When The Moon's In The Sky Like A Big Pizza Pie...It's Time To Eat!

I was in the middle of writing for this post when I got interrupted by an unexpected visit from my computer guy...so everything came up before I had a chance to tell a tale or three. Now all is fixed. Mr. Computer has gone, but is returning tomorrow to share a wine or two during which time we'll solve the problems of the world.

After last weekend's Meatloaf recipe, the thought of a meatloaf played around in my mind all week. Guess what's in my oven at the moment? Yep...two meatloaves....one for now and left-overs tomorrow and the other I will pop in the freezer for "ron".

Pizzas will be playing around in my mind after this post. That's okay, though, as I have a couple of bases in the freezer waiting for toppings when the mood takes hold.

When I was living and working in Cairns, for a while I looked after a little pizza place at Yorkeys Knob, at the northern beaches just north of the city. I worked the little eatery/take-away about five nights a week. I had a full-time day job in the real estate office as secretary/property manager, but the pizzas, pasta etc., allowed me to keep "my finger in the pie" as it were.

Some years later when I was cheffing in Gympie prior to moving here to the mountain, I wandered out into the dining area of the restaurant one night and to my surprise, Yvonne, the owner of the pizza shops (she operated four in the Cairns area) was one of my diners! No longer living in Cairns, she was visiting relatives in Gympie. She had re-located to Brisbane. A little while later, we caught up with the intervening years when Yvonne came to stay one weekend. I think I may have fed her a little too much wine, as I've not seen her since! It is, however a small world in which we live!

I hope you enjoy the following recipes.

Potato, Spinach & Lamb Pizza

1 x30cm fresh pizza base
150 g tomato paste
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 onion, thinly sliced
1/2 cup basil leaves, shredded, with extra leaves for serving
3 desiree potatoes, sliced very thinly
100 g baby spinach leaves
200 g mozzarella cheese, grated
2 lamb loin fillets
2 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

Preheat oven to 200C. Line a baking tray with baking paper. Combine tomato paste, garlic and oregano in a small saucepan and warm over gentle heat. Remove from heat and set aside. Lace pizza base onto baking try and spread evenly with tomato paste mixture. Top with potato slices, onion, spinach, basil and mozzarella. Season to taste. Bake for 20 minutes until bas is crispy and the cheese is golden. While the pizza is cooking, season the lamb and cook under hot grill for 3-5 minutes each side (or longer if you wish). Slice into 1cm thick slices and place on pizza. Drizzle with balsamic vinegar and top with extra basil leaves.

Smoked Salmon & Caviar Gourmet Pizzas

½ cup crème fraiche (or sour cream)

4oz thinly sliced smoked salmon

1 Lebanese cucumber, sliced very, very thinly

1oz caviar

1tablespoon finely chopped fresh chives

Thin Crust Pizza Dough

¾ cup warm water

1-1/2 tablespoons olive oil

¼ teaspoon salt

2 cups self-raising or bread flour

2 teaspoons active dry yeast

Place yeast in warm water and let it froth up. Place flour and salt in bowl. Make well in centre. When yeast is ready, pour it into the flour and mix together with a flat-bladed knife. Knead lightly in the bowl, and then remove the dough from the bowl to a lightly oiled surface. Knead the dough several times and form the dough into an oval; cover with a towel and let rest for 10 minutes.

Roll and stretch the dough into a 14-inch circle. For this recipe, when kneading, leave the dough a little more wet than usual, as this will help give it a crispy crust. Divide the pizza dough into two pieces and roll each section into a 9-inch circle. Place the dough rounds on the prepared pizza peel. Lightly brush with olive oil to within 1/2-inch of the edge. Transfer the pizzas into the oven and bake for 8 to 12 minutes until golden brown and crisp. Remove from oven and let cool slightly.

Spread a thin layer of 1/2 of the creme fraiche over the slightly cooled pizza crusts. Arrange the smoked salmon evenly over the top of the creme fraiche on each pizza to completely cover. Layer the cucumber slices over the smoked salmon, overlapping slightly to create a design. Using a pizza cutter or knife, cut each pizza into 4-6 slices. On centre of each slice, dab a little bit of extra creme fraiche. Place 1/2-1 teaspoons of caviar on top of the creme fraiche. Sprinkle with chopped, fresh chives. Serve immediately.

Prawn/Shrimp & Sea Scallop Pizza

About 12 green (raw) prawns
6-8 sea scallops (cut in half if large)
1 14 ounce ready-made pizza crust
1 cup veggies of choice (onions, mushrooms, peppers, etc.)
1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese

Preheat oven. Top pizza crust with prepared-macadamia nut pesto. Place prawns, scallops and vegetables of choice over pesto. Sprinkle with cheese. Bake until seafood is cooked and cheese melted.

For Liz: Dear Harvey...

The “World of Blogging” brings together so many people across the world, near and far. So many wonderful people, who, in “real life”, we wouldn't have the opportunity to meet. Well, in my case, anyway. Those of you who regularly visit and comment on my blog have become dear to me, and from that, comes caring. Caring about each other's personal highs and lows throughout the course has brought me laughter, and along with the laughter, tears.

Some of you, dear readers, visit Liz’s blog, “Finding Life Hard”…a very apt title for what Liz has been experiencing these past few days. This one is for you, Liz…and for Harvey.

Dear Harvey, Liz’s beloved pet, a proud, beautiful English setter, whom all those who partake in Liz’s blog grew to know and love, is no longer with us.

I know I fell in love with Harvey upon first glimpse. His trials and tribulations over these past few months caused me both smiles and heartache. Harvey reminded me of “Bundy”, an English Setter, who was the best mate of good friends of mine a few years ago.

I was living and working in Glenden, north-west of Mackay, a specially-constructed mining town to service Newlands coal mine, a susbsidiary of MIM (Mount Isa Mines). The mine is situated 33kms from town. The new township of Glenden came into existence about eleven years before I arrived at its “town gates”.

Morris Catering, who had the catering and accommodation contract, were approached by the hierarchy of the mining company to erect a first-class motel of twenty rooms, together with a licensed restaurant to cater to the needs of visiting mining company representatives, bankers, financiers, mining executives and the like.

When I left Newry Island, I entered a totally different world than that I’d experienced living on, and working the island alone. Back amongst the reality of the mainland, I gained employment as chef at “Lorikeets’ Restaurant”. There, I became a close friend to the managers of the motel/restaurant, Charles and Karen, a friendship that continues today.

Along with the friendship and the job, came Bundy, Charles and Karen’s much-loved English setter. Bundy was cream in colour, similar to Liz’s Harvey. He was a wonderful dog, full of character, good humour and, normally, good manners. Immediately, I was smitten. At home, I had my own very special and very spoiled pets, two cats, Pushkin and Rimsky, together with Missy, a black cocker spaniel, all of whom I adored. At work, I had two more pets, Bundy and Tiger, the tabby cat.

I’m sure Bundy was a human dressed in dog’s clothes. Charles had a picture of him, sitting at the cocktail bar, dark glasses perched on his aristocratic nose, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his smiling mouth and a stubby of beer (VB), clutched in his paws. Bundy was allowed in the foyer, office and bar area only when the guests were absent. Often during dinner service, he could be seen sitting outside the sliding glass doors, staring into the restaurant, watching every mouthful taken by the dinner guests. If I hadn’t known better I could have felt so sorry for the poor, "starved", begging dog and allowed his pleading eyes rip at the chords of my heart. However, I did know better. I was wise to his ploys! Bundy was a very well-cared for dog. He was spotless in his habits, never “spoiling” the grounds of the motel, instead opting to wander to uninhabited acres of shrubs, open-space and bushland across the way from his personal territory.

Whenever Charles and Karen left the motel, whether it be for their allotted monthly days off or when they traveled back to New Zealand on holidays, I’d move into the motel to take over the management and care of Bundy and Tiger, dividing my time between them and my own pets. Fortunately, my duplex was within walking distance to and from the motel. Invariably, upon the return of Charles and Karen, I would be in trouble for spoiling Bundy. Late at night, while watching television or listening to music in an effort to “come down” from the day and evening's events, it was Bundy’s habit to cuddle up next to me on the sofa with his head resting on my lap. Sometimes, he’d try (and succeed) to snuggle his way on to my lap entirely…the big cream lump of fluffy hair! Waking up in the morning, I’d find both him and Tiger curled up together on the bottom of my bed (Charles and Karen’s bed)!

Down the line a bit, I left Glenden to work and live in Collinsville, in the coal-rich Bowen Basin, transferring across with Morris Catering to become chef/manager of the Mess, catering to the meal requirements of the single miners and the single men’s quarters of Collinsville Coal, another subsidiary of Mount Isa Mines.

Charles and Karen decided to take their vacation over the Christmas season and return again to New Zealand. I went back to Glenden for the duration, leaving one of my staff in charge of the canteen and accommodation in my absence. My brother, who lived in Mackay whose holidays coincided with this period, decided to spend his time at my home in Collinsville so he could take care of my pets during my absence.

Christmas Day arrived. I had no guests staying at the motel and the restaurant was closed. This is the “norm” for a town like Glenden at that time of the year. All the” usual suspects” from “out-of-town” who were our regular motel and restaurant guests took their holidays over the Christmas period. Folk traveling to Glenden for personal reasons stayed in the homes of their friends or families. Glenden didn’t have a tourist trade. Our trade at the motel almost solely catered to businesses, companies and their executives etc., to the extent the restaurant opened from Monday night to Thursday night on any given week. We only operated the restaurant on Friday and Saturday evenings “upon request”.

Friends, whom I had originally met when they were guests of mine on Newry Island, and who lived in Glenden, invited me to their home for drinks on Christmas morning. My attempts to leave the premises became like a scene out of “The Great Escape”! Bundy refused to leave my side. He followed me from bedroom to bathroom, back to the bedroom, to the living room, to the kitchen…(and repeat that about a dozen times)! He stuck close to my heels. A moment came when he was out of sight, so I stealthily crept into my car. Gingerly, I placed the key in the ignition. Still no sign of him, I pulled out of the motel grounds. My car at the time was a Hyundai Excel hatchback, not a big car. As I turned into the main street of Glenden, out of the corner of my right eye, and level with it, I spied a loping cream image, a huge smile across its face, with hair streaming and tail waving wildly. It was Bundy. I drew to a stop, opened the passenger side door, and said resignedly, “Okay, Bundy! You win! Get in!” So Bundy came with me for Christmas drinks. He enjoyed the outing!

Christmas lunch was going to pose a major problem as I was spending it at the Glenden Workers’ Club. Arriving back at the motel after a couple of hours at Jan and Mick’s home, I turned on the air conditioning in the unit, and locked Bundy inside. It was an extremely hot summer’s day, that Christmas. After lunch, I was invited to the home of friends, but before going, I again returned to the motel, gathered up Bundy and he came along, too. He had a wonderful Christmas Day!

Animals really know how to creep into your heart and take hold of a huge slice of it, don’t they? Their love is unconditional. I believe, and I’m sure I can speak for all of us who love our pets, we return that love, unconditionally, too.

Losing a beloved pet is very traumatic. It is heartbreaking. Our pets are so much a part of our lives, of who we are. They become who we are…they “pick up” from us, stealing parts of our character.

I’ve shed many tears over my pets. I’ve loved them all dearly. I love my two cats, Remy and Shama. My pets have always been of major importance in my life since I was a very small child.

Liz…I shed tears for dear Harvey. He, too, stole a piece of my heart. I shed them for you, too, as I empathize with you in your sadness at having lost a good mate.

Dear Harvey....this is for you....say "G'day!" to Bundy for me.

Arrrrrgghhh! Frustration!

I've been ordering and purchasing a lot of music lately through Amazon. Also, I've been burning CDs for a friend. There's been a flood of music going on around here at my cabin!

Yesterday, while sitting enjoying a sip of wine and conversation with my music-loving friend, a thought flashed through my mind...in one side and out the other, leaving a trail, but not a clue as to the name of the thought! Since that "flash" I've been tearing my hair out trying to think of a particular rock group. I had taped, onto reel-to-reel, years ago, a borrowed album of not an extremely well-known a band. They weren't a "commercially-popular" group, but they were excellent. Of course, the reel-to-reel tape player is long gone, as are the tapes...as is my memory of the particular group's name! And ever since its teasing, fleeting appearance in my mind yesterday, leaving behind not a trace of a clue to its name other than a vague, foggy image, I've been tormented, trying desperately to recall. Isn't this kind of thing so damn frustrating?

As I've been going slowly insane here trying to remember, I've been searching the Net in an attempt to trigger some movement in my brain. I've come up with a list of pop/rock music from the early to mid-seventies that still stands up today....see what you think...

• Ain't Too Proud to Beg - The Rolling Stones
  
• The Air That I Breathe - The Hollies (always has been a big favourite of mine)
  
• Already Gone - Eagles
  
• Annie's Song - John Denver
  
• Another Park, Another Sunday - The Doobie Brothers
• Back Home Again - John Denver
• The Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me - Gladys Knight & The Pips
  
• Billy, Don't Be a Hero - Bo Donaldson & The Heywoods (this is a bit "whatever" but it reminds me of a special time in my life...so it always brings back memories when I hear it)
  
• The Bitch is Back - Elton John
  
• Bungle in the Jungle - Jethro Tull
  
• Call on Me - Chicago
  
• Can't Get Enough - Bad Company
  
• Can't Get Enough Of Your Love, Babe - Barry White
  
• Carefree Highway - Gordon Lightfoot
  
• Cat's in the Cradle - Harry Chapin
  
• Clap for the Wolfman - The Guess Who
  
• Come and Get Your Love - Redbone
  
• Come Monday - Jimmy Buffett
  
• Country Bumpkin - Cal Smith
  
• If You Could Read My Mind - Gordon Lightfoot
  
• Daybreak - Nilsson
  
• Devotion - Earth, Wind & Fire
  
• Distant Lover - Marvin Gaye
  
• Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me - Elton John
  
• Dream On - The Righteous Brothers
  
• Fly Like An Eagle - The Steve Miller Band
  
• Take The Money & Run - The Steve Miller Band
  
• Piano Man - Billy Joel
  
• Ricky Don't Lose That Number - Steely Dan
  
• Do It Again - Steely Dan
  
• Dirty Work - Steely Dan
  
• Reelin' In the Years - Steely Dan (Oh! The whole album "Can't Buy a Thrill")!
  
• Feel Like Makin' Love - Roberta Flack
  
• Free Bird - Lynyrd Skynyrd
  
• Free Man in Paris - Joni Mitchell
  
• Haven't Got Time For the Pain - Carly Simon
  
• Help Me - Joni Mitchell
  
• Hooked On A Feeling - Blue Swede
  
• I Can Help - Billy Swan
  
• I Feel a Song (in My Heart) - Gladys Knight & The Pips
  
• I Honestly Love You - Olivia Newton-John
• I Shot the Sheriff - Eric Clapton
  
• I'll Have to Say I Love You in a Song - Jim Croce
• Joy (Pt. 1) - Isaac Hayes
  
• Lookin' for a Love - Bobby Womack
  
• Midnight at the Oasis - Maria Muldaur
  
• Midnight Rider - Gregg Allman
  
• Mockingbird - Carly Simon & James Taylor
  
• My Thang - James Brown
  
• The Night Chicago Died - Paper Lace (this was on the same compilation album as "Billy Don't Be a Hero...so same memories of that time)
  
• One Hell of a Woman - Mac Davis
  
• Play Something Sweet (Brickyard Blues) - Three Dog Night
  
• Please Come To Boston - Dave Loggins
  
• River's Risin' - Edgar Winter Group
  
• Rock and Roll Heaven - The Righteous Brothers
• Seasons In the Sun - Terry Jacks - (based on a Jacques Brel song)
• Je t'aime - Jacques Brel
  
• The Show Must Go On - Three Dog Night
  

And as "The Show Must Go On"...so could this list! So much good music came out of the early to mid-seventies. Not to mention "Vanilla Fudge" who, of course, formed earlier than the seventies...but they, too, were great. And of course, if I insist on writing about music of that time, who could or should ever forget "Time" and "The Time Has Come" by The Chambers Brothers? Or Crosby, Stills, Nash (And Young)...The Moody Blues! And still...there is Tangerine Dream....and I've not even mentioned David Bowie, yet! Just as I wrote that, Santana poked his head around the corner!

And how-about the "Easy Rider" soundtrack!!! Oh! Dear! How could I even think of leaving out Van Morrison's "Astral Weeks"?

Did I hear someone mention "Canned Heat"? And of course, Deep Purple had to join in!

*Cough*...excuse me! Who opened The Doors and let Hendrix and Joplin in?

I shouldn't start on music...I never know where to end! Same goes with books...I'll have to formulate a list of books and authors soon, too...just to stir up the pot even more!

In the meantime, I'll keep tearing my hair out, strand by strand, until I can remember the name of the band that originally started all of this!

Up And At 'Em! Don't Let The Moss Grow Under Your Feet!

I fell down a hole...well, actually, I was pushed, but I'm back, full of vim and vigour. I've fallen into holes much deeper, darker and more dangerous before and have always managed to climb back up again. This time was no different, probably just with more determination! You can't keep a good girl down for long! I am released! I've seen the light, in the words of the evangelists of the world! (Can you hear the gospel singers in the background?) Clap your hands and sing along!

Enough of that nonsense! Let's get serious about some good food instead. Now, that's much more fun.

When I was living up in North Queensland, regularly my brother visited me on his weekends, coming from Mackay to wherever it was I was living at the time. He loved my meatloaves, so it became a "thing". I would have to make two meatloaves for him to take back home when he left. He would freeze one and use the other for his lunches and meals for the ensuing week. After cooking, split shifts, six days a week, I have no need to elaborate, I really looked forward to having to prepare the meatloaves!!! Needless to say, I've not made a meatloaf since, but enough time has transpired and the thought of a tasty meatloaf meal is making inroads into my mind. Knock! Knock! Okay! Okay! I can hear you!

I have a feeling meatloaf is going to be on my menu in the not too distant future!

Meatloaf

1kg or 2lbs ground beef (or half & half using beef and pork mince)
2 eggs
1 cup fresh bread crumbs (up to 1 1/2 cups)
1 cup grated Parmesan
1 tablespoon Italian herbs or mixed herbs
1 tablespoon black pepper
2 tablespoons fresh chopped parsley leaves
2 cloves garlic, minced or pressed
1 onion, diced finely,
1 packet dried mushroom soup (or French onion)
1/2 cup tomato sauce/ketchup
1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
milk
8 slices cheddar
8 slices ham
8 slices bacon

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

In a large mixing bowl, combine ground beef, eggs, breadcrumbs, Parmesan cheese, herbs, garlic, onion, ketchup, Worcestershire. Mix well, gradually adding the milk (if it seems too moist, add bread crumbs until it is a consistency that will form a loaf without flattening. Spray a large baking or roasting pan with a non-stick spray and press the meatloaf out. Layer cheese slices and ham, covering the center line of the meatloaf, then close it together and tuck in the ends, forming a loaf which is oblong. Criss-cross the bacon strips to cover the loaf. Bake for 35 to 45 minutes or so.

Let rest 15 minutes, then cut and serve hot with vegetables and gravy, or cold with salad.

(Using the base meatloaf recipe and not stuffing with ham and cheddar is just as good, of course. The above is just a fancy twist on the basic meatloaf...and there's nothing wrong with the "basic meatloaf")

Chicken Saltimbocca

6 (3-ounce) chicken cutlets, pound to flatten
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
6 paper-thin slices prosciutto
1 (10-ounce) box frozen chopped spinach, thawed
3 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 cup grated Parmesan
1 (14-ounce) can low-salt chicken broth
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
6 Sage leaves
Crushed garlic

Place the chicken cutlets flat on the work surface. Sprinkle the chicken with salt and pepper. Lay 1 slice of prosciutto, a sage leaf on top of each chicken cutlet. Squeeze the frozen spinach to remove the excess water. Season the spinach with salt and pepper. In a small bowl, toss the spinach with 1 tablespoon of oil and crushed garlic to coat. Arrange an even, thin layer of spinach on top of the prosciutto slices. Sprinkle the Parmesan evenly over each. Beginning at the short tapered end, roll up each chicken cutlet. Secure with a toothpick.

Heat the remaining 2 tablespoons of oil in a heavy large skillet over high heat. Add the chicken and cook just until golden brown, about 2 minutes per side. Add the chicken broth and lemon juice, and scrape the browned bits off the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon. Bring the liquid to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium. Cover and simmer until the chicken is just cooked through, about 8 to 10 minutes. Transfer the chicken to a platter. Simmer the cooking liquid over high heat until it is reduced to about 2/3 cup, about 5 minutes. Season the cooking liquid with salt and pepper, to taste. Remove toothpicks from the chicken. Drizzle the reduced cooking liquid over the chicken and serve immediately.

Sauteed Squid

Extra-virgin oil and some butter
500g/1lb clean squid with tentacles,
bodies cut into 1/3- to 1/2-inch-thick rings
2 cups plain (all-purpose) flour
2 tablespoons chopped parsley
A load of freshly crushed garlic
A couple of tablespoons fresh lemon juice
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 lemons, cut into wedges

Pour some oil and about 1 tablespoon into wok. Heat over medium heat to 350 degrees F. Mix the flour, parsley, salt, and pepper in a large bowl. Working in small batches, toss the squid into the flour mixture to coat. Carefully add the squid to the oil, pour in some lemon juice and saute' until the squid turns opaque...this only takes about a minute (about 1 minute per batch). Using tongs or a slotted spoon, transfer the squid onto a platter or individual serving dishes. The serving platter or individual dishes can have either rocket or shredded lettuce as a base upon which to lay the cooked squid. Decorate with lemon wedges.

Hopefully those recipes should put a smile on our faces. Today is a new day. Yesterday has gone and only fading memories remain. The future looks bright and breezy. I might even go down to the coast for a couple of days. These sunny, clear blue sky days we're experiencing at the moment are tempting and teasing me. A couple of walks along a wide stretch of sandy, golden beach are perfect natural elixirs. But then, I have some magical areas up here on the mountain to explore as well. I've charged not only my batteries, but those of my digital camera also, so I might do a wander and see what I can discover. Oh! Decisions! Decisions!

Into An Abyss

Love Lost with Dignity

In the deep of night like the ancient call of the dingo

My heart howls in the darkness I weep despairingly

Wondering why my precious love you chose to forego

Tenacious images of you tease my mind persistently

Times past, times to come and today a lonely journey

Forever seeking with hopeful breaths of expectation

Through the frenzy of life blindfolded by melancholy

I exist in an artificial world surrounded by frustration

No longer do I love you as I once did yesterday’s gone

Hours of tears hurt pain greet the light of a new dawn

Another day my love deepens in irrational capitulation

In the game lovers play I am but an incompetent pawn

.....Sketch and poem by Lee...

How shall I begin? I've been "missing in action" the past couple of days. Real life raised its ugly head and I pulled mine in!

After going out for a couple of hours this morning, I came home and started working on a new painting, but first I had to clear up the mess around my paint table and easels. It's so long, it seems, since I've picked up my paint brushes. The time has come to become lost in the world of acrylics, brushes and canvases again. I'm a bit disgruntled as the painting I had been working on (incomplete) is destroyed! Not by me, although I feel cranky enough about it to destroy it! I'm not sure if I can save it, which is unfortunate as it was coming along well. Somehow, mildew decided to make a home on the canvas. Instead of the interesting scene that was unfolding in shades of mauve, lavender and purple, amongst other hues, black spots and stripes have taken over! I'm not sure if I can salvage the painting, but when my mood suits, I will give it a try. Failing success, I probably will have to 'gesso' over the whole thing and start again. I'm afraid I have little patience when things go wrong like that, so I'll probably put it aside for that "rainy day". The way the drought is going here, that could be forever!

I was talking with a guy when I was out this morning (not so strange!). I have no idea who he is but he was 'manning' one of the Landcare stalls at a "Tamborine Mountain Landcare Community Awareness Day". I asked him why he didn't have brochures on Hinchinbrook Island as he had brochures on just about everywhere else in his display. I was interested in his reply...."Hinchinbrook Island is a 'she'".....

I smiled at him, telling him I had once lived on the island and agreed that that could be true, and I related an experience or two that I had had.

I've never liked Fraser Island, having spent a fair deal of time on Fraser when I was living at Noosa. Without fail, every time I stayed on Fraser Island (and we never "roughed" it as an aunty lived there at Happy Valley...she had a three-bedroom house, billiard room and all the mod cons), my personality changed. It was as if a dark, looming threatening
cloud descended over me. I couldn't wait to leave Fraser Island, eventually foregoing any further visits there. Once I arrived back to the Double Island Point/Coloured Sands part of the coast heading back to Noosa, the dark cloud lifted and disappeared. Everything was bright and breezy once again. Strange, weird, I know but that's how it was.

The moment I set eyes on Hinchinbrook Island and stepped ashore, a wide smile broke across my face. I felt I had arrived "home". I experienced the same feeling when I first saw Newry Island and ran up the beach after alighting from the boat.

This guy this morning understood what I told him. He said Fraser Island was a "he". An Aboriginal thing apparently. He loves Fraser Island, as did my ex-husband.

When I first arrived on Hinchinbrook Island I was told that there was a "spirit" on the island, that some strange things had occurred in the past. My answer to that at the time was, "No problems! It is a "she" and now that I am here, those things won't happen again. "She" is happy I am here and will know that everything will be all right." And it was, no unexplained events occurred during the duration of my time on the island...other than certain behaviour by humans!

I can't explain "it", but the conversation this morning I had with the stranger, who understood what I was saying, made sense...to me, and to him. It was interesting.

Another area that gives me the creeps is "Funnel Creek", between Miriamvale and Rockhampton, on the old highway. It gives me the strangest of feelings, and the times I've been there, I couldn't leave the place quickly enough.

Starting off this post, I thought I had nothing to write about. It would appear I've proven that idea to be wrong!

Reaching Out To The City Lights...Chapter Eighteen

Love has many faces. Love can be joyous, and then as quickly it can become very painful. Sometimes it’s heartless and controlling. Other times it makes one want to soar to the moon and stars beyond. Love can bring out sides in us we didn’t know we had. Love is many-faceted. A first love can be both beautiful and tortuous. It can break one’s heart momentarily in some cases or endlessly in others. In some cases, the hurt remains until the next candidate steps within one’s circle or aura, breaking down the flimsy, fragile barriers erected. Some will ask you to walk beside them throughout life, while others will only want you for a short stroll. I took quite a few short strolls. We all have the right to be wrong now and then. Sometimes I was more wrong than I was right, but no harm was ever done or caused and it was a lot of fun!

The most precious and lasting love is that of a child, I believe.

It was a week-night. I can’t remember the reason why, but I was sleeping over at John and Shirley’s home. Andrew, their younger son was around two and half years old at the time, I guess. He no longer slept in a cot, having progressed to a bed. The night of my stay-over he was to return to sleeping in his cot while I stole his bed for the night. Both the cot and his new bed were in the same room. Sitting on the sofa in the family room, enjoying a scotch, while chatting to Shirley, who was in the kitchen preparing dinner (both rooms flowed into one, without a separating wall), the two boys, Gavin and Andrew were playing on the floor in front of me. Shirley, in her usual, calm, modulated way told Andrew it was time for him to go to bed. Without any ado, Andrew heeded his mother’s gentle words. Next moment, I felt tugging on my left arm.

“ ‘ee…’ee! Come on, ‘ee!” A little voice pleaded to me. Andrew, in all solemnity, continued pulling at my sleeve. His still babyish face upturned, his eyes wide, innocently begging me. “Come on, ‘ee…’ee!”

Finally, I realized what he wanted. I raised my eyebrows at Shirley and smiled, “I guess I’ll see you later. An early night for me…it looks like I’m off to bed, too!”

Mop-topped Andrew decided if he had to go to bed, so did I, seeing I was sharing his room and sleeping in his bed!

Placing my glass on the coffee table in front of me, I followed Andrew into his bedroom. Eagerly, he climbed into his cot. After tucking him in, I climbed into his bed. It was 6.45pm. Not wanting to disturb the equilibrium, I feigned sleep until I was certain he’d fallen into slumber. Fearing if I stood up, I would wake him, I slithered off the bed like a snake, creeping along the floor on my stomach until I reached the hallway, where I stood up, shook myself off and re-entered the family room. Shirley handed me a refilled glass of scotch and we laughed. The innocence of a child is a wondrous thing.

After my mother passed away, I was heartbroken. I went through a difficult time, personally, but I kept my pain and sorrow to myself, only succumbing to my tears and grief when I was alone. No one else could understand my innermost feelings. My boss, John, understood what I was going through to a degree, probably more than anyone else did, but I didn’t want to burden him with my pain. He had his own life and family. My grief was my own. I had to work through it myself, my way. Without my asking, John had been there for me when my mother died and the days leading up to and after her death. It wouldn’t have been fair of me to expect more from him or his family, a family to whom I was very close. Once back to my daily life in Brisbane, I felt myself falling further and further into a bottomless black pit. I didn’t know how to stop my descent or how to climb back up out of the dark depths. On the outside I put on a brave face, hiding my pain from all. Inside I was being torn apart. That is until one Saturday afternoon a couple of months after Mum died.

I’d lain down on my bed around one in the afternoon to have a nap. In a very vivid dream, which I remember verbatim to this day, my mother came to me. She stood at the end of my bed as clear as if she was, in fact, standing there. Smiling at me, she said, “I’m okay. I’m fine.” Upon waking, I continued to lie on my bed, digesting what I had just “seen”. The vision of my mother, in my dream, had been crystal clear. I questioned whether it had been a dream or had she really “come” to me. It mattered not either way. The “dream” calmed me and I found inner peace. I began to look at life more clearly. Everything began to fall into place. I found my way back up out of the deep hollow into which I’d been falling with the help of that dream. The dream was not a subject of discussion and I told no one about it.

With the year rapidly drawing to a close, Christmas was only a couple of months away. Randall was due back in Brisbane from New York in a few weeks. My head was spinning. I knew I still loved him, even though my life, and his, had taken many different paths and crossed numerous bridges along the way. And I was not fooling myself that there were still more to come, good and bad.

Robert took me to dinner one night about a week before Randall’s return home. This time we didn’t go to our regular haunt, the “Matthew Flinders’ Restaurant”, but instead, we went to the Breakfast Creek Hotel, instead, for one of their legendary thick, juicy steaks. Over dinner Robert told me he was in line for a diplomatic posting if he was so inclined. He continued by saying, “You would make an excellent diplomat’s wife, Lee.”

Being caught off-guard, I didn’t know what to say in reply. I was taken aback. I smiled and gave a soft chuckle of embarrassment, tossing aside what he had said more or less as a joke. However, I realized at that very moment, as he looked directly into my eyes, Robert wasn’t being flippant. He wasn't joking, far from it. He was serious. His feelings for me were deeper than I had imagined. Continuing, he told me he was there for me if things didn’t turn out the way I wanted them to after Randall’s return. Dear Robert...he was such a gentle man. He had been a confirmed bachelor all his life other than his brief engagement to June Dally-Watkins many years before and there he was, in not so many words, offering his hand to me. We never did dine together again. I did see him later on, but not in the social manner that had become our regular dinner outings. He was a good person.

I didn’t meet Randall at the airport the day he flew into Brisbane, instead I remained at work. His mother invited me to dinner at their home that evening. The day dragged for me. My heart pounding in anticipation throughout the day, gathered in momentum as the afternoon progressed.

Randall telephoned me from the States a couple of weeks before his departure with instructions to book a holiday rental for us at Noosa or its surrounding area. John kindly drove me up to Noosa where I visited various real estate agents in search of suitable accommodation. I found a perfect little cottage high on densely-vegetated sand dune at Sunshine Beach. “Anna Capri” stole my heart at first glance. Perched high on the dune, stairs, fringed by shrubs and trees, led from the one-car, street-level garage up to the house. Painted white, “Anna Capri” had views from Sunshine Beach, south to Coolum and beyond. The point at Point Cartwright, south of Mooloolaba could be seen in the far distance. It wasn’t a fancy, flash new house, having been built probably back in the 1940s or thereabouts, but it was cosy, clean and bright. It was just perfect. I fell in love with “Anna Capri” the moment I set eyes upon “her”. I knew the cottage would be an ideal place for Randall and me to re-discover each other and to learn if, perhaps, we had a future together. Paying the agent a rental deposit, I booked “Anna Capri” for a week, to commence the Saturday after Randall’s planned return on a Thursday. The count-down to his arrival had begun in earnest.

Arriving at Randall’s parent’s home in Geebung that Thursday afternoon, I was filled with mixed emotions. So many “what-ifs” did battle with each other in my mind.

Another Day In Paradise.....

The curtain rose on lunch at 11.30am, to much applause….reluctantly the curtain came down shortly after 6pm, again to applause. However, our steps weren’t as sprightly as they were at the beginning of the afternoon. The reason…we were weighted down by the intake of food! This, of course, was balanced by the ingestion of champagne, wine…and Tia Maria coffees.

The sun made its path across the sky, suspended like a pendulum, but we were ignorant of its presence. Whatever happened in the outside world this afternoon affected us not. Engulfed we were by what was in our immediate surroundings. One could not blame us for such lack of interest in what was happening elsewhere. We were far too intent on what we were doing within these four walls.

A small antipasti of char-grilled eggplant, sun-dried tomatoes, marinated artichokes, feta-stuffed large green olives, black olives, dill-pickled cucumbers and puff pastry squares filled with a mixture of blue cheese, shredded Parmesan, grated mozzarella, ricotta and diced bacon began the indulgent feasting. With these tasty tid-bits we sipped on sparkling rosé, followed closely by a bottle of champagne.

Entrée and main, as I mentioned in a previous post, consisted of Prawns and Calamari Creole and Veal Oscar. By the time we’d ploughed our way through those two courses, the sun was on the wan and our bodies were screaming for a break! Heeding the request, as is my may, time was allowed to drift away between courses, so dessert came….much later.

During the planning, preparing etc., my plan fluctuated and I finally decided upon rhubarb and apple crumble served with hot custard for dessert. After all, it is winter and the days have been pretty chilly of late, so a hot dessert seemed very appropriate. Not to mention, rhubarb grows here on this property where I live. Oh! Dear! I did mention it!

By the time, the Tia Maria coffees were presented us three were beyond hope or caring! So, too were our stomachs! What fun! What the hell! You’re dead a long time and these small pleasures should be enjoyed now…while they can be enjoyed! That’s my philosophy and I’m sticking with it!

Full of good cheer and good manners, my two guests left. Having bid them farewell, I came back inside, pumped up the music. I filled up the kitchen sink with soapy suds, a few times, and my attack on the dishes had begun in earnest. It’s amazing how quickly one can get things done while urged on by the sounds of Shel Silverstein, The Marshall Tucker Band and Bruce Springsteen and Gram Parsons!

Presently, I sit here, sipping on Tia Maria. All is washed sparkling clean (except me!). Of course, nothing is put back to its rightful place. Damn that…they can drip-dry until morning, The final step in this exercise will be done then. I’m not that organized or particular! Who cares, anyway? It is me who has to do it and I don’t feel like doing anything more this evening other than to enjoy the music and this drink by my side.

It was a wonderful afternoon. I don’t know what we talked about, but we discussed it all in depth, whatever it was, with much laughter and little pause to take a breath. The problems of the world we did not solve, but I’m sure we could have done so, and could do, if anyone ever listened intently to us.

I’ve had good years. I’ll have many more, I hope. I’ve had soft places to fall. I’ve fallen onto hard places. Sometimes they’ve come up to meet me or arrived uninvited, but I’ve never let them defeat me. Hurdles I have jumped over deserving of Olympic Gold. I’ve picked up the pieces, glued them together and started all over again, many times. Between happy times, the sad times sneak in, between anger and frustration come understanding and empathy. The splendour of life wins, every time.

And then at the end of the stroke of midnight, a new day begins. This my 501st post, so that also means I've begun my run-down to my post Number 1000!!

Take a deep breath everyone!

It's The Big One...Number 500!

Lonely Illusion

When feeling lonely it is better to feel lonely alone

'Tis heartbreaking being lonely amidst a crowd

Descending into bottomless lurid crypts unknown

With no one to listen to the cries she cries out loud

Standing aside looking in viewing a life mislaid

Imagining different chapters diverse paths taken

Mercurial rare random glimpses of love betrayed

Afloat in a fickle mist of dreams so long forsaken

The future is known already written on the wind

Past not forgotten remaining to torment and haunt

Piteous wails like the woeful sound of a lone violin

With solemn perverse mockery often they taunt

Unrequited loves misplaced passions burning heart

Cursed by a hostile antagonist thrust into seclusion

Damned by rejection a once blithe spirit torn apart

Melancholy realization of life’s shattered illusion

Poem by Lee

This is post Number 500!

It's time to bring out the streamers! Pop the cork on a couple of bottles of champagne! Let's blow up some balloons! Yeehaaa!

My mind is a blank. I wanted to tell you a story, but I can think of not one amongst my many hidden away in the depths of my memory.

I read an article last weekend about "on-line" dating. Has anyone succumbed to joining such a dating service?

A friend of mine has, a few times, and she keeps trying to talk me into doing so. I stand firm and determined in my resolve not to do so. I have nothing against such sites. They're just not for me. I admit at times, just out of curiosity, I've scanned through RSVP's site, but I will never join in, nor put my profile up for all to see.

These dating services are growing in popularity from all reports, particularly in this state of Queensland with its high concentrate of single men in the central and northern regions working the mines and in the construction and engineering industries. Also the Sunshine and Gold Coasts have high membership due to people who have made a lifestyle change. They're often separated or divorced.

I guess as we grow older our choices of meeting people become diminished. The pubs and clubs hold little appeal. So, where else does one go to meet people of similar interests? Sporting clubs, for some, I guess...I'm stumped...I'm not the one to be giving advice on where and how to meet people as I'm the world's most dedicated recluse!

I can see nothing wrong with meeting people through the internet as long as all the guidelines and safety requirements are utilised.

As the Relationships Australia Director of training Paul Simmons said..."The important thing is not how people first meet, it's how they move on from that point."

I agree. (What is a "Relationships Australia Director of Training, anyway?)

Past, Present And Saturday's Lunch

As I sit here typing thing post, "Swan Lake" is playing in the background, which followed "The Nutcracker Suite", I'm reminded of the time I saw Rudolph Nureyev dance.

It was 1978. He was coming to Australia to perform at various venues throughout the country. My husband reluctantly agreed to go along with me. I told him it mattered not if he did. It would be his choice. I was definitely not going to miss the opportunity to see Nureyev, as I knew I wouldn't get the chance to do so again. Unbelievable as it is, at that time Brisbane didn't have a suitable venue to stage a full-scale ballet. The only venue available was the old Festival Hall that had started its days off as a boxing-wrestling hall and later it hosted many rock and music concerts. It was hardly suitable for ballet, but that's all we had at that time. The smaller ballet "Giselle" was the chosen ballet for Nureyev to perform during his visit to Brisbane. The male role in "Giselle" isn't huge, but I didn't care. I was prepared just to watch Nureyev standing still as long as I was able to do it seeing him up, live and personal!

I will never forget my feeling of total awe when he first appeared on stage. That man certainly did have a presence. His arrogance, his brilliance glowed like an iridescent aura engulfing him. It radiated throughout the audience, taking over the whole of the premises. I gasped. My eyes filled. I remained entranced throughout his performance. I doubt I noticed any of the other dancers on stage. I was enthralled. He was magnificent.

Our seats were up on the left-hand side of the stage, offering perfect vision and closeness to the performers. Come the end of the ballet, all the ladies in the front rows, dressed in their "ermines and pearls" (which, I must add, were grossly out of place in Festival Hall) applauded. Without warning, even to myself, I lept out of my seat, and called out loudly, "Good on you, Rudy!"

Somewhere in the distance I heard my husband's voice..."Honey!" I hardly noticed.

Rudolph Nureyev turned, looked up to me. He smiled at me and bowed. I stood there transfixed. Nureyev had smiled and bowed...to me!

I floated out of the hall and was in a trance all the way back home!

"See!" I told my husband. "I didn't plan to yell out like that...it just happened, but I'm glad I did! He heard me! And he responded! So much for sitting in the front rows all dressed up in finery! Those ladies didn't get an acknowledgment from Rudy...I did!"

So much for lady-like behaviour!

Back to earth...the pictures above are similar to what I am serving for lunch this Saturday. I have friends coming for a leisurely afternoon of fine dining and wining.

I'm doing some mezze/tapas to begin with while we sip on champagne. They will include "Four-Cheese Tarts" similar to those above but topped with mozzarella, blue cheese, parmesan, riccotto and diced pancetta. Also to be served are artichokes and green olives marinated in lemon juice, garlic and sage, alongside a red lentil and chilli dip.

These are to be followed by Prawns and Calamari Creole, a dish I often cooked as an entree when I was cheffing in restaurants. It's green prawns, squid, capsicum/pepper strips cooked quickly in olive oil, garlic, chopped capers, a splash of lemon juice, a pinch of chilli and served "spitting" hot.

The main course will be Veal Oscar...flattened-out veal, sauteed and topped with crab meat and asparagus spears with bernaise sauce to finish.

Dessert is going to be a chocolate-caramel slice served with whipped cream.

And I won't be eating for a week after all of that!

Love...The Whole Damn Catastrophe

Not Me

Someone is crying could it be me
Every ounce of my love I gave to you
In haste and in panic you did flee
Sadly you must know this to be true

I thought I heard your name today
Echoed faintly through trembling trees
My heart asked why you didn't stay
One day I pray you'll tell me please

Neither the sun nor summer breezes
Soothe the pain of love's lost passion
I hurt I cry when the moment seizes
I'm not to blame my love I can't ration

(Poem written by me in a moment of weakness)

As I sit here waiting for my floors to dry, I began to ponder on "love". Don't ask me why. I won't tell you. Just humour me...come along for the ride!

Love is strange
It's heartache and pain
Love is controlling
It's rarely a many-splendored thing

I didn't mean that to rhyme, but does, sort of...don't you think?

What is "love"?

Is love more often confused with infatuation and passion? Does lust hoodwink us into misunderstanding our true feelings?

Your heart pounds and does cartwheels. Butterflies take up residence in your stomach. Your knees grow weak.

Wherever possible you slip your lover's name into conversations, whether it's appropriate to the subject of discussion or not.

You stare at the phone, willing it to ring, only when it does it's someone with an unintelligible accent trying to offer you a better deal from a communication's server or a "free lunch" of some other description.

"Messenger" rings in the deep of night, stirring you from a dream-filled slumber...only it isn't him or her. Disappointingly and annoyingly, it's some lonely, lost stranger you have no desire or interest in getting to know.

Love is never like it is in the movies or novels where the scripts are already written.

Love can be harsh, selfish and cold. Love can be heartless.

Love can be all those things and more, but it can also be warm and wonderful...if you find the right person to love....and who loves you.

The floors are dry...now I can re-enter my kitchen and make myself a much-longed for cup of coffee. I think I'm going to love this cup of coffee...I've waited all morning for it!

Blame It On Robyn!

This is for Puss In Boots, aka Kat’s Cradle…aka Robyn who put me in a Meme regarding music that means a lot to me and causes me to remember special moments in my life. I’m afraid my list is endless, but I will try my best in giving you some of my favourites.

Concierto de Aranjeuz by Rodrigo…by classical guitarist Julian Bream (or any other, for that matter)

Although the person who introduced me to it ended up being the biggest jerk out, I do thank him for drawing my attention to this exquisite piece

Clair de Lune by Debussy….by many.

I always imagine drifting across a calm, peaceful lake in a punt, with me dressed in a long, white flimsy dress, with soft green embroidery adorning it…trailing my hand in the cool waters, with a warm sun shining and a gentle breeze blowing.

Dancing With the One You Love…The Amazing Rhythm Aces

It brings back haunting memories of a special time.

A Soft Place To Fall…Allison Moorer

One of the most sensual, romantic songs that reminds me somewhere in the world there maybe that “special” person.

The Last Farewell….Roger Whittaker

I’m always reminded of one romantic night sitting on the deck around the pool on Hinchinbrook Island after all the guests had retired for the evening and being serenaded by a certain someone who was to play a special role in my life for a couple of years. He played guitar and had a wonderful singing voice. Our first “date” and a sure-fire way to a girl’s heart!

The Closest Thing To Crazy…Katie Melua

Just because….

Always On My Mind…Willie Nelson

Special moments…to many to list

Spirit….the whole CD by Willie Nelson

The first time I heard the whole album it immediately resonated with me…I was going through a difficult time and somehow it helped.

West Texas Heaven…the whole CD by Kimmie Rhodes (Same comments apply as above and I always play the two CDs together…or rather, one after the other!)

Breathless…the whole CD by Kenny G

Every time I play this CD reminds me of wonderful weekends I spent in a little cabin right on the beach at Rose Bay, Bowen, looking over the turquoise water out to Gloucester Island. Bowen has some of the most beautiful beaches in Queensland, if not Australia. I have very fond memories of those times I spent at that cabin, which coincidentally was called “Laguna”.

London Homesick Blues…Jerry Jeff Walker

This always reminds me of a good friend who introduced me to some very good music. We spent many hours listening and recording while sipping on a wine or three. He went back to his wife and another life…silly fellow!

Me & Bobby McGee…Kris Kristofferson, harmonica by Jackson Browne

Sunday Morning Coming Down…

Help Me Make It Through the Night

Loving Her Was Easier All by Mr. Kristofferson!

Defying Gravity & One Endless Night…Jimmie Dale Gilmore

Still Feeling Blue….Gram Parsons

Streets of Baltimore…Gram Parsons

You Still Move Me…Dan Seals

I Could Go On Loving You….Kieran Kane or Alan Jackson

Kickin’ Back in Amsterdam…Kevin Welch

You Needed Me…Ann Murray

A Bushman Can't Survive...Tania Kernaghan and Lee Kernaghan

The Universal Soldier….Buffy Sainte-Marie

Dark End of the Street…The Flying Burritos Bros

Magic

I've Been To Bedlam.....both by Jack Clements

See…I warned you! I could go on forever and ever and a day...and I almost have!

Weekend Delights

I’m tossing up what I’m going to cook for myself over the weekend. The chilly weather is being very persistent. A thick, flavoursome stew is tempting, but then, so is a tender, juicy steak, Diane-style. Writing about “Lucky’s” expertise at table-top cooking and his masterful presentation of Steak Diane has whetted my appetite. The idea of flaming the steak is drawing me closer to the pan. I might have to sip on a brandy or two while I make up my mind!

In the meantime, I’ll tell you a little story.

When managing the restaurant at Noosa a few years ago, as well as waiting on the tables, I helped the chef prepare certain dishes.

It was a Saturday. I’d prepared a stack of sweet crepes. I filled them with a mixture of shredded coconut, bananas and dark rum, ready for the evening, when they’d fulfill their role as part of the dessert selection. Come time for their serving as dessert, they’d be presented with whipped cream. Just before opening at 6pm, I finished making and filling the crepes. Once the chore was completed, I placed them on shelves on the right-hand side of the cold room, which at all times was reserved for desserts and ingredients pertaining thereto.

The restaurant cruised up the Noosa River, Friday and Saturday nights and also Sunday lunches. It was a riverboat. The rest of the time, it was dockside. The moonlight shimmered across the water, as our dinner guests dined by candlelight. Soft music wafted throughout the restaurant, not interrupted by the deep muffled drone of the “Laguna Belle’s” engine.

The tall gums along the shores of the riverbank, silhouetted against a silvery sky, stood as proud protectors directing our path. The evening’s ambience was palpable and tangible.

Come time for dessert, I buzzed each table, taking their orders. To my joy, the majority of diners chose the Rum & Banana Crepes. I'd made a stack of them. Stepping into the galley-kitchen, I opened the coldroom door and reached to my right. The shelves were bare! Not a banana crepe was in sight!

“Where’re my banana crepes?” I cried. “Phil! Did you move them?”

“No…I’ve not touched them,” answered Phil, the chef.

“Jill!” I exclaimed to the kitchen-hand. “Did you move my crepes? I finished making them just before we opened…and I put them all here!” I said pointing to the now empty shelves. " I must be going crazy! Crazier than usual!” I continued.

“No…I’ve not touched them, either,” said Jill. “Oh….Oh….” She stopped mid-step and mid-sentence.

“Oh! My! God!”

On our menu as one of the entrées were Seafood Crepes. Crepes filled with prawns, fish, scallops, squid in a creamy sauce and then topped with a cheese sauce, finished under the salamander/grill/broiler.

I looked to my left. The shelves were filled with Seafood Crepes!

I went through the orders and then visited every table that had ordered the Seafood Crepes, offering my apologies and explanation. Not one person noticed that they’d received Banana and Rum Crepes topped with a cheese sauce instead of Seafood Crepes!

I deducted the cost of the crepe entrees off the relevant orders. One lass at a table of eight, laughingly told me, “I love your seafood crepes. I always have them when we come here. That’s why we brought our friends along with us tonight. We wanted them to try them!”

It’s amazing what a little moonlight,soft, romantic music and candles will do to diners while cruising along a river!

Banana Crepes
1 cup plain/all-purpose flour
2 eggs
1/2 cup low-fat milk
1/2 cup water
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons melted butter

Whisk the flour and the eggs together in a large mixing bowl. Slowly stir in the milk and the water. Add the salt and butter, and beat the mixture until smooth. Heat a griddle or frying pan to medium. Give it a very light spray of cooking oil. Drop the crepe mixture onto the heated surface. Using about a 1/4 cup of batter for each crepe. Tilt the pan with a circular motion so that the batter coats the surface evenly. "Thin is in" when it comes to the layer of batter.

Cook each side until the golden brown brown (about 2 minutes for side one -- batter will bubble; and 1 minute for side 2). Gently remove and place on a plate. Place waxed paper between cooked crepes to prevent sticking. This will make 8 crepes. 2 crepes make a serving.

Filling
3 large bananas -- sliced
4 Tablespoons butter
1 cup brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2 Tablespoons banana liqueur (optional)
4 Tablespoons dark rum
1/2 cup walnuts
3/4 cup shredded coconut

Filling: Heat a large skillet over medium high heat and melt the butter. Add the sugar and stir to make a syrup. Add cinnamon, bananas, shredded coconut and stir once more. Gently pour rum and banana liqueur over the bananas. Flambé the sauce to burn out alcohol. Add the walnuts, divide mixture with your eye into four portions and spoon each portion over a crepe. Close crepe, top with whipped cream.

Beef Stew:

1/4 cup olive oil 1 1/4 pounds stew beef, cut into 1-inch pieces
6 large garlic cloves, minced
6 cups beef stock or canned beef broth
I cup of Guinness stout
1 cup of fine red wine
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon dried thyme
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
2 bay leaves
2 tablespoons butter
3 pounds russet potatoes, peeled, cut into 1/2-inch pieces (about 7 cups)
1 large onion, chopped
2 cups 1/2-inch pieces peeled carrots
Salt and pepper
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

Heat olive oil in heavy large pot over medium-high heat. Add beef and sauté until brown on all sides, about 5 minutes. Add garlic and sauté 1 minute. Add beef stock, Guinness, red wine, tomato paste, sugar, thyme, Worcestershire sauce and bay leaves. Stir to combine. Bring mixture to boil. Reduce heat to medium-low, then cover and simmer 1 hour, stirring occasionally. While the meet and stock is simmering, melt butter in another large pot over medium heat. Add potatoes, onion and carrots. Sauté vegetables until golden, about 20 minutes. Add vegetables to beef stew. Simmer uncovered until vegetables and beef are very tender, about 40 minutes. Discard bay leaves. Tilt pan and spoon off fat. Transfer stew to serving bowl. Sprinkle with parsley and serve.

Steak Diane:
Gently pound beef fillets to achieve a thin, even thickness. Season flour with salt and pepper. Preheat a sauté pan with oil over medium heat. Lightly dredge beef fillets in seasoned flour, shaking off excess. When 2 tablespoons oil is hot, add beef fillets to pan. Cook until well browned on both sides and medium rare (approximately 4 -5 minutes on each side). Remove and reserve, keeping warm. Drain excess oil from pan; return pan to heat. Add 2oz butter, 1/2 teaspoon minced shallots and 1 crushed garlic clove. Sauté briefly; do not brown. Remove pan from heat and carefully deglaze pan with brandy. Return pan to heat, flame, and then simmer. Reduce liquid by 1/2. Stir in 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard, a splash or two of Worcestershire sauce and a pinch of beef stock powder or a couple of tablespoon liquid beef stock; bring to a simmer. Add 2ozs cream and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice. Season to taste. Garnish with minced chives. Add cooked beef fillets back to simmering sauce. Coat beef fillets with sauce and place on warm serving plates. Top with additional sauce and serve.

"Reaching Out To The City Lights"..Chapter Sixteen

With the company’s acquisition of Rogtex women’s wear, my personal wardrobe grew, helped by being “Johnny On The Spot” when the new season’s ranges arrived in the showrooms. Opening the cartons of new designs was like Christmas morning. My office would be deserted as I’d rush to the Rogtex showroom to assist Mr. and Mrs. Head unpack, unfold and hang each garment carefully on the clothes’ racks. It was difficult to resist, so I didn’t resist. Having one’s own fashion store a few feet away from one’s office was a dream come true and being able to purchase at cost price, sometimes less, was a girl’s idea of paradise. Wearing the company’s products, including the panti-hose was great advertising for the company’s wares. Buyers from the city and far afield regularly visited our showrooms, so it was important to at all times be well-presented. I certainly wasn’t going to put up an argument!

Dr. Robert Wright, the dentist/Chilean Consul had entered my life, platonically. Shortly after our “Machu Picchu/Easter Island” launches I needed to see a dentist so I made an appointment with Dr. Wright. During that appointment he invited me to dinner, an invitation I accepted. For the next couple of years, Robert and I had a weekly, sometimes fortnightly dinner engagement. He always picked me up from my office. It was simpler this way rather than my going home first. We had all the facilities in our premises. I would change out of my daytime attire into suitable dress for our “date” around 6-6.30pm. From there we’d go into the city to the Gateway Hotel to dine at the “Matthew Flinders’ Restaurant”. Robert was a creature of habit, I think, but I didn’t mind as I grew to love the restaurant. We were always greeted warmly by “Lucky” (“don’t call me “Lucky Luciano”), the stocky, beaming Italian maitre d. “Lucky” was adept at what he did and I enjoyed watching him at his job. It became a habit of mine, (I must have caught Robert’s ways!) to always order the same meal, “Steak Diane” as “Lucky” table-cooked. I’ve never tasted Steak Diane like that prepared by “Lucky”. Carefully watching him prepare my meal, I “stole” his method and it’s locked away in my brain. When I was cooking in restaurants, I regularly let it out of its “pigeon-hole” and I always used “Lucky’s” recipe for the preparation of Steak Diane. Sometimes I’d order dessert and I’d always order Crepe Suzette, again just to watch him cook at the table. He had flair. “Lucky’s” dream was to eventually open his own restaurant. It was a dream he fulfilled a few years later by opening “Lucky’s”, a successful, much-praised trattoria in Fortitude Valley. During one of my visits to Brisbane when I was managing the Hinchinbrook Island resort, I paid “Lucky” a visit at his restaurant. As I was ordering my meal, he came over to my table. He remembered me from those years before. It was no wonder his business was successful.

Robert was good company, a gentleman. He was someone who had led an interesting life. We had much to discuss and were never without a subject to debate over dinner. I’ll briefly recap on the evening of the death threat against him. I have written about this incident previously.

During the time Robert (remember, he was the Chilean Consul) and I were “seeing” each other, Allende was kicked out of power in Chile. One Wednesday evening, we had just begun to place our meal order when Robert was called to the office of the restaurant. He returned to our table saying we had to leave immediately as there had been a threat made against him! He instructed me to go one way to the car-park where, by habit, he always parked his car, as he went in another direction. Arriving at the car, I stood wondering to myself as he unlocked the car door whether or not I should climb in the car with him. My mind actively raced through all the movies I had seen where cars blew up when the key was put in the ignition! I felt it wouldn't be very 'kosher' for me to mention this to him at that particular moment. Caught between “the devil and the deep blue sea”, I thought to myself, 'What the hell! If it's going to happen it's going to happen and I shouldn't allow myself such thoughts." I felt it would be a very cowardly thing for me to do to allow him to proceed while I ran! So, I got in. As you can see, the car didn't blow up! It was a telling moment.

Robert drove me home along a different route, this time, along Coronation Drive, instead of his regular route, Milton Road. He told me the Federal Police were following us at a distance and that they would have done all their checks on me etc., to ensure I wasn’t a threat to his safety. As we were driving home the smell of petrol permeated the cabin of the car. Again, my mind went into overdrive. Finally, I just had to say something, so I brought the petrol smell to his attention. He had a can of motor mow He chuckled, informing me he had filled up a can of mower fuel that day and the can was in the trunk of his car, hence the heady aroma! He deposited me safely to my door, planted his customary peck on my cheek, and then went on his way! Eating dinner definitely wasn’t on that evening’s agenda.

Around this same time, protesters were waving placards through the streets of Brisbane over the events in Chile. They’d discovered the Robert’s premises in Wickham Street, Fortitude Valley so set up camp outside on the sidewalk in noisy protest. Robert, who was a grey-haired “Anglo-Saxon-Protestant, Brisbane born and bred, closed his surgery that was on the second floor and unnoticed by the madding crowd weaved his way through unscathed. I think protesters should do their homework before they start wringing their hands and screaming loudly about issues they clearly know little about. The incident with Robert was proof positive.

I knew Robert liked me, but I was soon to discover the depth of his liking.

My job with Kolotex was keeping me very busy, but missing the “footlights and the smell of the cooking oil”, I began working a couple of nights a week at a small Italian “hole-in-the-wall” on Milton Road, Auchenflower, not far from where I lived. “Spagalini’s” was owned and operated by an ex-Canadian, Casper. It was simple, uncluttered, with a few tables covered by red and white-checkered gingham tableclothes. Casper catered for “dining-in” customers as well as “take-aways” (“take-outs” to those in the Northern Hemisphere). I often grabbed a container of Lasagne, pasta or pizza on my way home from work at Kolotex if I’d had a long day, so being a “regular” I became friendly with Casper. One night we were talking as I waited for my order and I asked if he needed any help. He said, “Yes”, so that’s how I got the job. The magnetic tug of food-preparation and food-service was strong and I succumbed once more to its lure. And the extra “cash” money was a big plus!

A couple of months after my mother’s passing, “R” aka “Randall” (this seems like a ceremonial unveiling, doesn’t it?) telephoned from New York. He was planning his return to Australia, to Brisbane and to me. This announcement came as a surprise to me. My life, as it had been, suddenly was in turmoil.