Thank you!

I'd just about convinced myself that my last post should be my last post ever. I wasn't quite ready to kill the blog, but I was thinking about it. This morning, listening to the rain pelting down and the dog snoring and feeling warm and comfortable, I realised how good I'm feeling again and what a fantastic day it was to do things at home. It's time to start creating and photographing again! I just thought I should say hello first to anyone who might still be interested!

I suppose some people might ask "where have you been?" Well, unfortunately I had to have more surgery. Major surgery. In the lead-up, I was feeling the effects of some pretty toxic medication and I was extremely anxious about how things might go. Afterwards, I couldn't pick up a frying pan or large knife to save myself. Thankfully, the surgery went well and I'm on the road to a full recovery. I'm moving a little better each day and have even started going for walks with Tim and Bug and cooking again, although our freezer is so full of food that I don't really need to cook for at least another month.

On that note, and at the risk of causing spontaneous gagging from anyone who might still be reading, the the love and support from our family and friends has been uplifting and so greatly appreciated and I feel extremelt fortunate. A few of the wonderful kindnesses shown to me which made all the difference, include my mother and godmother travelling to Sydney, (again), so that they could be there to support me and Tim. They brought me chocolate and bandaids with a picture of Jesus on them to cheer me up. My brother and sisters made the trip up for a single day and spent hours doing their best to make me laugh. I did and had to beg them to stop because I was in danger of rupturing something. Seriously. Thank you, you clowns! Our uncle Dave took care of Ladybug for a week. She supervised his woodwork, he fed her steak and took her for walks. It was a fair exchange. Friends and colleagues from all over the world called Tim daily to check up on things and offer support. And when I got back to Gippsland, old neighbours visited with tasty treats and old friends travelled up from Melbourne to keep me company and fill our freezer with a couple of weeks worth of dinners.

Thank you everyone! I hope you know how much easier you made what's been a very difficult time.

And especially thank you Tim who has been loving, kind, patient and supportive in every way possible during this whole crazy ride. There aren't enough words to describe the way I feel about this man and the way he has helped me get through this. You get it.

Now, stay tuned...

The Ration Book Cooking Project

When we were in England a few years ago, Tim and I wound up at the Imperial War Museum's Duxford air field on WWII day. We had planned to go because we both love aeroplanes, but it was a total accident we were there on that particular day. It was meant to be.

Not only were there many people there in full WWII attire, complete with gas mask boxes, hairstyles and uniforms, but we had the pleasure of seeing many wonderful examples of historical flying machinery, some still in working order. We wandered through the ill-fated Concord and saw a cool black spy plane. We rode on 1940s bicycles which was thrilling, so much so that when we got back, I spent months trying (in vain) to find a pair to buy. In one tent there was a lady who was an expert in ration book cooking. She'd made a few things that we tried, including a chocolate truffle made of potato, cocoa and sugar. Nothing more. It wasn't half bad either.

Since then, I have bought a few WWII cook books that I love pouring over. I have a couple of authentic volumes from the period, from both the UK and the US. It certainly seems as though there was a big difference between the food situation in each country. In fact, the second edition of 'Wartime Recipes' that was published by the Omaha World-Herald is funny for the lack of rationing. It contains recipes such as 'chocolate jelly roll', 'enriched french toast' (with real eggs!) and 'baked squash with sausage links.'

I also have a more recent and very helpful book called "Ration Book Cookery" by Gill Corbishley. It's a British book and has a nice range of easy recipes and a lot of interesting information. I've often meant to cook from it and over the next week, I'll get my chance.

I've had in mind a project for a while where I cook ration meals for one week. Tim asked me why. Basically because I'm interested to know how well these recipes work and what they taste like. It's pure curiosity, although I would also like to have some appreciation of what people were eating then.

The plan is that for the next seven days, I'll cook a ration meal each night. I'm not going to follow ration quantities in the sense of how much we're allowed to eat. It's simply an exercise in cooking and eating, although I won't take my usual liberties with the recipes and I will follow them as exactly as today's ingredients allow. Tim's agreed to get into the spirit and eat ration meals all week, including breakfast and lunch, so there will be a lot of porridge, Spam and Oslo meals happening. He's also agreed to provide feedback each day on the blog.

Now just so we're clear, this is not a weight loss exercise or a social commentary. It's just something that I thought would be fun and interesting to try. I read somewhere that during ration times in Britain, the British people as a whole ate better and were healthier than at any other time, so hopefully it won't be too difficult to enjoy the food either. Having said that, Tim's Godmother Al told me yesterday that she remembers rationing as a child and said it was horrible. I guess we're about to find out!

Isabel has arrived!!!

Congratulations Fleur and David and welcome Isabel!!!

Babies only arrive in the wee small hours and Isabel was no exception. Mum spent the evening in hospital and finally had Issie at 5am this morning. Dad went home to sleep it off. Aunt Lizzie texted me at 5.40am, but I'm not complaining. The best sort of news is worth the early wake-up call. Now I just can't wait to meet the little one.

Cookies and knitting will be in the post in the next few days.

xo

Dim sims and removalists

The move is just about complete. "What move?" I hear you ask. The move that is taking me away from my lovely new kitchen, that's what move!

I've decided that moving is a particular brand of hell that should be reserved for use as a form of cruel and unusual punishment, and little else. It really is painful. First of all there's the lead-up in which you have to sort everything out. This wasn't too bad and I got rid of all sorts of things we thought we needed but never really used. Then the pack up. This was interesting. I booked a removalist and all seemed to be going alright, except I seemed to have trouble confirming our address. As it turns out, they had decided they were going to move us to a town that we'd never heard of somewhere in NSW. I found out about this the day before the scheduled pack up. My confidence in them shattered, I promptly cancelled the deal. Later that day I got an email, asking very politely and with apparently genuine curiosity, why I had decided to cancel. Seriously.

A week later a group of people from a different company turned up to pack, on time, in good spirits and with the correct address. Of course they packed everything in their wake, which I suppose is the idea. But I really mean everything, including stuff I'd put to one side to throw out. Such items included Tim's dirty painting gear, the linen off the bed I was sleeping in, a bottle of out of date OJ and the cat. Well not really the cat, but if we'd had a cat and it had been sitting still at the time, it would have got packed! These guys were very efficient!

At the other end, I've managed to unpack most of the main stuff we need to live and that includes the kitchen. It's amazing what you find when you're unpacking and deciding where to put it in a kitchen that isn't yours. Tim says I'll have to make it mine. And so I will.

Not having all my usual cooking resources sorted yet, I went out foraging for easy meals. I wasn't disappointed. The dim sims pictured come from a deli I found in the Gippsland town of Traralgon. It's one of the best delis I've ever been in and for around $30 I managed to buy Tim and I lunch, dinner, dessert and a loaf of artisan bread. Not bad. These were pork and beef dim sims and they were huge, very filling and very delicious. I did nothing fancy to serve either - just steamed and served with soy sauce. I've attempted making dumpling type stuff myself in the past, but I need lessons because it doesn't come naturally to me.

Coming up this week, I have some exciting cooking ahead, including catering for a 60th birthday party. I'm going to do a test run of the cake today so crossed fingers. I've also been given some fantastic kids recipes that I'll be testing as well. I figured Tim's just a boy in a man's body so it all works out.

Better late...

I think it's fair to say that 2009 was a full, rich year. I feel like I barely had time to take a breath and already it's mid-January 2010. To recap, aside from the cooking and photography, we spent the first three months of 2009 planning a wedding and getting married. Over the next few months, we had heaps of overseas visitors come to stay, there was a new job, birthdays, some major home improvements and then without warning, I found myself in hospital. Twice. The second time resulted in a week-long trip to Sydney for my mother and God-mother Ali, who, when they weren't being wonderful and supportive and bringing me proper coffee and drooling over my surgeon, wandered around Sydney shopping and marinating. So it wasn't time wasted.

By December I was ready for some fun and so was Tim, having done so much travel since October that the dog was starting to have abandonment issues (wait until I go back to work!). I felt it was time for a Christmas party, and I was right.

I couldn't stand for hours in the kitchen, so I kept things as simple as possible and made a lot of stuff in advance. My mother and Ali helped and if I do say so myself, we put on an excellent spread. I think particular triumphs for the evening were the stuffed mushrooms, Ali's mini sausage rolls, and the roast vegetable frittata cut into bite sized pieces and served with tomato mustard, fresh basil and fetta on top.

Unfortunately, I picked the hottest night in December and we don't have aircon. I remember feeling the temperature suddenly and steeply rise with the influx of people and not helped by the bottle-neck of revellers who insisted on collecting just inside the kitchen doorway. I just couldn't shift them. About half the crowd eventually spilled out into to the backyard which was excellent. Anyway, nobody seemed too worried, champagne continued to be drunk, food got eaten and we were lucky to get a refreshing breeze fairly early on in the piece. I was exhausted for about three days afterwards, but I needed it and thoroughly enjoyed it and would do it again. Next Christmas.

The purpose of the gingerbread house? I haven't made one in years, I wanted a Christmassy centrepiece for the party, and I could make this mostly sitting down which was absolutely essential in December. It took me a few days to do as I worked in fits and bursts. I had my brother Sam help me build trusses and assemble and eventually taste. There were gingerbread men standing around it but Tim apparently tripped and as he fell, his open mouth was broken by the fall of the gingerbread men. Several times. He tried to blame it on two and a half year old Henry, but I watch enough crime TV to know to match up the bite mark on the gingerbread torso that I did find, with the man. It was way too big for little Henry. At least Tim didn't hurt himself.

What next? Well so far 2010 has involved decisions about moves and jobs and health and studies and I can see it's gearing up to be another huge year involving a lot of choice and complications. Will I take the promotion? Will we get Ladybug a little brother or sister? Will Tim take my name? Will I continue to cook and blog? I know the answer to the last one will be yes, starting with me getting organised over the next few weeks.

Thanks to everyone who read this last year. Please be patient - I will be getting back into the swing of things as soon as I'm removed and resettled.

Silly Season

It's the silly season and so far I haven't done a lot for it. Traditionally, I get cooking in the first weekend of December and start turning out ginger bread, fruit mince and so on, followed by finding a new place to hide said goodies from Tim. This weekend I made a pathetic stab at soaking fruit in grog. Tim took one look before reaching for some kind of shop bought abomination we had lying around.

The first weekend in December also sees me putting up the Christmas tree. Unfortunately, it took me about twice as long to put up half the decorations on a tree that Tim very kindly assembled for me, before retreating to the garage which suddenly needed an urgent tidy up. Maybe it was the Christmas CD I had on a loop? (Well you can hardly erect a Christmas tree without the appropriate sound track playing, can you?!) The whole exercise resulted in me needing a lie down. (This recovery thing is getting old).

Anyway, I feel that Christmas cooking is on the cards in the next few days. I think I'm just about ready to get into the kitchen again, I mean, for something besides toast. At least most of the beverage purchases have been taken care of and that's important. Nothing says 'Merry Christmas' like bubbles...

Me, a knitter?

For the last week, knitting has really been a salvation. Each day, after doing the ordinary stuff like making coffee and putting the dog out, I get to settle down in front of a DVD and pick up the needles. I really look forward to that time now. In fact, such are my days at the moment that starting a new colour has become a highlight worth calling Tim at work to boast about. He's thrilled. And very interested.

If you can't tell from the photo, I'm knitting a baby's blanket. I have several friends with babies and several friends due in anywhere from a few days to a few months, so it seemed like the thing to do. I've got enough wool to blanket the whole house, and a range of colours because I keep changing my mind and obliging siblings have driven me to the wool shop a couple of times to buy more. It's an outing.

I'm not sure how to describe the technical side of things. You'd think I'd know by now, being an avid reader of Bellsknits. Helen very kindly supplied me with a pattern and the kind of useful advice you won't get from just anyone. Now I know about all sorts of stuff I would never have considered, such as circular needles - brilliant. I know about easy-care wool - fantastic if you're knitting for a baby and something I would never have thought to look for. I know about matching dye lots - actually I picked that up from a man at the wool shop, but good to know nonetheless. It's a whole new world and one that I'm thoroughly enjoying in the absence of being able to cook.

Now I'm operating in the belief that whatever I create will be good enough to impose upon my friends and their newborn offspring, for whom they want only the best. I don't think my current effort is looking too bad for someone who can only knit in straight rows, but then I am on a lot of pain medication. I'm also assuming that my friends are too polite not to praise my efforts and thank me profusely. Sorry unsuspecting friends who read this. Finally, I'm assuming that my recouperation activities are interesting to anyone other than me. Humour me - I'm on a lot of pain medication...

Hospital Food

I spent last week in hospital. I put it in the category of 'one of those things' that sometimes crops up in life, unexpectedly and seemingly without reason.

The whole thing happened quite quickly. In the space of a few weeks, I had minor surgery, lots of tests and a lovely trip to Bowral (with it's brilliant cafes and kitchen shop it was such a difficult day) to see a specialist. I found myself scheduled for major surgery in Sydney almost immediately. While it didn't go entirely to plan, I feel fortunate to have had such an experienced specialist in charge, and be treated in an excellent facility without having to wait for months.

I also feel incredibly blessed to have received (and still be receiving) so much support from family, friends and colleagues. My mum and godmother came to Sydney with me, stayed 600 meters away and visited twice a day, bringing trashy magazines and decent coffee. Both necessities when one is confined to a hospital bed.

Since I've been back in Canberra, I haven't spent a single night alone. With Tim away some nights, there's always been someone here just in case. Last night it was my brother, the night before, my sister. My dog has been fed and walked, milk has been purchased, and one brilliant friend even sat patiently with me for several hours at the ER the other night. So thank you everyone for the calls, messages, cards, visits, etc. It has made this whole thing as un-depressing and as easy to deal with as could ever have been possible.

Now, surgery and pain aside, hospital wasn't too bad. I had my own, very nice room with a view of the water (well I could see the boats anyway), cable TV, aircon, pain relief at the push of a button and staff who couldn't do enough for me. This included the catering staff who made a point of letting me know what flavour jelly was available before doling it out. This was very kind of them, since jelly was on the menu each day, at every meal.

For the first couple of days I was allowed only clear fluids, and I couldn't manage much of that anyway. Then things picked up. For one lunch I had smoked salmon. On another occasion, I had the chef's salad which, despite my shabby photo, was really nice and fresh. One night they even brought me white wine, although I couldn't touch it at the time and am still off alcohol.

Since I can't cook at the moment and am living on pre-prepared meals and toast, I have taken up another activity for the duration. Knitting. Yes, seriously. Not only can I do it while lounging about, but I'm finding it so therapeutic and I love the instant gratification factor of seeing something form in front of me, even if I am slow and not very good.

Thanks to Helen at Bellsknits for the help with getting me started. It was a lot of fun going and choosing wool and I've revised my colour scheme twice already. I probably shouldn't be so precious with a first effort, but I can't bear the thought of undoing all that knitting and starting again because I no longer think my original colours work. Anyway, I'll take some photos of my efforts and post something later this week. Just be kind - remember, I cook!

When a man loves a burger...

Find me a man who doesn't like a hamburger. Seriously. I dare you.

Your average bloke, even ones with a developed palate, seem all too willing to throw caution to the wind for a hamburger from any greasy spoon, franchise or road-side wagon if they're hungry enough. Or if their mates suggest it after a few beers. Personally, I'd rather go hungry than eat from most of these places, and generally don't have a choice because of the whole 'can't eat wheat' thing. Sadly, your average hungry bloke requires more instant gratification.

To prove the point, I give you my sister's boyfriend. He's a fantastic cook. He's also smart, sensitive and gives a damn about food and where it comes from. He keeps a stock of good ingredients. He owns a bread maker and can use the ravioli setting on my pasta maker better than I can. Last night when my sister was here, he called to let her know he was home safely. Then came the inevitable "what did you have for dinner." Silence. I heard my sister ask "did you have McDonalds?" followed by "you always mumble when you've had McDonalds." And then "well, you deserve it."

I sat there wondering if that meant she was cross at him for eating fast food and thought he deserved whatever digestive issue he may have during the night as a result? Or, did it mean that lining up for a burger and fries prepared by some exhausted uni student towards the end of their shift, was perceived as a treat? Frankly, I couldn't see how but then I remembered my sister loves this man and would hardly wish him to spend a night kneeling before the porcelain goddess.

A couple of weeks ago there was a lot of talk about a burger wagon in Kingston. Sightings of this fairy-lit, red wagon of pleasure were being bragged about online and it seemed everyone was raving about it. Funnily enough, one night Tim announced he really felt like a burger, I shouldn't have to cook (it was his night) and it would be a good exercise to take photos of food at night. Sure...

It wasn't hard to find the Brodburger wagon. It's red and lit up, just like the legends say, and had a couple of dozen people milling about it. All sorts of people were there - young, old, couples, dogs, you name it. And everyone was chilled and happy to wait. The whole atmosphere was pretty relaxed and friendly. We got talking to people who'd come from the far north and the far south, such was the Brodburger reputation.

Each time the little window slid open, you could almost hear the waiting crowd draw a sharp, collective breath, each person hoping that they would be called next. With hope and expectation on their faces, the lucky ones moved forward when their number was called, reached up and were handed their little parcel of burgery goodness. A few people stood around, huddled in little groups of confidents, eating cosily and boastfully. Most people took theirs away to savour privately in cars and homes all over Canberra.

Then it was Tim's turn. He got the Brodburger Delux. We drove over to the bus depot car park where we could check it out without pressure. It had two beef patties, lots of fresh salad, and I'm pretty sure two types of cheese. The bun was fresh and crunchy and the whole thing smelled divine. I tried the beef and it was very, very good. Not sausage meat; it tasted like real steak with very little culinary interference. It cost about $14 but Tim felt it was worthwhile.

To put it in perspective, Tim can go out for entree, mains and dessert, and then go home and have toast and cereal for supper. (And yes, he stays exactly the same size.) The Brodburger hit the spot. No supper required.

Another wedding

I'm sitting here at the end of the week feeling drained and looking forward to cracking the Verve in the fridge and spending what I hope will be a relaxing Saturday night with some of our best friends. Tim thinks I'm nuts because I want to make pasta from scratch, but since he doesn't cook, he has no veto powers. It's actually not that hard or time consuming and I'll share my recipe for spelt pasta next week. It's also highly satisfying to plop your pasta into a pot of boiling water and watch it cook without falling apart. But I digress...

In a few days, Tim and I will have been married for six months. Six months! When did that happen? It feels so much longer. I still haven't gotten my dress back from the shop and I'm only hoping they've managed to repair the damage they did when they attempted to clean it. Sigh...

On the other hand, our godparents, Ali and Dave, have notched up 25 years! That's right folks, a whole quarter of a century. A silver wedding anniversary! And these two still act like teenagers in love. (It can be a little sickening to be honest.) Congratulations!!!

To celebrate, we threw a party and they renewed their vows. It was a really beautiful day with wonderful weather and wonderful friends , some of whom were at the first wedding. Ladybug doubled as flower dog, complete with silver tutu, and she was great (although she had to be dragged down the aisle) and the food was well received. Champagne flowed and the mostly white chocolate and berry cake didn't melt. I burned myself on the oven, but champagne's a great anaesthetic. I can only hope I can still cook for 35 people without batting an eye for Tim and my silver anniversary in 24.5 years!

[Ali is the stylish lady in red in the middle of the top photo and David is the old bloke (who also scrubbed up pretty well) talking to me in the bottom photo.]

Dinner with Maggie Beer

Earlier this week, Tim casually suggested we go somewhere nice for dinner on Friday night. He said he'd make a booking and I thought we'd probably go to one of our favourite places in town. Yesterday morning, I asked him where we were going and after mentioning things like 'that pizza place' he said we were going to dinner with Maggie Beer. I didn't really believe him.

Anyhow, it became clear last night, once we were rounding State Circle that we were headed for Old Parliament House and Maggie's Table.

Pre-dinner drinks with friends in the courtyard were nice, followed by a Maggie-inspired three course meal. There was a live band, nice wines and Maggie and Janet Jeffs regaled us with some funny stories and Janet's vision for food in Canberra. Maggie and Janet then went from table to table to thank everyone for being there. It was a nice touch. I also managed to meet Maggie on the stairs and she graciously agreed to let Tim take our photo.

The Kitchen Cabinet is officially opening today and once the hysteria of a Maggie opening dies down, I'll go and have a look. I love the idea of having another outlet for regional and seasonal produce that supports local growers. The notion that Canberra can become a Barossa-style centre for food is one that appeals to me and was a theme of last night. Canberra is quite capable of making its mark as a great food destination. The region has so much to offer in culinary terms and I for one will be making more of an effort to support our local industry.

Australian Gourmet Traveller Restaurant Awards

I like the idea of an award for the best maitre 'd. See story in the SMH.

Julie & Julia

This is the story of Julie Powell cooking her way through Julia Child's 'Mastering the Art of French Cooking' and blogging about it. Well, there's actually a bit more to it than that because it is about a personal journey through which cooking every recipe in this iconic cookbook seems to have been the one constant. It's a funny, poignant story and one I recommend reading if you can find a copy. Or else go and see the movie, starring Meryl Streep, no less.

The most revolting dish ever devised

I recently read an article about Elizabeth David and the fact that she would scrawl notes in recipe books that reflected her thoughts on the recipe and/or its creator. Let me tell you, she did not hold back.

I've never really gotten into her work and don't own anything by her, although I've read bits and pieces about her as a woman who was passionately interested in food. It seems that she was adventurous, loved Mediterranean cooking, abhorred a lot of the old English cooking traditions, and was quite forthright with her opinions. I think she also came along at the right time, before the masses knew what prosciutto and arborio rice and verjuice were. But that is how history is made.

In any case, I don't disagree with her view of the most revolting dish ever devised. I can safely say that I will never, ever try this one. Not even just to see for myself. I can also safely say that having spent most of my life around Italian cooking, I have never, ever come across anything like this. But you be the judge...

Winners are grinners!

Thanks everyone who voted for me in Take 5 magazine over the last week. The good news is that it was not in vain. I got a call this afternoon telling me that I won the Reader's Choice prize.

Tim and I are both thrilled and pretty excited about it, not only for the neat prizes, but because it's our first foray into the world of competitive cooking.

We won some Kitchen Aid appliances (my all time favourite kind) and a Breville grill. Not bad! Together with the Royal Doulton cooking and serving gear we nabbed, our kitchen is going to be better fitted out than I ever expected it would be. It's just brilliant and we really appreciated everyone who took the time to make the call.

There will be some sort of follow up story in next week's edition for those who are interested.

Thanks again!!!

Australia's Best Home Chef?

You be the judge!

I have made it to the dizzy heights of top 5 finalists in the Take 5 Magazine competition to find Australia's best home chef.

Now it may not be Masterchef, but then there's no public meltdowns, war of the words or sucking up to the judges involved. Just straight cooking. And, I'd really like to win!

There are two categories of winner - judges choice and reader's choice. To vote for me, you can ring 1902 554 994 or SMS 199 54994. Voting code is 55.

Voting ends on Tuesday at midnight (or does that make it Wednesday?)

Fingers crossed...

Truffle Festival

Just a quick spot of news as I settle into the new kitchen (read: madly clean up because the outlaws are coming to dinner tomorrow night). The Australian Capital Country Truffle Festival is on. I'd love to do a cooking class, but we'll see how we go. I'd love to hear from anyone who has taken part in events or classes.

Out with the old...

It's finally happening - the new kitchen is here!  Well that is, it's sitting on a tarp in the dining room, waiting to be installed. I don't care! It brings me one step closer to having a functioning space to work in. It's all shiny and new and covered in protective plastic and looking like it will make me very happy, once it's in. I can't wait. Step by step, it's taking shape.

The picutre above is of the old (clean) kitchen, ready to be demolished, with the new one sitting in the background. Note the sexy 1970's overhanging shelves. Some thoughtful design there. (!)

Bizarrely enough, I found myself cleaning the bench tops shortly before the demolition guy arrived. I know! Ridiculous but I blame my mother's influence on me for that one. I mean, one wouldn't want the demolition guy thinking one was a grot! (I won't describe the demolition guy, but suffice it to say that I don't think he would have noticed an un-wiped bench).

The rip-out happened yesterday morning. I can't help but think that it must be many a young bloke's dream job. Crow bars, large hammers and other heavy instruments were involved, and there was a lot of loud noise and chucking of stuff about carelessly because it's not like it matters if it gets broken.

At this juncture, I think it's only fair to share pictures of some of the contact shelf lining that will most definitely not be missed. c 1973?

Next, the plumber arrived to do plumbing related stuff. All good, although when he got the blow torch out and fired it up, without so much as a set of protective glasses or gloves in sight, I just had to walk away, close the door behind me and hope for the best.

The sparky was great. He pointed out that it was going to cost $64 to move a perfectly placed and functioning power point from one spot to another. He kindly offered me the choice of not agreeing to this and saving said $64. What a good bloke!

Finally, at around 5.30pm, the plasterer arrived. Not that impressed with the rip-out guy's work, he decided enough was enough and he'd be back on Sunday morning to take care of things. OK...

So I anticipate my weekend will be spent pottering about the place, trying not to get in anyone's way and occasionally making a cuppa for the men who are charged with making me more happy than I've ever been in that kitchen! It's worth it. 

Here's what we're currently left with:

New Vegemite!!!

Apparently we are about to experience a whole new Vegemite! This is the first I've heard of it, but then I have had my head under a rock lately (metaphorically speaking of course). We're supposedly in for a smoother, creamier taste in a different jar that will be available from this Sunday. I will definitely lose sleep over this one...

Photo courtesy of AAP