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's Father's Day in Australia tomorrow and, no doubt, many dads across the country will be treated to a cooked breakfast and some new socks, power tools, books, or a pile of instant lottery tickets.
In the introduction to her latest book, Food for Sharing Italian Style, Liliana Battle, shares a narrative about watching an elderly couple who were sitting at the table next to her in a restaurant.
'I smiled, and thought how nice it was to see two people well into their eighties still going out... to enjoy a meal together. Then I watched as they just sat there, not speaking, not even looking at each other. It was almost painful to watch... but then the waiter came out and placed a plate of food in front of each of them... they talked, they laughed and they came to life in front of my eyes,' she writes.
What is the matter with Mary Jane?
She's crying with all her might and main,
And it's lovely rice pudding for dinner again!
— Rice Pudding, A. A. Milne, 1924
As we enjoy the final days of summer, the weather 'person' has promised a series of scorching hot days, almost as if to send off the season with a rousing 'hurrah'.
Breakfast has always been at the top of my daily food agenda and I've never been one who could skip it. This may have stemmed from my childhood, for my mother took care to ensure that the family left the house, for work or school, with satiated bellies. Our day would begin with a serving of mum's semolina or rice pudding, or perhaps some French toast; or scrambled or coddled eggs. And there was always some fresh fruit, spritzer water and mum's cooked caffè latte on the table.
Before I launch into this snippet, I would like to thank Bellatrix, Nymphadora, Minerva and Poppy, the lovely ladies (or 'laid/ies') who provided the eggs which made this story possible. Named after females in the Harry Potter books, the hens are owned by my good friend 'The Dog' and his family, and must admit I had a chuckle when I heard about their individual personalities.
'We have much sweet corn for just $1.00 per cob. Freshly picked. All organic,' announced the tweet from Robbie Wallace earlier this month. Peter and I were travelling interstate at the time, but we'd been wanting to pop out and meet Robbie and see his fascinating rock structure for ages. And, besides, we love sweet corn, so I arranged a visit, pronto.
'We've decided we're not going to grow zucchini this year (mainly because everyone else does, so we're happy to take their excess off their hands and we'll have something else to fob off on them, I'm sure). But in the past when we grew 'zeppelins' we used to wrap them in a baby blanket, put them in a basket, leave them on someone's door step, ring the doorbell and run. — John Griffin, a.k.a. Kitchen Riffs
'I feel like having hotcakes and fruit for breakfast after our swim,' I said to Peter as we walked hand-in-hand along the sandy shore of Laguna Bay. 'Do you now,' he replied, staring dreamily out to the blue on the horizon. And have them we did!
I'm Liz, a.k.a Bizzy Lizzy,
the writer, cook and traveller behind
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NB: I use Australian standard measuring cups and spoons in my recipes.