Christmas 2016

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Christmas was spent somewhere different this year. Mr Bagpipes was housesitting a lovely large property in White Rock, outside of Bathurst in country NSW. This once working vineyard is perched on a hill in a charming bucolic setting. The Yak, myself and sproglets had visited there before and we were excited to celebrate Chrissy with all of our extended family. Our special guest was ‘Christmas Alf’, harking all the way from Manchester in the UK. (Not a real elf of course but the funny, kind and gentle man who happens to be Manchurian Bro-in-laws Dad.)

It was good to be together somewhere different and somewhere so very beautiful. In this freefall Christmas, I think we all felt a smidge unencumbered and a dash unrestricted by tradition. We kept that which suited us and gently nudged aside that which didnt seem necessary in this new setting.

Christmas Eve morn and our gaggle met at The Hub. Good coffee as always and darned good nosh. My poached eggs, asparagus, spinach and mushrooms on black rye arrived topped with hollandaise sauce and crispy sage. Be still my beating heart. (As long as my heart still ticks after that rich and creamy sauce.)

We stuck to our Christmas evening meal and more relaxed Boxing Day brunch. Two ethically sourced hams (yes, it does matter to us), were expertly glazed by Mum and devoured over the 4 day period. There was a delicious vegan gluten-free lasagna (the handiwork of Sister 2) for Christmas dinner, as well as a more traditional turkey, some much discussed ‘pigs-in-blankets’ that the Mancurian bro-in-law threw together, crispy stuffing balls and of course, a motza of side veggies. Desserts this year consisted of Sister 4’s fabulous pistachio ice-cream cake draped in a berry sauce and crowned with fresh berries as well as a batch of mini gluten-free, vegan sticky date puddings that I conjured up. We sat out on the vine draped patio, talking, laughing at ridiculous Chrissy cracker jokes, eating and drinking. The cicadas buzzed their Chinese operatic cadences and the sun set.

For Boxing Day brunch, the Yak made his now famous (well, within our circle) Boxing Day Fried Potatoes . They were as good as ever, and ‘it was said’ that they were the best thus far. When faced with a bag of heat affected ‘just past their best’ peaches, Sister 2 was inspired to throw together a peach puree. We added this fragrant mixture to some fizzy wine for delicious brunch bellinis and to soda water for a non-alcoholic tipple. (Nothing goes to waste when we roll.) There were fruit platters galore, fried eggs, croissants, homemade pickles, chutneys and jam.

The children ran and played endlessly; soccer, cricket, sword fights, Harry Potter incantations and movie making being the order of the day.

Naturally, there were some sad moments and those who died this year were remembered both aloud and quietly. Every one of us left our family get together with at least one precious memory, tucked safely away, to take out and savour in the year that is to come.

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Golden Bathurst days

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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

Back to Bathurst and a spot of Tex-Mex

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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/

Shadow sisters and the Apple Bar

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Time away with friends is precious. A week or so ago, I was lucky enough to spend three whole nights and four, yes four, days away with some long time girlfriends. One of these gorgeous women has a mum-in-law with a beautiful 100 acre property outside of Bathurst in the NSW countryside in Rock Forest. We have been lucky enough to visit there before and were excited to get the chance to go there once again.

We travelled up on the Thursday, kidlets tucked safely away in school. Us womenfolk giddy with freedom and hedonistic joy, crammed ourselves into a car and headed up towards the Blue Mountains. There may have been whooping, I cannot deny or confirm that.

First stop is Leura, a delightful Blue Mountains town. We wandered happily through craft, homeware and vintage shops. Lunch was at the Red Door Cafe where we ate a superb salmon fillet with crispy skin, preserved lemon, capers, nut butter sauce on a bed of mash. People, this dish was the bees knees. A yummy goats cheese tart with rocket, balsamic and caramelised onion was also consumed without complaint. Then, a few groceries were purchased and we piled back in the car.

Before we knew it we had arrived. The gate is opened and we drive onto this rocky and glorious landscape. (This area ain’t called Rock Forest for nowt.) We organise ourselves with military precision and a brisk walk up the driveway settles down the crazy car leg spasms we have all contracted.

The inaugural fire is built by our very own talented fire starter. This spacious log mansion has a spectacular open fireplace and a mantlepiece that is as solid as the rock of Gibraltar. Fizzy wine is popped, whilst cheese and bikkie snackles hit the spot. Yes, we now know we are on holiday.

Cold, cold country nights with clear sparkling skies. The night song of the river rocks me to sleep and is a salve to my citified soul.

Friday morning we ventured into Bathurst town to the divine Legall Patisserie once more, where toffee choux and other assorted delights were the order of the day. We ate patisserie for our breakfast, oh yeah. A quick squiz at the well cool Keppel Street shops, then a takeaway Fish River coffee from the Hub and back to the farm for some more hard work chilling out. Lunch was silky scrambled eggs and crunchy bacon with a side serving of tomatoes and mushrooms. Why? Because we can have breakfast for lunch if we damn well please.

Shadow sister figures on rocks, movies that made us cry until our insides hurt and caused eyes to swell up like stepped on puffer fish. We revel in this time to be just ourselves without being mums, wives or employees. We are not ungrateful for these roles but it’s good to feel the form of ‘just yourself’ once again.

Rocks in the shape of particular body parts that made us guffaw our way back down the hill. Our raucousness causes kangaroos to jump and sheep looked at us askance as they once again followed each other (as sheep will do) away from the insanity of five women laughing like their lives might just depend upon it.

Cliff the alpaca stood his ground and guarded the sheep because his life might very well depend upon it.

Steaming hot bowls of slow cooked Chilli Con Carne for dinner shore us up until the next feed. And who knew that it also makes a great breakfast dish on toast?

This trip is free from animal attack. On a previous trip a baby giant bat flew into the hair of one of our number in a vicious nighttime attack. It’s hard to explain the horror of being awoken by a high pitched squeak and a rustle across the top of your head. The brave woman valiantly fought off this flying rat with wings but vowed never to sleep in that particular bedroom again. To this very day, she never has.

Reading books that have been greedily hoarded for this occasion in the sweet knowledge and safety that there is no ‘Mum, Mum…I need, want, would like…’ The sunny, funny days warmed every vertebrae in our spines as we sat and read on grassy knolls overlooking the Macquarie River. The temperature at night dropped into the minuses but winter weight doonas soothed and lulled us into a satiated slumber. (As did a good side serving of nougat, chocolate and the odd glass of wine.)

Homemade chicken soup made by one of us, really is good for the soul. Friendship with these women isn’t always about seeing eye to eye. The longer we know each other we sometimes speak truths that are softened by good food and the solid love that underpins these conversations. The sounds of the crackling fire is the only musical backdrop we need on this long, lazy weekend.

Naturally, all good things must come to an end and as my wise mother always says, you can’t come back if you don’t leave. The blow of going home is softened by a lunch visit to the Apple Bar in Bilpin. We had booked weeks in advance to ensure we got a table. The food here floats our boats. A glass of Pinot Gris from Orange sets the tone, as does the glow from the fireplace.

This simple, rustic restaurant has an eclectic group of diners ranging from our sweet selves to inner city hipsters, from country folk to grey nomad travellers passing by. Choices are made from a menu overflowing with good sounding tucker. This Cheergerm gobbles down an amazing wood grilled pork loin cutlet with Patomaki’s messmate honey, black pepper, garlic, soya glaze, avocado salad with chips. I kid you not, this was the best darned pork I have eaten in years. Juicy and tender with a sweet spicy glaze. The assumption is that Patomaki’s messmate honey is a honey from bees that hang out near eucalypts but whatever it’s story, it tastes darned good.

Other dishes included a glorious woodgrilled salmon fillet with Lombok ‘Honeymoon’ sauce and a tasty version of fish and chips using lightly battered mirror dory.

The good news is that I married my dessert and we are now living happily together in a two bedroom bedsit in the inner city. Churros with a caramel mou and Belgian chocolate ice cream. Crunchy batons of deep fried batter with a melting interior accompanied by a fancy caramel sauce with hints of salt. The chocolate ice cream is to die for, it’s bitter undertones the perfect foil to the richness of the sauce. Other desserts tasted were a decent caramelised upside down orange and poppy seed cake and a rather wonderful gluten free local raspberry, coconut, white chocolate and almond clafoutis. (Try saying that five times quickly.)

Satiated we said adios to the Apple Bar and continued on our merry way back to the bosoms of our beloved families, who were waiting with bated breath for our return. (Hello, I’m home….hello…anyone here?)

Goodbye dear shadow sisters, until next years trip.

http://www.applebar.com.au

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Red-Door-Cafe/171123429579921?ref=ts&fref=ts

https://www.facebook.com/LegallPatisserieCafe

http://www.fishriverroasters.com.au

https://www.facebook.com/thehubbathurst

http://www.visitnsw.com/destinations/country-nsw/bathurst-area

http://www.visitnsw.com/destinations/blue-mountains

Bathurst and bagpipes

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We recently took an extended weekend to travel to the NSW country town of Bathurst. This is the chosen place of residence for our Papa, Mr Bagpipes. He was celebrating a rather, cough cough, significant birthday. How old you ask? Bloody 70, he would reply. Despite his misgivings, this is a good thing. He is a young 70.. I mean, like a 21 year old 70.

Beautiful Bathurst was the place of the first goldrush in Australia. With a population of around 41,000 people, there is an elegant and historic city centre with a slightly slowed down country feel. To balance this, Bathurst is also a university town with a youthful and energetic vibe. It is famous for Mount Panaroma, an internationally known race track that attracts petrolheads from all over every October for the awesomely noisy Bathurst 1000.

Bathurst is a bit of an understated beauty. The dark haired, brown eyed demure lass who stands undemandingly in the corner. But when you give her your full attention, she shines like soft sunlight on a stained glass window.

There is no sugar coating it, in winter it is BC…Bloody Cold. But what better excuse to rug up in your snuggliest clothes and traverse from shop to shop, park to park, red apple cheeked like someone from a 1950’s American TV sitcom? There is much to appreciate. The fine architecture, fabulous food and coffee and great shoes. (Shoes do matter, well, they do to me….)

First stop, Legall Patisserie, this is when I really know we are in Bathurst. Toffee choux, lemon tart and creme brûlée tart. Naturally, I have no scientific basis for the next claim but this has got to be the best patisserie in Australia. I kid you not. The light choux pastry balls filled with fresh cream and coated in a thin crunchy almost burnt but not, toffee coating almost bring me undone. Served with Fish River coffee, blended locally, this java always has a luscious, smooth mouthfeel and great aftertaste. It ain’t crap people.

Icicles on bench parks and shrubbery, Jack Duggans Irish pub for plates of cockle warming country food the size of a small galaxy and pints of velvety Guinness that make the world a happier place. Duck feeding at the pond, excellent takeaway coffee from Crema or Country Fruit and fat ice creams (yes, children will still eat them, even when it is 9 degrees outside.)

Green leprechaun boots from Gorgeousness, the temple of all things girly and beauiful. The very cool Keppel Street with the marvellous secondhand shop The Naked Bud, op shops and other delightful wee retail outlets worth a squiz at. Artisan handcrafted takeaway pizza from Capers, devoured in the stunning cottage rented by Sister No 4. (We all had serious rental house envy.)

And the shindig itself? Come Saturday evening, we popped our glad rags on and headed off to celebrate. Mr Bagpipes had booked out The Hub, Espresso Bar & Eatery for the entire evening. A charming, partially red wall painted, cosy eatery on the aforementioned Keppell Street. Owned and operated by Mr Ross, a chilled out dude who’s personality is reflected in the happy food and service this wee gem provides.

Family and friends of Mr Bagpipes gathered from near and far in this welcoming space and sipped on sparkling wine whilst snarfling delicious tidbits of canapés. The chilled dinner party atmosphere was framed by the beautiful musicianship of Aaron Hopper and Rob Shannon. Mr Bagpipes surprised us all by banging out a few cool tunes on the bagpipes accompanied by Mr Shannon on the tabla, an Indian drum. The mystic sounds took us to a more ancient time where windy, bagged instruments ran free on stilted legs, shepherded by crazy, wee percussion instruments.

Back to the food. To start, a cauliflower soup served with truffle oil and fine shavings of fresh truffle. Holy fungi! Seriously, one of the most luxurious soups to ever slide down the gob of this greedy Cheergerm. The sweet brassica was highlighted by the hard to describe, earthy taste that is that strange little orb, the truffle. This was followed by tender crusted lamb rack on a bed of kumara mash, a red wine jus and lovely steamed fresh garden vegetables. Vegetarians and the vegetarian Silly Yak dined on a tasty veggie curry. They were well pleased.

Music, warmth, poetry, food, wine and laughter. Hopefully Mr Bagpipe’s heart swelled as his friend piped in the kiwi decorated birthday cake. Celebrations are important, they might not totally erase the darker times but they feed our souls and give us hope for the future.

Enough of that serious malarkey, let’s talk dessert. Adorable piccolos of Fish River Coffee came to the table accompanied by Sister No 2’s amazeballs kiwi covered birthday chocolate stout fruit cake and slices of lemon tart from Legall next door.

Sunday, in party recovery mode, we drove through freezing cold sleet like rain to visit the Beekeepers Inn 20 minutes outside of Bathurst. We enjoyed nice food and coffee along with a great honey tasting station, a myriad of amber honey jars, bee type goodies and gourmet yummy things to peruse. As night fell, we met once again in the enviable cottage rental for great warming Indian curry from Tamarin Indian Restaurant.

Before we took our leave on Monday, we needed to stuff our faces for the last hurrah. Back to The Hub we went. Trunkey Creek triple smoked bacon was the business served with heavenly (give me a hallelujah chorus from the balcony) scrambled eggs that were like tiny little hobbit clouds. A friend devoured chorizo, sweet potato rosti and poached eggs topped with a silky hollandaise sauce that was lemony and not heavy or overpowering as some. A reliable expert on sausages (the Polish stepfather) assured me the fennel and pork sausage with beans was superb. No words left his mouth whilst he chowed down.

So happy birthday Dad, as you traverse into the next decade of your life, may the road rise up to meet you and the melodic drone of bagpipes be the continuing soundtrack to your life.

Bathurst, we will be back.

https://www.facebook.com/LegallPatisserieCafe

http://www.fishriverroasters.com.au

https://www.facebook.com/thehubbathurst

http://www.jackduggans.com.au

http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Naked-Bud/138814430734

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Gorgeousness/264710080253858

http://www.beekeepersinn.com

https://www.facebook.com/TamarinRestaraunt

http://www.trunkey.com.au

http://www.encoreapartments.com.au

http://www.visitnsw.com/destinations/country-nsw/bathurst-area