigree bag. <p> people always wanted to know where i got my bag; strangers in the street would stop me and ask, and i always felt like a bit of a dick when i answered, "new york". but i carried it everywhere, and when one of the straps broke off a few years ago, i stitched it back on, and it carried on like a champ. even through the sudden but brief infestation of ants. i had it with me as i boarded the plane to london three months ago. it was full of books and magazines and snacks and toys and cameras and passports, and when i picked it up after the boarding announcement, the tired strap gave way. <p> since then it has sat on the floor, first in the corner of <a href="http://www.stellou.com" target=new>nellie</a>&#039;s spare room in her london flat, and then propped up against my bookshelf in the study. i&#039;ve been making do with a couple of totes, one calico and the other dark denim. which is fine and all, but i fear the weight on one shoulder is doing terrible things to my back. (well. that and the lack of yoga or swimming.) <p> so, i&#039;m finally breaking out the new one, a long-ago gift from nellie, from the same shop even, from when she was a new york city girl. it&#039;s sort of the same, but not quite the same. it&#039;s coming on a mini roadtrip with me -- tomorrow we wind our way down to melbourne. i don&#039;t have much planned, except to have a sausage at the <a href="http://www.qvm.com.au/home.php" target=new>markets</a>, some chocolate at <a href="http://www.kokoblack.com/" target=new>koko black</a>, and read my new <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/" target=new>new yorker</a>, in which there is an indepth article on pastry. <p> see you in a little bit. <p> <div class="photo"> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/backpack2.jpg"> </div> <p> <p> <p> Served on Tuesday, July 4, 2006 at 10:34 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('040706_2');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('040706_2');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p><p> there has been too much frivolous spending of late. the innocent (haha) stroll up to the park which resulted in the popping into the sale at the fancy boutique across the road, which resulted in the procuring of several $10 pairs of trousers and shirts and a handsome wool and mohair coat that had been reduced from <b>$187 to $20</b>. followed by the online spree which resulted in 2 "maisy" DVDs, a "charlie and lola" DVD and a "babe" DVD. the rainbow stripey beanie. oh all right. it&#039;s all for the child... but really, the "charlie and lola" DVD is secretly for me. <p> so you see, even though i have just seen some extremely cute little plates at <a href="http://www.lorijoysmith.com/studio/blog.asp" target=new>lori joy</a>&#039;s new <a href="http://www.lorijoysmith.com/shop/shop.html" target=new>little store</a>, i feel i must remain strong and resist... the urge... to... buy... plates. <p> but they would be perfect, <i>perfect</i>, for me and the kid. a matching set, even. look: <p> <img src="http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/pics/lorijoyplates.jpg"> <p> <p> Served on Tuesday, July 4, 2006 at 10:13 p.m. <BR> <a href="javascript:HaloScan('040706');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('040706');</script></a> <p> <p> <span style="color: #ff3366"> --- </span> </p> <p> <a href="http://www.pitas.com" TARGET=NEW> thank you pitas.com </a> </TD> </TR> </TABLE> </CENTER> <p> <span style="color: #ffffff">this page is home to the blogging arm of raging yoghurt (which due to regional spelling differences, may also be known as raging yogurt, raging yoghourt, or just plain ragingyoghurt). contents may refer to drawings, design, disgruntlement and above all, food. you may know the author of this guff: saw mei ying, meiying saw, bowb, bobbie saw. thank you. you're welcome.></span></p> <p> <!-- Begin webstats4U code --> <!-- Title: Yoghurt archive july - sept 2006 --> <!-- URL: http://www.ragingyoghurt.org/bloghurt/bloghurt_archive2006_3.html --> <script language="JavaScript" type="text/javascript" src="http://m1.webstats4u.com/m.js"></script> <script language="JavaScript" type="text/javascript"> <!-- webstats4u("AD9s0g9Ro3E9nGg5gD3NzgdeSsYg", 0); // --> </script> <noscript> <a target="_blank" href="http://www.webstats4u.com/stats?AD9s0g9Ro3E9nGg5gD3NzgdeSsYg"> <img src="http://m1.webstats4u.com/n?id=AD9s0g9Ro3E9nGg5gD3NzgdeSsYg" border="0" width="18" height="18" alt="Webstats4U - Free web site statistics Personal homepage website counter"> </a> </noscript> <!-- End webstats4U code --> </p> </BODY> </HTML>