I love a sausage roll. Let me rephrase that, I have learned to love a sausage roll. These are quintessentially Australian, I’ve never encountered them on my global travels anywhere else. The closest thing that I ever had to one was a “pig in a blanket”. But those do not hold a candle to a well made sausage roll. Savoury, slightly sweet sausage mince is baked encased in pastry, either puff or a flakey short crust. The best ones are found at the local bakery and you should get there around 11 am to get them fresh from the oven. The worst are either the frozen nuggets doused in sauce (ketchup) served at kids birthday parties or the ones sold at the counter of the servo which have been sitting in the warmer for untold hours. You should just walk, no run, away from those. Keep on reading!
One weekend every couple of months we pull out our meat grinder and delve into a weekend of sausage making. It’s a family effort of grinding the meat, massaging the fat and spices through the mince before letting it rest overnight so that the flavours can mature. The next day we stuff our savoury meats into their casings-coils for the Sweet Italian, chipolatas for the Maple Breakfast and roll length links for the Pork and Apple. The kitchen is filled with the sounds of spices being pound, discussions about what flavour medley to try this time and laughter overtop of a soundtrack from the 80s. Keep on reading!
I read an interesting piece a few months back about the positive effects of hedonism on health that rang so true to me that I simply must share it with you. Now before you go running off we need to get some definitions straight here. When most of us think of hedonism an image of debauchery, the extreme indulgence in physical pleasure, pops into our heads. Hedonism actually has its philosophical roots from the ancient Greek philosopher Epicurus. His school of thought promoted the savouring of moderate pleasures, respecting one another and showing <a href="http://Gratitude“>gratitude all while pursuing a harmonious life without riches or glory.
I’ve always struggled with birthday cake. I’m not that great a fan of cake in general, so the idea that I can have a special cake to mark the day of my birth doesn’t really appeal. As a child I was able to convince my mother that a birthday pie was appropriate. My birthday is around Halloween, so it wasn’t that hard to convince her that an apple pie would be just fine.
The jacarandas are coming into full swing in Sydney. Before I had to live with them around my house I loved them. I was completely smitten by the intensity of these purple trees and the puddles of flowers beneath them. As an added bonus they always bloom around my birthday. It was nature’s present to me. Keep on reading!
I have very fond childhood memories of being sent to the garden by my nonna to collect up the beans and tomatoes for this dish on warm summer days. Many of the beans never made it from my hand to the basket, ending up in my mouth instead. I always seemed to munch my way through the garden. I still do this sometimes as I work my way through Galluzzo’s. Luckily Joe indulges me. Keep on reading!
Pancakes are, were, my nemesis.
People I know told me that Saturday mornings were a lazy time for pancake breakfasts with their kids. This was relentlessly reinforced by scenes in movies and TV of blissful families laughing, making and devouring light, fluffy pancakes together. Some parents even made them in cute shapes or their kids initials. Keep on reading!
Spring has finally arrived in the Southern Hemisphere. I mark the beginning of spring by the blooming of my Wisteria. The start of the purple rain, as the Jacarandas are not far behind. It’s nature showing us that it’s a time for out with the old and in with the new. It’s a tidying up of the environment. Keep on reading!
Shawarma. Yiro. Gyro. Kebab. One dish with a dozen names, and pronunciations. But no matter what you call it, there’s nothing like some well spiced kofta served up in a fresh flatbread and dressed just the way you like it to satisfy a late night hunger. It’s an end of night ritual across Australia to stagger towards the kebab truck and tuck straight into the luscious sweetness before getting a cab home. Keep on reading!
This weekend we are celebrating #1 step-son’s 21st birthday. 21st’s are a very big deal here in Australia. They are a cross between a wedding, graduation celebration and a bucks/hens night. The party provides an opportunity for those who helped you reach adulthood to be acknowledged and celebrate the young person’s achievements. It then devolves into the young folks drinking far too much. It’s the way this culture celebrates. Keep on reading!