Catching up

I'm a bad blogger. I have these lapses of weeks that slip by in what seems like days, and then I realise how long it's been. Then I feel like I should leave it until I have something really exciting to share so that at least the wait will have been worth it. But then I think what I find exciting (yarn sales, vintage button expos, food, food, and food) is maybe not what you'd find exciting, so that's probably silly of me. Instead, I'm just going to do a catch-up post and call my absence exactly what is is: laziness and writer's block. Or should that be blogger's block?
To start with, things I'd totally buy if I wasn't flat broke:
Irregular Choice sells the most amazing clothes, shoes and accessories and their site entry page makes me sigh. I'm pretty sure I want every single thing in the store, but just for now these are my favourite:

These little babies are called Abigail's Party, and they secretly make me wish I was Abigail.
While we're on the topic of shoes, Shoes of Prey = fantastic! For three reasons: One, you can design your own shoes. Two....actually only one reason but really, when it comes to shoes isn't one enough?
Oh, and on the topic of designing, let's talk about food design. In summer I love me a good popsicle (or ice-blocks for us Aussie kids), but I hate how sugary store-bought ones are, and I crave fruit non-stop. I've also always been a big fan of playing with my food. You know that old cliche about love being a four-letter word? Well that word is Zoku, because this little beauty lets you create popsicles on the bench top, in fifteen minutes. And not just any old popsicle, popsicles like this:

It's almost too pretty to eat. Almost.
On that note, let's discuss food blogs. One of my very favourite blogs is the darling Sasa, epecially her detailed account of the dreaded Hangrrr. Her witty and inspiring food/life blog always leaves me with something to think about, while also leaving my stomach begging for attention because of things like this:

Oh Sasa, why must you tempt me so!
Sasa also has a blogger friend I love. Alex's Cuts and Burns is the sometimes melancholy, often witty, and always amazing exploits of a chef experimenting with all sorts of awesomeness. What sort of awesomeness, you ask. This sort:

That's an artichoke salad that really is too pretty to eat (but I'd probably give it a go anyway).
And finally, after much poking and prodding from me and dear Wabi, one of our very best friends has created her own blog!

 The Other Renae, or Miss Vodka as Darling readers will have known her previously,  is already one of my favourite reads, and is sure to be filled with a mixture of musings on art, design, food, and coffee. There's also bound to be the odd post on music (pertaining especially to guitars) and everything French - Vodka's two greatest loves. So if you like ay of these things even a bit, or if you like reading my blog (please say you do), then you should go check her out. She's pretty cool.

Bad ideas and good friends

This is how my Saturday night began:

Yes, that is my hair. Sitting on my desk. With a pair of not-exactly-hairdressing-quality-scissors. Why? Isn't it obvious, I cut my own hair of course. Shall I explain?
See, after a week of very little sleep, a month of living on my credit card while sorting out government money, and a year of feeling pretty much like I'd achieved a big fat 'F' in "Life Class", I decided something needed to change and it needed to change immediately. It may have had something to do with my frustration at not fitting into any of my clothes, and probably a lot to do with the PMS that kicked in yesterday, but I decided my hair was going to be that thing that changed - so I cut it off. leading of course to almost instantaneous regret at the realisation of what I'd done.
Thankfully, I have amazing friends. I called out to my housemate, who also happens to be the ever-funky and most incredibly fabulous KAO, and she came running to tidy up my disaster and assured me I'd done a "great job considering you did it yourself". She absently placed a bobby pin in my *ahem* fringe, and sent me on my way with a big hug, assuring me it looked cute. I spent the rest of the night with Miss Crunchie and Miss Vodka, making fools of ourselves and laughing until our sides hurt. They both gushed about my new do, although noted I did indeed need to fix the fringe a tad, and we finished the night with these:

White Chocolate Raspberry Brioche Dumplings* from Freestyle Tout (come to Brisbane, eat them, discover heaven).
Needless to say, my night ended muchly better than it started, and made me unbelievably greatful to have such amazing and incredible friends.
Thankyou girlies.


*Photo Courtesy of Eat Drink + Be Kerry.

Remembering why

Hands up if you're from somewhere less than amazing? I am. I grew up in several little towns in an area skirting the largish town of Toowoomba. I say town because, as much as it tries, Toowoomba is still very much not a city. This is one of the many things about it that I both love and hate. I love that it lacks the anxious pace Brisbane offers, but I absolutely hate that there's almost nothing to do in Toowoomba outside visiting gardens and going to the movies. The first of these activities, however is also a reason I absolutely love the place.
I often forget just how beautiful Toowoomba is, and it will take a drive through the quiter streets, or a picnic in one of the many parks for me to remember that there is actually plenty to do if you're willing to think outside the square. Aside from picnics, the streets around town are filled with gorgeous old houses and cool tree-lined pavements which are perfect for a summer afternoon photo sesion, and there's even a park with a croquet court (which I've been meaning to get to for oh, ten years).
Lucky the newly married Tina and Tim didn't forget about Toowoomba's beauty. Even luckier for me, their photographer, Darren of CK Mettrophotos, did such a fantastic wedding shoot that Green Wedding Shoes featured their wedding, then I stumbled across it and fell so in love I just had to share it with you.
These are my favourite shots, courtesy of Green Wedding Shoes:

  All the parks are so full of trees that you can sit almost anywhere and be guaranteed that sun-dappled patches of cool grass will surround you. And the council's obession with hedges and flower-dividers makes it all feel a bit Alice-in-Wonderland.
So pretty.

City Lights

It's been a while, hasn't it? Disappointingly, this is going to be a very nothing post because I'm feeling a bit rusty. I thought I'd show you my new/old home - Brisbane. New because I'm newly moved in and closer than ever to the city. Old because I've lived here for four years before moving home for the last six months.
When I left Brisbane in December last year I was thoroughly sick of the city. I'd originally moved here for uni and was, at first, overcome by the size and pace of everything. Being a country mouse everything about city life overwhelmed me, and I honestly thought I wouldn't survive the first six months. But I did. I realised the city wasn't so big or scary, you just had to learn your way around. Once I started settling in and getting comfortable, my relationship with Brisbane changed. It became boring and lived in. The weeks became predictable, and the bright lights became garish and tacky. By the beginning of last year I was thoroughly disenchanted with the city, desperate to move somewhere with new experiences, new life, and new reasons to wake up every day.
Moving back after six months in a town trying far to hard to be a city, I have a newfound love for Brisbane. The pace seems not fast but exciting, the places I'd been to a million times have become old favourites rather than last resorts, and the lights at night make me smile at the brightness of possibilities swimming around me.
I think maybe my difference of opinion has come from a new direction - a designated path that wasn't there six months ago. Maybe it's also come from the knowledge that I can leave if I want, and so the city has become my playground rather than a jail cell. I still miss the quiet of the small town, the blanket of stars at night, and the freedom of living with family rather than housemates. But I'm falling in love again with the ability to walk everywhere, the astounding mix of people and ideas, and the never-ending list of places to visit, or revist, at the nearest opportunity.   

Alastair McLeod's nuts

Tonight is cold. Today was cold. And I’m still a wee bit sick. You’d hardly expect me to jumping around in excitement would you? BUT…Even with a day of little no sunshine and a cough which threatens to dislodge both my lungs, today was my favourite day in a long while. Why, you ask (ok, so you don’t really care. Humour me, yeah).

Today Darling mother and I, after a night of craftiness with the ever-fabulous Wabi and friends, headed out to a local food and arts festival. We tried jams and jellies, dukkahs and dips, and a rather delish ice-cream (because it’s never too cold for dessert). We ran into Wabi there as well and she tagged along with us, laughing at my childish excitement all the while. You see, as much as I love food - and as much as I adore free stuff - my real purpose for traipsing around in the cold was to see my very favourite chef in the whole world. Alastair McLeod just happened to be cooking at the festival today!
Who? Alastair McLeod is an Irish-Australian chef, probably most famous for his boisterous bouts on the Australian version of Ready Steady Cook. He is also head chef at Brett’s Wharf, touted as Brisbane’s best seafood restaurant and the place on top of my “must visit” restaurant list. He has cooked at a number of five-star restaurants around the world, and even worked at the Michelin-rated Da Giovanni in Torino, Italy.
But that’s not why I love him. His use of new and fun ways to cook - like today’s five-minute berry sorbet, made using dry ice - and his strong belief in continued learning, mean his food is always on the cutting-edge of foodie fashion. He’s also big on growing the next generation of top chefs, actively involving himself in apprentice education. AND (and this is the best bit) he’s a champion of supporting local food and local producers, believing that sourcing food locally cuts down travel, creating fresher, better-tasting food while lowering our carbon footprint at the same time.
Mr McLeod is passionate about his food, the way it is prepared, and the process the produce goes through before getting to him. He’s also passionate about educating others and creating a food experience revolving around the simple joy of the food, not the snobbery and arrogance which seems to have become a part of the whole foodie culture. And he’s wickedly funny to boot, telling jokes about horse’s appendages and offering us a taste of his nuts (wink wink, nudge nudge), throughout his cooking demo.

His comrade in the kitchen today, Matt Golinski, is a champion in his own right. Mr Golinski also supports the Slow Food Movement and actively promotes the consumption of in-season fare (he claims to only eat strawberries when they’re in season in his local area—imagine going more than half a year without a strawberry!). Throw in his cheeky wit (kitchen condoms for your cheese-making?), and he was an adequate competitor in today’s cooking war.

Wanna see some photos?

Alastair getting saucy. 

Matt talking about perfect potato pillows (aka gnochi)

Dry-ice-assisted sorbet in the making

Doing cheffy things

 Serious face during his (impressive) rant about buying local

Mr McLeod's wild Barra with pan-roasted vegetables and caramlised nuts

 Deconstructed cheesecake and berry sorbet (YUM!)

Too cool for school

Two posts in one day. Hurrah!
This is just a heads up for you to check out an awesome blog. Style Rookie is an incredibly witty, intelligent, and rediculously cool blog all about fashion and fun. And the coolest bit. The writer: fourteen years old!
Dear Tavi, if you ever read my blog, I think you're awesome. Can I be you for a day?

Where I want to be right now...

San Blas, Panama

Photo taken by my friend, Crunchie.

Bit of a show off

Darling mother and I went to the local show yesterday. Having grown up in small towns, shows to me have always been about the animals - livestock, equestrian events, sheep dog trials - and a lot less about naff games and deep-fried, over-sugared snacks. I believe we spent a total of three hours wandering the animal exhibits and about twenty minutes elsewhere. Those twenty minutes were thoroughly wasted. The three hours, however were not.
I took Darling father's camera and managed to snap a few shots of the more photogenic creatures. I say creatures because the two-legged locals were very much unphotogenic in comparison to their fury friends. But then, it's hard to look as cute as this little fella:

I'm not sure about this haircut or the bib, but maybe I'm just not fashionable enough:

And this little lady had me itching for a packet of Jersey Caramels. Is that wrong of me?:

 

The flipside of Easter

Easter has always represented a bit of a mind-fuck (excuse the french) for me. See, easter is all about the birth of new life, specifically Christ dying and rising again. But it's also represented by the birth of spring - eggs, bunnies, spring flowers, etc. The thing is, on my little scrap of the earth, as I'm sure it is for most in the Southern Hemisphere, it's nowhere near Spring right now. And so I find myself - as I do at Christmas with the snow/blinding heat paroxism - finding easter's acoutrement of all-things-spring somewhat ironic. And then I find this little gem and have to take a photo, because apparantly even the mushrooms are getting into the swing of things:

It looks like an egg, no?
I snapped that yesterday, while wandering around my Uncle's farm in the mountains behind the area I spent much of my childhood. I also stumbled across this perfectly framed glimpse of the endless hills ambling along the horizon:

This year easter is a little less ironic for me, and not just because of the mushroom. With the rains we've had over the last few months, and the fires of last spring, these hills are greener than I've ever seen. They've found new life in the last moments of summer and, with that, brought new life to a once dead valley and all its flora, fauna, and peoples. The easter message - from death springs new life and hope - seems to resound around this place, even without spring on the doorstep.

Scrumdiddlyumptious

I've been lazy again. But I've also been away. A Darling Friend turned twenty-four on March 7 and, while this is not such an auspicious birthday, I packed a suitcase and headed south to celebrate with him.
My friend lives in Orange, a medium-sized town about three hours north-west of Sydney. While there I spent countless hours wandering the oh-so-English gardens and parks, snapping photos of all manner of flora and fauna, and eating...eating...eating. Although, with much less of a gap between each bite.
Yes, as with all adventures, much of my time centred around gluttony, the sin for which I'm sure I will eventually be cast into death by heart failure. The area around Orange is prime farmland, filled with cattle, sheep, vinyards, and all manner of delicious foodstuffs. Ironically, Orange is not famous for oranges, rather apples and cherries of which, again ironically, I tried neither while there. I did however buy some local honey (for a belated Christmas gift) and experience a restaurant that you simply must try next time you're in the neighbourhood.
Tonic is situated a half-hour drive from Orange itself, in a town which I'm sure I'll go back to experience sometime in the future. But for now, Tonic. Set in the old Millthorpe picture theatre, the restaurant itself was enough to make me smile (I love old buildings and architecture), but the food: Heaven.
The menu on the website is slightly different to that available on the night, but I'm sure even the fussiest gourmand could appreciate their Vennison with duck liver parfait, or the rediculously delicious amuse bouche of roasted capsicum and tomato soup. It sounds simple but fresh capsicum, basil, tomato, lime...I'm drooling!
Dessert was no less fabulous. My Darling Friend had a raspberry chocolate semi-freddo we all agreed would substitute sex quite nicely, while my mango souffle and french vanilla-bean ice-cream would easily entice me to take a vow of chastity in order to taste just one more bite. If I could offer any advice it would be to skip the complimentary petit fours as they left a dry, dirty taste where once had bean* only sweet delight.

*Still dreaming about that ice-cream...