Dear Florence,
I was thinking today about how cooking has the potential to be such a generator of joy. In particular, I was thinking about how it can feel when you are cooking one of your favourite things to cook, as I was doing earlier. There is something about going through a process step by step, which you know will have an outcome that makes you happy. There is comfort in the familiarity, and a quiet excitement in the doing of a task that is a pleasure in and of itself, but is equally worth doing for the final outcome.

I was making a salad from the book Community. Sometimes when I flip through the book while thinking about what to cook, I get so overwhelmed with excitement that I stop actually taking in what the recipes are. There is something about the recipes (they are all salads, and all vegetarian) that taps into my ideas about being generous and lavish and nourishing yet relaxed when entertaining.

If you are anything like me I assume you will want to know what salad got me so excited about the transcendental properties of cooking and food. It is a pasta salad. I think that perhaps my mum wasn't cool enough to make pasta salad in the 80s when all my friend's mums were doing it, so there is a tinge of wistfulness for me when it comes to something that most people would regard as the height of dagsville. It's the same with pasta bake. As it happens, I have my eye on a Karen Martini pasta bake recipe to tackle soon... but I digress. This one has a lovely fresh yoghurt sauce, broccoli and peas. It is supposed to have basil too, but I like to make it with mint, which adds to the zingy freshness of the whole thing. I adore it. As soon as Tallboy gets homeI am firing up the stove, cooking some steak, and then we are EATING.

GB

Dear Florence,

It suddenly struck me that I am having the most amazingly perfect day, so I thought I ought to write it down for posterity. We managed to leave home early(ish) and headed to Rozelle for a browse in Vinnies, a coffee, and some spice shopping at Herbie's. All very satisfying and delightful. I now have a few goodies for the spice cupboard that I have been meaning to track down, as well my impulse purchase. I may never get around to making my own kimchi, but if I do, I now have Korean chilli flakes for the task.

I should perhaps mention at this point that despite the fact that the Winter solstice has only just passed, today is the most glorious weather you could possibly imagine, which makes it hard to have a bad day (unless you are stuck inside and cooped up all day). It's sunny and warm, and the sky is a perfect Sydney sparkling blue.

Baby Girlbooker is now asleep, and I have been browsing through a few cookbooks trying to decide what to cook for dinner tonight. That's when it really hit me that I am having an awesome day. It is the middle of the week but I can indulge in the luxury of thinking about what to cook. I only have a few more weeks of maternity leave left, and I am trying to squeeze every moment of joy out of the days while I still can. I am all too aware that soon life will be back to that crazed whirlwind of trying to cram too much into the day, and dinners will return once more to that boring rotation of the 5 things I can cook quickly(Pasta sauce #1, pasta sauce #2, stir fry, steak and veg, frozen dumplings).

For tonight's dinner, I will be breaking in my new Lebanese cookbook with Okra and Lamb, and making a nice, fresh salad that I have adapted from Moro East, a book I've had for a good half decade. I will also be using the Baharat spice mix I bought this morning. Once Baby G wakes up we will head off to Ashfield to buy what we need, but I am going to spend the next little while happily pottering about.

GB

Dear Florence,

I’m still having a stupidly idyllic time being a mum, and I wish these days would go on for much longer than they are going to. I’m already grieving their end, which is two and a half months away. 

Astro Girl has officially grown out of the smallest size baby wear. She can probably technically squeeze into some of it for a few more days, especially if we are talking about a particularly cute outfit. But we made the official pronouncement last night after Tallboy struggled to get her into a footed jumpsuit. He did manage it, but in a rather stretched looking way, so we took some photos and then changed her into a similar outfit one size bigger.

The first big blow to my equanimity came a few days ago, when I learnt that I cannot have any dairy or soy products for the next few months. It really shook me, and took me about a day to fully digest the news. I’m still quite grumpy about it, but I am now keen to see what ingenuities I can cleave out in the kitchen. Rather than think about all the food I can’t have, I’ve decided to see myself as a (reluctant) meat-eating vegan. Then I realise I can eat eggs and honey, which vegans can’t, and it feels like the possibilities begin to open up a little.

It’s hard to decide whether it’s the food restrictions or the ban on milk in my tea and coffee which makes me sadder. It feels particularly cruel because I gave up so much delicious food during pregnancy, and was counting down the days until I could eat it all again. My breakfast this morning is bearable, rather than the triumph of tastiness I’d like it to be. Almond flavoured tea with almond milk is drinkable, although the idiocy of almond milk as a concept is a bit tough for me to swallow. My very carefully chosen bread (most brands contain soy flour) has been spread with Nuttalex instead of butter. There’s no getting around the fact that this is A Distinct Disappointment. I love butter. I’d marry butter if I could. However, I’m pleased that I decided to get bread studded with black olives, as they do a pretty good job of masking the kind of plasticky Nuttalex flavour.

At the end of the day, the purpose of all this is for Astro Girl, and she is so bloody cuddly and adorable that there’s no question I will stick to the diet as long as necessary. 

GB

Dear Florence,

Yesterday I sang in a group for the first time in about a decade. Being in choirs used to be as natural and throwaway to me as wearing jeans or eating toast. Certainly pleasant, but so normal and regular that I hardly bothered to think about it.

Which I suppose is why it didn't seem that big a deal to me that I never got around to joining a choir when I moved to Sydney. I didn't quite comprehend what I was giving up. Yesterday brought it home to me how wonderful it feels to sing with a group of people, to make lovely sounds together, to work toward the common goal of blending voices in harmony. I completely underestimated how bloody amazing those good old endorphins make you feel. Back at my desk in the two or so hours that followed the class I had difficulty concentrating because I just wanted to bask to the glow of deliciousness and happiness I was feeling. I can't believe I willingly gave up that regular experience for so long, but have vowed to make sure I never do so again.

I wrote an essay about dance recently, and floated the idea that combining physical, bodily experience with intellectual focus is perhaps the best way to feel truly engaged in the experience of living. It's just occurred to me that singing is the same; you need to think about what your body is doing to get it right. You need to be open to the experience of what your lungs, throat and mouth are producing, while simultaneously monitoring it. You need to concentrate, and to feel. I am so glad to be back in that space again.


You'd think it impossible, but Monday has just become my favourite day of the week.

Dear Florence,

Well the very exciting news from this neck of the woods is that I am pregnant. Tallboy and I are so thrilled - the night before last he was able to feel the baby kick for the first time. I am now over the difficult daily ritual of "morning" sickness (which for me often lasted until dinner time), and only occasionally feel unwell. It's amazing what a difference wellness makes to one's mood! It's now possible to really relish in all the goodwill and wishes that surround us, and to fully appreciate how nice it is when other people are excited about your own good news.

The weather is just beginning to turn, and it won't be much longer until we can leave our coats at home in the cupboard. For the past week or so, it's been possible to catch a glimpse of the sunset when leaving work, rather than walking straight out into the rapidly falling night. I love Autumn and Winter, yet I can't help but fall prey to a sense of hope and openness when the warmer weather begins to appear after months of burrowing down in the cold.

It's almost exactly a year since we moved from the bustle of Potts Point to our little getaway in the burbs, surrounded by trees and birds. It has been a year of immense change, but I must admit I feel settled and content. As I write this, the cat is curled up on my lap, displaying her own sense of contentment, and accentuating mine. It's been lovely writing this, but the real world awaits...

Dear Florence

It’s been a while between blog posts tarted up (in what some might think a rather naff conceit) to look like letters, but I am back! I have a new job, a new laptop, and quite a lot of homemade stock in the freezer, so I am happy.  

Tallboy and I have just had a brief little stay-at-home holiday. It involved a lot of naps, as well as…. Well I will be honest - it was mostly naps. I managed to squeeze in a bit of culture though - I took a solo jaunt into Chippendale to the White Rabbit Gallery. I really enjoyed it, but I found the streetscape outside and on the way just as inspiring as the artwork inside. I would like to go back in a few months and see a different collection of work. There is a hugely tall wall up one side of the staircase that stretches up three floors, and it is covered in what I assume are more permanent elements of the collection. Now that I come to think of it, this is where I found the stuff I really liked, so I suspect a return visit would be worth it.

I have now had a week back at work (exhausting!), followed by another weekend. Sunday was one of those picturesquely perfect Sydney days, where the sun was bright and the weather was mild. We went for a walk and ended up buying lunch from an utterly adorable cafe and taking it to the nearby oval to watch a baseball game. It was an afternoon of quiet little surprises and simple pleasures.

Later in the evening I christened a new cookbook by making osso bucco with green lentils. The whole apartment was filled with delicious, comforting aromas, and it tasted fantastic. I am very keen to cook some more things from the book, and when I have done this I will give it a proper review. I would write the name of the book here but I am writing this in bed and it’s really warm and cosy so I just can’t find the motivation to get up and double check the title. But it’s fabulous, trust me.

Dear Florence
Our old apartment was sold last week. I am two weeks into a new job and Tallboy is about to take on a new role at work. It really is the end of one chapter and the start of another.

One of my biggest stresses at the moment is feeling the crushing weight of too many books to read. I am almost scared that life is so easy, good and nice. For such a very long time life was excruciatingly hard. And then it slowly began to get better, in small but sure steps. I am quietly stunned that the steps have led to this point. I have an exciting job, a beautiful man, and a sweet cat. I live in a a lovely apartment surrounded by trees. My new job is quite a commute but I am finding the train trips an excellent chance to read more so I am very happy with the trade off.

I am writing this by the bedroom window, and glancing up periodically to look at the gorgeous wall of green through the window. It's mid afternoon and the weather is that typically perfect day that Sydney seems to get more than her fair share of- warm and clear and sunny. I am enjoying the tranquility.

GB