Thursday, August 21, 2014
I'm not a fan of fakery. Sadly in a supermarket world of profit and maximising shelf life our food items are presented to us in the most commercially profitable way to alter our spending towards fast moving consumer goods. It's about the packaging we will chose, the convenience we apparently need and the price we are willing to pay. If you shop only at supermarkets these things all make sense. And with all that available spare time we can do things that make us happy. Because apparently preparing food to eat isn't one of them - for some people. As a person who lies awake at night thinking about what I will bake tomorrow I see the joy that growing, harvesting and cooking brings. I've changed over the years however with wisdom growing deeper along with facial lines, I've moved from my apartment living sushi bound lifestyle to a love of fresh country air and home cooked food. Having grown up in the suburbs my idea of life skills were being able to locate your car from a multi deck carpark and find the right exit onto the highway. In the country it's actually about life and survival whether it's animal, vegetable or wood pile. It's about using the locally grown and harvested and sharing your knowledge with others. That's what Maggie Beer does. She told us about South Australia, the Barossa free range chook and using recipes that you grew up with. Whether her ingredients are from sunny Queensland or sitting on her front door step she doesn't need to apologize. She's done more for Australia than any imported celebrity chef on a mega bonus telling us to buy convenience food from a organisation they don't shop at. The business world of pantomime rolls on.
Friday, August 15, 2014
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Friday, August 8, 2014
Number One Son loves his bed. It's his special place for himself and for his special things. Being an avid collector of rocks, doggie chew bones, plant cuttings and an assortment of tennis balls, when socks go missing you know where to look. Fortunately he's grown out of the 'I'm so distressed because you went out today I'm going to eat my bed' phase. Having replaced the trampoline style bed with all four corners gnawed it was only an afternoon chew away from his backside landing firmly on the ground. He was wise to stop when he did. His current bed has a certain smell about it, something between a stale gym locker and a once lost pile of raw mince. All the better from his point of view. From this bed we hear the snores of a tired doggy dreaming of coffee shops, farmers markets and bloody possum on the back fence. In his dreams he is barking the most threatening of doggie anger but in reality we hear a soft "Yip. Yip. Yip" coming from the corner. He awakes with a loud yawn to tell the world he's ready for a new day and trots off into our bedroom. Come on get up it's a brilliant day, his tail wags with force and he licks legs and arms as they dangle from under the doona. If only we could all wake up like our dogs each day I'm sure life would seem better. Then if my bed smelled that rank I'd be quick to get out of it too. So this weekend it's dog bed washing weekend. He'll give me that look like I've stolen it as I proceed to drown his much loved bedding and watch the water turn a murky brown. He'll sook in the corner with a long face until it's put back exactly where it was with everything back in it. He just can't have my socks back and that meat smell... I'll guess we'll never know.