Golden Bathurst days

The school holidays were coming to a close and my feet were itchy. (Metaphorically not medically.) So, I decided that a road trip to Bathurst was long overdue. We could visit the old man, Mr Bagpipes. Just me and our two lads. And it would be mega awesome. (In ‘young boy language’.) Autumn had hit and golden poplar leaves glinted like a million tiny gold coins, bedazzling us as we drove by. Conversation revolved around our favourite Lord of the Rings characters and the fanciest cars we had encountered thus far. All set against a musical backdrop of the Gaelic clan Capercaille, a drop of Chris Izaac and part of the soundtrack to my youth, Split Enz.

We arrived safe and sound and celebrated with a tasty lunch at The Hub, involving roast mushrooms, buffalo mozarella and parsnip chips. Afterwards, an obligatory ice-cream for the boys from the iconic institution that is Annie’s Old-fashioned Ice-cream Parlour. Church bells ring regularly in this old town, reverberating closely off sandstone walls and reminding us that we are no longer in a big city. The weather is strangely warm and balmy and we enjoyed the gentle stroll into town for dinner. Our destination was the artfully converted place of worship, the Church Bar and Woodfired Pizza. We sang songs of praise to the beautifully crispy based pizzas. And slept well that night at Dad’s abode.

Next day, sunny skies again and a visit to Bathurst wouldn’t be complete without morning tea at Legall. The goodness that is French patisserie set us up nicely for further adventures. (Involving the mandatory toffee choux and lemon tart.) We were wowed by the amazing collection of vintage cars at the the National Motor Racing Museuem, located at the foot of the iconic Mt Panorama racing track. Dad then popped into to his place of employment to do a spot of work. My sons and I visited the War Memorial, being on the cusp of Anzac Day and enjoyed a meander in the ornamental 19th century parks. Back at Dads,’ the whipper snippers read real-life books whilst I cooked up a big pot of my restorative vegetable soup for Pa, freezing a few portions as well.

As we were on an eating tour of Bathurst, dinner that night was at Tommy’s. We happily consumed ribs, hotdogs and burgers the size of a small boys head. The grown ups may have partaken in a jug of Tommy’s margarita mix. But that can neither be confirmed or denied.

Friday morning arrived and the weather gave way to the impending bleakness of winter. After one more quick visit to Legall (pastries are actually good for you dontcha know), we bid farewell to Mr Bagpipes. Naturally, thanking him elegantly for his kind hospitality. For a last hurrah, the wee lads and myself trotted off to the Australian Fossil and Mineral Museum to see the Supercroc touring exhibition. Modelled off the fossilised bones of a prehistoric crocodile found in the Saraha desert, this behemoth was over 13 meters long. All three of us were glad that it was now extinct. We oohed and aahed over various brilliantly coloured precious and semi-precious minerals. As well as honest-to-goodness fossils, including a life sized T-Rex replica. Roar.

Like the poplar trees lining the roads to and from Bathurst and the precious stones at the Mineral museum, these days are golden. Time taken to once again reconnect to my children will hopefully hold us all in good stead in the busy weeks ahead. We also got to eat a whole lot of damn fine food and clap eyes on Mr Bagpipes in his natural environment. And that ain’t half bad. In fact it’s, gold.

http://www.churchbar.com.au
https://www.nmrm.com.au
http://www.somervillecollection.com.au
http://www.tommysbx.com
http://www.visitnsw.com/destinations/country-nsw/bathurst-area?nst=0&gclid=COm_6KvRpswCFQJwvAodDBsOtw&gclsrc=aw.ds

Desperate to read more Bathurst posts from the Cheergerm?
Back to Bathurst and a spot of Tex-Mex
Shadow sisters and the Apple Bar
Bathurst and bagpipes

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Mum

To our Mum on her 70th birthday, from your four daughters.

When we were little, you were always there for us, both physically and emotionally. You clothed us (yes, albeit it in homemade corduroy trousers and hand knitted jumpers) and fed us delicious and healthy food that you made (mostly) with love. You played with us, made sure we spent plenty of time outside and provided books, music, art and craft with what felt like, endless encouragement and loving patience. When we were teenagers and things were often treacherously bumpy, you listened to us and you talked to us. Now we are grown up and know what it takes to be a parent, we know that your mind would have been full of many concerns and worries and that nothing is as easy as it looks. Yet, when we were little, we always felt that you saw us. That we were actually people who had as much right to be in this world as any grown up did.

And maybe that is your most special gift Mum. When you look at a person, what you see, is the actual heart of that person. Not physical beauty, not colour, not difference, not ability or lack of ability, not whether hair is curly or straight but the fact that they are put on this earth and in your view, that makes each of us worthwhile. This quality along with your sense of humour, kindness, can do attitude, work ethic, interest in others and in this crazy world we live in; has made you the best of teachers, a beloved daughter and sister, an attentive grandmother, the most steadfast of friends, a great wife (twice), a valued member of our community and in our view, the very best of mothers.

And for that, we thank you.

http://bluwatergrill.com.au/


Baggage and Gerringong

Everyone needs a little time away. To unwind, read a good book, to perhaps experience something a little different than the everyday. But two ‘three day mini-break weekends’ in a row? Now that seems a little, well, greedy. To quote Gordon Gecko from that 80’s hit movie Wall Street, ‘The point is ladies and gentlemen that greed, for lack of a better word, is good.’

So five friends from Mothers Group, once again threw together our winter woollies and piled our literal and metaphorical baggage into one car. This in itself was a small miracle, can you imagine? (Some of us may have packed more than others.) Our destination this time was the adorable hill perched coastal village of Gerringong on the South Coast of New South Wales. Only two hours (if that) from Sydney. We had the lend of a small holiday house and counted ourselves as very lucky chicks indeed.

Lunch had been missed and a loo visit was called for. So to start this gourmet weekend away, a stop was made at the infamous Maccy D’s just out of Wollongong. Now, I am no fan of this multinational fast food joint, for a number of reasons. However, not being a purist, I must tell you that we did eat the fries. Not sure if it was our hunger, excitement or the fact that we had just emptied our bladders but they tasted damn good. Let’s leave it at that.

Heading deeper south, the sky darkened. By the time we arrived, a full blown storm had settled in. Rooms and space divided, luggage unpacked, wine placed into the fridge and the kettle boiled. Snug as bugs in rugs, we looked at each other and heard not, the sound of children. And it was good.

Dinner that first night was an arduous trek (ok, it took three minutes) up to the main drag of Gerringong. There, we ate at the Werri Thai Restaurant, a hole in the wall and encountered some of the freshest Thai food any of us had eaten in quite the while. The tofu and cashew nuts, with a jammy spicy sauce was the standout. Enough that the restaurant was earmarked to re-visit before we left. That and a glass or two of Arras sparkling wine from Tasmania (for those of our number who partake in the odd alcoholic beverage), was a great start to our long weekend.

The next morning, after a luscious lie-in, the lot of us traversed the full twenty minute drive to the pretty town of Berry. Our destination being the renowned Berry Woodfired Sourdough Bakery. My last visit was many years ago and we were all keen to give it a whirl. Our sleep-in meant missing out on the full breakfast menu. So a cut down menu it was and sadly, no eggies. My choice was a Croque Monsieur style ham and cheese croissant. Not sure if this is actually done in the land of the French, but oh my. Flaky and buttery with a creamy, porcine interior. The others tried a very good spinach, pumpkin, pepita, sunflower seed and feta muffin. The coffee was as smooth as a baby’s bottom.

After drooling over a fine selection of various baked goods, choices were made and boxed up to take back to the cottage. A stellar multigrain sourdough, a chocolate almond croissant, lemon yoghurt tea cake, prune and custard tart and macadamia tart. The intention being to share for afternoon tea, if not that day, the next. (No-one likes to go hungry.)

Back in Gerringong, we walked along the cliffs and drank excellent coffee from the Blue Espresso Bar. This Cheergerm eyed off some gorgeous hand-etched wine glasses at Mas Homewares. A shop brimming with an array of delightful European goodies.

Books were read, blankets snuggled under. Friday night, we had pre-booked (at a local’s suggestion), Zoobs Woodfired Pizza. They prepare their hand rolled pizza dough fresh every day and fire it in a proper woodfired oven. To start, some of the laydeez shared an excellent salt and pepper crusted squid. Then it was the pizza. My margarita with mushrooms was to die for. The base was puffy, light, yeasty with the smoky taste that only a woodfired pizza can give you.

A slap up home cooked brekky then a visit to the Gerringong Saturday markets. Cold but fun. Woolen hats, homemade cakes and jams, alpaca wool and handcrafted pillow cases. Hot chips eaten from the paper, another contender throws it’s hat into the ring for the hotly contested title of ‘the best chips in the world.’

Cups of tea, coffee, herbal libations, glasses of wine, reading, movies and tears over parenting journeys that seem to have become more complex. This gift of time allows us to expand on conversations that usually happen over the space of a cup of coffee. For a brief while, our burdens are unshouldered. It feels like we have unpacked far more this weekend than just our actual physical luggage.

We head out again that evening to Werri Thai to once again chow down upon that delicious tofu and cashew nut dish. This time trying an equally good massaman beef which is creamy and mildy spicy.

Sunday arrives all too quickly. Breakfast was booked at the Seavista Cafe in Gerringong. Light, airy with a gorgeous view of the ocean. The breakfast is decently solid. My poached eggs with hollandaise, avocado and smoked salmon is tasty. Back at the house, our re-packed bags are skillfully arranged (not unlike a jigsaw puzzle), into the car. I cannot speak for everyone but my baggage seemed just that little bit lighter. (Well, apart from those rather fabulous wine glasses I purchased.)

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Blue-Espresso-Bar-Official/456897421029059

http://berrysourdoughcafe.com.au

http://www.zoobswoodfired.com

https://www.facebook.com/GerringongSeaVistaCafe

http://www.mashomewares.com.au

http://www.gerringongvillagemarkets.com.au

http://www.visitnsw.com/destinations/south-coast/kiama-area/gerringong

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


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.

https://www.facebook.com/anniesbathurst

https://www.facebook.com/LegallPatisserieCafe

http://www.tommysbx.com.au

https://www.facebook.com/tommys.

https://www.facebook.com/thehubbathurst

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

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

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


Blackheath babes and Vesta

A certain girl, who shall go unnamed (let’s face it, everyone goes unnamed in this blog), recently celebrated a birthday of significance. Maybe this blog should be called The Birthday Blog?

The partying did not stop I tell you. Next on the birthday agenda (far more exciting than a political or meeting agenda) was a girly trip for six, away to the Blue Mountains, just west of Sydney. The funky wee village of Blackheath to be specific. This mountain town is one of my very favourite to visit. (Go on now, I love them all.)

The adorable Blackheath Getaway Cottage is a homey wooden cottage with quaint touches and a stone fireplace. This would have been my fourth stay here. (Shh, don’t tell anyone. I would hate it to become popular.) Cherry blossoms lined the streets and the well known rhodedendron gardens were coming into bloom. This weekend spoke of open fires, champagne and Cuban sandwiches. Fish river coffee and secondhand shops up the wazoo.

Wide greened streets and cookie cutter cottages that you want to shrink, pop in your pocket and take home. A dog show and waratah’s so red, lush and unreal, you think you could have fallen down a rabbit hole into a psychedelic wonderland.

Serious conversation, happy birthday toasts and the kind of ribbing that only a loved one can get away with.

Mountain appropriate glad rags were put on and we trailed out to a celebatory birthday dinner. Our destination was a restaurant that was once the iconic Vulcans and has now morphed into Vesta. Having never eaten at Vulcans, I had no preconceived notion of what this space should be or feel like. It was once the Blackheath Bakery, built in the nineteenth century and was made famous by Philip Searle and Barry Ross in the 1990’s who produced iconic food in the woodfired scotch oven.

Vesta is an intimate, rustic and charming space. The woodfired oven sits at the back of the open kitchen for all to see. This oven is a magical kingdom within itself; producing plates of seasonal, slow cooked food tinged with the smokiness that only real fire can produce.

A ruby red blood orange and Campari cocktail was enjoyed by two of our number and a cracking bottle of Provenance Pinot Gris from Victoria was ordered and promptly consumed. Woodfired walnut bread was dipped in olive oil and dukkah and we nibbled on smoked paprika almonds and marinated olives.

My standout dish was a silky light and rich, twice cooked Manchego goats cheese soufflé. I would walk to the Blue Mountains on burning hot tar just to get this down my gob again. The experience of mopping up that cheese sauce with bread requires a sonnet to be written in its honour and bards to sing to its glory. I appreciated my next dish, lobster tail with a blood orange and chervil dressing with asparagus. It was light and spoke of spring, the perfect dish after the rich soufflé.

I managed to grab a mouthful of the delicately smoky and unctuous Persian lamb ragout with dill rice and the very good ratatouille with polenta and Bulgarian feta. These dishes were also served in the black cast iron pans they were cooked in. What’s not to love about food served right from the belly of the oven? Even the sides were grand. Broccolini with garlic breadcrumbs and crispy oven roasted kipfler potatoes.

Because this was a birthday celebration, one candle holding, embarrassment causing ice-cream bombe comprising of a strawberry sorbet and honeycomb ice cream was ordered. We stuffed a gorgeous tasting spoonful into our straining stomachs. Just another wafer thin slice? I think not. Thank goodness we had the walk back to the cottage.

As we left, Vesta was heaving with a mixed crowd of the older well heeled set and uber-cool young, bearded hipsters. (Well, the blokes were bearded, I didn’t notice any moustachioed chicks.) The only question left to ask is, whose birthday is it next?

http://www.blackheathgetaway.com.au/default.asp

http://www.vestablackheath.com.au

http://www.provenancewine.com.au/get-wines-direct-buy-online/