WHY ALL THE LONG FACES?

Yippee-i-o! It’s Melbourne Cup time again! You’ve heard the one about the horse entering the bar; and you’ve heard the one about leading a horse to water, but not being able to make him drink. Here’s the answer to both - finally! The horse eagerly cantered up to the bar, but all he was offered to drink was water - that’s why he had the long face!

For those of you in the Northern Hemisphere who may not be aware – The Melbourne Cup is Australia’s major thoroughbred horse race – “the race that stops a nation”! It’s a 3,200metres (1.9888 miles) for three-year olds and over. It’s the richest “two-mile” handicap in the world, and one of the richest horse races. The Melbourne Cup is always held on the first Tuesday in November. The winner of the first Melbourne Cup in 1861 was a bay stallion, “Archer”, ridden by John Cutts.

Melbourne Cup Day is almost a public holiday here in Australia; it’s celebrated throughout the country; some believe it should be declared a public holiday. Between all the sweeps and partying, it should be!

I love Melbourne Cup Day; and always have. I've got the champagne chilling; the prawns and oysters have been ordered, ready to be picked up later today; the smoked salmon has been smoked, and my bets have been laid! The form guide is at the ready!

If you’re looking for me tomorrow – don’t bother! I won’t answer the door or the phone. I’ll be too engrossed watching the lead-up to the race from 6 am; "oohing and aahing" at the fashions on the field; and engrossed by all the races from 10 am to the end of the final race when the final hoof goes over the final line – with no interruptions!

The special race day is held at Flemington Race Course, Melbourne, Victoria.

In the mood of the Day…I’ve spun the little tale below – all past Melbourne Cup winners are highlighted to help you make some sense of my nonsensical ramblings!




The Shocking thing was the Americain looked on very Saintly from the end of the bar while sipping on a Brew. He scratched his White Nose before he accused MacDougall of being a bit of a Windbag! MacDougall Viewed the scene around him. He then nonchalantly tipped his Dark Felt hat, and murmured “What a Nuisance” to the Kiwi from Toparoa who sat on the stool next to him. MacDougall and the Kiwi continued sipping their schooners of ice-cold Haricot beer, preferring to ignore The Trump.

Looking on with a Tawrrific soft glow from the Lantern hanging over the bar highlighting her Empire Rose complexion was Jezabeel, the adopted daughter of Count Cardigan and Prince Foote. As most of you know, Prince Foote is the son of King Ingodas and Marini-Henri of Maraboa, Russia. Count Cardigan, the brother of Lord Fury was a Statesman who had been an Artilleryman at the Battle of Gurner’s Lane. I’m filling you in on a bit of the family history, in case you weren’t aware of the lineage.

Earlier in the day, Peter Pan flew in from the Backwood for a bit of Hi Jinx because out near Wodalla and Merriwee the river was Rising Fast. Peter Pan was a Rain Lover, but he felt it safer and more sensible to Skipton with his Sister Olive who wouldn’t leave without her Gold and Black cloak. She arrived looking like she was going to attend a Gala Supreme, namely the Beldale Ball.

Even Stevens had felt the Might and Power of the Subzero temperatures down Baystone way. He decided it more Efficient to make Just a Dash along Piping Lane grasping his Vintage Crop in his right hand! He’d successfully convinced The Parisian aka Comedy King to join him.

Old Rowley decided to Think Big when he saw a Blue Spec on the horizon. He and Archer, The Quack, cared less that it was a Phar Lap; so off they charged on a Nightmarch to the Delta. For protection they each carried a Carbine, but Sirius, like a Silver Knight guided them along the way. When they reached Newhaven, a Rainbird sang pure and clear like an Evening Peal. Immediately they felt at ease, and even the Light Fingers of Chester, The Grafter, couldn’t alter their relieved, joyous mood. More importantly, they ignored him after his failed attempt to steal The Pearl. He was caught Red Handed; but all that was soon forgotten when the whole bar congratulated Tim Whiffler. Those at the bar overheard him say to Jeune, “Let’s Elope!” What a Don Juan! “Bravo! He sure doesn’t horse around!” Everyone called out in unison, The Revenue in the bar that night paid for the Nightwatch, and then some!

Festive Pizzas: On a floured surface, roll out 1x375g packet puff pastry to 1mm thickness; cut with a small, 4-5cms, cutter; place rounds on large, flat, buttered pastry tray; brush with olive oil. On each round, place a slice of goat’s cheese with a slice of cherry tomato and a slice of yellow tear-drop tomato; brush again with olive oil; sprinkle with black pepper and sprigs of thyme; bake in preheated 210C oven, 12-15mins. Various toppings; prawns, roasted capsicum strips; asparagus, mozzarella, anchovies and black olives.

Scallops with Broccoli Cream Sauce: Cut 24 scallops from the shells; replace onto shells; place on flat baking tray. Make sauce: Melt 20g butter in saucepan; sweat 200g trimmed broccoli and 3 crushed garlic cloves; add 300ml cream, salt and pepper; cook 15mins; process in blender until sauce consistency. Cook the tray of scallops in 220C oven, 2-3mins; spoon a little sauce over scallops; spoon a little sauce over scallops; place 2 scallops and small fork on small plates.

Smoked Salmon Dip: Place 3tbs soft butter, 200g smoked salmon, 1/4c sour cream, 1tbs finely-chopped onion and 2tsp lemon juice in processor; process until smooth. Fold through 1tsp halved capers; season with black pepper. Chill till required. Cream Cheese Croutons: Mash 125g soft curd or cream cheese with 4tbs grated cheddar, gruyere, parmesan or other hard cheese; add plenty of freshly-ground black pepper and chopped parsley or tarragon; stir in well-beaten egg. Spread onto crust-less slices of French bread; top each with a piece of anchovy and halved black olive. Cook in 170C oven, 15mins.

MY NURSERY RHYME 2012 UPDATES!

Jack & Jill

Jack and Jill didn’t go up the hill
To fetch a pail of water
Although, perhaps they oughta

Jack had mischief on his mind
That's why Jill followed behind
To see what she could find

Reaching the top Jack looked around
And much to his surprise he found
Jill already lying on the ground


The Saga of Bo-Peep

Little Bo-Peep has had no sleep
She has no clue when she’ll get any
Because when Bo-Peep left home
Absentmindedly she forgot her comb
Now she has tangled hair of mahogany

Jerry Had a Little Clam

Jerry found a little clam
When the tide was low
And every time that Jerry looked
On a rock he surely kicked his toe


Humpty Dumpty's Dilemma!

Humpty Dumpty had a lot of gall
Humpty went looking for a brawl
And when the crowd left
Humpty became quite bereft
Finding himself all alone
And all he could do was groan

DON’T TRIVIALISE TRIVIA!

In 1864 Australia’s first cookery book was published. It was written by the audacious Edward Abbott. Born in Sydney, Edward Abbott, when still a small boy, moved to Hobart with his family. His father, Edward Snr had taken up a post of Deputy-Judge-Advocate – which was a bit of a mouthful for one so small; so, I guess that’s why Edward Jnr called Edward Snr, “Dad”.

Edward Abbott, Senior, (1766-1832) was a soldier and public servant. Born in Montreal, Canada, Abbott Snr ended up in Australia in 1799 after a stint in England recuperating. Abbott had been here earlier in 1790.

After a few hectic years in Sydney; some of which included his opposition to Governor William Bligh (yes...he of the Mutiny on the Bounty saga);and a few more in England - a long, long story - he returned to Sydney.

Abbott Snr., then sailed on board the "Emu" for Hobart Town,in Van Diemen's Land (now known as "Tasmania") where he arrived with his wife and three children in February 1815.

Who knew that emus could swim! But then, I suppose with those long legs of theirs emus could walk across Bass Strait at low tide; perhaps, the Abbott family hitched a ride on the emu's back!

When of a suitable age, Edward Junior became a clerk to his father aka "Dad" in the court until 1824. Fifteen years later in 1839, Ed Jnr., founded the “Hobart Town Advertiser”. He was its editor and publisher until 1842. Edward then became a landowner on the Derwent River. Actually he set up camp on the banks and surrounding area of the river. It’d be a difficult to own and operate land in the river! He was a busy boy, our Ed! His cook book combined recipes of the Old Country with techniques from the developing colony down under.

Back in England many who purchased the handsome, leather-bound volume shuddered when they saw kangaroo recipes leaping off the glossy pages! Scratching their heads, they tweaked their imperial moustaches and pulled at their mutton chops. In the meantime, their harried cooks sweated in the galleys wondering if they had a cauldron large enough in which to scald an emu before its plucking! Added to their quandary was trying to locate a frying pan broad enough to fry an emu egg or two. After much deliberation, it was decided numerous omelettes were better options by far for the families’ breakfasts.

Not deterred by the book’s peculiarities, curiosity overcame its readers. In overwhelming wonder, they continued to turn the pages, many of which depicted brilliant colour-plates illustrating the exotic, unusual recipes therein.

After greasy fingerprints and flour particles (and the odd emu feather) were removed, the books were strategically placed onto shelves in the elegant libraries of the stately homes; rooms of opulent grandeur, additionally embellished with sculptures, paintings and ornate furnishings. There the books sat, never to be opened again until a century or so later when the National Trust stepped in.

That’s my take on it; but, it doesn’t mean it’s true! The parts about the book being the first of its kind in Australia and written by Edward Abbott Jnr, and the tale about his Dad are factual; the rest – take with a grain of salt!

Way back in 1864 Ted shared his asparagus recipe with readers. Our ancestors enjoyed the succulent green shoots long before we did. Those of us who grew up post World War ll only knew the canned variety because all the fields of asparagus had been cultivated for the visiting American forces. Fortunately, over the past few decades fresh asparagus has returned to our green groceries, and onto our plates; plates of the porcelain kind, that is; not those colour-plates in Ed’s cookery book!

A bit of trivium to amuse, and then, promptly forget! “Trivium”…singular for “trivia”! Don’t get me started! I love trivia; bundles of trivia. Trivia is fun. Why my brain is riddled with so many trivia is a conundrum! No wonder my head feels heavy at times!

Roasted Asparagus Soup: Place 900g trimmed thick asparagus spears on paper-lined baking sheet; roast 10mins in 230C oven; turn spears; sprinkle with ½ sliced onion and 2 garlic cloves; roast 10-12mins. Less cooking time if spears are thin. In blender, blend 1/2c warm veg or chick stock with 1 heaped tablespoon raw cashews and 1/8tsp white pepper. Select several of the best-looking spears; remove tops; set aside for garnish. Cut remaining spears into pieces; add to blender along with onion and garlic and 1-1/2c stock; blend until smooth. Heat in saucepan; pour into bowls; garnish with grated lemon and reserved asparagus.

Wok-Seared Chicken & Asparagus: Heat 1tbs toasted sesame oil in wok over high heat; add 700g fresh asparagus, cut into 1-inch pieces; cook, stirring, 2mins; add 455g chicken strips; cook, stirring, 4mins; stir in 1-inch pieces of four shallots, 2tbs minced, fresh ginger, 1tbs oyster sauce and 1tsp chilli-garlic sauce; cook, stirring until chicken just cooked through. Stir in 1/4c shelled, salted, coarsely-chopped pistachios; serve immediately.

Beer-Battered Asparagus: Dipping Sauce: Combine 1/2c mayonnaise, 1tsp lemon juice, 1/2tsp zest and 1/4tsp pepper in bowl; chill, covered, until ready to use. Whisk together 1c plain flour, 1tsp salt, 1tbs finely-grated lemon zest and 1/4ts pepper; add 1c lager; whisk until smooth. Heat 4c vegetable oil in deep saucepan to med-high. Cut 455g trimmed, medium asparagus into 3-inch pieces; submerge spears into batter; let excess batter drip off; transfer spears, one at a time, to oil; stir gently to keep spears from sticking together; cook 2-3mins; keep warm in oven on paper towel-lined tray.

ABSTEMIOUS MAKES THE HEART GROW FONDER

Everything in moderation; that’s the plan! I won’t, and don't tell porkies; there’s no point going down that path. I have no desire or need to do so. I’ve nothing to hide or feel ashamed about. There have been times in my life when seduced by the mood of the moment, and by the contagious company of others, I’ve drunk too much (alcohol, not water or milk), but I caused no harm to anyone. I was the one who suffered the hang-overs; nobody else. If there is any “tut-tutting” and rolling of eyes happening because of my remarks, reflect upon the old saying about he or she who casts the first stone etc., etc,. and so on and so forth!

Nowadays, for me, it’s a drought between drinks. Water and coffee are still high on the list, of course. Don’t worry, though - I’ve not turned into a wowser! In the words of Buddy Holly …“That’ll be the day!” A sip or two once in a blue moon, and oft times not even then is more the case with me these days.

I always have a tipple on Melbourne Cup Day – that’s a given; and if the mood takes, I’ll even dare lash out on my birthday! Damn birthdays! They’re a clear sign of getting older! I received a shock the other day when I realised that I’m no longer 35! See what sobriety does to you! I might have to reconsider my habits!

Another reason for imbibing infrequently is these days I don't entertain as often as I once did. I used to entertain a lot, but I ceased doing so a couple of years ago. I've done more than my fair share of catering for others over the years, both for personal pleasure and professionally. However, if and when I do cater for friends; or am being catered for by them it's never a "dry argument", if you know what I mean! I could never have a luncheon or dinner party without a few bottles of good wine; and a Frangelico, Grand Marnier or Drambuie or two to complete the picture. (Substitute your own personal preferences)!

A couple of months ago I did celebrate some very unexpected, exciting news with friends. I unscrewed the top off a bottle of quality red, which I enjoyed without one iota of guilt. In the meantime, my hosts contentedly sipped on their white wine. They, too, showed no remorse between sips. We were not a remorseful trio.

It’s not every day that I get asked for my permission by the State and National Libraries of Queensland and Australia, respectively, for them to archive some of my writings. It was a momentous moment worthy of celebration to my way of thinking; and it’s not often I sit way up there on Cloud Nine! I always thought I might go down in history one day – but not that way! I’m not as infamous as Ned Kelly, after all! My wicked, wicked ways have all been in vain! I should’ve tried harder!

Moderation applies to the intake of food, too. There’s little I don’t enjoy or eat, but I do try to exercise some restraint. "Some" perhaps being the operative word. I have to be honest and admit there are times I succumb to my lack of will power; and all restraining flies out the window; it doesn't matter what window it is...it's not always the kitchen window. The others have their turn, too!

A stranger, an elderly woman I’ve never laid my eyes on before reprimanded me the other day because I bought a bottle of homemade guava jelly at the “Green Shed”. I'd not eaten guava jelly in years; and I love fresh guavas. The "Green Shed" operates up here on the mountain upon which I dwell every Sunday morning. Local growers sell their supposedly "organic" produce to all-comers.

Lordy! Lordy! I was told by the stranger in no uncertain terms that I was buying a jar of sugar! Oh! For goodness sake! Taking things to extremes is a bit over-the-top, in my humble opinion - an opinion I intending sticking to! It’s not as if I came home and devoured the whole jar in one sweet mouthful; although, if I had that would have been my business, and my business only; nobody else. Up until now as I write, I’ve spread a mere morsel on one piece of toast only; and that’s no porky!

And then, to top it all off, as I got into my car, the stranger, not one to give up, then began to enforce her eating philosophy upon me! She told me that she only ate raw foods; the way "God intended people to eat"!

It was then I snapped. That was the proverbial "straw"! I'd heard enough of her self-righteous sprouting.

My retort was; "Well, God intended me to enjoy everything...so I do!" I turned on the ignition and drove away, leaving her standing with her eyes agog, mouth open, and a plastic container of raw food in her hands.


I talk to anyone; anywhere; any time; but I hate being lectured!

Perhaps I should revert to the teachings of my childhood and abstain from speaking to strangers!

My mantra: Enjoy life; enjoy the good things in life; enjoy everything in moderation. Whatever floats your boat – just don’t go overboard! However, never curtail your enjoyment of the good people in your life.


Pork Mince Pies: Heat oil in pan; brown 1.5kg pork mince and 2 finely-chopped onions over high heat; stir in 2 diced carrots, 100g peas and 2 potatoes, diced; season; toss in a little thyme. Add 300ml stock; bring to boil; add 100g gravy powder mixed in 80ml water; bring to boil; reduce heat; simmer 20mins; cool. Fill individual pie ramekins; cover with rounds of puff pastry; crimp edges to secure; brush with beaten egg. Bake in preheated 200C oven until golden; serve hot with tomato chutney.

Sweet & Sour Pork: Cut 350g pork fillet into 5x1cm strips; place in bowl with 1tbs soy sauce and pepper; stir to coat; stir in 2tsp cornflour; set aside. Drain 1x440g can pineapple pieces in natural juice; set aside juice and fruit. To make sauce: mix together 1tbs each cornflour, brown sugar and rice wine vinegar, 2tbs dry sherry, 2tbs tomato sauce, 3tbs salt-reduced soy sauce and reserved juice. Set aside.

Cook 140g egg noodles in boiling water, 3mins, or according to the packet instructions; drain well; set aside.

Heat wok until really hot; add 1tbs sunflower oil; swirl to coat wok. Add pork; brown 1min; then stir-fry over high heat, 3–4mins. Remove pork with a slotted spoon; set aside. Heat 1tbs oil in wok; add 80g baby corn, quartered lengthways; cook 1min; add 1 julienned carrot, 1/2 red and 1/2 green capsicum, cut into 1-inch pieces, 1 chopped garlic clove and 1tbs finely-diced ginger; cook 1min. Sprinkle over 5tbs water; let steam, 2–3mins. Add sauce mixture, stir well; bring to boil. Add pork, noodles, pineapple and 300g bean sprouts; heat through, stirring and tossing. Add 4 spring onions, diagonally sliced and 1tsp sesame oil.

WILDERNESS OF THE HEART

In fragile silence I sit melancholy reminiscence
Questioning when where how our love went astray
Suffocated by the harshness of yet another day
An emotional wasteland pondering the rudiments
Of yesterday

Life unmercifully relentless in its pursuit of me
An endless chase masquerading as hope and dreams
Haunting taunting shadows a tormenting banshee
A twilight zone of love's pain of unheard screams
Where to flee

Caustic angry words spoken treasured time wasted
Lost forever in the outer perimeters of my memory
Wishing to mend bridges instead feeling alienated
Misery embroidered on my heart its secret territory
Sorrow captured

Love’s affection passion desire imperative to living
Eternally lost helpless in heart's barren wilderness
Controlled by desperate despair powerfully unforgiving
Emotions carelessly tossed asunder alone and aimless
Heart aching


Poem written by Lee

A WORLD OF CONTRADICTION, CONFUSION AND DECEPTION

Life is awash with contradictions! Constantly we’re force-fed contradictions. Consciously or not, there are even times when we readily we accept more!

On the one hand we’re told not to laugh at our own jokes; and then on the other we’re told to laugh at ourselves!

We’re advised to keep a stiff upper lip; then we’re told to release our emotions! “Let it all go…let it flow!” (I've tried and tried to stiffen my upper lip, but I've not been able to find a lotion or cream that stiffens said lip. A tick latched onto it once; that little blighter not only caused my lip to stiffen, but to swell to triple its normal size, as well. I supposed I could try Botox - but then it would be better to stiffen both lips, wouldn't it?)! Is there no end to this train of thought?

It’s written: “the only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing”. Why, then, do we spend our lives studying, learning, observing, researching and absorbing in an effort to gain wisdom in all things? If, at the end of a life spent expending such effort nothing is achieved, why bother?

Napoleon Bonaparte advised: “The best way to keep your word is not give it”! Was he trying to confuse his enemies? He not only confused his enemies, but his mates, as well.

Mark Twain told us to never put off until tomorrow what we can do the day after tomorrow just as well! By taking his advice that could make the day after tomorrow very busy!

Who was the illogical idiot who, in an unguarded moment, uttered out loud this thought - “Sometimes you have to let go of the one you love to find out if there is really something there”? I note that whoever wrote or said these words chose to remain anonymous. That was a logical decision!

It’s understandable why Confucius was named “Confucius”. He composed confused sayings! For example; “Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart”. One thing of which I’m certain; my whole heart always goes with me everywhere I go! I never leave any part of it behind! It take the whole lot with me. Where would I leave said piece – in the fridge; under my pillow; on the table?

Here’s another one of Confucius’ ditties: “Man who waits for roast duck to fly into mouth, must wait very, very long time”! Should that be “velly, velly wong time?

Confuse-Us also said: “A cannibal is person who likes to see other people stewed”!

The world is a large cauldron full of confusion; Confucius certainly added his share of ingredients to the pot!

Voltaire wasn’t confused 300 or so years ago when he vehemently declared: “I hate women because they always know where everything is!”

How right he was! You’ll get no contradiction from me!


And then there are the current-day academics; those who get government grants to do researches - they have far too much time on their hands! A while back I read the following report:

“After much research academics found that by switching to organic produce such switching could help us live longer as well as keeping us healthier and slimmer – fruit and vegetables grown without artificial fertilizers etc., can extend one’s lifespan - by 25 days for men and 17 days for women!”

My! Oh! My! That’s worth consideration!

Confused Mashed “Spuds”: Cut 1 cauliflower into pieces; cook to well done; drain well; quickly pat dry; puree hot cauli with 1tbl softened cream cheese, 1/4c grated Parmesan, ½tsp minced garlic, pinch of salt or powdered chicken stock and pepper until almost smooth; garnish with chopped chives and butter pats.

Mediterranean Lamb Stew: Chop 500g lamb, 1 onion, 1 large red capsicum and 2 small hot chillies (or crushed chillies to taste). Heat 3tbl x-virgin olive oil in casserole; add lamb; seal; remove to bowl to keep the juices. Add more oil; fry onion 2-3mins; add capsicum and chilli; cook 4mins; season. Return lamb and juices; add 2 bay leaves and a splash of Worcestershire; add 1/3-1/2 bottle dry white wine; keep heat high; reduce wine; add 1 can chopped tomatoes; cook 6mins; reduce heat; cover, simmer 1hr. Add 1 can drained chickpeas; cook 30-45mins.

Beef Stew & Dumplings: Pat 1kg beef, cut into 1-inch pieces, dry; heat pan; add oil; brown beef in batches; set aside in bowl. Fry 3 large sliced onions and 150g sliced bacon; cook 6mins; add 3 carrots, cut into chunks, 200g halved button mushrooms. Add 3tbls flour; cook 3mins, scraping bottom of pan; add 2c beef stock, 345ml beer, 2tbs tomato paste, 1 can diced tomatoes, 2 bay leaves, 2tsp mixed herbs, 1tbl brown sugar and 1tbl Worcestershire; bring to boil; cover; cook on low heat, 1-1/2hrs. Dumplings: Combine 50g melted butter, 1 egg and 50g grated cheese; add to 100g S.R. flour, 1tsp baking powder;(add some mixed herbs, if desired); add a little water if needed; roll into 8 balls; place on top of stew 15mins before end of cooking; cover; cook 15mins or so!

ARRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!!! WHY???????

Why? Oh! Why? Grrrrrrrrr!!!!!!

As you can see, I decided to make a change...it has been said that a change is as good as a holiday! Don't believe everything those anonymous "they" tell you!

So here I sit...it's Saturday morning and I thought I'd do a bit of fiddling around with the layout/template of my blog. How silly can I be? Very...is the obvious answer!

In the process of altering the template...I lost all comments...all the comments generously written by you good people, my blogger friends...every single comment - from when I started writing my blog up until this very minute!

And, I'm not a very happy chappy, I can tell you!

I'm more than frustrated! I'm angry. I'm disappointed! And I'm bemused! Why, just by changing the look of one's blog, are all past comments are lost? It doesn't make sense.

To top it off, I can find nowhere where it allows me to revert to my original template; the one I was using just before I changed to this current one!

Grrrrrrrrr!!!! I should have known better...and left well enough alone!

Be warned!!

I think I might pour myself a glass of red! At least it will match the new background on my blog...and my face!

ROUX THE DAY!

Be warned! That person driving around in my sparkling white Audi A4 I espy every time I go out will rue the day if I ever catch up with him! And as for that other fellow; the one I spotted yesterday driving my glistening new silver-grey Audi A8 Coupe , my second car for special occasions, he, too, will rue the day if I nab him Could it have been Christian Grey?!!! As for me - I’ll rue the day I stop daydreaming!

One day when we were kids, my older brother, Graham and I were lucky we didn’t rue the day we fired arrows at our grandmother’s “Bombay Bloomers” (the nickname given to ladies’ generously-sized, unflattering briefs made with flesh-coloured interlock fabric back when I was a kid). Not that our grandmother was a woman of liberal proportions; she wasn’t. She was tall and slim. I’m perplexed as to why she favoured panties of such vast dimensions. Maybe the size permitted breezes to flow freely; ideal, cool attire of largesse that prevented the wearer from expiring. Summers in Gympie are hot; however not as hot as Bombay.

My brother and I had been reprimanded by Nana. What we’d done to raise her ire, I can’t recall. No doubt, we deserved her wrath. Our pleas of innocence fell on deaf ears; she would have no part of our nonsense. Nana told us to go downstairs to play; and to try to behave ourselves while doing so.

Spying her bloomers on the clothes line under the house, we decided to vent our frustrations on the overblown not-so-brief briefs! Being fans of Robin Hood we always had our trusty bows and arrows at the ready! We never knew when they might come in handy. Like expert archers, we shot arrow after arrow at Nana’s unattractive, baggy knickers. With each strike, we gleefully growled: “Take that, Nana! Take that!”

Graham and I were ignorantly unaware Nana stood watching through the palings. In amused silence, she chose not to interrupt the enjoyment we were having wreaking vengeance upon her bloomers. Chuckling, Nana retreated back up the stairs, without even get her knickers in a knot! We were lucky she had a good sense of humour, otherwise we would most certainly have rued our actions. Years later, Nana divulged what she’d witnessed that morning; we shared her laughter. The story became a part of our family’s folklore.

I doubt there are many who haven’t lived to rue a thoughtless action or careless statement. I’ve rued a few, and then some. However, I do always try my best not to be rude, even if there have been times I’ve been confronted with and affronted by the rudeness of others.

There is little, if anything, to be gained from such behaviour. More than often, the gratification is instant, shallow and fleeting. Sometimes I’ve failed in not being rude; and, afterwards I’ve rued the times I was rude.

The lady whose bloomers we bombarded with arrows that hot summer's morning taught us to mind our manners; to treat others how we’d like to be treated; that it’s best to take a deep breath and walk away, rather than live to rue a blue that may ensue.

It’s best to eschew a blue, it’s true; than it is to pursue a blue that you may eventually rue!

Our grandmother passed on many sage words; wisdoms I’ve tried to adhere to throughout my life; and long after her passing. Of course, the operative word is "tried". I've not always been successful in my efforts, but then, on the other hand, there are many times that I have been successful, too.

It may appear to some that I didn't show respect that morning so many, many years ago; but, at least, our Nana gleaned humour from the actions of my brother and me. She appreciated the innocence behind our harmless childish moments of revenge.

Roux: Heat 4tbs pan drippings and/or butter over medium heat; add 6tbs flour all at once; whisk vigorously. When mixture thins and starts to bubble, reduce heat to low; cook 3-4mins; stir occasionally. Roux can be used immediately to thicken room temp liquids. Cool roux to room temp if thickening hot liquid. Tightly wrapped, roux can be refrigerated for up to a month. Break off pieces; use as needed.

Tasty Cheese Sauce: Heat 2tbs butter over med-heat; stir in 2tbs flour; cook, stirring, about 1min; add 1/4tsp salt and dash of pepper; gradually add 1c milk. Cook over low heat, stirring until thickened; add 1/3 cup sharp cheese, 1/2tsp dry mustard and a dash of garlic powder; cook, stirring until cheese melts.

Seafood Gumbo: Cut okra into ¼-inch slices; enough for 6 cups; bake 10mins. Coat large heavy-base saucepan with oil; cook 1-1/2 coarsely-chopped onions until translucent; add 1c sliced celery, 8 finely-chopped garlic cloves, ½ green bell pepper, chopped, and the baked okra. Add 5tbs roux; mix thoroughly; add 6 roughly-chopped tomatoes; bring to boil; add 10-12c quality seafood stock; mix thoroughly; cover; bring to boil; cook 20mins. In separate pan, sauté 500g shelled prawns, 1min; then along with 2 or 3 cleaned sand crabs, chopped into chunks, add to gumbo; cook 10mins; add slices from 1 lemon and chopped shallots. Serve with rice.

Bombay Chicken: In a large re-sealable plastic bag, combine: 1-1/2c yoghurt, 1/4c lemon juice, 2tbs each chilli powder, paprika and olive oil, 1-1/2tsp salt, ½ to 1tsp cayenne, 1/2tsp each ground ginger and garlic powder, 1/4tsp ground cardamom and 1/8tsp ground cinnamon. Add 2kg bone-in, skinned chicken thighs to bag; turn to coat; refrigerate overnight. Coat grill with oil or spray. Drain and discard marinade; grill chicken, covered, over med-hot, 10-15mins on each side. Serve with mixed fruit-flavoured rice.

PICTURE THIS - ALL I HAVE TO DO IS DREAM!

I’ve always loved the movies or the “pictures” as they were called when I was a child. I never loved the “fillums”…but I did adore the films! It was with enthusiastic expectations, every Saturday afternoon off to the picture theatre I raced.

On offer in those days were two "pictures" per matinee session. These consisted of the main feature and a movie of lesser notoriety. The lesser known "picture" was the first cab off the rank, shown prior to the interval or “half time”. But our afternoon’s entertainment didn’t stop there! Along with the two movies were cartoons, a newsreel and “shorts”, or trailers, as we called them, of “pictures” to come. But the fun didn’t stop there – to the mix was added a serial that invariably co-starred J. Carroll Naish as the villain. Funny how I can remember who played the villain, but I can’t remember who played the heroes in those on-going thrilling, nail-biting-on-the-edge-of-the-seat serials. Naish extended his wicked roles to feature-length movies, too; wherein he exhibited his versatility by playing Italians, Native Americans, and, Chinese, even. The man was of Irish descent, but never played an Irishman!

The entrance fee to partake in all of the above cost less than a bob – less than one shilling! And, we always had six pence to spend on a cold drink and some lollies!

Of course, I must not forget one of the most important parts of all…the fun of rolling chocolate Jaffas down the aisles! Fantails played their role, too. Who could resist reading the information about your favourite stars on the lolly wrappers? Not me!

I never missed a Saturday matinee at the Olympia Theatre, Mellor
Street, Gympie. The only ones I did miss were the times we, as a family, spent holidaying with our near relatives who lived at Slade Point, via Mackay; which is not "near" distance-wise. For a few years, my older brother and I (along with our Nana) jumped on a train at the Gympie railway station after New Year to spend the tail end of our school holidays in the north terrorising our cousins! However, the "pictures" weren’t ignored. They weren't put on the back-burner. We’d go into Mackay to the new Civic Theatre and get our fill there.

Stored carefully in boxes in my bedroom for frequent perusing was my collection of “Movietone News” and “Photoplay” magazines; magazines purchased with some of the coins I'd received from the drink bottles and newspapers returned to the locals stores. Together with the glossy magazines, I had hundreds of cuttings taken from newspapers; the “Women’s Weekly”; “New Idea” and other similar periodicals. Like a ravenous hound, I devoured information about my favourite glamorous stars.

The impossibly handsome, charismatic Tony Curtis, like the real-life character he played in “Houdini”, created magic on the silver screen. Curtis committed burglary of my heart. His photographs adorned my bedroom walls. War hero Audie Murphy’s baby-faced youthfulness was never a deterrent to his Saturday six-gun shoot-outs.

Chivalrous heart-breaker Gregory Peck often starred as a protagonist in my romantic daydreams. Together, the cavalier Mr Peck and I shed tears over an orphaned yearling; stood in awe beneath snowy Kilimanjaro; carefree, we explored the piazzas of Rome on a Vespa; side by side we obsessed over a great white whale; and later, we became inspired by Atticus Finch.

Unfortunately, real life isn’t a rhapsodically romantic chronicle playing out a splendid script written and revised to suit; guiding us along the Yellow Brick Road to everlasting joy! Where happy endings are a given. How great it would be if Life was that simple; that pure!

I’ve mentioned similar previously - if unsatisfied with the modus operandi, the penultimate or final chapter, all or each could conveniently be erased and rewritten to satisfy one’s personal desires. It would be so exciting, if, upon a whimsical whim, we could compose our own narrative; introduce the obligatory tall, dark, handsome, daring, intelligent, sensitive, masculine, hot-blooded hero (feel free to add more descriptive adjectives) to the scenario. And it would be even more exciting if we were capable of creating and participating in thrilling, heart-stopping adventures; to have the ability to expunge all malevolence; quell uncertainties and fears; avert destructive actions before they raise their nasty heads; banish sorrow; make happiness mandatory.

As you can see, I daydream still - and get a kick out of composing my own scripts to suit; if only in my head and in my dreams!

Cinderella lived happily ever after! Enter my fictional realm and you can, too! Now - where did I hide my handsome, sensitive protagonist?

Jaffa Cheesecake: Line cake tin; press biscuit base into tin. Cream 1/2c icing sugar, 3/4c Nutella and 250g marscapone or cream cheese; add 1/3c melted dark chocolate and 4tbls Grand Marnier. Mix 1/4c hot water with 2tsp gelatine; cool. Fold into mix along with 600ml whipped cream. Pour over base; refrigerate 5 hours. Choc-citrus sauce: Melt some dark chocolate; while melting, stir in a few tablespoons of cream; stir through some Grand Marnier. When cheesecake has set, drip sauce over top. Garnish with smashed Jaffas.

Jaffa Mousse Cake: Preheat oven 160C. Zest and pulverize 2 oranges with 100g caster sugar; add 250g S.R. flour; add 200g melted butter and 3 large beaten eggs; mix well. Bake in lined 20cm spring-form tin, 90mins. Syrup and mousse: Syrup; mix together juice of 3 oranges and 100g caster sugar; add ¼ cup of Cointreau or Grand Marnier. Mousse: Beat 450ml cream until soft peaks form and then for a further 30 seconds; fold in 250g melted chocolate. Remove cooked cake from pan; cut in half horizontally while still hot. Wash and line cake tin with Glad-Wrap. Place bottom half of cake back into the lined tin; pour on half the syrup: add mousse; top with the other cake half. Pour rest of syrup over cake. Refrigerate 2hrs; remove from tin; place on serving plate. Icing: Add 150ml cream to 150g melted chocolate; ice cake; refrigerate before serving.

Blueberry Dream Fritters: Heat some oil in large pan. Combine 1c SR flour, 1/3c cornmeal, 1tsp baking powder and 1/3c caster sugar in bowl; combine 1/2c cream, 1 egg and 1tsp vanilla; mix into flour until just combined; fold in 1-1/2c blueberries; drop spoonfuls into hot oil; fry until golden; sprinkle with icing sugar.

THE KING WAS IN HIS COUNTING HOUSE COUNTING OUT HIS MONEY

In our household when my late brother and I were children it didn’t take long to count out the family’s money supply. There was never much money in our family’s bank account; sometimes none at all. The times the household coffers were depleted, bare-faced raids were conducted upon the contents of our Commonwealth Bank tin money boxes. Those days, every kid had one beside their bed.

We never minded, nor did we expect our money boxes to be refilled. Without complaint, we eagerly attended to that pressing matter of refilling the money boxes ourselves by concentrated scavenging efforts in search of empty soft drink bottles and newspapers to lug to the local stores in exchange for coins.

Our family may not have had much money, but we were fortunate in that we had a Nana who had a wealth of stories worth much more than their weight in gold or in a bagful of rare 1930 copper pennies. Time after time, we pestered our Nana to relate her bank of stories; stories of the “olden days”, of which she never tired of telling.

There are some folks who, unfortunately, are very poor. I don’t mean in the money sense, but in their characters. Some are interested only in what material things are left when a parent and/or grandparent departs this world. Their greedy, selfish actions bring to mind the wailing women clad in black depicted in “Zorba, the Greek”; the hags who rifled through the belongings of the newly-deceased “Madame Hortense”; Alexis Zorba’s "Bouboulina”; the ex-courtesan whose still warm body lay prone upon her bed.

In the meantime, lacking compassion, like of a committee of ravenous vultures, the old hags descended upon the dead woman’s possessions, ripping her bedroom and home apart in search of material items.

People who act that way are deficient in what is most valuable in their lives…their family history. Their avid, shallow interest in the material things too often means they miss out on the myriad stories that should not be let go; stories that should never go untold. Of course, not every story is a happy one; not every story has a happy ending. That’s life, though, isn’t it? Regardless, whether happy or sad, every story handed down through a family is woven into who we are; and who our children are; and so on through future generations.

Sometimes we are guilty of feeling shame when no shame should be felt at all. Much of what has gone on before is out of our hands and control; and, in particular, that applies to what went on a century or more ago! It’s all grist for the mill of one’s life. For those with children who choose not to pass on stories from their family history to their offspring are being very unfair to the younger generations. It’s so very selfish and unthinking not to do so. Those not interested in learning the stories and passing them on are self-centred and thoughtless.

Life isn’t easy; it never has been; and I doubt that it ever will be.
The greed displayed by many; their preference for material possessions over the possession of family tales is a blight that affects far too many people. Hovering and picking over a deceased relative’s belongings; and expecting a handout is shameful.

I feel lucky. I’m rich even though I inherited nothing from my grandmother or my mother in the material sense, but I did inherit a multitude of stories.

It’ll be slim pickings when I flip over the edge. There will be no fighting over my leftovers. I have no wealth to leave; but I do possess a wealth of stories, if anyone is interested!

Leftover Roast Beef Soup: Heat a little olive oil and butter in large saucepan. Sauté 2 large onions, sliced in rings, until soft and golden, but not brown; add 4 cups of beef stock. Add 300g diced, leftover roast beef…more or less as desired, and 2 cups of diced leftover vegetables…whatever you have, and, again, as much as desired. Bring to the boil and simmer 10-15 minutes. Divide into oven-proof bowls; float thick slices of stale sourdough, hearty wheat, rye or multi-grain bread on top of soup. Cover with each with a slice of provolone or Swiss cheese. Place under grill or in oven until cheese bubbles and browns.


Leftover Lamb Curry: Cut trimmed, leftover roast lamb into strips about ¼-inch thick. Sauté 1 cup chopped onion and 2 minced garlic cloves in a little oil; stir until onion begins to brown lightly, about 6-7 minutes. Being lazy…add 2 tablespoons quality curry powder and ½ teaspoon ground cumin; stir until spices are fragrant; about 30 seconds. Stir in lamb; add 1 heaped tablespoon of fruit chutney and one chopped, very ripe banana. Add 1-1/2 cups of chicken stock; bring to boil over high heat; season with salt and cayenne pepper, to taste. Mix 2 tablespoons cornflour (cornstarch) and ¼ cup stock. Stir into pan; stir until boiling resumes. Reduce heat; simmer 30 minutes. Serve curry with hot rice and suitable curry accompaniments such as; chutney; sliced banana; yoghurt, sliced cucumber etc. Leftover cooked roast chicken is a good substitute for the lamb.

Leftover Chicken Quiche: Preheat oven to 220C (428F). Using a 23cm pre-made pie shell (put pie shell into quiche dish) – arrange chopped, cooked chicken evenly over base; cover with 1 cup grated Gruyere cheese. In a small bowl beat 4 eggs with a fork; stir in 1 cup milk, 1 cup cream, 1x35g packet of French Onion soup mix and 1 cup grated Parmesan cheese. Pour into pie shell; sprinkle lightly with paprika. Bake in oven for 15 minutes; and then lower heat to 180C (355F); bake for 30 minutes more; allow to cool 10 minutes before serving.

LITTLE TREASURES OF DAYS GONE BY DISCOVERED AND UNCOVERED

Clockwise from top left: Ivy Flora Hose (Hay)- my grandmother. Elma Flora Hay and Ivy Hay and Jack (John) Hay on their wedding day.


I’m not going to get very far today…this I know already!

Last night I wrote a list of chores I wanted (read “needed”) to do today. I have a feeling that not everything on my adventurous list will get done; no doubt, I’ll get waylaid along the way! Already a couple of disturbances and hurdles have raised their furry heads! My two four-legged, rascally friends figure there is just too much enjoyment to be had in what I’m doing; and they decided to join in the activity! Why should they miss out in all the fun, they ask – I can see it written clearly on their faces – I’m no fool! I’ve given them a choice; it’s either the bathroom with the door locked; or the bedroom with the door padlocked. Knowing what side their bread is buttered on; and what side of the bed is the most comfortable and cosy, they’ve chosen the bedroom – of course! I can’t even say that they look smarter than they are; because they both are as smart as they look; and there is no denying it! They know it, too! I don’t stand a chance!

During my diggings I came across a very old article called “The Beadle.” - which was hidden away amongst my many bits, pieces, papers and other mysterious objects The “news bulletin” is dated February, 1918. It was published by the Gympie Presbyterian Church. From what I can gather it was a monthly newsletter.

What makes it interesting and personal to me is a notice therein of the untimely death of my great-grandfather, Robert Hose.

Quote: “We regret to record the death of Mr. Robert Hose, who was killed in the Scottish Gympie Mine by the fall of a rock. He was buried on the 24th, the Rev. W.J. Taylor officiating. R.Hose was just over 50 years of age, and within a few days would have left mining to take up land at Goomboorian.”

Robert Hose left behind a widow and six children; the eldest was 20 years old when Robert died; and the youngest, nine years of age.

I have written about this previously, I know; but I’ve felt urged to write more.

Robert Hose was my grandmother’s father – on my mother’s side of the Family Tree. A couple of brave off-shoots from those limbs of the “Tree” branched out from Scotland and Ireland to seek a better life in Australia in the mid to late 1800s. My great-grandmother, a wee Scottish lass named Flora Stuart MacDonald” (of both Scottish and Irish heritage) married Robert Hose, a tall, handsome Highlander. Robert sported a ginger moustache. One of Robert Hose’s daughters was my grandmother, Ivy Flora Hose.

Down the track a bit, Ivy married John Hay. John, more commonly known as “Jack” was also of Scottish heritage.

My grandmother was 16 years old at the time of her father’s fatal accident. Nana was born on 13th November, 1901. Australia’s Federation was January 1st, 1901.

Nana’s older brothers used to spin a tale or two when they were young (as all older brothers seem to have the habit of doing). They tried to convince her that the MacDonnell Ranges in the Northern Territory were discovered by a wandering relative. Of course, the name “MacDonnell” was not the spelling of their mother’s maiden name…”MacDonald”! And, our grandmother, always an avid reader, was wise to their trickery!

Upon starting school, my mother, Elma Flora Hay was asked by one of her teachers from where she got her rich, auburn tresses! Haughtily, my mother replied: “From my grandfather’s moustache!” Where else, indeed!

My mother had beautiful auburn hair and sparkling blue eyes…a true Irish colleen! Her mother, Ivy Flora Hay (nee “Hose”) had deep chestnut-coloured hair and blue eyes.

When my late brother and I were children we’d harass our Nana night after night around our bedtimes (and at other times) to tell us stories of the “olden days”; she willingly obliged. Nana told wonderful stories; and I know they were without embellishment and were all true as they happened. How I wish that somewhere along the line and over the years before her passing in 1976 that I’d recorded her many interesting reminiscences onto a more permanent file other than my own memory!

Take heed; let it be a lesson to each and everyone of us for the sake of our future generations. The stories our elders have stored away in their minds are worthy of recording, no matter how simple they may appear to be to our untrained ears. Myriad stories need to be told and recorded for posterity. The tales they have to tell are all part of our history; they may seem minor and insignificant, but they probably are much more than they may appear to be. It’s sad that there are so many stories that shall remain untold.

We find it so easy to pick up autobiographies by strangers; biographies of people we will never meet or get to know. Hungrily we pounce upon books of fiction, and yet many amongst us are not interested in what went before in the lives of our parents and theirs before them and so on. There is still so much to learn about our forefathers…from our parents; their parents and their parents. We shouldn’t bypass these gems of information. They are there (and ours) for the taking!

My brother and I would sit in silence, open-eyed as Nana told us stories of emus poking their heads through the kitchen window with the hope of stealing the silverware. The cutlery was always hidden away out of reach of the prying eyes and beaks of the cheeky, curious emus.

An Aboriginal woman, called “Emma” used to hover around my grandmother’s childhood home at Goomboorian. Emma played with my grandmother and her siblings when they were children. Nana and her brothers and sisters adored her, and in turn she loved them. The kids teased her good-naturedly and relentlessly as children do. And from what my brother and I were told, Emma gave as good as she got! Nana and her siblings would call out to her - “Emma-Emma-Black Bum! Emma-Emma-Black Gin”; and then they’d run in all directions, giggling, enjoying the challenge they’d set – day after day. Emma would chase them around the yard, laughing all the way. There was nothing nasty or vindictive in the children’s chants; and Emma took no offence at their teasing name-calling. With her long, brown skinny legs, Emma was faster than they were; a fact that they loved, and one of which they were aware. The children and Emma enjoyed the chase and the catch! Of course, those were the days long before political-correctness was the catch-phrase of the decade!

The distance between Goomboorian and Tin Can Bay is 32kms – a 29 minute car drive away, nowadays – or quicker, depending on how fast one drives! When my Nana was a young girl the trip was an overnighter by horse and buggy. The family set up camp on the banks of Coondoo Creek for an overnight stay before continuing on to Tin Can Bay; similar occurred on their return trip home.

There is more to this story...than that that meets the eye today!

PUPPY LOVE - THE ONE THAT BROKE FREE FROM THE LEASH….

In 1960, Paul Anka sang about it when he became smitten with Annette Funicello.

Shamelessly, three years earlier he had already declared his undying love for “Diana”! Back in 1957, he proclaimed emphatically; “You Are My Destiny”! He pleaded to “Diana”; “Put Your Head on My Shoulder” while confessing his “Crazy Love” for her, but she declined. Her refusal upset Paul. He wept as he admitted he was a “Lonely Boy”.

Soon after Paul’s “Diana” infatuation palled, it was then that his affection for Annette Funicello began. He fell under Annette’s spell when he spotted her gallivanting at the ocean’s edge with Frankie Avalon at a Beach Party. Avalon, by the way, thought her his “Venus”.

Not caring who heard, Frankie professed openly – “I Will Wait for You”; but he didn’t stand a chance once Paul slid down the dunes wearing his "budgie smugglers"!

Overcome with his desire for Annette, Paul warbled “Puppy Love” whenever in her presence (and when not); she was a goner from that moment on! The passion disintegrated rapidly, however, when Paul blurted out to the world: “You’re Having My Baby!” Annette wanted nothing more to do with him. Defeated, Paul said; ‘That’s it, then! From now on I’ll do it “My Way”!’

Marcie Blane warned all the girls within earshot that she was “Bobby’s Girl”. She told Connie Francis to back off when she heard Connie scream at Bobby; “That ‘Lipstick on Your Collar’ is mine!”

Down the road and around the corner, Little Peggy March didn’t discriminate, nor did she care who heard when she belted out at the top of her lungs; “I Will Follow Him!” as she marched after him. We never discovered who “him” was. Did she ever catch up with him; or is he still dodging her; and she, still marching behind?

We listened intently to all the love songs; we sang, danced and, sometimes, wept along to them. In our dreams we wished we had someone who would sing words of everlasting devotion to us; with lyrics that would melt our tender teenage hearts, and fulfill our teenage fantasies. How we longed to experience that special feeling so difficult to describe unless possessed of poetic or songwriting abilities like those of Paul Anka, Neil Sedaka, Dion and others of their ilk; the almost indescribable emotion when one’s heart and trembling tummy felt like they were bouncing up and down on a trampoline. The lows that came with the massive highs we learned to deal with by shedding a torrent of tears while promising to no one in particular; “I’ll Never Fall in Love Again!”

I had a big dose of the “woofs” aka “puppy love” the moment I locked eyes with a handsome young drummer in a Gympie band. I was a starry-eyed 14-year old high school student. My heart was his prisoner for a few years. We only ever locked eyes! Ours was love at arms’ length! Sadly he has now passed away, but, to this day he still holds a place in my heart. That’s not a bad thing; it’s kind of romantic in a way. Puppy love is important to one’s emotional growth, in my opinion.

Veal with Artichoke Hearts: Combine 1/4c plain flour, salt and pepper. Pound to ¼-inch thickness, 250g veal cutlets; coat cutlets in the flour. Melt 1/4c butter in skillet; add cutlets; brown; add 1 can, drained, quartered artichoke hearts, 1tbs lemon juice and 1/2c dry white wine. Cook 2-3mins.

Marsala Tenderloins: With tender loving care, pound to ¼-inch thickness 450-500g pork tenderloin (fillet); coat in flour mixture as for veal. Heat 3tbs olive oil in large pan over med-high heat; cook pork 2-3mins; brown all sides; remove to platter; set aside. Add 250g sliced mushrooms and 2 thinly-sliced onions to pan; sauté 6-8mins; stir in 1/2c Marsala; (add a little cream, too, if you like); cook a couple of minutes; return pork; season; cook 3-4mins.

Cupid’s Ice Cream Cupcakes: Grab two of those rich chocolate cupcakes you made; place on individual plates; top with a scoop of chocolate ice cream. Drizzle with caramel sauce; sprinkle each with chopped pecans and toasted shredded coconut; decorate with sliced strawberries.

Sweetheart Fudge Pie: Beat 1/2c butter and 3/4c firmly-packed brown sugar at med-speed until light and fluffy; add 3 large eggs, one at a time; beat after each addition. Stir in 375g melted semi-sweet chocolate, 2tsp instant coffee granules and 1tsp vanilla; stir in 1/2c plain flour and 1c chopped walnuts/pecans; pour into unbaked pastry shell. Bake in 190C oven, 25mins; cool completely; chill.

Hot Caribbean Kiss: Heat 75ml good quality golden rum with 1tbs raisins, 1tsp marmalade and 1tsp brown sugar until sugar and marmalade dissolve. Pour into a wine glass; decorate with strips of lemon and orange zest.

TURN…TURN…TURN….TO EVERYTHING THERE IS A SEASON….

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, a time to reap that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace... I swear it’s not too late


Along with “the sun also rises” and “there is nothing new under the sun” and many other astute aphorisms, The Book of Ecclesiastes in the Old Testament attested - to everything there is a season; and a time for every purpose under the heaven.

Learned scholars date Ecclesaistes back to the 3rd Century BC; while some others of similar learning support a 4th Century dating. What’s in a century or two; either which way the profound philosophies expounded therein remain wise and pertinent to this day. I wonder if there is anyone around nowadays whose thoughts will still be respectfully quoted in thousands of centuries hence!

I’m not sure if I agree with all that was written in the above snippet. For instance, is there really a “time to kill”? In the broad sense, I guess there is...particularly if you’re not a vegetarian. But then, it could be said that vegetarians aren’t exempt…they do kill plants. And as for a “time to reap what is planted” – that, too, can have ramifications if what was planted in the first instance was illegal, if you get my drift!

It’s sad; so very distressing; and so very wrong that there has to be “a time of war”. I wish there was never again a time for the purpose of war; that “a time of peace” lasted forever.

I’ve always been a dreamer.

In 1959, noted folk singer/songwriter, Pete Seeger pondered a while upon Ecclesiastes’ “there is a season”. Seeger adapted it entirely except for the last line; and then set it to music. Within a couple of years it was spinning on our turntables as “Turn! Turn! Turn!” Pete Seeger released his version in 1962 as did the folk group, “The Limelighters. Three years later in 1965, “The Byrds” turned the song into a massive, enduring hit. Many others, including Judy Collins jumped onto our turntables and into the airwaves with their cover versions.

I feel very fortunate to have lived in such an era filled with a multiple of wonderful groups like “The Byrds”; “Crosby, Stills & Nash”; “The Flying Burritos”, to name but three out of so many.

And before those groups hit the scene, I feel so lucky to have spent many evenings sitting around with friends, sipping on coffee; searching for the meaning of life, while listening to the likes of Seeger, Dylan, Joan Baez, Peter, Paul and Mary, Mahalia Jackson, Nina Simone, Miriam Makeba, Odetta, The New Christy Minstrels, Josh White et al...the list goes on forever. And that was just in the early Sixties…before the revolution hit! Before bands like “The Byrds” came along – and then a whole new fleet of music-makers arrived on our doorsteps, taking us along for the ride. And what a ride it was!

I’ve not even crossed the Atlantic Ocean from the US to the UK, yet; I’ll take that cruise later down the track.

In the meantime, Creedence Clearwater was just being revived; and Jimmy Buffet hadn’t yet found the perfect recipe for Margaritas! Willie was still on the road...again; and John Denver was leaving on a jet plane; that was long before he decided to take the country roads back home, instead; after all, he was a country boy at heart; and he thanked God that he was.

We were all shook up when Elvis was shipped off to Germany. Upon his return we couldn’t help falling in love with him all over again. We were glad the US Army obeyed our call to have Elvis returned to sender!

Neil Diamond declared that he was a believer and the Monkees believed him; and soon, the rest of us fell under his spell, too and toasted him with some Crackling Rosie. Neil didn’t mind being a solitary man and when sweet Caroline comforted him, he turned to her and said: “Girl, You’ll be a woman soon.”

To be continued…..I’m on a roll and like a rolling stone, I shall gather no moss!

DOWN, BUT NOT OUT! FLOORED, BUT NOT FLAWED!

When we’re young - to clarify, I mean those of you who slot into my vintage; we who were young yesterday; and are mature today; now I’ve sorted that out, I’ll return to where I began - when we were young we believed we had a one-way ticket to love. However, it didn’t take me long to think beyond the box; I bought a book of tickets, rather than just one sole ticket. Our tender, innocent hearts were bent or broken more than once. Mine was, but I had a good supply of band-aids and spare tickets on hand to see me through.

There were times I felt down, but never out. Like “Scarlett O’Hara”, I believed “tomorrow was another day”; it still is. And just like Scarlett, I picked myself up; took a look around and realised that a new day invariably brought with it fresh challenges, hopes, dreams; and another, maybe even improved, un-flawed person of interest. Perhaps it was the new boy in town or the tanned Adonis flexing his muscles at the beach who deserved a second glance and closer examination, even if from afar and unbeknown by him, the unsuspecting subject/victim! Feeling down isn’t fun unless it’s the down an Eider duck has generously donated for a quilt!

We soon learn that reality isn’t like the lives depicted in novels or in movies where the scripts are pre-written; and then erased and rewritten to suit; where questions have already been answered on the pages that follow; or when the next scene unfolds upon the screen. If the author or director doesn’t like where a plot is heading, he/she deletes or yells “Cut!” whichever applies; and then starts all over again on a new vein. If that doesn’t work, they delete or cut until the story makes sense; culminating in an ending befitting the plot and the images in their mind.

The hero with his penetrating eyes; an errant lock of hair falling across his broad brow; his teasing, come-hither lips parted slightly with a hint of a sneer seductively tempts his quarry to heed his bidding. His defenseless prey (and reader/viewer) helplessly surrenders to his “come-hither-ing”. If you are a male reading this, change the above to “heroine”; you fill in the blanks.

I’m a “black and white” person, but it’d be un-Christian of me not to notice there’s a lot of “Grey” matter about lately; and I’m not going to miss out on all the fun…and games. I feel like jumping on the bandwagon or bouncing up and down on that down-filled doona.

I thought I heard a strong wind outside; I was floored when I learned it wasn’t wind! It was all the heavy breathing engulfing the mountain at the moment! While out driving the other day, I noticed every second house had fogged-up windows. When I discovered the real cause, again I was floored! The fogging wasn’t caused by log fires! Obviously, there’s nothing bland or boring about having a little grey in one’s life!

Showing great restraint, here are my somewhat grey recipes!

Christian Grey B & B (that's "Bread and Butter", not "Bed and Breakfast"!) Pudding: Preheat oven 180C; grease and line loaf tin. Pour 200ml each milk and cream into saucepan; stir in 2tsp Earl Grey tea leaves. Heat until not quite simmering; leave at this temp for 10-12mins; add 75g sugar and 1tsp vanilla essence; whisk; pour in thin stream into 3 beaten eggs. Slice 6 croissants on shallow angle, getting 4 thick slices from each. Dip slices into mixture until well-soaked. Line bottom of tin with slices; sprinkle over slivered almonds and roughly-chopped dark chocolate; continue layering; reserve some almonds and chocolate to sprinkle over top layer. Carefully pour any remaining liquid around tin edges; bake 40mins or until set.

Grey’s Cupcakes with Butter Cream: Preheat oven 176C; fill 2 cupcakes pans with liners or grease well, Beat 1c unsalted butter until creamy; add 2c sugar; cream until light and fluffy; add 4 eggs, 1 at a time; beat very well after each addition. Beat in 1-1/2c S.R. flour along with 2tbs dry Earl Grey tea; add 1c milk and extra 1-1/2c S.R. flour; stir until just combined. Fill pans 2/3rd full; bake 20-25mins; rotate halfway through for even baking; cool thoroughly. Frosting: Cream 1c unsalted butter until smooth; gradually beat in 4c icing sugar; zest 1 lemon over frosting; add 3tbs lemon juice or Limoncello; stir until smooth; spread or pipe frosting onto cooled cupcakes. Add 1tbs Earl Grey tea leaves to frosting for extra “oomph”, if desired.

Vanilla Grey Tea Cake: Preheat oven 176C. Lightly grease and flour 8-inch round cake tin. Combine 1-1/2c sifted plain flour, 1/4c cornflour, 1-1/2tsp baking powder and 1/4ts salt. In larger bowl, beat 1/2c unsalted butter, 3/4c raw sugar, vanilla essence and 1tbs finely chopped Earl Grey loose tea, until light and fluffy; add 3 room temp eggs, 1 at a time; beat well after each addition. Add flour mixture to wet mixture; pour in 1c full cream milk; mix until just blended - don’t over-mix; immediately pour into pan; bake until inserted toothpick comes out clean, about 25mins. Cool in pan 12mins before serving.

There you go! My abridged version - "Three Shades of Grey"!