Celine Dion inspired thoughts for the New Year

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I am so happy it’s 2015. While 2014 was not my finest hour, it taught me a lot. I was thinking about this when I came across an article on the internet titled ‘People Who Like Celine Dion Are People, Too’. WTF!! The article was written by a guy who hated Celine Dion, and pointed out that ‘an appreciation of pop music trades specifically in matters of coolness.’ In other words, he thought Celine Dion, and her fans, were uncool.

I’ve got to be honest, and say this is very much part of the human condition – being judged by what you like, who you like, and what you do. It’s almost like in society there is some club that only certain cool people are allowed to join. You get to join it if you are a certain shape (so you can wear the fashions deemed cool), if you listen to certain music (usually something not played on commercial radio), or you only see art house movies preferably with subtitles. I suspect you can’t join this club if you confess to having blubbed your way through a Celine Dion concert, and you certainly can’t join it if you love ferrets and make miniature dollhouses in your spare time.

Sometime last year it hit me that none of that matters. What matters is being happy, and having fun. It’s quite a hard thing to do, to stand up proud and say ‘I friggin’ love Celine Dion.’ It’s even harder to not care if you get laughed at, but here’s the secret. People never really grow up. We’re still all kids standing around in the playground, hoping to be accepted and wishing we could roll with that gang over there that everyone wants to be in. I think as we get older we don’t grow up. We just forget how to have fun, and we think everything is so serious and important. Actually, it isn’t. We all have responsibilities as we get older, but at the end of the day, you are going to be a lot happier doing something you love, than trying to fit in with everyone else. And one other thing. No one is truly watching you, and if they are judging you as being uncool, then really give them something to talk about.

images

So, why not make 2015 the year when you hold your head up high, be your authentic self and damn well do what makes your heart sing! Happy 2015 everyone. May it be a great year for you.

 

 

The Fabulous Fifties?

photo 1-31It’s been absolutely ages since I last posted here. ‘Jane,’ I hear you asking, ‘what have you been up too? We’ve missed you?’ Well, I turned 50, had a fabulous party, then promptly came down with some mutant virus doing the rounds of Adelaide and was sick for three weeks. After that, I had my parents in town, my besties came to visit, and I embarked on assembling my birthday gift from my muse. A miniature dollhouse apartment block.

Make no mistake, this has been harder than putting together anything EVA from IKEA. Bloody hell, nothing fitted, everything broke, and there were times I could have put it out on the kerb for kindling. But, with a bit of persistence, a few martinis, some help from the hubby (muse), and my sister’s drill, it’s nearly assembled… Let me show you what I mean.

photo 1-23photo-220

From this… (yes, that is a ferret in the photo) to this!

About a month after my birthday, this arrived in the post too… Now, I’m just going to say it as I see it. When you turn 50, as a woman, you are staring down the barrel of a few things, which are quite confronting. Menopause, being considered an old chook by society, the realisation that you will never be a super model, and ads on TV saying if companies employ someone 50 and over, they will be given $10,000 because apparently we are now unemployable old chooks. Not to mention aging parents looking to you to solve all their problems. Great. photo-212

 

And I’m not even going to talk about those ‘light bladder leakage ads’. Jesus. So, given all that, wouldn’t you think the Government could be a bit more sensitive to 50 year olds? I mean come on, no one wants to get a kit, where they have to poke around in their own poo with a brush (then store it in the fridge) as a present. Yes, we have to be careful about cancer, but, seriously it’s so traumatizing turning 50 anyway, most people I know have thrown these kits out. You know what would have worked for the masses? Sending out a bottle of gin or wine, if you actually do the test and mail it back. Easy.

So that’s my update on turning 50. On the plus side, I’m not so worried about waxing my legs anymore, and I can blame my grumpy days on menopause. So, no recipes today, just a recipe for dealing with turning 50. Take that poo test, but also look around you, decide what it is you love to do and bloody well do it. Because you don’t need to put everyone else first anymore. You’re officially a middle-aged chook, and that gives you the right to enjoy your life without giving a flying toss what others think of you. Enjoy. x

It’s the end of an era

photo-121Well, it’s a day I never thought would come when I was in my twenties, thirties, or let’s be honest, even my forties. I’m fifty years old tomorrow.

FIFTY. THAT’S SO FUCKING OLD.

How the hell did that happen? In most Western cultures, turning fifty is meant to be accompanied by a few achievements – a happy marriage, a house nearly paid off, maybe a couple of kids, and a career which is reaching it’s peak. Hmm, I’ve missed a few of the boxes along the way. Apart from the husband (found at forty), I’m not going to be able to invite you to gather around my camp fire, to listen to the wisdom of how I achieved all that women my age seem to be meant to have.

So, on the eve of a rather scary transition from one age to another, I hear you saying ‘Jane, share some of your wisdom with us! Tell us a secret we can’t know. You are an old chook now. There must be something.’

Okay, lean in. I’m about to share a secret which may change the landscape of your life.

How do you get entry into the grooviest bars in town, be on first name basis with the head cocktail waiter and/or owner, to the point they even know your favourite drink, and may let you in when the bar is full. No mean feat at any age.  Here’s the secret. Gather around while I whisper it to you.

Turn up when the bar first opens. Yes, this may mean you are there just after 5pm. Yes, it may be five hours before you normally go out. There will be no one else in the bar. You can chat to the bored staff, let them mix you a drink which they invented and want to try out on you, then gush over it because it will probably be friggin delicious, and et voila, they remember you forever! Not that hard.

The other piece of wisdom I have to impart is this. Many people don’t get to celebrate getting older. I see it all the time when I nurse at the hospital. I really can see the benefit of enjoying each day, enjoying the journey and being thankful that you are still here to celebrate it. You can’t stop the march of time, but you can bloody well make sure you know the best bartenders in town to help you pave the way to old age.

CHEERS! x

 

Kitchen Myths

photo-151One of the benefits of being currently underemployed is I get to watch morning TV as I go about my household chores. Lately, I’ve decided to stop watching the morning news shows (too scary), and have been watching Jamie Oliver’s Thirty Minute Meals instead. The trouble with this sort of TV show is you get to thinking that you too can create something fabulous, in half an hour, in one pot for dinner… With lots of spare time on my hands, I started going through my folder of recipes I rip out from magazines, which I’ve been meaning to try for ages. Last night, it was time to try something new.

Chicken Pasta Bake. It looked so simple, and implied in the instructions were that it would take twenty minutes to make, was easy to prepare and was perfect for busy, time poor people. That’s not me at the moment, but pushing through the social guilt of not being a stressed-out, high flying career woman, I gave it a go. The above photo is the end result of this bloody recipe. Jamie Oliver would be disgusted. It took me forever to make – at least one and a half hours. The kitchen resembled a war zone, as I filled the dishwasher up entirely with pots and pans. I got so hot and flustered, I completely lost the plot and ended up screaming at my muse, as my ‘ready for 7pm dinner dish’ ended up being served at 8pm.

The dish was entirely ordinary.

Which brings me to the conclusion that a lot of those untried recipes, which promise to be ready in half an hour, should just stay in that recipe folder. Much like the perfect career, the perfect marriage or perfect children, these images we are sold by the likes of Jamie Oliver, Nigella and Rick Stein, are like episodes of The Bold and The Beautiful. They exist in a world of fantasy, far beyond the reach of an everyday woman… (The Bold and the Beautiful is on before Jamie Oliver in the mornings, so I know what I’m talking about).

However, there are exceptions to all rules and in the true spirit of a true one pot dinner, I am going to share a wonderful chorizo sausage stew I make. You can cook it in one big pot. It tastes awesome. It’s easy to make. It only takes half an hour. I think there is a lesson in all of this. Probably that I should leave the TV turned off in the mornings, and instead concentrate on my studying my Chinese lessons from YouTube (yup, that’s something else you can do when you are underemployed. Learn a new language). Hmm, I wonder if they do cooking tutorials too?

photo-152

SPICY CHORIZO SAUSAGE STEW

Ingredients

4 chorizo sausages, sliced

1 brown onion, chopped

2 crushed cloves of garlic

1 red capsicum, chopped

1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

1 tsp smoked paprika

400g can chopped tomatoes

2 cups beef stock

420g can corn kernels, drained

400g can cannellini beans, drained

1 bay leaf

2 tsps chopped fresh thyme (I use dried if I don’t have fresh)

Salt and pepper to taste

Method: Put the cut up sausages into a large pot and cook, stirring, for about 5 minutes or until brown. Add the onion, garlic and capsicum. Cook, stirring, until the onion is soft. Throw in the spices and stir around for about 30 seconds before adding everything else. I sometimes put tomato paste in as well, if I want the stew to be thicker. Simmer for about 20 minutes and serve with garlic bread. You can also top the stew with a dollop of sour cream, so take that Jamie Oliver!

What A Week…

photo 1-13Firstly, a big apology for the lack of posts in May. ‘Jane, we’ve really missed you. Where have you been?’ I hear you say. Well, I’ve been a bit down. Not getting any work at the hospital where you’re employed as a casual nurse, sending off your manuscript to publishers who don’t get back to you, realising you haven’t lost those ten kilos yet, and nearly ripping your thumb off while dismounting from your aerial hoop at circus class can take it’s toll on a gal’s joie de vie. However, as always, there is one person I look to for guidance and courage.

My Celine.

‘Celeine, what would you do if you were me?’ And invariably, I feel her reaching out to me to say ‘Jane, dust yourself off, hold your head high, and get back out there.’

It was also an extremely busy week in this usually quiet town. I got interviewed by a TV station about my writing, attended a healthcare protest on the steps of parliament, and then we had an armed siege not far from my house which closed off the centre of the city.

My friend Lauren also made me this totally delicious recipe which probably won’t help me lose 10kgs, but is so tasty and easy to make, I’m going to share it.

Boursin Stuffed Mushrooms In Chilli Garlic Butter

Ingredients

3 large Swiss mushrooms, or 6 smaller button mushrooms (but not the tiny ones)

50g garlic and herb Boursin cheese

20g butter

2 cloves of garlic, crushed

1 red chilli, finely chopped (add more if you love chilli)

Cracked black pepper

Method

Heath the oven to 190 C/376F. Pull the stems out of the mushrooms and discard. Next open the packet of cheese and try not to eat it all before you use it. Squish the cheese into the mushroom caps, then place the mushrooms into a baking dish.

Heat the butter to melt, and add the crushed garlic and chilli. Spoon the mixture onto the cheese-filled mushrooms, sprinkle with black pepper and put in the oven to bake for around 20 minutes.

photo-150Enjoy!

 

In the presence of a princess…

IMG_4746I’m not talking about myself being a princess, although my muse likes to think he is the king of the castle from time to time (good luck with that!) No, this week was super exciting because Prince William, Princess Kate (I’m going to call her a princess because she is so lovely), and baby George have been in Australia, and on Wednesday, they came to little old Adelaide. They flew in to town in the morning and left in the afternoon. My friend Jess and I decided to go along and see them, joining in the 50,000 crowd lining the streets, to wave them a royal hello.

Strangely, they chose to go to the suburb of Elisabeth. This is not a suburb with a great reputation. I think a lot of people got offended that they weren’t been taken to our wine region, or to somewhere equally upper class. Instead, they got taken to a break dancing demonstration in a suburb known for missing front teeth and unemployment, and they seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves. Jess and I had a ball too. The secret service guys were good looking (which is excellent, because when you are standing around for five hours, you want something good to look at), the people around us were hilarious, and they shared their sweets with us. All in all, a great day. Oh yeah, and we got to see William and Kate from a distance. They looked very nice. Despite the fact Jess and I got badly sunburnt (it’s autumn for crying out loud. Who gets sunburnt in autumn?), we feel we were privileged to be part of history in some small way.

So, what is the point of all this? Well, I came away from the day glad that I am not royalty. I think I would find it hard not to swear, and even harder to be so nice all the time. I probably wouldn’t be as thin as Kate either, nor would I want to have to sit up so straight in my chair all day at receptions. No, I’m glad to be me, and I’m glad my muse is my prince/king (whatever), and that I can slouch down and watch Dr Phil at lunch. It’s a bloody good life.

 

 

 

The Best Laid Plans…

COURTYARDI’ve decided I need to become more healthy, toned, in touch with my inner nature, and more spiritual. It’s not much to ask of your life, and today I got off to an exceptionally good start with a yoga class. After an hour of deep breathing, meditative movement, and all round pious good feelings, I was filled with determination to remain relaxed, and healthy for the rest of the day. That lasted ten minutes because I went to the Haigh’s Chocolate Factory to buy someone a present. Faced with an array of the most delicious chocolates in the world, I crumbled, and ate a salted caramel chockie.

Next came shopping for dinner at the supermarket, where I was ambushed by one of those people offering free tastes of food to passers by. Of course, if someone offers you ice cream with salted caramel sauce on it when you have only had a herb tea for breakfast, you are going to cave in. Next thing I knew, I had a jar of the bloody sauce in my trolley, along with a tub of ice cream to go with it. It was about then I realised my day of pious behaviour had come to a crashing halt, and with that in mind, I bought a meat pie for lunch, went home and watched Dr Phil, and decided to start anew tomorrow.

Luckily, I was still on a happy high from my latest experiment in the kitchen. I heard someone describing how they cooked a roast leg of lamb in their electric frying pan, so I decided to give it a go. I always get quite over excited at the thought of a new cooking technique, and this was no exception. So, even though I have crashed and burnt on all fronts today, yesterday was a rip snorting success in the kitchen, and to cheer myself up, I’m going to share the recipe with you!

image

ROAST LAMB AND VEGIES IN AN ELECTRIC FRYING PAN..

1.6kg leg of lamb with bone

Various vegetables to roast ie. potatoes, sweet potato, pumpkin

Garlic

Sprigs of Rosemary

Method: Make some small incisions in the meat, and push cut up pieces of garlic into the holes. Rub the leg with olive oil, sprinkle some salt over it, and set to one side. Next, cut the vegetables up into smallish pieces. You want them to cook through so, as you can see from my photos, smaller chunks are better. Set the frypan to its highest heat, add a little olive oil, and sear the meat on all sides. Remove from the frying pan, and turn it down to a lower setting. I used between 2 to 4 on mine.

imageReturn the meat to the pan, and surround the meat with the vegies and rosemary. Put the lid of the frying pan on, and leave the steam vent open. It took about 3 hours for my leg of lamb to cook, and I put the vegies in the oven for twenty minutes at the end, just to crisp them up a bit. When the meat is cooked, take it out and cover it in tinfoil, leaving it to sit for about fifteen minutes. I made a tasty gravy by putting 2 tablespoons of flour into some warm water (250mls approx), mixing it up to get rid of the lumps, then added it to the frying pan, with all the meat juices. I also threw in a few tablespoons of vermouth, a sprinkling of Lea and Perins sauce and some crushed black pepper. And there you have it! It didn’t heat up the house, the pan was easy to wash, the meat was tender, and my muse was happy. All in all, a damn fine experiment!

image

Goodbye to Summer

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA It’s the official end of summer this week. As we slip from February into March, we leave behind long summer evenings, endless meals of salad, sun dresses and trips to the beach. The air has a definite autumn tinge to it now, and I’m getting used to the idea of soon being cold, probably getting a cold, and not eating cold things because it’s too cold to fancy them.

March means a bit more than this though. March is a completely crazy time in Adelaide. We have the Clipsal 500 motor racing this weekend. This entails a whole portion of the city centre being shut down, so cars can race around the streets in a mad frenzy. Traffic is gridlocked throughout the remaining roads, the noise of the race can be heard for miles – like a swarm of bees in an endless loop – and we have big fighter jets flying over our house when the race starts. There are also lots of fat men in ‘Team Holden’ shirts wandering around the city, drinking beer.

Side-by-side with the rev heads is the artistic side of our city. We have the Adelaide Fringe Festival, which means a lot of alternative performers are in town (= circus people, people who are not afraid of heights, and magicians). We have the Adelaide Festival (deep and meaningful theatre and operatic performances, which are really boring, long and super expensive). We have Writers Week, where people get to sit around under trees in a park, listening to authors talk about their books (but not me yet. Still an unknown on the local scene as I am only published overseas. Oh yeah, and I’m not famous). And last, but not least, we have Womadelaide. This is an international music festival held in a big park, so there is a lot of batik clothing, scruffy sandals and vegan/vegetarian food around. Three weeks from now, it will all be over, and the city will be just quiet, little old Adelaide for another year.

So Jane, are you out every night, being entertained, I hear you ask? Well, no. And there are reasons. Firstly, I’ve finished my latest novel, and have sent it off to the publisher. I’m too nervous to be around other writers at the moment, so that’s the Writer’s Week out of the way. Secondly, I am learning aerial hoop (that’s not me in the above picture, still not quite that thin, but that’s a hoop), so I don’t need to go to the Fringe Festival to see other people doing stuff much better than me. As for the Adelaide Festival, well, you’d have to pay me to go and see anything in that Festival, and I hate public loos, so Womadelaide is out of the question. Lastly, I can hear the Clipsal 500 from my house, and I can see it on TV, so I don’t need to venture out to that either.

We shall see what March/autumn brings our way. Next blog post, I shall share some autumn recipes, because frankly, I’m done with the summer stuff. Until then, enjoy the change of seasons, wherever you are in the world.

Summer in the City

photo-90 A big truck rolled up outside my house today. I was inside, doing housework on a 43 degree day (110F). At first, I thought ‘oh my Lord, my muse has got me a smart car for Valentine’s Day!!’ In fact, it was a new neighbour moving in next door and this was the truck with all his stuff in it.

photo-89Things got a bit hairy when I realised they were trying to back down the lane beside my house. Please note, that’s my car they are just about squashing!! I went out into the street, dressed in a completely inappropriate outfit (pole dancing shorts with not enough fake tan on my legs to go anywhere in this getup), only to find out that my new neighbour is a really nice guy, who works as a nurse too (although I’m not sure if he is a writer as well). I think they put a big scratch on my car, but I can’t prove it…

‘What’s the point of this post Jane?’ I hear you saying. Well, there isn’t any point to the above story. However, here are my top five fabulous features of a heatwave! Cos I can’t listen to anymore whinging about the heat, including my own voice banging on in my head. Here’s a photo of me wearing a jumper, which makes me nostalgic… Although one of my ferrets caught their nail in this said cardi, and it ended up in the rubbish bin.

photo-87I’m trying to return to my zen zone, instead of ‘my body is about to spontaneously combust and I’m ready to kill you’ zone.

TOP FIVE FAB THINGS ABOUT A HEATWAVE!

1) You can wash ANYTHING in this heat, and it will dry. I could drag my king sized mattress out onto a plastic mat on the back lawn, spray the whole thing with water, drench it in sheep dip, and leave it to dry. It would be done in an hour.

2) You can ditch the diet. During a heatwave, no one has the strength for discipline. Lemonade, chilled beer, red wine, chips and anything else your body fancies are allowed. After all, losing all that sweat is bound to create some sort of electrolyte imbalance. The same excuse can be used to ditch your exercise routine.

3) If you get grumpy, you can blame it on the heat. I like to stand over the hot stove, with a face like a beetroot, yelling things at the TV, that normally I couldn’t get away with. My muse knows to leave well alone.

4) You are stuck inside all day. Even going out to the washing line for five minutes can result in heatstroke (but the washing is dry in 20 minutes), so there is no excuse not to get on with all those creative projects you would normally do in winter.

5) You can throw all your dishes into the cupboard dripping with water, because they will dry themselves in about 30 seconds. In fact, you can stand under the shower fully dressed and soak all your clothes, then go for a stroll up the road to the shops. You will be dry by the time you get there!

So there we have it. Time for bed, and if I wake up baked in my own sweat at 2am, at least I have the Winter Olympics to cool me down!

The Heat Is On

photo 2-2 And I’m not talking about Sandra Bullock’s movie being on TV at the moment. No, I’m indulging in one of my favourite pastimes, whinging about the weather. In fact, it’s a bit of a national pastime so I don’t feel bad, especially as it is Australia Day today! Yeah, so let’s whinge.

Okay, when it’s winter I whinge about it being too cold and promise I will NEVER complain about the summer again. Our winters are cold, dreary, but generally we never have anything too scary to deal with (like a polar vortex for example). But when summer hits, we invariably have hideous heatwaves that turn everyone into cranky, red-faced maniacs who can’t drive straight anymore, and you end up ditching the diet because you drink your entire body weight in beer.

Our last heatwave earned my city the endearing title of being the hottest city on the planet that day! And that was the day of ‘the big drama’ in our house. Wow, what happened Jane, I hear you say. Well, my beloved muse managed to get locked in our loo. We have a little cubbyhole of a toilet, and it gets damn hot in there because it is so small. It was probably 115F on this particular day. The door handle broke, and my poor baby was banging on the door, asking me to help him escape. If I hadn’t been home, he would have been stuck in there for hours, which would have meant him having to drink the loo water. As some of you know, I have a bit of a loo phobia, and that might have signaled the need for some serious therapy sessions…

Anyway, I found a screwdriver, and expertly dismantled the door handle, saving my muse from the heat, and the need to drink out of the loo. He was suitably impressed with my efforts, and I spent the rest of the night reminding him how I had saved him from frying in the toilet.

We now have a toilet door that can’t be closed (which is not very romantic or elegant).

We are heading into another heatwave tomorrow, so later in the week, as I lurk inside, I will post a fabulous Chinese chicken recipe which can be made in the slow cooker, so your kitchen doesn’t turn into a mini extension of hell.

It’s Chinese New Year too next week. Stay tuned…