Long walks in the rain and restorative vegetable soup

Hi, my name is Cheergerm, I like long walks in the rain. (This sounds like the introduction to a personal ad on a dating website.) Actually, I was under the impression I liked long walks in the rain.

After a lovely and filling lunch at Mum’s house, a forty minute walk home seemed like a good idea. The offer of an umbrella was denied. ‘No thanks, I have my rain coat, that will do thanks.’ The first five minutes of light drizzle were delightful. I felt alive, exuberant, all English-like and Mary Poppinsy. Trip trapping down the road like one of the Three Billy Goats Gruff, cool mist enveloping me.

Then the rain got heavier. Rain coat zipped up, hood on. This wasn’t going to dampen my spirits, so to speak. Did the intrepid explorer Sir Edmund Hilary turn back when things got a bit hairy climbing Mt Everest? Never! With nothing to protect my face and glasses, large drops began to drip down, obscuring my vision. A pair of teeny tiny windscreen wipers would have been great. This genteel walk was becoming somewhat unpleasant.

The rain deepened, as did my mood. I would not call for help. Captain Scott didn’t call his mummy for help in the Antarctic, did he? (Unfortunately, I had left my mobile phone at home.) The wind started to blow the rain sideways. By now my track suit pants were hugging my legs wetly, not unlike a clingy three year old with a soggy nappy. The odd drip or two was making it way slowly down my back, creeping towards undergarments that one would prefer to keep dry.

I saw a car, my heart lifted, it was the same make and colour as ours. Had the Yak come to rescue me from this foolhardy adventure? Nope, it wasn’t him. Resolutely, I put my head down. Rain was now pouring over the hood of my rain coat and down my nose like a miniature waterfall. Home was only ten minutes away.

My name is Cheergerm, I do not like long walks in the rain.

But I do like this. A marvellous restorative vegetable soup based on the kind of soup that Mum would make on wintery Sunday’s. It is perfect for when you feel wet, poorly, sad, or just in need of a big bowl of soup love. It makes a huge pot but I always freeze some for a rainy day. Mum always used barley but sadly, it is not gluten free. I threw in some lovely red Persian lentils which do not need soaking and keep their shape once cooked. The celery is essential.

RESTORATIVE VEGETABLE SOUP

2 tbl olive oil or grapeseed oil
1 onion, diced
2 large carrots, diced
1 yellow or red capsicum, diced
4 sticks celery, 300g, diced
1 Swede (the vegetable not someone from Sweden), diced
4 cups veggie stock
7 cups of water
1 cup Persian red lentils (or green lentils, or barley if it doesn’t need to be GF), make sure you wash them
Big handful of green beans, chopped
2 medium zucchini, diced
1 tsp Salt and as much black pepper as you desire
1 large handful celery leaves, roughly chopped
(Optional: vegetable stock powder.)

Heat oil in large stockpan and sweat off onion, carrots, pepper, celery and swede for about ten minutes. Do not colour the vegetables.
Add the veggie stock, water, lentils and a few big grinds of black pepper. Bring to the boil then reduce to a simmer.
Cook for about 40 minutes until the carrots are just tender, then add the beans, zucchini and salt and cook for a further 10-15 minutes or until they are just tender. You want to keep some vibrancy in them.
Check for seasoning, add more salt, pepper and a teaspoon of veggie stock powder if needed.
Add the celery leaves and cook for five more minutes. Let the soup sit off the heat for five minutes, scoop off any lentil scum that has come to surface.
Eaten with a slice of spelt sourdough and some manchego cheese.

A Cheergerm recipe

Cooking Notes: I used a store bought veggie stock. I have made my own before (a few years ago now) but I really fancy making the wonderful sounding roast vegetarian stock from the lovely Almost Italian blog. She roasted the vegetables first to obtain some umami depth. I haven’t made it yet but I will. Or maybe you will first. Bless and damn you if that is the case.

https://almostitalian.wordpress.com/2015/06/01/french-onion-soup-with-vegetable-stock-voila/


Gluten free date and ginger slice, minus three points

Kid 1 to our dog: Elvis I love you so much but I minus three points of love because you have no butt cheeks.

Kid 1 is a hard taskmaster. After being begged asked to try this slice, he had a tiny nibble. Letting me down as gently as he was able to, the sproglet informed me that ‘it was not to his taste and he didn’t like the ginger and chocolate together.’ Well, that left a large amount of slice for the taller people in our household. (Kid 2 saw the cornflakes and ran a mile.) Leftover gluten free cornflakes needed to be used up so this recipe was on my ‘to do’ list. The Yak and myself were big fans, as were the other friends that I palmed it off on shared it lovingly with. It is a bit like a poorer cousin of a fancy florentine, but no less delicious.

With a chewy unctuousness, this slice isn’t as sweet as you would imagine and the ginger is a welcome spicy surprise. It would be a wonderful addition to a Christmas celebration or packaged prettily as a festive gift. Containing dates, this concoction must be good for you and being doused in dark chocolate (which science has proven to be rich in important nutrients), it is doubly so.

Kid 1, I love you so much but I minus three points of love for you being such a fussy bugger.

GLUTEN FREE DATE AND GINGER SLICE

WHAT YOU NEED
1 1/2 cups (180g) chopped dates
170g butter
85g sugar
2 tsp ground ginger
3 cups (80g) gluten free cornflakes
170g dark chocolate

HOW YOU DO IT
Put the chopped dates, butter, sugar and ginger into a medium sized saucepan. Place over a low heat and stir with a wooden spoon until the mixture is thoroughly amalgamated. This takes about 5 minutes.
Remove from the heat and mix in the cornflakes.
When everything is well combined, press into a 30 X 21 cm shallow tin until it’s about 1cm thick. My slice was about 26cm long, it depends how thick you make it.
Once the mixture has cooled, put it in the fridge until it is quite firm. This took about 45 minutes.

Finishing
Melt the chocolate carefully and pour it over the chilled slice.
Spread out evenly with a knife or spatula, then score the surface of the chocolate with a fork.
Set aside to cool and cut into small fingers or squares.
Store in the fridge in an airtight container, separating the layers with baking or waxed paper. Makes about 20-25 squares, depending on the size.
Cooking Note: you can use regular cornflakes if you don’t require a gluten free slice.

Recipe from Ladies, A Plate by Alexa Johnston

http://www.theguardian.com/science/2015/jun/16/more-evidence-that-chocolate-may-be-good-for-the-heart-say-researchers#img-1


King of the vegetables and a potato and Comte galette

The Yak was crapping on orating upon the delight of the humble potato, his favourite vegetable over all others. We could say in fact, that in his view, it is The King of the Vegetables. As he plainly stated, there isn’t much that you cannot do with the tatie. Bake it, boil it, steam it, mash it, grate it, fry it, smash it, dumpling it. Perhaps The Yak has a point? What he was really trying to say was, could we please have potatoes for dinner?

The pantry was laden with potatoes, I also had some delicious looking Comte cheese that I had purchased at the cheese shop. I suffer from an insidious illness that I would not wish upon anyone, it is called ‘Cheeseyearningitis’. It entails standing in front of a cheese counter, looking longingly at cheeses that one wishes to try but one also knows, that one is of an age where one can no longer eat every cheese that ones hankers after. This is due to a waistline thickening on a daily basis and a propensity towards high cholesterol. ‘Cheeseyearningitis’. Look it up, it really exists.

Comte is a semi-hard French cheese made from unpasteurised milk obtained from cows that have only been freshly and naturally fed. It is very similar to Gruyere but a Comte cheese can only be called thus if it adheres to a whole bunch of strict Frenchy regulations. God Bless the French.

I was thinking of a good old potato bake but a googlebumble led me to this delightful concoction, a Comte and potato galette. (Galette meaning a flat pancake and this dish is intrinsically that, a pancake like concoction of cheese and potato.)

The smell of this simple dish baking caused dribble to surreptitiously slide out of the corners of my mouth. Luckily, no one was watching. How best to explain the odour of this cheese baking? I imagine that it is the smell of the meadows in the French alps, of the sweet grass and alpine flowers that blissfully happy European cows chow down upon.

This cheese and potato dish was nutty, sharp, crunchy and almost caramelised around the edges. Unfortunately, all the children present loved it so there were barely any leftovers. Which really sucked. As a French cow would say, ‘Le Moo, Le Sucky.’

POTATO AND COMTE GALETTE

2 tbl unsalted butter (30g)
1 kilo potatoes, peeled and coarsely shredded. I used Desiree because it’s all I had, the recipe called for Yukon Gold. I shredded them in my food processor, oh yeah. Squeeze the potatoes well to get rid of as much liquid as you can.
200g Comte cheese, grated
1 1/2 tsps sea salt
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
Black pepper

Preheat oven to 180C.
Preheat a medium size frypan, add half the butter and melt it.
Place 1/3 of the shredded potatoes into the frypan, sprinkle half a teaspoon of salt, some grinds of black pepper and sprinkle some nutmeg evenly across.
Sprinkle 1/3 of the cheese over the potato.
Place another 1/3 of the potatoes on top, season with salt, pepper and nutmeg and add another 1/3 of the cheese.
Add the last 1/3 of potatoes, drizzle the remaining butter on top then press the mixture down with the back of a spatula. Season with salt, pepper and nutmeg then sprinkle the remaining cheese on top.
Over a medium heat, cook the potatoes for about 10-15 minutes until the potato on the bottom starts to sizzle.
Transfer the frying pan into the oven and cook for about 25-35 minutes until golden brown and the potatoes pierce easily with a knife. (Meaning they are cooked.)
Eat it down quickly before the children do.

Recipe knicked from the website listed below, only a minor change was made to it.

http://www.oliversmarket.com/index.php/413

http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comté_cheese


Green lentil dal, a curry, not the author

How could I not use this recipe as an excuse to wax a wee bit lyrical about one of my favourite authors, Roald Dahl?

Easily, you may say but then, that is how I roll. Expect the unexpected, I never promised you a rose garden and all that. (Whatever the hell that means, seriously, what does it mean?)

As a child, my fervent reading habit encompassed the works of Roald Dahl. His books were devoured as readily as any white bread that I was able to get my mitts on. (Back in the day, Mum baked homemade bread or we ate brown bread. This once painfully fussy eater hankered after a slice of white bread something fierce.)

Favourite Dahl tomes included the hippy trippy delicious adventures of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, closely followed by Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator and of course, James and the Giant Peach. These books were read cover to cover and more than once. They were then followed by the rest of his children’s novels and poetry. In my later teenage years, I encountered his more grown up ‘Tales of the Unexpected’ in which a story about screaming plants was inked indelibly onto my mind and psyche. To read Dahl is to go on an adventure and end up in a place you never thought you would go.

Indian food is a little like a Roald Dahl tale, an exciting and exotic journey into a diverse world of spice and many varying ingredients. Each bite can reveal a different flavour and aroma. Every spice brings something new to the party. This curry consisting of deep green legumes is gently earthy, with a delicate creamy blend of heat and richness. It is a wonderful addition to an Indian banquet or just as pleasantly, scoffed alone with a heft serving of basmati rice.

On that note, I leave you with my one of my favourite Roald Dahl quotes. (And of course, the recipe.)

‘And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.’

GREEN LENTIL DAL

WHAT YOU NEED
250g green lentils, washed
1 onion, roughly chopped
2 garlic clove, roughly chopped
5 cm ginger, roughly chopped
1/4 cup oil
1 tbl ground cumin
1 1/2 tsps ground coriander
2 tsps salt
1/4 tsp chilli powder
2 tbl garam masala
1/4 cup cream

HOW YOU DO IT
Put the lentils in a large saucepan and add 6 cups of water and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer and cook for about 45 minutes to one hour or until the dal feels soft.The lentils will start to split a little and that is fine.
Drain and reserve the cooking liquid.
Blend the onion, garlic and ginger in a food processor to form a paste or finely chop them together with a knife.
Heat the oil in a medium size saucepan and fry the onion mixture over a high heat, stirring constantly until golden brown.
Add the cumin and coriander and fry for two minutes.
Add the lentils and stir in the salt, chilli powder and garam masala.
Pour 310ml (1 1/4 cup) of the reserved lentil liquid into the pan, bring to the boil, then reduce the heat to medium and simmer for ten minutes.
Just before serving, check for salt then stir in the cream and simmer for another 2 minutes to heat through.
Serve alone with steamed basmati rice or as part of a feast.

A Cheergerm adaptation from the The Food of India: A journey for food lovers by Murdoch Books. Recipes by Priya Wickramasingh and Carol Selva Rajah.


Minecraft and a gluten free lemon drizzle cake

When my two lads talk to me about Minecraft, the computer game, this is what I hear:

Minecraft blah blah blah

Enderman blah blah blah

Diamonds, pigs, blah blah blah

Villagers blah blah blah

Me: Oh really, That’s great!

I could feel really bad but then I remember that this is what they hear when I speak to them:

What did you do today blah blah blah

Homework blah blah blah

Shut the door blah blah blah

Wash your hands blah blah blah

Tidy your room blah blah blah

So we are even.

Parenting can be a battlefield but we all need to eat. Every living creature in our house loves this cake. I mean, they really love it. Gluten is not missed and every bite is moist, sweet, tangy and tender. Just like life itself.

GLUTEN FREE LEMON DRIZZLE CAKE

WHAT YOU NEED
125g butter, room temperature
130g caster sugar
Zest of one large or two small lemons
2 large eggs
65 ml milk
1/4 tsp vanilla bean powder (or 1/4 tsp vanilla bean paste or essence)
100g gluten free self-raising flour
50g sorghum flour
30g almond meal
2 tsps gf baking powder
1/4 tsp salt

Lemon Syrup
2 tbl sugar
Juice of the zested lemon

HOW YOU DO IT
Preheat the oven 180 degrees or 170 fan forced, then prepare and line a loaf tin.
Cream the butter and sugar in the food processor.
Add the lemon rind and pulse.
Add the rest of the ingredients and blend until nice and smooth.
(If you do not have a food processor, use a stand mixer, electric hand beater or go old school and use a hand whisk!)
Bake the cake for about 40 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean.
For the lemon syrup, whilst the cake is baking, heat the sugar and juice of the lemon until the sugar has dissolved. Set it aside until you need it.
Whilst the cake is still in the tin, place it on a cooling rack.
Pierce the cake all over with a skewer then spoon over the lemon syrup. Use it all, the cake will soak up the syrup as it cools.
Let the cake cool completely in the tin before serving.
Slice and eat it. We did.

A Cheergerm adaptation from the UK Telegraph website. The link is provided below.


http://www.telegraph.co.uk/foodanddrink/recipes/8059974/Classic-lemon-drizzle-cake-recipe.html

A wee thanks for the ‘Sunshine’ blog award nomination to Windy Mama who blogs at Wuthering Bites. Go and have a read of her clever award acceptance post.

https://wutherornot.wordpress.com/2015/05/28/the-plays-the-thing/comment-page-1/#comment-575



All the little lights

‘We’re born with millions of little lights shining in the dark, and they show us the way. One lights up, every time we feel love in our hearts.’

I was sitting with Uncle R and Aunty L in their lounge room. We were listening to an album called ‘All the little lights’ by Passenger, aka Michael David Rosenberg, an English folk-rock singer songwriter with an unforgettably raspy voice and poignant lyrics. L is mending and R is reading. The lyrics from the song ‘all the little lights’ lodge within me, there is definitely a light shining in my heart in that moment.

My three sisters and I had landed in full force in Christchurch, New Zealand, the day before. It had been many years since we have travelled there all together, four curly haired lasses reunited on an adventure once more. We encountered a little pocket of summer in autumn, the warm wind wrapping around us like a loving blanket. Tessa the wonder retrieving cat was a delighting and diverting ball of possum like fur. Our Uncle and Aunty love her to the point of distraction. It is no no hardship to see why. We are all in her thrall before we know it.

Their house, built in 1909, timber walls, lovingly maintained by strong hands and strong hearts and held up by the firm foundations of a loving marriage. To our Uncle, this house is part of his story, a direct reflection of himself. Solid through the toughest and most unimaginable heartbreaking of times. It suffered in the earthquakes but the fact that liquification did not travel beneath and the extra work and timber that they built into it ‘back in the day’, ensured it’s continuing existence.

There is true beauty here. Both in the people it houses and in each lovingly chosen or inherited piece. A living, breathing diaroma of their history, just like the patchwork quilts artfully made by Aunty L. Old Pop’s piano accordion, stained glass and hand crafted wooden sculptures made by a close friend. A man’s garage laden with treasures and tools used by the hands of a bloke who fixes and beautifies discarded objects. The garden provides pumpkins, perfumed climbing roses, lavender, a magnificent veggie patch and an apple tree. Saffron seeds given to Uncle R from an Iranian student have been grown into delicate yet vibrant golden threads.

Hot Wheels and Low Rider, how good it is to see them again. No, these are not some hot rodding gang members but two of our cousins. Rest assured, these titles are of their own choosing. These two beautiful men have Frederich’s Ataxia and use wheelchairs as their current mode of transport. This condition causes progressive damage to the nervous system. We are well pleased to clap eyes on them both again along with Big Bibbity Bob (aka Bob) the beautiful brown eyed dogger friend of Hot Wheels. To know Bob, is well, to love him.

A strong food gene appears to be written in all of our DNA. We ate and drank from dusk to dawn, Aunty L’s rich mushroom soup and sourdough bread. The coffee we encounter is seriously good and excellent New Zealand wine flows. Denheath’s custard squares thank you very much, iconic ginger slice and lolly slice, something I don’t think you will see in another part of the world. A miniature Bombe Alaska filled with a rhubarb parfait is well, frankly, the bomb. We are entertained by Uncle R’s amazing ability to recite poetry and witty sayings handed to him by his own personal mentor and hero, Old Pop. (His grandfather, our great/grandfather. He is the dapper fellow in the first photo on the left wearing a beret.)

Special gin (laden with botanicals) and tonics with orange peel, Italian food, cousins and beers, laughing like loons and catching up. Some cooking and baking is also accomplished by sisters together again. A perfectly balanced carrot cake (not too sweet, not too savoury) topped with walnuts foraged from the tree next door. A delicate seafood chowder laden with NZ seafood. We all pitch in.

Reconnecting with our loved ones, family from both our fathers and mothers side, time has passed but not passed at all. The goodwill and interest is still there as if we only saw each other yesterday. Coffee at the local library, lunch at the Boatshed and drinks at the Astrolabe Bar. More laughter and some tears. We pore over photos from a bygone era, looking for snippets of ourselves in the faces that gaze back at us.

Leaving here is hard for many reasons. We miss all of our family and this beautiful city that is rebuilding itself in new ways after the earthquake. It is made more difficult this time because our beloved Uncle R is fighting a health battle that brings new meaning to the saying that ‘life isn’t fair’. As Uncle R would say, quoting Old Pop, ‘Life isn’t fair, so what are you going to do about it?’ Our uncle has spent his life ‘doing something about it.’ Battling injustices committed not only against his own boys but for others who lacked a voice.

We do not say goodbye but instead, ‘until we meet again.’ If love is a tiny light that burns, then there are many tiny lights burning as brightly as they can right now.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=CoONtDv9eJg

http://www.fara.org.au

http://www.denheath.co.nz

http://www.christchurch.org.nz


Gluten free chocolate fudge biscuits and bringing glad back

Yes, it may be a bit Pollyanna of me (for those of you who remember the book and movie) but I am single-handedly bringing back the word ‘glad’.

Somewhere along the way, the word ‘grateful’ has become incredibly popular. Leaving it’s less glamorous cousin ‘glad’ sitting sadly against the wall, not unlike an unwanted wallflower at a school dance.

Considering myself a champion for the unpopular, daggy and less than glamorous; I have popped ‘glad ‘ into my handbag of current and favourite words. It somehow speaks of a more refined time. It is not effusive, nor is it ‘in yo face’.

Intrinsically, both words have similar dictionary meanings.

glad: feeling pleasure or happiness, grateful, willing
grateful: thankful, feeling or showing appreciation

To be grateful or show gratitude is a little bit Hollywood. To be glad sounds more London Westend musical. The understated vibe of the word ‘glad’ brings to mind adorable pastel coloured 1950’s hats adorned with fake flowers. It harks back to a time when lads and lasses dressed impeccably in pinstriped boating attire and daintily nibbled on teensy weensy cucumber sandwiches. I will leave ‘grateful’ to the gushing vocabulary of actors swathed in sequinned gowns and pretending to chow down on miniature sushi handrolls topped with beluga caviar.

All in all, I am glad that I found this lovely biscuit recipe on the web. (Not a spiders web but the world wide version.) It didn’t turn out as I had thought. In my minds eye, I envisaged that these cookies would be crunchy but then I went and changed the recipe. (Only because I lacked some of the necessary ingredients.) Ordinarily, I would not post a recipe that could be deemed a failure but to us they were chewy, richly chocolate and unctuous. Less biscuit, more like a brownie or cake.

Strangely enough, our cornflake biscuit eschewing lads, adored these. Go figure.

GLUTEN FREE CHOCOLATE FUDGE BISCUITS

WHAT YOU NEED
2 tbl grapeseed oil
1/2 cup maple syrup
1 egg
1/2 tsp vanilla extract (I used vanilla bean powder and added it in with the dry ingredients.)
2 tbl golden syrup
1 1/2 cups almond meal
1/4 cup plus 1 tbl Cocoa powder
1 1/2 tsps baking powder
3 tbl cornflour
A pinch of salt
1 tbl milk

HOW YOU DO IT
Place all the wet ingredients except for the milk into a food processor or blender and mix until combined.
Add in all the dry ingredients and mix until combined.
Add the milk and pulse until mixed through.
Place the mixture into a bowl and place into the fridge for a minimum of 30 minutes. (Mine was in there for 2 hours.)
Preheat the oven to 170C/350F and line two trays with baking paper.
Place large tablespoons of the mixture onto the trays leaving a gap of at least 3 cm /1 inch as they will spread. Place the trays back in the fridge for 15 minutes.
Remove the trays and place in the oven for 16-18 minutes, they will be slightly cracked on top. (Just like me…)
Cool on the tray for 5 minutes then remove to a wire rack for cooling. They will harden up a little as they cool.
Made 19 biscuits.

Very lightly adapted from a recipe from the Mummy Made blog. The link to the original recipe is provided after the photos.

http://mummymade.it/2014/01/chocolate-ripple-bisuits.html


Gluten free cornflake biscuits and Box Boy

Here in New South Wales, Australia, we have been recovering from devastating storms and torrential rain. Outside play has been at a minimum. Finally, the sun was shining and I screamed at politely asked my children to go outside and play. They ignored me. During my rant soliloquy on the benefits of outdoor playing Kid 2 came up to me, wearing a cardboard box. He had become Box Boy, reminiscent of The Boy in the Bubble but less circular.

Kid 2: Hug me.

Not particularly wanting to hug him at that moment, I decided to take this as an opportunity to think outside the box. I wrapped my arms around my cardboard enclosed child and squeezed. For the record, it was odd and rather scratchy.

The gluten free cornflakes used in the recipe also came out of a box. Having known and adored similar styles of biscuits in my cheery childhood, I assumed the sproglets would devour them immediately. Incorrect. The little buggers sweethearts wouldn’t even try them. ‘Go on, eat one,’ said I. ‘No’, said they, resolutely and determinedly.

The adults who got a look in loved every one of these crunchy, vanilla studded, buttery biscuits. To say they pair well with a good cup of cha (tea) is an understatement. For fans of secondhand goodness, please note the adorable Swedish mug rescued from an op shop for the ripe price of a dollar. Got to love a bargain.

GLUTEN FREE CORNFLAKE BISCUITS

WHAT YOU NEED
125g butter
1/2 cup caster sugar (I used raw)
1/4 tsp vanilla bean powder, or 1/2 tsp vanilla bean paste or vanilla essence
180g gluten free self-raising flour, sifted
1 tbl milk
1 1/2 cups gluten free cornflakes
1/2 cup sultanas

HOW YOU DO IT
Preheat oven to 180C and line two baking trays with baking paper.
Cream the butter, sugar and vanilla in a mixing bowl until light and creamy. I usually scrape the bowl down using a spatula at least once during this process.
Add the flour and mix on a low speed to incorporate.
Add the milk and mix until the dough comes together.
Use a wooden spoon to mix the cornflakes and sultanas in, stir until well combined.
Use a heaped teaspoon per biscuit and roll into a ball. Place onto the trays, allowing room for spreading, slightly flatten each biscuit with a spatula.
Cook for 12-15 minutes or until lightly golden. I often turn the trays halfway through cooking to allow for even cooking.
Remove trays from oven and let cool for five minutes before transferring to a wire rack.
Made 22 biscuits.

A Cheergerm adaptation of a recipe from the Taste website. The link to the original recipe is provided below the photos.

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http://www.taste.com.au/recipes/13559/sultana+cornflake+cookies


Back to Bathurst and a spot of Tex-Mex

Restlessness and a modicum of discontent sat curled, viper like, in the depths of my belly. We were nearing the end of the first week of the lads two week school holidays. A last minute opportunity arose to visit Mr Bagpipes, aka the father figure. He is currently house sitting a large ex-vineyard property ten minutes outside of old Bathurst. It felt darned good to pack up and get the heck outta Dodge. A chance for familial reconnection far from the maddening crowd in the country air and wide open spaces.

Before we hit the property, we popped into Legall Patisserie for some takeaway pastries, including of course, my favourite toffee choux. I am marginally grateful for my ever expanding ice-cream pants that this joint is not around the corner from home and is relegated to the less often occurring Bathurst visits.

Finally we arrive at the country house and life was good again. Marshmallow clouds, Pinot grapes withering on the vine, tiny wagtail birdies and a family of unseen foxes near the adorably sized dam. Leaves turning to autumn and unseasonably warm weather welcomed us, it was a holiday weekend indeed. Elvis the dogger was quite overwhelmed by the open spaces. We scoffed the pastries for arvo tea then did a bit of exploring. Dinner was a quick noodle stir fry hungrily consumed before we all collapsed happily into our beds.

Saturday morning brought more Legall pastry and a very good Fish River coffee enjoyed in the stunningly autumnal Machattie Park. A spot of shop perusal followed, finishing at Annie’s for a kiddy ice-cream treat. Back at the house, Kid 1 slept exhaustedly on the couch for a record two hour nap. Daylight savings and a growth spurt have made him hungry and moody. The spectre of pre-adolescence hovers over him, prophesising of things to come. Sleep beautiful lad, sleep. This Mumma was able to contentedly read before the Yak and I hoofed up and down the one kilometre driveway. We couldn’t afford not to, there was further eating to be done.

Saturday night sneaked up on and us and we found ourselves (after booking at the last minute), at the relatively new Tommy’s, Tex-Mex food joint in Bathurst town. We walked into what appears to be a dodgy hole in the wall and happily arrive in a cool, candle dripping entry way. This space screamed Mexican Day of the Dead and we were warmly welcomed by the service staff. Tommy’s has a laid back, understated hipster vibe going on. The menu is a marvellous combination of man-food and classic Mexican faves with a modern twist.

For starters, we greedily ordered two serves of the perfectly crispy fried onion rings and coleslaw along with a jug of ice cold margarita. After a good gander at the menu, three of us decided upon the baby back pork ribs that had been marinated in charred chorizo and served with corn and garlic bread. The Yak ordered the vegetarian nachos and Kid 2, despite strong persuasion, simply chose the shoestring fries. Don’t ask for the ribs marinade, in the tried and true saying, it is top secret. And those ribs my friend, as that overplayed hit 90’s song went, ‘I would walk 500 miles, just to get a bite of those falling off the bones, unctuous meaty delights .’ (Well, it kind of went like that.) All three of those ribs plates were licked clean.

Other delicious sounding menu choices included the Tijuana big dog and the Austin Texas hamburger. There were also some tasty sounding smaller bites to choose from such as jalapeño poppers, empanadas and corn chips with pico de gallo. The Yak enjoyed the myriad levels of flavours and toppings on his nachos, which were cutely served in a cardboard box. (An inspired idea to avoid a messy cleanup later.)

Back to the vineyard, we delighted in the clear as a bell night sky, children pointing out the Southern Cross, Orion’s Belt and the Milky Way swathed across the black velvet. The pip peep of frogs was the only sound, you just don’t get that in the city.

Sunday morning, children still asleep at 7.15 (unheard of) I lay and listened to, well, not much. A snoring dogger, the occasional slumberous murmur from the boys and my own contentment. Upon awakening, I was jumped upon by two laddies, morning snuggles from ferocious dragons who threaten to rip out my guts and still beating heart. Raising boys, a continuing dichotomy of sweetness and blood curdling violence.

As we left, the sproglets shouted goodbye to the sentinel guard alpaca, they have named Mr Banana, who watches sternly over the sheep in neighbouring fields. Then we headed off to The Hub for breakfast. (Again we booked, the people in this town know what is good and you will not always get in on a weekend if you are not prepared. On saying that, always try to get in, you never know your luck.)

The Yak and I couldn’t say no to the Glaswegian potato pancakes served with smoked salmon, poached eggs, cream cheese and hollandaise. (Spinach for the Yak of course.) This dish was The Boss. The creamy sauces were the perfect foil to the potato, it was rich but worth every bite. The Hub coffee was as always, marvellous. Smooth and rich as a royal. Other enticing sounding menu plates were the dukkah boiled eggs and a brekkie salad with chimichurri sauce, roasted tomatoes, almonds and poached eggs (amongst other things.)

Farewelling Mr Bagpipes, we popped back in the car, feeling refreshed, renewed and rather full. Can’t complain about that. Hasta la vista Bathurst.

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https://www.facebook.com/LegallPatisserieCafe

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http://www.visitnsw.com/destinations/country-nsw/bathurst-area?gclid=CLC2xd6F_8QCFU-VvQodtm0A8w

http://www.bathurst.nsw.au

http://www.bathurst-nsw.com/machattie.html

http://cheergerm.com/2014/07/20/bathurst-and-bagpipes/

http://cheergerm.com/2014/08/24/shadow-sisters-and-the-apple-bar/