No Candles For This Party

I didn't know until last night that one could get three bars on their Eftpos machine in my kitchen but only two in the computer room. Who would have guessed at such a dilemma on a cold Friday night in June? Those from contemporary culture were accustomed to shopping for needs either via a shop front or online. Last night I had the pleasure of neither as I had a shoe party come to my kitchen. More correctly it came to the dining room, the computer room, the lounge-room and the kitchen. No flat surface was safe from the vast displays of shoes, boots, bags and scarves. My daughter had organised for 18 friends to come to the event. A shoe party was definitely unlike a Tupperware party. There was no relaxed banter prior to the sales pitch. There was no individual product hard sell. No inane party games. I knew when the first ladies to arrive, dropped their bags and raced to the the displays that they were more accustomed than I, to such events. It was as if they had queued for hours for the right to be first through the doors for the best bargains. Socked and stockinged feet soon resounded across the tiles and carpet. Stilettos so high that I could have requested of the wearers 'to please grab those spider webs' hiding on the overhead beams. However, I realised that I would have dallied with death had I interrupted the intense lacing, zipping, pushing and pulling from their tasks. I had pre-ordered from the online, catalogue a simple ankle boot for casual wear. My tastes basic and simple, compared to the shoes showcased. One young guest/shopper was intent of purchasing shoes for Melbourne Cup Day in November. Another happy shopper, boots for a holiday in Europe (next year.) My memories of Tupperware parties that I had attended in the olden days were always accompanied by platters of food and often wine or bubbles. I was pleased to note that this tradition had survived the cultural revolution. One could partake of sustenance before making the next trial run down the hall or around the lounge-room in dangerously high shoes or boots without spilling a single drop wine or bubbles from their glass. Bravo. I say. The new generation of young people certainly have sole. No heels too high and no price too expensive! No orders! Eftpos was conveniently available right from the comfort of my kitchen. I can't wait for the next party. I can't quite imagine what will be sold from my dining room table next but it promises to provide an evening's entertainment.

That smell was ...

The new dessert was delicious. Apple tarte Tatin. For those who require more information that means apple rounds baked on a pastry base of caramelised sugar that is cooked topsy turvy style and its serving suggestion, the option of vanilla creme anglaise. So good on such a damp day. The watercress soup and crusty bread was the essential first course, the healthy starter. The cubed and seared salmon fillets piqued the palate's interest before the ever so spicy meatballs and chat potatoes. Someone recently told me that they like to start with dessert just in case they die after mains. A novel approach to dining and a concept to be considered for future reference. I should have been most unhappy if I had died before sampling Stephen's newest dessert sensation.

Umbrellas and Gumboots

Weather forecasters had predicted some serious weather for the long weekend and the water streaming down my yard suggests 100% accuracy for the meteorologists. Rain showers yesterday were intermittent and nothing more than passing moments. However, last night heavier showers developed and the cloud has set in over the valley hanging like dense, grey, fairy floss over the hills. The series dams on the neighbouring property are all overflowing and gently spilling like a water feature from one to the other. Pelicans in formation are retreating overhead. A single kangaroo and her joey brave the wet and continue to graze well past the fence line. My feet squelch on the grass down to the creek and I consider that it would be fun to be tromping about in my new gumboots. I resist the urge as I like that they still shine and are not yet scarred with smears of mud. The lemon tree loaded with fruit beckons an eager hand and a bucket to tote the crop up to the house. Perhaps chef, Stephen may have a use for them later. He has been preparing lunch for some hours. Watercress soup sits on the stove top simmering and tormenting the hungry to wait just a bit longer. Tapas for the other courses include-cubes of salmon fillets, chat potatoes, salt and pepper squid and to complete the experience spaghetti and meatballs. Meanwhile I realise that winds have arrived shaking the water from the leaves on the trees, as might a dog after a bath. As I blog I become aware of a new cooking smell weaving its way to me from the kitchen. What is it? Some kind of spice? Familiar but different.

I Like Surprises

Mudgee was such an unexpected treat! How does one show their appreciation? In my case, some consider me to be a little bit of pyromaniac, so first item of business; get the fire crackling in the hearth. Presto the cottage was even considerate enough to provide laminated instructions for that very purpose. As if I needed instructions. None-the-less, possibly, for the uninitiated, a wise idea. Stephen shopped for our dinner as the flames gently wound their way along the kindling and logs in the fireplace thus bringing a subtle, flickering, fire-light to the afternoon. We each did what we do well. Another thing I do when we are away is morning coffee. At home we never have coffee in bed but when we are away it is a special treat. Wine, red of course, from home discretely packed into my bag as a surprise to go with dinner. With both of us were not too well, the notion of wine tasting was best left for another occasion. The right ingredients for a cosy retreat to heal body and soul.

Coming Home

Leaving the idyllic garden was not easy but without coats simply not smart to stay out too long. Pond reflections snapped through the camera's lens had to suffice on this occasion. From Mudgee we had decided to try an alternative route. We had rediscovered a road that we had previously avoided, believing it to be unsealed for 37 kilometres. Exiting the town we listened to and dutifully responded to Ms Navman's route instructions except when she kept insisting that we make a U turn as soon as possible. She often has bouts of mistrust in her own sat nav directions. That issue ignored we continued along the road out of town when we spied an old church in the paddock to our right. Whilst it appeared to be abandoned it was in remarkable condition. A weed ridden drive led us to the cemetery adjacent to the church. The weathered tombstones with sad listings of infant's dates of birth and death chiseled into the rock reminded us of the harshness of life for the early Australians. Yet another more recent grave was marked by humble mounds of locally gathered and stacked rocks. The church itself was cited as a gift to the community by a gentleman unknown to us, for we knew nothing of Mudgee's history. The architecture seemed to be a mix of styles - some terracotta and beautiful sandstone. Stained glass windows dominated each wall but as entry was not possible part of their inner beauty was lost to us. The journey home was relaxed and we saw amazingly tall, rusty brown coloured, rock cliffs along the way. Large rock slips dotted the roadside for many kilometres with many more yet to fall. The distant cliffs beckoned us to follow the road from it greatest heights to the valley floor. Sometimes winter ills and chills can be most rewarding in most unexpected ways.

Overnight In Mudgee

Winter chills and winter colds so what better time to get away. Computer and Wotif located a 5 star B&B at Mudgee. A perfect location for dreary coughs and colds to be set aside. The road trip was warm and the car comfortable. Such a long time had past since we travelled the Golden Highway. The little towns and villages that we entered and left almost in the same breath were quaintly unchanged and in the main, deserted. Before setting out I had recalled a previous lunch in Mudgee and so I was hoping again to make our lunch stop at the High Valley cheese and wine cafe. A few hours drive in the car was all that stood between home and Mudgee. Not to be disappointed we arrived to find the cafe brimming with lively conversation and many sampling either the wines or cheeses. Once seated we ordered and sat to soak in the room's offerings. The artwork and trinkets both on display or for sale, created a pleasant diversion while our lunch was prepared. Stephen's onion soup was exactly as described by the waitstaff; very 'oniony.' My salmon tart with dressed rocket so crisp and fresh with the 2001 Shiraz. Next course, the cheese platter of red wine - poached pear, quince paste, more dressed rocket, crispy bread and three cheeses left us satisfied. A short drive to the town centre for a coffee and an even briefer encounter with the tourist information centre; all was well. Rockman's purchase made and then off to check in to our cottage at Evanlea. Splendid tree lined drive opened before us. Easy parking. Ticking my boxes every step of the way. The cottage's antique furniture and inclusions such as the log fire, a large spa beside the bed, a kitchen, a dining area and separate bathroom. What more could a girl want on a cold afternoon? A husband who agrees to eat in to avoid going out into the cold night air. Wine, pasta, chorizo sausage, cheese and more crispy bread. I forgot to mention that the host had provided chocolates, sweets and other treats to make our stay memorable. Surrounding each of the cottages and the main homestead were acres of rambling gardens. Statues, water features and ponds where ducks swam complimented the mood so successfully. Each step and turn of the garden revealed a new vista of staged, living landscape. Even the wintry mist could not dim its invitation to stroll amongst the vegetation. I almost look forward to and welcome our next bout of winter follies.

40 Minutes Later

Mysterious things happen when grown up children leave home and move out with their friends. The stories and things I heard after Chris moved in with his mates were enough to make my hair curl. So with mixed feelings I welcomed his return to allow him to save for his holiday. Tonight I believe that I have been given a lesson in parenting that brings a silent smile to my lips. Not only did he cook lasagne for the first time but he did so with Bechamel sauce. Chris took instructions and expertly created his first Bechamel sauce. Into the oven. A deep sigh when he discovered that he had a 4o minute wait for it to cook. Was it worth the wait? Indeed it was. I am certain that he cheered when he opened the door to reveal his lasagne. "Yes. Oh! Yes." He should not have been surprised for he had followed the instructions to a T and his lasagne was delicious. May he be a stranger in my kitchen no more. The topic of conversation at dinner revolved around Michelin Hats. How does one get one of those? Good questions and I am sure someone more eloquent than I can explain the blood, sweat and tears that are required to earn even one. Perhaps one day in the future. I should live that long.