Lately, there's been a wee nip in the air and mists draped over the hills towards Mulligan's Flat. So I've stepped up our breakfast to include a bowl of rib-sticking porridge—said to be the "chief o' Scotia's food" by poet and lyricist, Robbie Burns.
It was in the breakfast bistro of a hotel just off Kensington High Street in London two years ago that I first tasted the pork chipolatas that could well be classed as THE very best sausages I have eaten in my entire life.
"That's THE BEST way to eat a hot cross bun," Peter declared, licking his lips and patting his belly contentedly. My Englishman loves a good pudding and he was clearly enamoured with my buttered hot cross bun version.
When was the last time you bathed in the forest? I'm not referring to the cooling shower you might take under a tropical waterfall, nor skinny-dipping in a billabong under the shade of a Coolabah tree.
"My mojo is back," I declared with a grin, as I shimmied past Peter ostentatiously. "Well, that's good to hear," he said, adding "I didn't realise it had left you."
My thoughts are with folks in parts of Queensland and northern New South Wales this morning, as I sit at my kitchen table enjoying the sunshine streaming in through the windows.
"As you get older, you might notice that maintaining your usual weight becomes more difficult..." advises an article on the Mayo Clinic website. The good news, according to the writer, is that "the hormonal changes of menopause might make you more likely to gain weight around your abdomen, [rather] than around your hips and thighs." Oh, yay, not!
The excitement was palpable, despite the bitter cold, thick fog and mud that enveloped us when we arrived at Turalla Truffles near Bungendore one Sunday morning in July last year. Frisbee (pictured above), a key member of the team of trained truffle dogs, was there to greet us; together with property owners, Damian Robinson and his wife, Lindsay, and their daughter, Willa (pictured left, second image below).
Sitting at the kitchen table, all we can hear lately on weekday mornings (and all day long) is the sound of earthmoving machinery and trucks excavating the centre of the road, making way for the light rail, which is said to be coming one day. We long for some quiet, so an invitation to enjoy a short break in the countryside is most gratefully accepted.
The day becomes more solemn and serene
When noon is past there is a harmony
In autumn, and a lustre in its sky,
Which through the summer is not heard or seen,
As if it could not be, as if it had not been.
- English poet, Percy Bysshe Shelley, Hymn to Intellectual Beauty, 1816
Hi. I'm Liz. I'm a writer, cook and traveller based in Canberra, Australia.
I love the process of writing and the stringing together of words to form
a story borne from the wisp of an idea. I also enjoy cooking and travelling.
Join me as I share with you recipes for all seasons, postcards and morsels from my adventures, conversations with cookery writers
and chefs, and news on food and cooking.
Search by topic
NB: I use Australian standard measuring cups and spoons in my recipes.