The trick is to look UP! (Thanks for reminding me of that, Scott!). One encounters a whole new dimension, especially in Melbourne, full of Art Deco architecture. Delicate glass ceilings in arcades, antique lamps overhanging a narrow lane, art nouveau tiles in stairwells, carved sconces supporting window sills, criss-crossing walkways high above - I expect them to swing away suddenly, magically as in Griffindore - every turn reveals more.
Some of the lanes are not for the faint hearted, even in daytime. Accosted occasionally by (mostly polite) homeless folk, one might stumble across a lively drug trade, imperious wedding photographers, politicians. Nearby backpacker palaces ensure a international and boisterous youth presence at all times. The retail outlets here are quirky and transient, favouring the hand made, fair trade, ethnic, and downright intriguing. 
This recipe was sent to me by "Grandmother's Garden" in New Zealand. Haven't tried it yet, but it sounds wicked! If somebody makes it, please let me know if it tastes as good as it sounds!
Ok, now for something completely different!
If you can be bothered to leave your warm bed in the depths of winter, Melbourne is worth getting out of bed for. I can hibernate with the best of them, but today felt like braving the 8C temperatures to avoid cabin fever! DH and I headed off to the city and mingled with backpackers, students, and other brave souls wrapped in scarves, hats, gloves, and several layers of woolly garments. The skies were overcast, but no rain, and little wind. Federation Square was hopping, rugged types in deckchairs watching the big screen showing movie clips, art, and ballet. The restaurants were doing a brisk business, and we headed to "arintji" for a fortifying glass of rose and some yummy tasting plates. I tried a really nice mushroom terrine with pickled red onions and croutons, and DH made short work of a lamb skewer and a few other nibbly things. We headed over to the Atrium to see if the book market was on but no luck. There was a very long line for the Tim Burton exhibition, something to remember for another day. After browsing through the National Gallery shop, we looked at the beautiful glass art exhibited in another corner. An exhibition of Rupert Bunny's works was on at the NGV, and across the road the main part of the NGV is hosting an exhibition of European Masters from the Staedel Museum in Frankfurt. (The Staedel Museum was on the regular school excursion list when I lived in Germany, so I've probably seen most of the works! Wouldn't mind seeing them again though). We walked up Swanston Street, said Hi! to Larry Latrobe, then turned down Collins Street.
The heritage-listed building in which the cafe is situated is amazing, with a very high ceiling, art deco skylight, and a balcony around the central atrium. It also houses a shoe shop, which is lit by a spectacular round chandelier. We headed back to the car, walking through some of the city's back lanes, which were packed with people eating and drinking and talking and laughing and having a great time! Melbourne is always worth a visit, and even after living here for 30 years, there is always something new to see and do.
When I was little, we travelled a lot. Dad was with the US Air Force, so we never put down roots anywhere for long, which is why we never had a pet as a child. My first encounter, as a toddler, was with 'Baby', my Grandma's springer spaniel. We got on like a house on fire, shared ice cream and cheerios (often from the same spoon, much to Mum's chagrin). Because of Baby, I was never scared of animals and would approach even the most ferocious looking dog for a pat, no doubt causing more heart attacks for my folks. When we moved to Germany, we lived in flats, and pets were not really a good idea in that environment. Mum & Dad were not pet people although they liked animals. Dad once had a dachshund called 'Oggie' but then he left for overseas, so Oggie got a new home.
DH felt like a drive, so we tootled off to Hepburn, in mineral springs country. It was a bit of a cold day with threatening clouds but not much rain. The drive up there is nice, through farm country with rich fertile soil, and forests, waterfalls, creeks, and little out-of-the way hamlets such as Musk and Glenluce. We avoided the tourist trap of Daylesford and took a turn down the road to Hepburn, where Wayne wanted to have lunch at "Chowder House". Hepburn was quiet, very few people about and what few shops there are, ready to close up for Sunday naptime! The "Chowder House" was
After the chowder, we went for a walk and visited a couple of galleries, and peeked into the Hepburn general store, which looks like something you might have seen in the 1950s. We then headed into gold field country, and got a little lost. Came across an old ruined farmhouse and a few nice old farm sheds. There were sheep in the holding pens and did they ever make a racket! A little later, we saw a big mob of kangaroos near the forest edge, some of them huge. The wildlife is abundant up there, I stopped counting the kookaburras, and we saw a wedgetail eagle circling a valley, looking for lunch too. Stopped for coffee in Kyneton, and had a chat with one of the locals about town development. What more could one expect from a Sunday drive!
What is it about cookbooks? I'm sure there are quite a few of us out there who enjoy leafing through photos of scrumptious food, reading about chefs, and wondering whether we have the 25 ingredients listed in that amazing recipe in our pantry. What makes a good cookbook? I think, as with all books, a decent index is a good start. A good book can be ruined by a bad index. And then, as with food per se, the senses must be engaged; the eye, with beautiful images, and the sense of touch with crisp, new pages. Then there's the imagination which must be fired, both by photos, the names and provenance of the recipes, and the stories behind them. Then there's the art of writing recipes. It sounds easy, but believe me, there is an art to writing an instruction that will result in a delicious, and often complex dish. Try writing a recipe for poached eggs!
Wayne sometimes brings me a new one when he sees a recipe he'd like me to try - so considerate! Of course, there are several cookbooks on my wishlist, such as George Calombaris' "Greek cooking from the Hellenic heart", "Moroccan Cooking", and Abla's cookbook (Lebanese cuisine). I'm sure I can think of a few more. One I'd love to get my hands on is Mum's old cookbook, but my sister is keeping a beady eye on that! My American grandma gave it to Mum when she came to America, and it's got quite a few handwritten bits and pieces in it. So, tell me about your favourite cookbooks!
looking forward to spending some time with Signor Carluccio today.
not quite falling apart. The polenta supported the strong flavours beautifully, and the mushrooms were heavenly! We don't get a large variety of mushrooms here in Australia, so I'm always impressed if someone cooks them well. But wait, there's more! In keeping with the Italian theme, we had a trio of desserts, a small serve of tiramisu, a tiny pear poached in red wine, and an orange and lemon ricotta tart, followed by really good coffee. Life couldn't get much better than this!We chatted with the other guests on our table; they were foodies like us and we had lots to talk about! Antonio made the rounds and very graciously posed for photos with many of us. A notebook was sent around, for people to write a message to Antonio, which I thought was a nice idea. He spoke for a while about his life in London, his restaurant, his love for food (and the ladies!), and told some jokes ("How does a NZ sheep farmer find his sheep in the high grass? - Delightful!"). At 73, he's bursting with vitality and is currently writing his biography and producing another TV series, which I'm looking forward to seeing.
chest of drawers, and Wayne had his grandfather's chair and cedar table, and his mum's piano. The only new furniture we ever bought was a lounge suite, and the cats soon made sure it had a fashionably 'distressed' look!
d and cared-for quilt for their bed?! The stories behind old things can be fascinating. One example is a necklace my mother had, a lovely red gold one with drops of blood red garnets. While she was working in Germany as a translator 
for the Americans after WW2, an older man came in for interviewing. He carried a small suitcase and asked my mother if she would look after it while he was being interviewed. She agreed, and when he left, he opened the suitcase. It was stuffed full of jewellery, and he pulled out the necklace and gave it to Mum, thanked her politely and disappeared. Who knows where all that came from?
finish the fish, hoping to sell it to a restaurant in Melbourne. Creativity is alive and well in the mineral springs country! We''ve always loved Daylesford, even before it became touristy and fashionable, and it is still a favourite destination for a country drive. Now, in autumn, the cooler weather brings out the warm yellows and reds of deciduous trees, and Daylesford's surrounds are well worth exploring with the camera. The town, settled in the mid-1800s with the gold rush, has two pretty lakes, Lake Daylesford and Lake Jubilee. Both are havens for birds, frogs, dragonflies and sundry wildlife. Wombat Hill Gardens are well worth a visit in any season and offer great views over the township and surrounding countryside. It is situated just above the Convent Gallery, a former nunnery turned into a centre for art which also doubles as a wedding venue, and has ongoing exhibitions of local artists' works. Daylesford is a hub for art and artists, food and foodies, and quirky shops and galleries add to the slightly bohemian ambiance. Day spas abound, and just down the road is Hepburn Springs, heart of the mineral spa country, with its many B&Bs and spa dating back to the late 1800's. While not as lively as Daylesford, it is not (yet) spoiled by tourism, and on weekdays it is a surprisingly quiet place. Some shops and galleries have started up, notably the "Wolf at the Door" Gallery, but just enough to explore for an hour after lunch. Peppers is a nice place to have lunch, a 1930's style resort next door to an Italianate villa complete with Mediterranean garden. A few kilometers out of town is Lavandula, a rambling property turned into a lavender farm. While the townships are interesting, it is the surrounding countryside which is surely an inspiration for many of the resident artists. Forests and waterfalls, enormous old trees, deep rich soil, bubbling springs, and teeming wildlife add to the attraction of this area. And I'm sure there's still gold in them hills!!
