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 Such items included Tim's dirty painting gear, the linen off the bed I was sleeping in, a bottle of out of date OJ and the cat.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...

From the vintage kitchen

I'm in 'pottering' mode at the moment since I feel well enough to be up, but not well enough to do anything much. I'm in a phase of rifling through forgotten boxes, dark cupboards and drawers, to see what I've got lying around that could be given away, sent to the Salvos or eBayed. It's amazing what one accumulates over the years, and I seem to have accumulated all manner of vintage kitchen stuff. Some of it is still functional, some dangerous and some, well I don't actually know exactly what some of this stuff is.

First of all are my gorgeous old Salter kitchen scales. Salter has been around for years and is a bit of an icon. I used these scales, (and an even older set involving free weights in ounces), until about two years ago when I splurged and invested in an electric set. Still, I can't part with old faithful.

The same can't be said for the Sparklet Corkmaster. It's a bizarre looking object that was made for about 20 years in the UK, I suppose in an effort to revolutionise the removal of corks from wine bottles. Whether it works that well is something I've not tested and don't intend to try. Interesting trivia includes that quite a lot were sold to the US Department of Defense, and at a dinner to which James Bond was invited in 'Diamonds are Forever' the baddie brandishes one. Enough said.

Dutch cocoa has also been around for a long, long time. Droste is still made today and in fact, on my honeymoon earlier this year, I found the current product in an obscure little supermarket somewhere on the coast. Droste still uses the same picture. The cocoa is excellent too. The Muisjes I believe are little sprinkles. My mother hails from the Netherlands originally, and I remember them as a kid.

Now this one I'm not sure about. Are you meant to make a bomb, somehow out of Schnaps? Is it like the Jager Bomb? Or something more sinister? The best I can do is that I think this is a dinky little glass flask and aluminium protector for the transport of Schnaps. Am open to suggestions.

Excuse the slightly smudgy shot (Tim will have a fit when he sees this) but this always makes me smile. It doesn't work that well as a shaker because whatever you've got inside comes out a bit clumpyand the lid sticks, but it reminds me of the robots in the original Dr Who show so I can't get rid of it. You know, the ones that gave kids nightmares and everyone in the show ran from in panic, even though they couldn't fit through a door? Funny, funny stuff.

And finally, I give you the Birko food and drink heater. My mother tells me that the Birko is an all-in-one sort of appliance that people had in their caravans and bedsits. Apparently you can boil water, make soup, cook eggs a half dozen different ways, and so on. So all the basic stuff was covered for a person on their own in small premises. Occasionally I look at it and think I should try it out and see what it can really do. But then I remember I have a great big stove that I really love using, even when it's just me for dinner.

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!

Another tart

Yes, I am slightly obsessed with savoury tarts at the moment. Should I call them quiches? Does it really matter?

I've had an over-abundance of fresh, free-range eggs lately, as well as lots of other good stuff that goes really well with baked egg. (Well that's what it is, when all's said and done.) Today's effort involved asparagus, wilted baby spinach leaves and little tomatoes.

Once again, follow my basic recipe for the egg and pastry. Fry up some onion and bacon, toss in the asparagus for about two minutes and the leaves for about one minute. You want to just take the edge off and slightly wilt them, not kill them. Season to taste and spoon it into the tart case, trying to spread it around as evenly as possible. Pour the egg over, dot with little tomatoes and bake. Could it be simpler?