Birdie goes Dancing

Winter dregs

2010-09-28T20:27:00.004+10:00

It's just turned spring here in Melbourne, and while the weather is blue skied and fragrant with spring blossoms I am holding onto the last little bits of winter. A recipe for Russian-style Polish pierogi follows, filled with creamy potato and cheese and tossed with fried onion and bacon. Make it quick before the sun really gets stuck in!

For the dough...

3 cups flour
1 tsp salt
1 whole egg + 1 egg yolk, beaten (save the white for the filling)
2tbsp sour cream
1/2 - 3/4 cup warm water

Sift flour & salt, make a well in the centre and mix with egg and sour cream. Add water a little at a time to make a soft but not sticky dough. Knead lightly on a floured surface then rest for 30 mins while you prepare the filling.

For the filling...

1 onion, finely diced and fried in a little butter or oil until soft and translucent
4 - 5 potatoes, boiled, peeled and mashed (if you are in a hurry you can peel them and chop them before you boil)
4 tbsp butter
50 ml milk
1 egg white (the one you saved while making the dough)
1/2 cup cheese (bitey cheddar for more flavour or a mild, dry cottage cheese for a subtler taste)
Salt and pepper to taste
1 tsp prepared mustard (dijon or hot English is nice)

While the mashed potato is still hot combine it with cooked onion, butter, milk, egg white, cheese, salt and pepper. Set aside while you prepare the dough wrappers.

For the pierogi making...

1 friend (or more if available)

Divide the dough into four pieces and roll one piece out on a floured surface to 1mm thick (you can either use a pasta machine or your rolling pin). Cut dough into 8cm circles and set aside. If you flour the pieces lightly you can stack them up ready for making the pierogi. Continue rolling and cutting until all the dough is used up and you have a teetering tower of dough circles. If you found yourself a friend one of you can do the cutting while the other starts on filling and sealing the pierogi.

To fill the pierogi place a teaspoon full of the potato mixture onto a circle of dough, fold it in half and pinch the edges hard to seal. If the dough is having trouble sticking to itself dip your finger in some water and moisten the edge before sealing.

Keep going until all the dough is used up, or you run out of potato, whichever comes first. Flour the sealed pierogi lightly as you go so that they don't stick to each other when you pile them up on a plate.

For the final cooking...

1 onion, finely chopped
4 rashers good, fatty bacon small diced
Sour cream
Fresh dill, finely chopped

Fry the bacon and onion together in a saucepan until the bacon is cooked and crispy and the onion is soft and translucent. Add a little oil if you need it, but there should be enough fat in the bacon to keep everything lubricated.

In the meantime, bring a large pot of salted water to the boil and add the pierogi. Boil until they float to the surface, and then boil for 1 minute more before removing with a slotted spoon.

To serve, toss the pierogi with the onion, bacon and chopped dill, and serve sour cream on the side. Once boiled, the pierogi can also be lightly fried with fresh breadcrumbs in butter or bacon fat until lightly golden on each side before serving.

Excess uncooked pierogi can be frozen in layers separated by baking paper. To cook the frozen pierogi, just place them straight into a pot of boiling water, no defrosting necessary.

Baby names

2010-09-28T13:34:00.002+10:00

I've been trying to come up with a business name. I presented my short list to Boy a few weeks ago and the reception was less than positive. He offered some suggestions of his own, but after hearing them I questioned his creativity and he got a little miffed.

Birdie: Well what would you call your own IT business if you had one?
Boy: Um, Boy's IT?

I'm sorry Boy, but I think my point was proved.

I still haven't decided on a name yet. My options so far are all too obscure, too predictable or too narrow in scope. I really need to decide on something soon, but I think I'm feeling a bit of name anxiety. If I get it wrong my business-baby could be destined to a life of playground taunts or unfair stereotyping.

In the spirit of procrastination I have just downloaded a list of the top 100 baby names from 1910, one hundred whole years ago. I put them into a spreadsheet, generated three random numbers from 1 - 100 for both boys and girls, and the results were:

Boy: Daniel, Herman, Wilbur
Girl: Ruth, Louise, Lillie

Procrastination and randomisation are fun, but it's time to get back to work.

Just business

2010-09-27T19:22:00.003+10:00

Ten things I've learned about making craft a business so far:

There are more people selling terrible craft than there are people selling worthwhile craft.
But there are also people making amazing things that make you completely jealous and tell you to just give up give up give up straight away.
Going into business as a crafter is going into business as a manufacturer. Over and over making the same thing over and over again, and then having to do the same thing the next day.
If you don't spend the time on a business plan, including a detailed and realistic budget and a marketing plan, you are 99% sure to fail.
There are plenty of terrible trends in craft that have tiny lifespans. Jump on board too late and you're stuck with a bunch of whimsical owl brooches that are too last season to ever make it out of your storage space.
If you do happen to jump on board early enough and start your own trend you'll inevitably lose business to a bunch of copycats selling your ideas cheaper than you are willing to.
Whatever craft you decide to turn into a bread and butter product you'll likely grow to hate it after a year or so, so you shouldn't chose your absolute favourite craft. Choose something in the middle of the list and save your favourites for personal or one off projects.
If you diversify too much you'll end up putting half hearted effort into twice as many projects as you should, and lack a defined style.
If you stick with just one thing you'll get bored so fast that all motivation and inspiration will drain out of your creative sink before six months is up.
Words like vintage, whimsical and bespoke and any adjective prefixed with super used in copy make you feel a little sick when you've finished two weeks of intensive market analysis.

These ten things don't mean I'm giving up on the idea, but by being aware of them I'll hopefully make less mistakes than the last time I tried the craft as business thing. It's very easy to get caught up in the honeymoon phase of new ideas and ventures and forget about the gritty stuff. I started this idea off with my future imagined life, and most of that life involved using my working-for-myself-freedom to ride my bike around town to have coffee and lunch with friends. There was also a lot of sitting in the sun in my flat working away on projects, but I forgot that my flat doesn't actually get any sun due to the block being sandwiched between other blocks of flats.

There was also the nice thought of people wanting to own something I'd made, but I was pretty quick to realise that's a terrible end goal. Once someone buys one of whatever it is I make where will the motivation to make another one come from? Instead the goal is to make enough money outside of my four day a week day job to start a proper savings account to be used for overseas trips and a house of my very own that actually does get sun through the windows. Sure, the money objective is really un-romantic, but once you turn your craft into a business that's what it is. A business. I'm saving the romantic side of craft for my own enjoyment.

Oh, and I forgot the most important thing I've learned so far: no one gets anywhere without an absolute pile of hard work. The harder you work, the luckier you get. I can't remember who told me that, but I think I've been ignoring their advice for too long now.

Artichoke

2010-09-01T15:25:00.003+10:00

Today's the first day of spring down in the Southern hemisphere, and I'm looking forward to the season's produce. Over breakfast I made some sketches of some of the nicer things I saw in the green grocer. I also copied a recipe for horseradish sauce on the side, but was unable to find any fresh horseradish anywhere. I asked one grocer if he had any, and "no, but we will have it for Jewish New Year" was his reply.

"When is Jewish New Year?" I am not Jewish unlike everyone else in my suburb.

"Oh. Next year. In March."

Thanks, helpful greengrocer. All I want is to make fresh horseradish sauce to go in roast beef sandwiches.

As well as searching for horseradish I've been concocting a plan to supplement my income. I want to go overseas some time in the next fifteen years, and without some help I'll never do it on a community sector salary. I ran my own business selling my textiles after graduating from textile design, but very quickly lost the drive to continue. Sitting at a market stall all weekend is hard, and managing consignment of your stock in stores is even harder. But times are tough, and I'm hopefully one of those tough types who actually gets going. So if you want to contribute to my overseas fund, watch this space and maybe you can own some embroidery like this artichoke, which is destined to become a coin purse.

Whisky Marmalade

2010-08-16T17:55:00.009+10:00

marmalade04, uploaded by Birdie goes Dancing.

Each Easter a group of my friends drive three hours across the state, pitch tents, light fires, catch fish, drink beer and generally have a great time. This year in the little seaside town the local angling club was having a jumble sale, and as well as some lovely old jewellery I picked up a tiny book called Pot O' Jam. I brought it home and promptly forgot about it, because it's small and unassuming with a badly designed cover. I rediscovered it last week after it fell out of my bookshelf while searching for another recipe book, and on opening I found a collection of very unusual jams, jellies and marmalades, all full of liquers and spices. Being the season of citrus and firey drinks, I decided to have a go at Whisky Marmalade.

1 1/2 kg Seville oranges
2 3/4 kg sugar
1 tbsp treacle
1 lemon
3 litres water
4 tbsp whisky*

Simmer whole oranges until soft, testing by piercing with blunt end of wooden skewer. Remove fruit from water and allow to cool. Shred peel and add to water together with treacle and juice of the lemon. Heat, then add sugar. Boil until setting point is reached.

Add whisky, stirring well, and set jam aside to cool. Bottle and seal in the usual way.

*Vodka may be used as a substitute for the whisky and a most delightful flavour will be imparted.

marmalade02 by Birdie goes Dancing.

These directions were a little vague, but I interpreted them as thus:

Simmer whole oranges in 3L water until soft, testing by piercing with blunt end of a wooden skewer. Remove fruit from water and allow to cool. Cut oranges in half, scoop out pulp and seeds with a spoon and discard. Shred peel and add to water together with treacle and juice of the lemon. Heat, then add sugar. Boil until setting point is reached.

I've never made any kind of jam before so my interpretation may be way off the mark, but the end product was definitely jam. I may have burnt it slightly waiting for it to reach setting point because there was a very rich molasses character to the finished marmalade, but that could also be the treacle and whisky playing their part.

The one thing I will say about jam is that I found you need to use a huge pot. And I mean huge. You will need at least 15cm of room at the top of the pot to avoid the jam frothing over like mine did when you start boiling it. I transferred the marmalade to a giant stock pot after cleaning the mess from the stove and continued the cooking.

After bottling, I made some labels from a stamp I carved on the weekend and will be distributing the produce among friends over the next week. Hopefully there will be enough left to see me through the end of winter.

marmalade06 by Birdie goes Dancing.

Time travel

2010-03-09T20:27:00.005+11:00

I've become terrible at finishing things I start.

I'm not new to blogging. I have four years of archives detailing my life, mostly filled with pilgrimages to the supermarket or long trips to the city on trains. If the Birdie of those days ever travelled forward in time to watch the Birdie of now from behind a tree she would feel her heart break slowly and surely at what she had grown into. The Birdie of now wouldn't feel her own heart break if it ever did, and that would break the baby-Birdie's heart even surer.

The Birdie of now went for a walk tonight and listened to a mix CD of very old Bic Runga b-sides and demos, a collection not heard since the baby-Birdie was eighteen. Bic Runga was the reason she picked up a guitar and learned to play, and Bic Runga's songs were the reason she put lyrics into melody. Birdie of now can't even write one verse of a song. She's tried, but there's just nothing to say.

Birdie of now drinks too much and feels too little and has stopped documenting what goes on around her. Too many mornings start in a haze of regretting what danced with her liver the night before that doesn't clear until too late to make anything of the day. Birdie of now only just picks things up before she throws them down the way baby-Birdie screamed and threw her hairbrush against her childhood bedroom wall the day her hair wouldn't behave.

I'm trapped in a fortress of creative block and no matter how hard I throw stuff against the walls I can't figure how to get out.

Potato latke with apple and mint salsa

2010-02-17T21:01:00.004+11:00

Potato craving., originally uploaded by Birdie goes Dancing.

I was feeling like potatoes on the train from work today. Potato latke to be precise, fried in butter with apple salsa. I stole some mint from my favourite garden on the way home, because they have plenty and the cutting I took to grow in my own garden is not doing very well.

I think if you were really hungry and had no money you could live off the front gardens on the way from the station to my house, planted by European migrants in the 60s and 70s. Stone fruit, figs and grapes in the summer, citrus, apples and rhubarb in the winter. Then there are the herbs that grow through fences and over footpaths, just waiting to be picked and smelled all the way home.

The recipe for potato latke was scribbled down from the radio one afternoon while I was sitting in my car waiting for an unexpected storm to pass. I don't remember exactly what I was doing, but I do remember that there was some kind of heartbroken feeling sorry for myself moment sitting in my car in the rain. The announcer was talking about potato latke and the thought of all that potato and butter sounded so comforting, particularly in the stormy weather.

Potato latke

4 x waxy potatoes (bintje or nicola are excellent)
1 x onion
1 x egg
Salt & pepper

Directions:

Heat a mix of half olive oil and half butter in a heavy based frypan.
Grate potato and onion into a colander and then squeeze out as much moisture as you can. The drier you get it the better your latke will taste.
Mix in egg, salt and pepper to taste.
Immediately after mixing in the egg, salt and pepper make into patties and fry covered until set. Flip over and fry uncovered until golden on underside.

Apple and mint salsa

1 x Granny Smith apple
1 tbsp mint, finely shredded
1 tbsp fresh parsley, finely chopped
Olive oil, red wine vinegar, salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

Grate apple and mix with mint and parsley.
Season with oil, vinegar, salt and pepper to your taste.

Serve with a simple salad. Mine is pictured with baby spinach, blanched green beans and sunflower seeds, dressed with olive oil, vinegar, salt and pepper.

Saturday Morning

2010-02-13T14:49:00.003+11:00

Saturday Brunch, originally uploaded by Birdie goes Dancing.

I'm avoiding chores. My sister came around last night to borrow a dress, and after all the dresses in my wardrobe came out, got fashion paraded around by the two of us, then strewn over the floor, I went to bed. Instead of picking up the clothes, washing my dishes and vacuuming the house, I wandered down the street, made breakfast, drank coffee and stumbled through guitar practice.

Salmon Eggs

Ingredients:

Bread/bagel/English muffin
Smoked salmon
Cream cheese
Rocket
Fresh lemon juice
Two eggs
Vinegar
Salt & pepper

Directions:

Prepare bread into toast, spread with cream cheese, top with salmon and rocket.
Break eggs into small cups (tea cup/sauce dish etc).
Bring about 5cm water and a teaspoon of salt to boil in a large saucepan. Add a tablespoon of vinegar and reduce heat to low. Using a knife swirl the water around to create a whirlpool, then slip the eggs one at a time from their cups into the centre of the whirlpool. Turn off the heat, put a lid on the saucepan, and let poach in the residual heat for 3 - 6 minutes depending how runny you like the yolk.
Remove eggs with a slotted spoon, drain and place on prepared toast. Season with salt, pepper and a squeeze of lemon juice.

New seasons, new reasons.

2010-02-02T14:43:00.006+11:00

It has been a very long time since my last post. My camera broke, and it's a little hard to track my artistic endeavours online without photographs.

I won't even try to tell you what I've done all these months I've been gone. Instead here are some things that have happened in the last week:

I was asked on a date by the head honcho (ie person who stood around and told the lackeys what to do) of the insulation installation crew that invaded my house this morning. I declined.
I flipped a plate of breakfast into my lap before taking even one bite, and then after cleaning myself off in the bathrooom squirted further tomato juice from a second plate of breakfast into my lap before taking even one bite.
I became worried about fitness and weight as is customary around this time of year, and so made a hula hoop to get my waist in shape. So far I have one trick - keep hoop on waist and walk around in circle.
I disposed of a decomposing mouse carcass from the kitchen. I did not take a photograph of it.
I embroidered some handkerchiefs in a friend's kitchen while she did some animation:

Hand embroidered blackwork on white cotton.

Things I didn't care about.

2009-04-29T08:54:00.002+10:00

1. How your pants were always scruffy.
2. How you were always grumpy in the morning.
3. How you liked to eat breakfast out but I preferred to cook it for you.
4. How you preferred your house to mine.
5. How your beard got really big while I was away.
6. How you always needed things and stuff.
7. How you liked terrible films as well as great ones.
8. How you ate McDonalds when you were drunk.
9. How you didn't drink wine.
10. How you were no good at talking on the phone.

Still over.

2009-04-18T06:45:00.002+10:00

I: woke on the couch and found last night was not a dream. What: am I supposed to do now?

O:ver.

2009-04-18T03:40:00.002+10:00

I: slept on the couch and heard you: crying upstairs; but it's you: who wanted this so why are you: allowed to cry?

The morning the cat died

2009-03-15T22:34:00.005+11:00

The morning the cat died we all ran down the street. Alice first in her grey pyjamas; it was her cat; then Georgie in her house dress and me in clothes from the floor with no underwear underneath. We caught Alice as her howl pierced the morning traffic and she fell to her knees beside the blood-stained carcass. Georgie folded Alice in her arms and I turned straight back around and wove my way through the staring cars to fetch a box and towel. The corpse was rigid and limbs protruded from every angle as Georgie and I tried to fit it in the box. Even Alice laughed a little bit. Our procession marched slowly back to the house, led by the box in Alice's outstretched arms before folding and dispersing to bedrooms and kitchens and backyards and anywhere to be away from the tears and the death.

A week after the cat died the grey kitten appeared, collar-less, healthy and curious. "He will be staying with us a while," slurred Alice through her vodka as she tossed him through the door of my bedroom. He was difficult to catch. Back in Alice's arms he yawled and mewed and she scurried back down the hall. The neighbour's black cat, identical to the cat that died started sneaking into the yard to eat the food left for the grey kitten. Alice choked on her tongue every time she opened the back door to find the neighbour's cat sitting there, staring through her like a ghost. The kitten came and went, and each night I crept outside and tipped away the food and water she left on the back porch. "This is not the grieving process," Georgie said to me over coffee.

Two weeks after the cat died Alice sat in the backyard in agony. "Where is he, where is he, where is he?" she cried to the dark, and shook the jar of food violently. "Why won't he come?" her words stuck between her teeth and the hysterical sobs. She called for the kitten and paced the porch and trod heavily back into the house. "You have to stop feeding him," I said. "Why?" she replied. "He isn't yours. He isn't yours to feed. And now we have every cat in the neighbourhood congregating in our playground of a yard." "But I asked the house across the road and he isn't theirs. I asked them." "Alice, you can't keep him."

Three weeks after the cat died Alice left a note. "I am so sorry, but I am leaving. I have another house to go to where there are no memories and no ghosts." The next day Alice was gone, and we never saw the grey kitten again.

Wishes

2009-03-13T17:09:00.003+11:00

I wish I'd gone to the market at lunch today for oysters. I would have bought a bottle of nice champagne and had champagne and oysters for dinner while watching old films in my lounge room.

Alas...

Saturday morning

2009-03-12T23:45:00.001+11:00

My favourite part of Saturday morning is when he wakes up enough to put his arm around me. I lie awake for three hours partly reading but mostly just waiting for his arm across my chest.

In the office

2009-03-12T19:58:00.007+11:00

Aubergine

2009-03-09T21:08:00.011+11:00

Today, sitting on the couch at my parents' house, I had the most overwhelming urge to cook eggplants. But not just any kind of eggplant. I wanted to cook Japanese Nasu Dengaku; fried eggplants in sweet miso sauce. This season's eggplants are cheap and absolutely delicious, and this is an easy way to enjoy their texture and flavour.

I knew I had some eggplants in the fridge at home, but the other ingredients required shopping. After visiting Coles and Safeway in two separate locations I managed to gather up everything except the sake. I visited three different suburban bottle shops but they all had the same dusty, generic-brand sake that had probably been sitting on the shelves for the last three years. So I drove to Box Hill, one of Melbourne's big Asian suburbs, and found myself a bottle of the Australian brand sake they usually sell in Japanese restaurants. I was on a mission and neither distance nor petrol prices could stop me. The elderly Korean man behind the counter of the grocery store exclaimed with delight how much he enjoys a hot sake on a cold evening as he wrapped my bottle in a paper bag. It made me so happy that the colder season is almost here and I too can sit by an open fire with a warm glass of sake.

So behold! Nasu and Tofu Dengaku with rice. This was really delicious, especially and not only after drinking half a bottle of sake to myself.

Denkaku:

2 large eggplants or 4 - 6 lebanese eggplants, sliced in half lengthways

1 block firm tofu, cut into medium sized pieces

Thinly sliced spring onion and sesame seeds for garnishing

Soak cut eggplants completely submerged (you might need to put something on top of them to hold them down) in a bowl of water for 3o minutes; this releases the bitters
In the meantime place tofu sqaures on bamboo skewers, two skewers per row of tofu; preheat the oven to 220 degrees celcius
Drain eggplant and pat dry with a paper towel; score cut side in a criss cross pattern with a sharp knife
Heat enough oil to cover the base of a pan and fry eggplants cut side down for 10 minutes or until browned
Sit a wire cooling rack on a baking tray and place tofu skewers and eggplant (cut side down) on the rack; bake for 15 - 20 minutes, turning the tofu once during cooking
Turn eggplant over, brush tofu and cut side of eggplant liberally with sweet miso sauce (see below) and bake for another 10 minutes; garnish with spring onion and sesame seeds and serve with rice (see below)

Sweet Miso Sauce:

6 tbsp miso paste (red or white, whichever is easiest to find)

2 tbsp sake

2 tbsp mirin

2 tbsp sugar

Mix ingredients well in a bowl. That is all. Store leftovers in a clean jar in the fridge.

Rice:

1/2 cup short grain rice

3/4 cup water

Put rice and water in a pot, bring to the boil over medium heat
Turn heat to low, cover with a tight fitting lid and simmer for 20 minutes; do not lift the lid during cooking
Turn off heat, keep rice covered and when ready to serve fluff with a fork
Serve with teriyaki sauce (see below) and garnish of spring onion or chopped seaweed

Teriyaki Sauce:

1/2 cup soy sauce

1/2 cup mirin

2 tbsp sugar

A few drops of sesame oil

Place soy, mirin and sugar in a pan; bring to the boil over medium heat, reduce heat to low and simmer for a few minutes
Remove from heat, stir in sesame oil and let cool
Store leftovers in a clean jar in the fridge

Twirly II

2009-03-07T17:47:00.006+11:00

After much experimenting I think I have mastered the hair. It's actually really difficult to get it to stay without pins showing, and no girl of class should ever be seen with pins in her hair, but today I ended up doing a pretty good job. Now I just need the outfit to match...

Birdie is...

2009-03-04T17:31:00.003+11:00

...drinking too much weekday wine.

Mix Tape 4 Birdie

2009-03-02T19:33:00.005+11:00

Right at the beginning, when he and I began, when we were still pretending to impress, he made me a mix CD. He handed it over with embarrassment and apprehension, and was terrified I would hate his taste in music and thus throw him onto my pile of rejected first kisses.

Instead I loved that CD. I listened to it over and over and over; in my bedroom, riding my bike, walking the suburbs, sitting on the train, driving my car, staring into space at work; lying in bed; bustling around the kitchen. I listened to every song right through, even the Pantera one he threw in at the end to be cheeky. I danced around my room, thinking of him dancing around his room to the same songs, feeling the way I imagined he felt when he first heard them. I know now that he doesn't dance, but I still imagine him dancing the way I think he should.

It had been months since listening to the CD, until this morning. On the first notes of the first song my feet slipped out from under me and I was back dancing with imaginary him in my room, wondering if he would call, hoping he would call, wishing out loud he would call, shouting at imaginary him to call.

So this morning I galloped to the station and bounced on the train and skipped to work and felt wonderful. If we ever part, this CD will be the one thing that breaks my heart. And I know I would listen to it over and over, and cry on the train, and sink underneath the feeling of losing something you don't know how to get back.

So for now, I have this CD and its jumpy happiness, and I am going to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Twirly

2009-03-02T01:23:00.004+11:00

I should be in bed, but instead I've made my hair do this:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/piksi_/2808354880/

If it still looks the same when I wake up in the morning I will take a photograph.

Like the kicker in a julep or two

2009-02-28T21:37:00.007+11:00

I've been having trouble sleeping lately. No, more accurately I've been tricking myself into thinking I'm having trouble sleeping just so that I can stay up and obssess about things. Things like the 1930s, predominantly hair and makeup and clothing and drinks. I've been sitting up for hours practicing finger waving and pincurling my hair and looking at videos on youtube and reading vintage style forums.

I was born in the wrong era, and there's nothing I can do about it. I long for men who dress in suits and hats at all times, drinks served on paper napkins and a scene set by cigarette smoke and piano jazz.

One of my favourite jazz standards is You Go to my Head. I've been learning the chords on guitar and my favourite line in the song is to do with mint juleps. So tonight, Saturday, all on my lonesome I am trying out some old classic cocktails. I've been a martini girl (gin, dry, stirred, olive) for some time now, but tonight I am feeling adventurous. My first attempt is the mint julep, and I used the technique of this wonderfully charming bartender:

The result is lovely and delicate; sweet and minty, like those thimbles of mint tea they serve at Morroccan restaurants. I particularly like the metal cup and the film of ice that develops around the outside. I'm just disappointed that my finger waves of yesterday dropped and I'm not really dressed appropriately to enjoy the drink. I'll make more of an effort in the future.

Next up, ramos gin fizz.

Patience

2009-02-14T16:12:00.010+11:00

Every morning I wake up and the first thing I do is run out to the garden to see what has happened to the plants overnight. I'm so eager to see how everyone is doing and whether any unwanted visitors have been chomping their way through the beans or tomatoes that I sometimes do this in my underwear. Sure, I could spend a minute putting on a dressing gown or a pair of jeans, but to me that's all time wasted.

I'm impatient.

So when I discovered that leeks take about 5 - 6 months before they can be harvested I was slightly horrified. Waiting for them to be ready will be an exercise in patience, and so far I'm doing pretty well. I think the key to sitting it out is to have other, quicker growing herbs, fruits and vegies to keep you satisfied while waiting for the more leisurely fellows to set roots and grow tall.

Our outhouse, used only when very hungover or when someone is in the bath, makes a great greenhouse for raising seeds. It's warm and the seedlings are protected from a frying in the direct sun. The rocket at the bottom of this post germinated in about 12 hours in there. In fact, the outhouse worked so well that I had more rocket seedlings than I could plant, so I gave half to a friend in a tupperware container to add to her garden at home.

To raise seeds you need the following:

Empty milk carton; top cut off and a few holes poked in the base
Seed raising mix, or sifted potting mix
Glad wrap
Elastic bands

And you need to do the following:

Fill the milk carton with seed raising/potting mix and flatten the top with some kind of appropriate implement.
Sprinkle the seeds over the top of the mixture and then cover with a very fine layer (1 - 2mm) of the potting mix.
Water gently, put a layer of gladwrap over the top, and secure with an elastic band. Place your mini greenhouse in a warm place away from direct sunlight and wait a few days for your little friends to sprout. You won't need to water the seeds while the gladwrap is on, as there is enough condensation to keep them moist.
Once the seeds have germinated remove the gladwrap to reduce the chance of bacteria or disease killing your seedlings. Leave in the warm place, watering when the soil is dry, until two leaves have developed and your seedlings look healthy enough to plant.
To transplant, use a toothpick to prick out individual, healthy looking seedlings, holding them only by the leaves. Plant into the garden or pots and water in with some Seasol to help their roots establish.

Happy planting!

Lunchtime doodling

2009-02-03T13:59:00.006+11:00

A friend and I am looking for a new house to rent North of the city. We need a good kitchen, a bit of green space for growing things and room for all the creative building and making work we do. Emails to real estate agents have just started, and at this early stage I'm all hopeful and full of enthusiasm. I'm sure that will last a week at most!

Instead I...

2009-02-02T23:32:00.004+11:00

Cleaned up my room and washed a lot of dishes and didn't cook anything at all.

Stalked an ex boyfriend and his girlfriend on Facebook and felt bad.

Called now boyfriend to feel better but still felt bad.

Thought about a boy who never was a boyfriend and still felt bad.

Ate Christmas pudding and felt better.

Looked at my guitar with dislike.

Thought about work and felt bad again.

Decided to go to bed and try again tomorrow.

Tonight I was going to...

2009-02-02T23:27:00.003+11:00

Make something with tomatoes for dinner.

Draw up a pattern for a leather wallet.

Go down to the shops wearing a hoodie in the dark and do my first ever public stencilling.

Fix the chicken doorstop that exploded when I stepped on it in the dark.

Write some kind of crazy and creative blog post.

Write a song about someone who is not me.

Did you know...

2009-02-02T00:14:00.001+11:00

...that baked beans are actually baked in an oven? And that they take about four hours to bake? No, neither did I. I'm looking forward to tomorrow's breakfast.

Hot day dinners

2009-02-01T22:18:00.001+11:00

Today was humid and sweaty in Melbourne, perfect salad weather. Ful Madammas is a Middle Eastern salad, fresh and fragrant with parsley and lemon juice and perfect for days when heat dries up your appetite.

2 cups dried beans (black eye / haricot / borlotti / etc)

1 bay leaf

1/2 bunch parsley, washed and leaves finely chopped

1 clove garlic, crushed

1 spring onion, finely chopped

50mL lemon juice

50 mL olive oil

Salt & pepper to taste

Cover beans in water and leave to soak overnight (if you don't have time for overnight soaking pour boiling water over and let them sit for 3 hours with a teaspoon of bicarb soda).

Drain and rinse beans, place in saucepan with bay leaf, cover and bring to the boil. Simmer for 15 - 20 minutes, until beans are soft but still hold their shape. Drain and rinse to cool.

Combine beans with remaining ingredients and serve with chopped tomato and Lebanese bread.

In the beginning...

2009-01-31T23:09:00.002+11:00

Instead of writing why, I'm just going to start. It will become clear all too soon and you'll realise you never needed an explaination in the first place.

A not-very-good photo of a screen print I've been working on:

This is the beginning of a wedding invitation design for the recently-engaged Enny, but requires tweaking. More leaves in particular. The two-colour print was made with a stencil cut from transparency, printed with transparent inks on a plain linen fabric. So even though it's 11pm and I haven't really eaten dinner (not unless two beers counts as dinner) I'm keeping on working on birds, leaves, stencils and prints.

But first, it's time to go and examine what's going on in the garden and hope that the grasshoppers are staying away from the little beans and the green grubs away from the little rocket.