The true ramblings (except for the made up stuff) of a mumma on life, food and being married to a vegetarian coeliac. I love my boys (Kid 1 and Kid 2), food, old stuff, my husband (The Yak), my family and friends. Not in any particular order.
The Yak was diagnosed as a coeliac two years ago, sparking a big change in our eating habits. For him it was a bit of a nasty shock, he was a lover of sourdough bread, good pasta and my baking. So, out of necessity and pity for his sorry state, my experimentation with gluten free cooking and baking began. It has been and still is at times, a tumultuous journey, filled with success and some rather spectacular failures.
Not all of my food is gluten free and I still like to bake ‘old school’, especially for my lads.
Back in the dark ages, I left my old life to undertake a lifelong dream of retraining in the food industry. If you are ever after a plate of cold meats and vegetables presented in aspic, I am your chick. Seriously, it has provided a great basis for the culinary experiments and shenanigans that I enjoy today.
Years ago, my beautiful maternal grandmother Dorothy called me a cheergerm, and it always stuck in my mind as being a pretty cool thing to be.
I have lovely childhood memories of her in the kitchen, baking morning tea for the orchard fruit pickers. That is a photograph of her gravy boat you can see on the header of this blog. So, this is for you Nana Dorothy, the original cheergerm.
Please note, all opinions presented in this blog belong expressly to myself, except for the times that I am overtaken by an alien being. Which is so not my fault.
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