A good day

Yesterday I had an appointment that my partner needed to come too as well. It was a short appointment, and for reasons that are not important at the moment.  What was important about it was that it was at a silly time which meant my partner needed to take the WHOLE DAY off work.  When you are home with two kids this kind of event is worth writing about!

The morning began with the usual craziness.  Baby waking, needing a feed to be dressed, etc.  Breakfast needed to be made for the four year old (she is quite particular!) and we needed to shower and dress.  This job is SO much easier with us both home.  It was a playgroup day, so a friend dropped her daughter in at around 9 for me to take her to playgroup with my little one.  It is a good arrangement as she drops mine home at the end.  I piled all the kids into the Cargobike and took off for playgroup.  The best bit of this was once the four year old was happily ensconced at play I headed off to meet my partner for a coffee...well, tea.  The quiet!  Oh, the blessed quiet!  Yes, we still had our 9 month old son with us, but he can’t speak yet, and while he burbles away, he doesn’t feel the need to make constant noise, as our daughter does.  We sat at a café and talked to each other.  Grown ups.  Lovely.

Off we went to our appointment, then home again.

There was some work done in the afternoon before our daughter was dropped off, but with both of us home it was completed quickly which meant that when she did get home we had TIME to do things together as a family.  Novel idea really.

And what should be on the agenda for the afternoon?  Cooking of course!  We have a modest garden which used to be a well-tended vegetable garden.  Since the arrival of the children the tending has kind of fallen by the wayside.  We would lovingly plant the vegetables, but would not have the time to tie them up, or fertilise them.  So, our vegetable garden has become an herb wonderland.  There are still a few low maintenance vegies in there, but mostly delicious herbs which require little more than the sun, rain and the occasional trim.  Our neighbours often pop in to grab a handful of mint, or parsley, or comment on the different foliage which pokes through the fence.

Pesto was on the menu for dinner and that our daughter was going to make it!

We have a variety of presto recipes up our sleeves (rocket and basil is a good one - especially served with sweet potato gnocchi, as is parsley and almond) and just yesterday my friend at 'My Wholefood Romance" wrote about Kale pesto! Today we decided to make straight up traditional basil pesto, loosely following Stephanie Alexander’s recipe.   

Stephanie's cookbook, ‘The CooksCompanion’, is a bible in our home.  We have the first edition and I am coveting the latest version which I hear has around 100 new pages of foodie goodness.  Her recipes are not all fool proof.  Sometimes we have been really disappointed with the result, especially when something has taken a whole day to prepare.  This book does however, have a terrific basics section.  How to make pastry, how to make pasta, how to make…you name it!  It is always the first point of reference before we cook something or come across an unusual ingredient. Even if we don’t always follow the recipe, we often use it as a starting point.

Anyway, Stephanie’s recipe is simple:

1 tightly packed cup of basil leaves

½ cup olive oil

2 cloves of garlic

2 tablespoons grated   Parmesan cheese

In a food processor, whizz up the basil, garlic, salt and garlic (I usually use about 2/3 of a clove rather than two whole cloves, I find that much raw garlic  bit overpowering and I want to taste my own fresh basil rather than have my head blown off!).  You could do this in a mortar and pestle if you like, or could just chop and chop and chop!

Add the olive oil bit by bit, you may not need it all.

Once you have the consistency that you like stir in the Parmesan to taste.  (We always add more than suggested, yum!).

We had a particularly good dried pasta from the Mediterranean Wholesaler, but if you have time homemade it best.  (I usually make it with 1 egg for every 100grams of flour, and olive oil on my hands for kneading).

After cooking the pasta as the packet suggested we stirred some of the cooking water with the pesto (this stops the cheese clumping when you mix it with hot pasta) and stirred it through, topping it off with smoked salmon and Murray salt flakes.  DELICIOUS!

Our daughter loved it.  Just by spending the time with us doing something meaningful was an instant mood improver.  I work from home, so often things are rushed and quality time with my daughter is sometimes cut short.  This, sadly, results in her being less ‘chipper’ and more prone to tantrums or tears.  Not surprising really, that hanging out with your kids and engaging with them means they are happier.  Anyway, she picked the basil leaves, washed and spun them (salad spinners are magic to little kids), measured the olive oil, was in charge of the food processor and stirred in the cheese.  She chopped up the salmon and helped plate up.  Then she ate her dinner, with no complaints!  

Next time we are going to try coriander and peanut pesto...apparently great with noodles and as a marinade.  Our daughter is loving tending her peanut bush at the moment, and in about 10 weeks we should have a decent crop to experiment with.

Cooking with kids takes time and patience, but is such a terrific way to help children understand where food comes from and get them interested in trying different things.  It is also a terrific way to get a job done while spending time with your children…as well as teaching them a few things along the way.

Ray

Ray has been an institution in Brunswick for quite some years now.  Originally set up by Mark Dundon of St Ali and Seven Seeds fame, it is a cool little place with a few small tables and one large table for communal worship of coffee.  I remember when Ray opened.  Mark was the best café owner ever.  He stood behind the coffee machine like the captain of a ship stands behind the wheel.  He surveyed his domain with a careful eye, directing his staff to tables and always delivering quickly on an order.  He recognised locals (well, he recognised me and still does if we visit him at his new establishments) and could remember what you had ordered last time.  He was often trying out a new coffee and my partner got quite a few free sample cups.

 

Ray has since changed hands.  It is still cool and groovy.  There is a bit more stencil graffiti on the walls out the front, there is a new (yarn bombed) bike rack to house the fixies, and the inside has the worn patina of a café that has served a vast number of people.  I usually order a chai when I am there.  They have recently switched from loose leaf chai to a tea bag (the fault of their tea supplier) which I am a bit sad about…but there are plenty of other loose leaf teas to choose from.

Ahh, we love Nick!

I don’t visit Ray as often as I used to.  It is hard work with a pram.  When it is quiet (not at lunch or breakfast time) I try and pop in.  It is very close to our house, and when we bought the place the fact that it was 400 metres to Ray was a huge selling point.  They are always welcoming, and do serve a ‘little coffee’ as we call a babyccino (hate the word babyccino).  The last time I actually ate at Ray I was in the very early stages of labour with my son.  I knew it was coming, someone had taken our then three year old daughter while we got down to the business of having a baby, my partner and I jumped at the opportunity to have a last supper - or last brunch as the case may have been.  We had some delicious pumpkin/fetta/rocket Turkish pide.  It was, as I knew it would be, delicious and reasonably priced.  The focus on food with a local flavour (Middle Eastern) is right up my alley.  One of the reasons I love Brunswick is the huge Middle Eastern and Turkish influence.

Last week we stopped for a cuppa at Ray, after dropping our daughter at her first day of kindergarten.  It was great to get out amongst it with only one (immobile and not yet talking) child.  We sat out the front (easier with the pram) and while we sipped our very good beverages we noticed a few small changes.

•  The council has made changes to the rules about café tables.  Ray used to have three tables attached to the front wall of their café which were shaded by the red awning.  No more.  There is outdoor seating which offers the same ply box seats as before, but with a low ply box bench as the table.  It isn’t quite the same, and would make eating with cutlery a challenge.  It is also no longer in the shade of the awning…we roasted a bit.   
• The walls out the front, and the décor inside were looking a little tired.  The external walls used to have a few stencil bombs.  Cool.  Now, it is a hash of so many bombs that you can hardly differentiate one from the other (okay, maybe I am a bit harsh).  But, they really are a bit OTT.  Inside the things that were once a drawcard, and a bit different, (like the little CCTV which showed the baristas making coffees which is still on the wall but doesn’t work) are not looking so hot.  The pieces of fabric that are framed look like they need a wash, or a complete facelift.  
•   The opening hours are shorter than they used to be (a bit sad for those who want to stop in late afternoon).  There were all sorts of rules about when the kitchen shut, and when you could only have a take away coffee.  C’mon guys!
•   There were two signs up calling the café RAYS.   One sign apologising for the moved outdoor tables ‘from RAYS’, and the other stating ‘RAYS opening hours’.  

  

  Rays??  Where is the apostrophe?!

  
  

The joy of visiting Ray!

Now…I am a teacher (so is my partner) and this addition of an S without the apostrophe is a real crime in our world.  Unless the café has changed names to Rays (like rays of sunshine), we would like to know where the apostrophe is!?  And Rays is much less cool than straight Ray.  Ray is enigmatic.  Is it a ray of light?  A man?  What?  It makes the café seem like its own entity.  Rays…hmmm, just a tad outer suburban?  Sounds like Ray own the place…and has forgotten his apostrophe.

 

Anyway.  I still like Ray.  I vaguely know one of the baristas (lovely young guy) and I still recognise many of the regulars.  But best of all, I still feel like one of the cool and groovy people who know the secret, when I step in the door.

Questions and stencils

A choice shot taken on the railway line.  I love Brunswick.

?

I suspect my blog name is causing me some issues.  I wish I had someone to answer my burning blog questions...google is not cutting it, and I am not savvy enough on blogger yet to work out my problems.  As I flick through the blogs all around mine (using the 'Next Blog' button), I find myself wading through blog, after blog...after blog of people who are very religious.  Hopefully, as my blogging and searching skills improve I will be able to avoid this.  Happy for the religious types to blog away...just not too keen to read about it.  If someone can help me get out of the religion loop please advise!

Lovely thing that I stumbled across in the local park.

 As an aside, as I walked my four year old to her first kinder session last week we passed through a local park (very tiny and situated on the site of an old school...sadly bulldozed to make way for townhouses).  This image was carefully sprayed onto one of the concrete dividers which double as seats.  I love finding such treasures in such unexpected places.  I took several photos, many with the four year old posing beside it.

and your very flesh shall be a great poem

Brunswick is awash with graffiti.  Some is cool, some not.  Cafe walls are thoughfully stencil bombed by aspiring artists and provide visual treats for those of us sitting and sipping our beverages.  COOL. 

Last week I went to the doctors.  I left my house and walked up our side lane at 4.45pm, I returned at 5.55pm, in this time some huge tags and crude drawings had been sprayed onto our rendered fence.  My partner had wondered why the dogs were going crazy in the backyard.  I spent the next two hours sanding it off to the best of my ability.  There are still remnants of a woman's face (2 metres by 2 metres) and a girl holding a balloon.  Sounds cool doesn't it?  Well, these were not done by Banksy.  I was very pleased that we did not get the 'dick and balls' that was drawn on the neighbour's fence in the same lurid blue and pink.  UNCOOL.

An oldie from the Fitwear factory.

I really like some of the quirky arty things that pop up on walls around here.  Last year there was a spinning wheel for passer bys to have a spin of, sometimes there are blackboards and chalk attached to walls inviting people to write comments. 

I can't remember what I was 'most likely' to do...

I really like the stencil graffiti most of all.  Tiny bombs of it here and there, sometimes where you least expect it.  There is a really cool cat face in the walk through to the supermarket...I must remember to take my camera with me next time I go.

Rosser Street

Franco we know where you live

Over the years I have taken a few shots of some of the more memorable  'art' around my neighbourhood.  I'm sure that any locals who look at this will remember Franco on the side of Ali Baba's Brunswick Variety Store??  It was a sad day when Ali Baba's closed down to be replaced with a car radio place.   Now the line is painted over in multicolours. I think I might get a t-shirt with it printed on the front.

The car park at the Meds.

The car park at the Meds

I noticed a few new works in the Mediterranean Wholesaler car park last week.  Such a treat to stumble across something cool that has obviously had a bit of effort put into it.  As far as I'm concerned, these artists are welcome in my neighbourhood.  You other idiots with a spray can and no imagination...stay home please.

**All images in this post (and most in my blog) are my own.  If you use them, please acknowledge them as such.

NZ Kitsch

 I have a very dear friend who is originally from New Zealand.  He is one of those people who moves around a lot, a few years here, a few years there.  Thankfully he comes back to Melbourne regularly as he is a pretty special kind of guy and very dear to my heart.  Soppy, I know. 

Anyway, he moved back to New Zealand several years ago for a stint with his family.  While he was there I found in a local op shop a 1950s New Zealand licence holder made of leather and embossed with a Kiwi, an idea was formed and I began my mission.  I collected all New Zealand kitsch souvenirs and memorabilia that I could find and I sent it to him, piece by piece.  There were magnificent pieces such as 1970s coasters, Air New Zealand scarves, table cloths, tea towels, and a rather fetching brown candle that in the right angle was a kiwi (the wrong angle and it looked like a man's head with a long pony tail).  Everything was retro.  I know this man's family well, having shared a house with him and two of his sisters over the course of several years, they are all into retro kitsch stuff, so I believe that often he was relieved of these treasures quite promptly and that they are displayed with pride in various homes around Wellington to this very day.

Now that he is back in Australia I have ceased my search for my NZ stuff.  Okay, I still look just in case there is something so sensational that I couldn't possible leave it, but I tend not to buy willy- nilly.  

I am regularly in and out of the local op shops (our family is dressed almost exclusively in second hand clothes) and just yesterday I stopped in at the Don Bosco Op Shop on Sydney Road to see if there were any bargains  This shop often has baby clothes for 50 cents a piece, other stuff can be a bit over priced, but it is worth checking, just in case.  Recently my partner picked up 30, yes THIRTY, Fire King Peach lustre mugs there for the princely sum of 20 cents each.  Unheard of!

So very, very un-PC.

Anyway, what should I see, staring at me from the record rack...  KIWIS IN SOUTH EAST ASIA!  What a treasure!  

Although I am sure this album is worth even cent of the $1 asking price - for the cover alone, I do not have a record player, neither does my friend, and neither of us need more stuff.  I took this photo instead, and left the record on the rack.  

Coffee

I don’t drink coffee.  I never have, and can pretty honestly say that I never will.  I don’t like the bitter taste, even of the milkiest-weak latte, even of a dessert with a hint of mocha.  People are often astounded.  ‘You don’t even like the smell of it?!’ they cry when they hear about my aversion to the drink which seems to have become the Grange of Melbourne.  Nope, not even the smell of it.  

I can, however, understand the obsession and the love that some have for the bitter brew.  I live in an inner city suburb which is becoming famed for its café culture of single origin beans, fair trade beans, roasted on sight beans.  There is talk of the right ‘grind’ and of only heating milk to 62.5 degrees.  It is a serious business.  Even today in the paper there is yet another article about yet another café (Patricia) opened in the city with its own take on coffee and how to drink it  ( www.theage.com.au/.../black-or-white-short-or-long-20120206-1r0s... )  Melbourne is coffee mad.

Young men in skinny jeans and moustaches hop off their fixie bikes at various hole-in-the-wall venues to tweet about the quality of the coffee on offer.  I sometimes (read, often) privately (read, publicly) scoff at these Gen Y youths.  How cool they think they are!  But then I remember a time, not so long ago, when WE were the cool youths discovering the new place to hang out.  Actually, it was my friends and I who made ‘breakfast the new dinner’.   Who were those frequenting the new style of café.  Ordering gourmet breakfasts to cure our hangovers after a night out at a new bar.   Loitering over the paper and an extra latte, pot of tea or Limonata if it was really bad news.  Without our trail blazing, cafes would still be places of greasy toasted sandwiches and pies or focaccias and a bottle of coke.  

 I digress.  Coffee.

I wish I could will myself to like coffee.  Lattes with patterns on top are so appealing.  So is the idea that you can get a good take away coffee in a cool reusable cup.  I drink tea, (a whole other blog entry will be devoted to the topic), and you can’t really do a good take away tea.  It is always some sad little teabag in a paper cup that costs $3.50.  I don’t think so.

I also like all the gadgetry and accessories that come with coffee love.  People travel far and wide to get their favourite coffee.  They speak of their own coffee grinders, coffee machines, milk jugs.  The list goes on.  I understand this.  I love stuff.  Especially kitcheny stuff.  Especially shiny, groovy looking kitcheny stuff.

My partner loves coffee.  I have learnt to ask the important questions.  ‘Is it a good one?’  ‘How’s the froth?’, ‘It’s not too hot is it?’.  I have paid attention to the answers.  I can tell you where the good stuff is, and where to avoid.

Over the last few years (since the birth of our first child funnily enough) there has been talk of a coffee machine at our house.  But which one to buy?  Where to put such a large contraption in our kitchen?  How much do we need to spend to get a good one?  Why are they so ugly?!

The original Atomic

Then it was discovered that my parents had an Atomic.  A beautiful Italian stovetop cappuccino machine.  Made of gleaming cast aluminium and Bakelite. http://www.atomiccoffeemachine.com/ They had received it as a wedding present some forty years earlier and it had languished in a cupboard ever since.  I had never, ever seen it before.  My parents had all my life (until very recently) only drunk Nescafe Blend 43, with Moccona for special occasions.  Now they are into Robert Timm’s coffee bags and the odd plunger for guests.  I dropped hints about the Atomic.  I admired it, loudly.  And finally I flat out asked for it.  ‘ON LOAN,’ my mother said.  'It has to come back'.  Obviously, her cupboard would miss it.    We took the loan.  Here was a coffee machine that wasn’t enormous, but more importantly was beautiful, and made a good cup.  The shape and shine of the little unit make it a pleasure to have out on your stove all day, every day.  The steamer, totally controlled by you, is not high tech. Using the Atomic is like driving a fantastic old manual car.  Just my cup of tea.

How shiny!

Internet research ensued.  We could not afford to buy an Atomic of our own.  No longer in production, they cost almost $1000 for a working model.  Sigh.   

More internet research revealed that another such lover of the Atomic had got hold of the design specs and had been producing the La Sorrentina machine in Taiwan ( www.sorrentinacoffee.com ).  Still not cheap, and looking EXACTLY like an Atomic of old, it was the next best thing.  My partner’s birthday was coming up.  I ordered the machine online and waited.  I also ordered a milk jug and a tamper.  I told you about my love of gadgets.

 La Sorrentina.  I chose emerald green  knobs

Well, I LOVE the La Sorrentina.  I have jokingly told my partner that if we ever separate that I get the coffee machine.  Even though it was my gift to her.  Even though I don’t drink coffee.  She has never had to make a coffee on it.  I am perfecting my skills as a barista.  I can froth the milk to a dense creamy texture.  Even soy and skinny!  I have had a crash course…well, one lesson, in latte art.  A friend’s fiancé came around and showed me how to stretch the milk and to pour it into a glass with flourish. He demonstrated a pretty little fern, and I have been trying to replicate it ever since.  So far I have managed to make the heart coffee, the squiggle coffee, and most frequently – the foetus coffee.  I will continue until I get it right!

The heart.  Not bad for soy!

I am also experimenting with which coffee works best to get the right strength in a latte.  I have entered into deep discussions with the man at George’s Negrita Coffee  http://www.negrita.com.au/ in Victoria Street about the coffee I need.  I have settled on Blavatsky.  A strong coffee with a nutty aroma.  It is dark in colour and 500 grams of it seems to stay fresh until it is all gone.  He keeps pushing me to try the Cuban blend that he has on offer.  I suspect it might be a bit strong, but will probably give it a crack in the future.

 

 

 

A bit of a cultural landmark in the neighbourhood.

I like buying my coffee from Negrita Coffee.  It is an old school store wedged between Ray (the original very cool café in Brunswick) and the railway line.  There are probably 30 jars of beans to choose from.  They are weighed carefully on an ancient set of gorgeous green enamel scales and then ground to suit your machine.  In the course of my many chats with the Italian man who owns the store.  He has talked me through the kinds of coffee, and we have been experimenting with choices.  He doesn’t understand why I don’t drink the stuff, but likes to have a chat.  He claims that the Blavatsky is a coffee that ‘you really know you are drinking’.  I just know that it makes a dark, almost syrupy drop which combines perfectly with my stretched milk to create a caramel coloured latte for my beloved and any friends who drop by.  

I have, on occasion, bought Padre coffee from the Brunswick East Project. http://padrecoffee.com.au/  It is, according to my partner, always deliciously tasty.  The staff (those Gen Y skinny jeans types) are helpful and really know their stuff, but it doesn’t have the same olde-worlde ceremony as visiting George’s Negrita.  I do like to sit in at the Brunswick East Project and have a tea and a cake-thing when I get the chance.  It isn’t really set up with space for a pusher, but I can cram mine in if need be.  I know it is a favourite haunt of many friends and I can see the appeal.  

White with one please.

I feel very blessed to live within a stone’s throw of so many good cafes.

 

Enough said on the topic of coffee in the neighbourhood.   I'm off to make myself a cup of tea.