IT’S NOT A CROCK…IT’S A CROC!

 

Hinchinbrook Island

Acrylic painting by me of Orchid Beach, where the resort was at Cape Richards on Hinchinbrook

                                                                                    

 

 

There are many things, when working within the hospitality industry, which make being in the industry, in whatever form, interesting, to say the very least.  Most folk met along the way are great, but, of course, there are always a few snags in the midst to muddy the waters.

I enjoyed the latest, all too short season of “My Kitchen Rules”.  For me, one episode, in particular, awakened memories. Once upon a time, in a life lived long ago, I cooked a lot, both professionally, and for personal reasons. Nowadays, I do neither.

A memory stirred, not shaken, was from my Hinchinbrook Island days.  My head chef’s foot had turned a deep purple, almost black, from coral poisoning. With no time to waste, I had him whisked off to the mainland for professional medical attention before his foot dropped off!  My second chef was off the island enjoying a break from the heat of the kitchen. With a resort full of guests needing to be fed, I donned an apron and raided the cold room and freezer.  I took a carton of what I thought were chicken thighs from the freezer. 

As they started to defrost I was surprised at the size of the thighs. 

“Bloody big chickens…they must be turkeys!”  I thought.  It was me who ended up being the turkey.  What I’d defrosted were crocodile legs!

At the time…I don’t know if the situation remains the same nowadays…a licence from the Edward River Mission Crocodile Farm, (now known as Pormpuraaw) in Cape York was required to purchase croc meat. Not wanting to waste the defrosted meat, I set to, letting loose with spices, herbs, and garlic, along with wine for marinating, razor-shape knives, and a wild, culinary imagination.  “Waste not, want not”.  No way in the world were my guests going to starve …and starve they didn’t. They loved their accidental croc dinner.  None jumped ship to swim ashore upon learning they’d eaten crocodile meat, which was just as well because salt-water crocodiles inhabit the waters of Missionary Bay…enough of a deterrent. 

A few years later, when cooking in another restaurant, on the menu I put crocodile kebabs as an entrée. They became a popular choice. At the same restaurant, up in the Bowen Basin, one memorable time the Yatala-based head office accidentally sent me a box of emu meat!  Fortunately, red wine and garlic are great disguises.  After slicing the emu meat thinly, scallopini-style, and marinating it in the above camouflage, Old Man Emu had a new lease on life.  The stars of good fortune were shining bright that night; it was an evening the hierarchy at Newlands Coal Mine were hosting a group of American financiers at the restaurant. When the US visitors saw emu was a “special” for the night, they ate me out of house and restaurant.  I asked head office never to send emu meat to me again.

Through the years, at various venues, as well as the above-mentioned, I’ve cooked some interesting food.  For example, snails/escargot, frog’s legs, eel, and ‘roo…and, oddly enough, once and once only, turtle meat.   I’ve no desire to do so again of any of the above. 

I’m proud to say, when cooking in a Gympie restaurant circa 2000 I made a croquembouche (no crocodile was harmed in the making). My croquembouche was as tall as the Eiffel Tower, with no inclination to emulate the Leaning Tower of Pisa.  It’s no crock!  It’s also not a crock my favourite way to finish off a long day and night toiling away in a restaurant kitchen was to feast upon a toasted/grilled cheese sandwich.  Even now that I’m a lazy old lady of leisure, toasted cheese sandwiches remain regular favourites.  Cheesy as it sounds, I love them!

 

Grilled Cheese Sandwich: Cut 2 bacon rashes in half; cook over med-low heat until crisp. Transfer to paper-lined plate; keep bacon fat aside. Wipe out pan; return to med-heat. Spread butter on 2 bread slices; place on pan, about 2mins.Transfer to cutting board toasted-side-up. Place one cheddar cheese slice on top of 1 bread slice, followed by bacon, tomato and avo slices. Top with second cheese slice; close sandwich. Add half of reserved bacon fat to pan; heat over med-low heat. Add sandwich; cook, until golden brown on both sides, and cheese is thoroughly melted.

Grilled Cheese Sandwich-Italiano: Heat 1tbs olive oil in large pan over med-heat. Add 57g prosciutto in single layer; cook until starting to crisp, but not dry. Remove from pan; place on paper-lined plate. Set aside. Remove pan from heat. In a bowl, whip 227g ricotta with 1/4c homemade or store-bought pesto until well combined. Set aside. In bowl, combine 85g each provolone and fontina cheese with 1/4c marinated sun-dried tomatoes.. In a small bowl, blend 6tbs softened butter, 1/4c grated parmesan and 2tbs chopped, fresh parsley; season to taste. To assemble; place 4 slices 1/2-inch thick sourdough bread on work surface. Slather each slice with the pesto ricotta (reserve extra for another use). Top 2 slices with about ½ cup grated cheese blend.  Top with 85g drained, marinated roasted red peppers and prosciutto. Add a little more of the grated cheeses; place other 2 slices on top, ricotta side down; press together slightly. Heat same pan used for prosciutto.  Spread herb butter on top of each sandwich; put buttered side down in pan. Spread butter on top side. Cook until bottom side is golden brown and crisp, about 5mins. Flip and cook another 5mins on other side until golden, and cheese has completely melted.

FED UP!!!!!!!!!

 I have no idea what is going on, but I do know I'm fed-up...frustrated, and angry!!!!!

I can't "Sign In" to my blog!   Most of my blogger list doesn't show unless I, every time, click on "Show All".

On my blogger list, some comments are not shown below the name of the blogger!!!

 Why do things have to change all the damned time?  "If it ain't broke....."

MAY THE BUDS OF KINDNESS BURST INTO BLOSSOM….

                             

Acrylic painting by me

Shama

 

 

Remy

 

 

 

A few weeks ago, much to my surprise and delight, I received a bunch of flowers from a lovely young lass bearing, not only her thoughtful, unexpected gift, but a heart-warming, beaming smile. Until that day many years had passed by since I’d received flowers. The unexpected gift was a gift that kept on giving. The flowers weren’t everlasting daisies, but they certainly were everlasting.  As if the floral array had been touched by magic, beautiful white blossoms kept bursting forth from the abundance of buds, giving me joy for nigh on five weeks.  It was as if spring had sprung before spring had actually sprung. 

The rippling effect of the young lady’s act of kindness lingers.  Kindness is always most welcome.  Credit, too, to the young lady’s parents for a job well done. They must be very proud of their daughter and, deservedly, of themselves, as well.  Their daughter is a ray of sunshine.

My hope is I am able to ‘pay it forward’…pay the kindness, the thoughtfulness, forward.  One must never let an opportunity go by.  

Freely giving our smiles to others is rewarding…not only to the recipient, but also to the giver.  Each one of us has more than enough smiles to go around.  If smiles are momentarily misplaced, don’t stop searching.  They are there.  When you find them, dust them off, and commence spreading.  Once the seeds of happiness are sown they’ll sprout and propagate.  Before you can say “Rose Bud” they’ll blooming well burst into bloom…just you wait and see.

To quote Aesop; “No act of kindness, no matter how small, is wasted.” 

Kindness is powerful.  Let’s make kindness contagious, allowing it to spread faster and more far afield than any pandemic; no vaccinations or quarantines necessary.        

The late US Shadow Senator, Jesse Jackson, once said; “Never look down on anybody, unless you’re helping them up.”  

Without forcing it, let’s be kind until being kind becomes second nature… better still, first nature…until kindness and thoughtfulness become natural, unconscious actions.   Act without pretension, but with sincerity.

“Cruel to be kind…” is a most ridiculous comment. Good intentions or not; whether he repented or not, Hamlet should’ve spun a different phrase.  Nobody should witness cruelty and unkindness.  No child, no teen, and no adult should ever be a victim of cruelty and/or unkindness.  Importantly, the same also applies to animals.

A million years ago when I was a kid having a pen pal was an interesting, fun pastime.  Handwritten letters to friends living in other countries were exchanged.  In most cases, pen pals never met in person.  The postman’s arrival was eagerly awaited in the hope he would drop off a letter from an overseas friend. Writing unkind, nasty words in letters to a pen pal never entered one’s mind.  Nowadays, with social media, and an abundance of inane TV realities shows running rampant, it’s become the ‘norm’ for folk to be nasty towards each other. Too many ‘reality’ participants, after their five minutes before the cameras, believe they’re “celebrities”. Tossing spitefulness around like confetti, they’ve not a care for the feelings of others.  Cattiness is abhorrent.  Faceless ‘keyboard cowards’ spew unkind, snide comments without a second thought. It’s not attractive behaviour.  

There is too much hate, and far too much vitriol in today’s world. Being kind to others is being kind to one’s own self.

 If my two furry paw pals can be kind enough to allow me to share their bed, surely to goodness humans can be kind to each other.  With the advent of spring…let’s allow kindness to bloom in plenitude.  May the blossoms of kindness be long-lasting…everlasting.

Spring Rolls: Heat 1tbs oil in pan/wok over high heat. Add 2 minced garlic cloves; stir; add 400g ground pork or chicken; cook until it turns white. Add 1-1/2c shredded carrot, 1-1/2c bean sprouts, 1-1/2c shredded green cabbage and 8 chopped mushrooms. Cook 3mins or until veggies are wilted. Add 1tsp cornflour, 2tsp soy sauce and 1-1/2tbs oyster sauce; cook 1min until liquid is gone. The filling shouldn’t be watery; cool. Meanwhile, mix 2tsp cornflower in 1tbs water, for sealing rolls. Defrost 15-20 spring roll wrappers; carefully peel off one wrapper, leave others covered under damp tea towel. Place wrapper smooth side down in a diamond position. Place a very heaped dessertspoon of filling on bottom. Roll up halfway, fold sides in; then finish rolling. Use cornflour sludge to seal. They should be about 12 cm/ 5" long, 2.5cm/ 1" wide once wrapped. Pour enough oil in wok so it is double the height of the spring rolls. Heat on med-high until hot. Carefully place spring rolls in the oil (4 or 5 at a time); cook, turning occasionally, until deep golden…1-1/2 to 2mins. Transfer to paper towels to drain. Repeat with remaining spring rolls. Baking option: Place spring rolls on a rack; place rack on a tray. Spray very generously with oil all over. Bake at 200C 20-25mins until golden and crispy - no need to turn. Serve hot with Sweet and Sour Sauce; Combine 2tsp cornflour, 2tbs water, 1/2c apple cider vinegar, 1/3c brown sugar, 2tbs tomato sauce and 2tsp soy sauce in small saucepan over med-heat. Bring to simmer, stirring often; simmer until thickens to taste, 3-5mins. 

 

 

SCREAMING, NOT CRYING, OVER SPILLED MILK…

 

It was my smoke alarm doing the screaming, not me.  True is the saying “a watched pot/kettle never boils”.  Similar applies to a milk-filled saucepan sitting atop a hotplate. 

Minding my own business, I was heating milk in preparation of a mug of Milo.  It felt like I’d been watching the saucepan forever.  For a brief moment I turned my attention away from what was, or was not occurring, on the stove.  You can guess what happened next. 

Similar to Mt. Etna erupting, milk rose beyond the pot’s limit, and overflowed everywhere.  If that wasn’t enough excitement for one morning, highly agitated, my smoke alarm began screaming its lungs out.  I’m sure the folk down in Canungra, in the valley below, leapt out of their skin.

It’s moments like that my trusty broom comes in handy. After a few gentle jabs with said broomstick, and a few not so gentle words from me, the screaming ceased. Peace once again reigned supreme.

Brooms are very versatile having many aspects other than just being useful methods of transport.  Last week I considered using mine when my car battery died, but, instead, I opted to link up the charger.  It was far too chilly and foggy a morning to be flying around on my broomstick.

When I left Gympie early August, 1965 to live and work in Brisbane, a friend and I shared a flat in Toowong.  Our landlady had converted the upstairs’ level of her home into two flats. The landlady’s abode was the ground level.  After a small gathering my flat-mate and I hosted one night we christened our landlady, “The Broomstick Lady”. 

We revelers got a bit carried away, as one does during such occasions. While dancing and singing along to Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots Were Made for Walking”, our off-key back-up vocals to Ms Sinatra popular song didn’t sit well with our landlady.  With her broomstick, our normally mellow Lady of the Manor began banging on her ceiling (our floor), threateningly informing us our boots were made for walking, and if we didn’t shut up we’d soon be putting them to the use for which they were made.  Duly reprimanded, we pulled our heads in, removed our boots, lifted our feet, lowered the volume, and retired our dancing, singing group with not a hit to our name. Thereafter, we respected “The Broomstick Lady’s” decrees.  

On a sombre note, the recent passing of Judith Durham, closely followed by Olivia Newton-John caused a tsunami of sadness to engulf the world.  Grief spilled over, spreading far and wide.

Two strong hearts…both were wonderful, warm, talented, modest women, who were part of our Australian landscape.  Forever they will remain in our hearts. From the moment The Seekers’ music hit our air waves the pure beauty of Judith Durham’s voice captivated millions. 

Circa 1985, one day while taking care of business in my greengrocery-health food shop in Hastings Street, Noosa Heads, to my surprise, and delight, I had the pleasure of meeting Judith when she entered my shop to purchase goods.  She and I chatted at length. At the time, Judith and her husband lived in the Sunshine Coast Hinterland. 

Judith Durham was as lovely a person, in person, as she appeared to be when on the world stage. A couple of months after our meeting I learned The Seekers were to perform at an ocean-side fair at Maroochydore. “Let me be there!” I yelled.  “It won’t be a concert without Georgy Girl!”

The carnival isn’t over. We’ll remain hopelessly devoted to Judith and Olivia. We love you, we honestly love you both. We’ll never find another you.

Olivia, with the looks of an angel, sang like an angel, was, and shall remain, an angel. She was a warrior, who bequeathed an everlasting legacy. Her generosity of spirit will live on, not only through her Olivia Newton-John Cancer Wellness & Research Centre, which offers world-leading treatment and care, but through her many other the heartfelt, selfless endeavours.   

Olivia’s shining light will never fade…her generosity of spirit, her kindness and goodwill spill over throughout the world…..

 

Milo Lava Cakes: Preheat oven 180C.  Separate 2 eggs; store egg whites in fridge for other use. Melt 50g mini choc chips and 100g unsalted butter until smooth; remove from heat. Add in 40g caster sugar and 60g Milo powder; whisk until well combined. Ensure mixture is not too hot before adding 2 eggs, plus the extra 2 yolks, 1 by 1, after each is fully incorporated; don’t panic if mixture curdles…carry on. Sift flour; mix in until no visible lumps of flour. Don’t over-mix. Grease baking dishes (4xmini loaf pans…8x4.5x4cm OR 5-6oz ramekins; then ‘flour’ baking dishes with cocoa powder). Pour batter evenly into pans to about 80% full. Bake 10-15mins. At 8min mark, jiggle pans to check for doneness; centre should jiggle slightly. Cakes are done when sides are firm and set, and centres are still slightly jiggly.  Don’t over-bake. Cool slightly; remove from pans. Sift cocoa powder over before serving cakes warm.

Angel Food Cake: Preheat oven 175C. Grab 12 eggs. Measure egg whites to equal 1½ cups. Place in bowl; stand at room temp 30mins. Sift 155g icing sugar and 1c plain flour together; add 1-1/2tsp cream of tartar, 1-1/2tsp vanilla extract, 1/2tsp almond extract and 1/4tsp salt to egg whites; beat on high speed. Gradually add 1c sugar, beating until sugar dissolves, and stiff peaks form. Fold in flour, 1/4c at a time. Spoon into greased Angel Food cake pan; cut through batter with knife to remove air pockets.  Bake 40-45mins or until cake springs back when lightly touched. When removing from oven, place wire rack onto pan; immediately turn upside-down. Allow to cool completely before removing pan from over the cake.  Cool completely, then top with whipped cream and sliced strawberries.

 

SPECIAL MEMORIES…SPECIAL MOMENTS…A MEMORABLE EXPERIENCE

 

23rd July, 2022 came, and, it went…but the precious memories the date aroused within me remain; memories of a special few days in my life. 

In July, 1987 the Queensland Tourism & Travel Corporation aka “QTTC” decided to send a tourism delegation to Port Moresby. It would be the first of its kind to venture into the uncharted territory of our northern neighbour. Nine representatives… seven men, and two women (I was one of the latter variety) were chosen to promote their ‘product’.  At the time I was manager of the then Cape Richards Resort on Hinchinbrook Island.  My role was to represent the Hinchinbrook, Cardwell and Johnstone Shires.

During our Port Moresby adventure Papua New Guinea’s Remembrance Day, 23^rd July, fell.  The organisers of our visit had not been informed a Public Holiday would steal a working day from the tourism mission.  As it turned out, I was, and still am glad the fact had been overlooked. The Avis Area Manager invited the group to join him in the Avis Tarago for a trip to the start of the Kokoda Trail/Track on the 23rd.  We eagerly accepted his offer.  

Firstly, after departing Port Moresby the following morning, we visited the historic Bomana War Cemetery, situated just outside the city limits, on the road to Sogeri, which is the starting point of the Kokoda Track. Disembarking at Bomana an atmosphere of respect and deep sorrow filled the air. Somberly, lost in reverie, with tear-filled eyes, the group separated to wander alone through the beautifully maintained cemetery. No words were needed. Words would’ve been superfluous.  

Upon leaving Bomana we commenced the climb up the winding range to the Sogeri Plateau, which is around 800m above sea level, and 46kms from Moresby. Halfway up the range we spotted a Papua New Guinea “warrior” dressed in decorative attire standing out on an escarpment. Pulling to a halt, we leapt out of the vehicle and went over to him. Smiling gallantly in his colourful make-up and feathered head-dress, the “warrior” said we could take his photo for 5 kinas a pop. We each paid him accordingly. The trick was, we used our cameras and films. As we clicked away, the smile on the canny” warrior’s” face betrayed his thoughts: “Sucker tourists!” 

One of our astute “sucker tourists” said, “Did you notice his watch?  It was a Rolex! His BMW was probably parked around the corner!”  We laughed.  Good on him; we didn’t care.  The “warrior’s” appearance added to our fascinating experience. 

Awed by the magnificence of the scenery along the way, we finally reached the Kokoda Inn, which is at the beginning of the Kokoda Trail.  Pinned to the wall behind the primitive, but atmospheric bar were hundreds of monetary notes from over the years, from many countries; mainly notes from Australia, Britain and the USA. Fascinated, we didn’t hold back with our myriad questions about Kokoda and its history. PNG Remembrance Day marks the anniversary of the first engagement between the opposing troops…the Aussies and the Japanese…on 23^rd July, 1942.  The Australian force was outnumbered as the long fight withdrawing over the Owen Stanley Ranges began.  

Kokoda became Australia’s most significant campaign of the Second World War.  More Australians died during the campaign than in any other during the war. The average age of our brave soldiers was between 18 and 19 years. Many of those young men lie buried in the Bomana War Cemetery.  The compassion and care shown by the Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels, the local villagers who carried and cared for wounded and sick Aussie soldiers, taking them to areas of safety, will always be remembered and admired.  The Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels will forever be respected for their brave, selfless deeds.

I’m glad I had the opportunity to visit Port Moresby and its surrounds. Among the sombreness we also enjoyed many light-hearted moments. A few incidents at our hotel would’ve given “Fawlty Towers” a decent run for the money. “Manuel” had a couple of local waiters competing for his job…but those are tales for another day….