I call this long lost friend the shift. Do you notice it? That one day when the morning light suddenly shifts, and we sit and eat breakfast in a kitchen filled with golden sunlight, instead of midwinter darkness.  The shift, it wasn't here yesterday, and it doesn't hang around for long, just when you start getting used to it, the sun changes course and it moves to another part of the house.  It's like that.

Outside, the air feels ever so slightly warmer and the faintest scent of blossom fills the air.  For the first time all winter the lawn suddenly needs mowing. And we no longer panic if the wood stove goes out. Daytime sees windows flung open, and the blankets washed and dried outside in the sunshine.

I used to get panicky when the shift arrived, because it's a sign that I need to get moving, just like nature around me. The house needs a spring clean, the summer seeds need sowing, and those pruning jobs I've put off all winter need to be done. Now, now, now! Keep up with the daffodils!

But this year, life's too busy, with work, and school and weekend sports.  Instead, I'm going to forget the to do list and admire the shifting light in the mornings, and sit and watch the steam swirl from my milky coffee into the sunbeams. Then I'll dream about a future of sunshine, tomato plants, cherries and plums, smokey bbqs, lingering drinks outside in the evening air, stringing up the fairy lights and dragging out the Adirondacks.

Welcome back old friend, the shift.

 
The bacon sandwich.  There's a thing that's captured my imagine of late.  The quest for the perfect bacon sandwich.   After many hours reading, googling and testing recipes in my attempt to crack the perfect specimen, I think I might have nailed it.


When I say bacon sandwich, I should clarify that I mean one based on the old school English variety, often known as a bacon sarnie, and not a fancy one with lettuce and tomato, no egg, no camembert or rocket and certainly no quinoa. I'd even happily skip the condiments.  Just a humble, old fashioned bacon sandwich.  Good bread, good bacon and not much else. (Brown sauce perhaps, but that is a discussion for another day)

There are two elements to this beast that I shall break down and explain.

Firstly the bread.  I was looking for something soft and white, but not pappy.  It needs to be sturdy enough to soak up the bacon's smokey juices, but not so crusty that it breaks your teeth.  It needs to have a good wheaty flavour, but nothing that will overpower the bacon's smokey goodness.  White factory bread wouldn't do, too flimsy,  a brioche too rich, a sourdough, pide or ciabatta wasn't right either, nor was wholegrain rye or sprouted pumpkin seed bread.  I think a white roll was needed, but what type?

The roll required some research, which took me to Ol' Blighty, possibly the birthplace of the bacon sarnie.  And I was delighted by my findings.  A whole world of bread I hadn't heard of.  It seems all over the UK, each region has it's own charming roll designed to wrap around a slice of bacon or two, with whimsical names like barm cakes and oven bottoms, blaas, stotties, nudgers, bannocks, butteries, and bin lids. A dazzling array of breads to try on my mission.

Thankfully, it was this week's BBC Food Program  that pointed me in a direction that sounded just right and saved me from a carb-ridden gluten overload.  It was an incredible story on Scottish bakers, and when they mentioned two words, morning rolls, just by the name alone, which sounded so cosy and inviting, I knew I'd found what I was looking for.

In Scotland, a morning roll is really a bap, a soft floury roll, stuffed with bacon, which I had suspected all along might be the best option.   After a bit of testing I came up with a recipe, and because I use Callington Mill flour, which isn't highly processed, more like white flour with a healthy tan, these rolls have a lovely golden colour.

Second critical element of course is the bacon, which must be properly smoked, generously sliced and made from well-brought up pigs.

Which brings us to the end of my bacon sandwich story, I'm so glad it has a happy ending.



My Perfect Bacon Sandwich  

450g stoneground white flour
2 teaspoons salt
50g butter or lard
15 grams instant yeast
1 teaspoon caster sugar
160 ml lukewarm water
160 ml lukewarm milk

Extra milk and flour for dusting

Well raised and smoked bacon 2 slices per person

First make the rolls.

Sieve the flour and salt then rub in the fat.  Add to the bowl of a stand mixer, add remaining ingredients and knead until soft and pliable.  Or make the dough by hand.

Cover the dough with plastic wrap and allow to double in size in a warm place for about an hour, or in a cool place overnight. Tip the dough onto a floured surface, knock down, then divide into 8 pieces.   Arrange rolls on a baking tray lined with paper, lightly press down on each roll, cover and allow to rise for another 30 minutes.  Meanwhile preheat your oven to 220C.

Brush the rolls with milk and dust with flour.  Bake rolls in oven for about 15 minutes or til just golden.   Leave for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack and allow to cool.

To prepare the bacon, remove the rind and cut each slice into thirds.  Place the bacon in a cold frying pan with a drizzle of olive oil, then gradually bring up the temperature to medium high and cook until crispy.  Push the bacon to one side of the pan, then place the halved rolls, cut side down, onto the frying pan to soak up some of the delicious bacon juices.   That way you don't need butter, but if you want it add by all means do.

Assemble the rolls and eat as quickly as possible washed down with a good strong brew and maybe a slug of brown sauce on the side.  I like my homemade version, which I might share down the track, but HP will do in a pinch.

It took me a long time to love Melbourne. Decades in fact.  It's not that I didn't enjoy visiting Melbourne, it's just that I didn't understand it. As a proud Sydney-sider, Melbourne, seemed cold, the people seriously well-dressed and the Yarra made a poor replacement for Sydney's vast emerald harbour.  I didn't know how to order a beer, they had funny rules for playing pool and you had to get in the left lane to turn right.  Scary stuff.

But since moving to Tasmania, Melbourne is so close, that I get to visit often.  And I've changed.  I don't care for beer or play pool anymore, I catch trams to avoid hook turns, and actually admire seriously well dressed people. I'm getting to know Melbourne better, and well, we are getting on famously now. In fact, you could say, I love Melbourne.

Last weekend I went for a quick one night visit to run a workshop with The School. Which was an amazing experience.  Although I only stayed overnight, I packed in as many meals, shops and friend catch ups as I could during my brief stay.  Here's a little run down....

Stayed :: The White Room.  I have loved Lyn Gardener's work for so long, in fact I first read a magazine article about her house, probably back in 1998.  I fell in love with the look of her white painted warehouse filled with vintage industrial pieces, long before anyone else was doing it.  I remember looking around my sunny Sydney harbourside rental with its crazy red velvet sofa, fluorescent pink 50's dining chairs and turquoise carpets, with a feeling of disdain.  Nothing could have been further from Lyn's gorgeous space.  Seventeen odd years later it was a real treat to finally step inside one of her beautifully styled spaces, The White Room.  And it was as beautiful, clever and warm and homey as I ever imagined.

Caked :: After taking loads of photos as seen here, I jumped on the tram to Gertrude Street to Cottage Industry to visit Pen Pen in her beautiful shop.  I bought enamelware and a black linen smock that I should like to wear everyday.  Pen, a woman after my own heart, kindly insisted on driving across town to Beatrix for cake.  Not just any cake mind you. This was amazing CAKE.  But first we ordered lunch, a chicken sandwich that smelled amazing when the waiter delivered it.  How can a chicken sandwich smell amazing? I know, right?! But this one smelled super lemony and creamy and delicious, and tasted as good as it looked.  Then there was angel cake, wagon wheels and a cheesecake all washed down with a big pot of tea.   It was TOTAL cake heaven.  We also dropped in to Baker Di Chirco to pick up a baguette or two.

Dined :: After a late lunch it was back to the White Room to work on my preso and just be in the beautiful space really.  Then I strolled down the street to meet Gourmet Girlfriend for dinner at The Commoner to eat their dee-licoius "feed me" menu. Highlights included fried pigs ears, mushroom croquettes and a refreshing Tom Collins. It was a night filled with laughter and good things to eat. My favourite things.

Shopped and Propped :: Very early the next morning, I headed to Prahran Market, to get supplies for the class. My giddy aunt, that market is amazing, incredible cheeses, middle Eastern delis filled with spices and pomegranate halva, and stalls selling dozens of types of lovely brassicas. I would have moved across the road right there and then.  Those two love birds Kate and Ro gave me a hand and with baskets groaning, we headed down a nearby street to set up for my workshop at the DREAMY Establishment Studios. I would love to move in the there too.  A tiny little swag in the corner would do. We propped and photographed loads of lovely things including this mascarpone filled Victoria Sponge.

Chipped :: After the workshop, Kate and Ro dropped me off to visit my pal Pip at Meet Me at Mikes. We had a date to eat some chips at Belles Hot Chicken.  Those chips are crinkle cut and the best. Crunchy, salty and potato-y. After filling up with chips and talking about blogging and children growing up and stuff we headed across the road to Archie's All Day for a refreshing pot of tea.

Then my kind friends took me to the airport in their car that drives itself practically!

Short, sweet and perfect. Thanks Melbourne. You're the best.

It gave me a sort of home feeling when I found myself, for the first time in two years, seated in the pleasant parlour of Ratho, the home of a most amiable and accomplished Edinburgh family.  The social tea table presided over by one of the most graceful and elegant of old ladies; the books, the music, the flowers - and the gentle conversation, could not fail to soften an exasperated soul in any but its darkest hour.

And so I found myself sitting in that very parlour, on a soft embroidered bench by the hearth, my back warmed by a blazing open fire, reading about the history of this Georgian farmhouse, Ratho, in Tasmania's highlands, when I stumbled upon those above words penned by exiled Irish activist John Mitchel some 150 years ago. The parlour still has a home feeling did soften my exasperated, (well, tired anyway) soul.



After a long drive, I'd arrived here early for a work event, and as I waited for my colleagues to arrive I had the cosy parlour to myself, where I read books and clippings of the home's history whilst sipping a robust tea.  I find that stuff so fascinating, Tasmanian history, old farmhouses, add an exiled Irish activist or two and the world's oldest golf course outside of Scotland and I'll quite happily lose myself in 1853 for hours.

After a night of feasting, celebrating and a smoky whiskey or two, I headed to the most comfortable and warm converted stable for a cosy night in the softest of beds.  Then up early for a walk through misty paddocks, a nosy peak in some of the old sheds filled with rustic, dusty treasures, before heading to the charming breakfast room with a long table set for a hearty breakfast of porridge, toast and marmalade. The perfect start to a day that would finish late with some Dark Mofo feasting.

More and more I find myself dreaming of spending time in an old Georgian farmhouse, with such a parlour and a generous kitchen to cook in. My mind reeling with ideas on how I can make that happen.   But for now, there are books, music and flowers in my lounge room, (which I am thinking of renaming the parlour), and thoughts of creating a social tea table to share with friends filled with gentle conversation.

Hello Winter!  I say to myself as I look out over the snow covered hills that surround our place. The snow, a little early for the first of June, is a welcome sight nonetheless.

I stop for a moment and take in the surrounds, stand still, breath deep and feel the chill on my nose and the frost in my hands. These past six weeks have been such a crazy circus. From two intense weeks working behind the scenes on a television program, an incredible tour to promote my book and then recipe testing and styling a pickling cookbook for a friend.  (The reward is a pantry full of jars of pickles and preserves.)






Right now, it's good to be home with the fire on and a couple of weeks ahead of a more normal work schedule.

Still, I dream of a holiday, a weekend away or even a road trip.  You know, bundling the kids in the car with snacks and beanies and hitting the highway, looking for adventure. Or doing nothing. It seems so long since we've done that.  But as the children get older, their lives are busy too, sports, school, friends.  It's not so easy to be spontaneous anymore.

So instead of a holiday, I turn to my old friend, who is patiently waiting for me despite the neglect.  The garden. With gloves, snood and a warm coat, I head outdoors and get stuck in. The sun sits very low in in the sky, only just peeking over the top of the tall pines trees across the road, and its feeble rays feel so precious as they shine on my face. Warming my cold nose.





Things have changed in the damp frosty garden since I was last here. The cabbage moths of been killed off, (woohoo!) the withered vines of tomatoes droop over stakes and the tomatillos' papery husks litter the garden beds.   The grass is thick, ankle deep and really wet.  The dahlias and cosmos have died off, along with the nasturtiums, killed by the frosts.  The fruit trees, reveal their bare bones with spindly branches that reach out to me like long boney fingers.

I clean up two beds and take a big pile of young green weeds to the chickens, fat hen, chickweed, borage and a lacy one whose name I don't know.  Spent brassicas are pulled out and chucked in the mix too, the dark, damp earth clings to the roots and the chickens scratch through this prized morsel looking for bugs or worms.  The trees need pruning, the grape vine cutting back, along with the raspberry canes and tansy, and there's still a lot of weeding left to do. But my, it feels good to have made some progress.

Not only does the garden look better but I feel better. Energised and reconnected to home. It's like I've had a gardening holiday at home.  And as a reward for my efforts, I find things for lunch in the garden.  Forgotten potatoes that continually sprout, lush green autumn nettles and garlic heads that I missed harvesting last December.   With a cold nose and frozen fingers, I head inside to the wood stove, and make a simple soup of potato, garlic and green nettles. A gardener's reward soup.

After a week of rain and more to come, the autumn break has officially arrived.  Weeks of handwringing end as empty dams start to fill, muddy puddles replace dusty roads and the river flats start to flood.   Our summers are pretty dry here, and it's not until the autumn break arrives, that is to say weeks of rainy weather in autumn, that we all breath a sigh of relief.

Marjorie Bligh, Housewife Superstar is a bit of a hero of mine. The eccentric domestic goddess who wrote books covering such topics as cookery, household management, health, gardening and recycling is to me, a true Tasmanian legend.

Author of many top tips , my favourite tip of hers ever, (apart from always be kind), changed my baking life. I mean really.   Having a house with ambient temperature of around 13 degrees means that butter at my room temperature is not that great for baking cakes.  Enter Marjorie's tip - preheat the sugar.  Bakers rejoice!  While you're preheating your oven, weigh the sugar and place it in the oven, then assemble the rest of your ingredients together. Throw the hard butter into the mixer with the warm sugar and voila! Perfectly creamed butter and sugar.  Thank you Marjorie!


One of my favourite Marjorie stories is about one of her book launches that she organised to take place in her front garden.  Marjorie invited dozens of people for afternoon tea in her front garden.  She baked for days, organised the mayor to speak and decorated her garden so everything was perfect. Apart from one small detail - the book hadn't arrived from the printers. It wasn't ready in time. A book launch with no book. Unperturbed, Marjorie simply printed copies of the cover of her book to pass around and the launch went ahead without the book. Bold I say. And true Marjorie style. You can read more of her stories in this great biography.





Missing books aside, I always thought what a lovely way to launch a book, afternoon tea in your front garden. So I'm going to do that thanks to the generosity of another foodie superstar Jane Grover, author of Naked Food.

Next Saturday afternoon, at Jane's place in Sydney's northern beaches, in the spirit of Marjorie Bligh, we'll be eating treats from my book, chatting about all things delicious whilst admiring Jane's garden. I'm hoping we will have copies of the book, we are THAT organised!

Come along, it's from 2pm - 4pm Saturday 16 May. Just let us know if you'd like to attend via email jane@janegrover.net and venue details will be sent to you and we'll know how many cakes to bake.

I hope you can come,  I'd really love to see you!

It was crumpets that started this whole book journey.

A post I wrote about crumpets a few years back came under the radar of some folks at Random House.  Who can resist a photo of a homemade crumpet dripping with butter and honey?  Even book publishers are rendered helpless, such is the power of the crumpet.

So it's kind of fitting that there's a crumpet recipe in my book, (an updated recipe), because obviously, they hold a special place in people's heart.

Which brings me to the question, "What's the best way to eat crumpets?" This week, over at Meet Me At Mikes, Pip is generously having a giveaway of my book. To enter, leave a comment on her post about how you like to eat crumpets.  Even if you don't want to enter, the gorgeous comments are worth reading as they all sound super delicious.

With all this talk of crumpets,  I thought I would share the recipe for crumpets from my book.  You could make a batch, then tell Pip how you like to eat them.




One more thing, if the heart of my book is crumpets, Pip's new book Craft for the Soul has jaffles at its core. Although it is filled with loads of good things, of course it's the jaffles that have first caught my eye!  It's a guide to living a creative and fun life. I received a copy today and, well, really it's super beautiful. I can't wait to read it. 

I'm dropping in to let you know that this Friday is the official release date of my book! How amazing is that?!  I'll be hanging out in a few bookshops to promote it. Which is rather wonderful because bookshops are one of my favourite places to hang out.

When Elsa was a newborn, and we lived in the inner city suburb of Leichhardt, there was a bookshop I'd often walk to.  After coffee and a sfogliatella , I'd push that chunky pram into the store and browse the shelves.  Books on gardening, cooking, farming, tree changes and decorating country houses were the titles I'd covet the most. Twelve years later some of those books are still on high rotation on my reading pile. Well-loved classics.

Funny thing is, I'm going back to that very bookshop for an event as part of my book tour.  Never, in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that we'd move to Tasmania let alone that I'd end up writing a book about it.  Back then, even leaving the city seemed an impossible dream.  Elsa would be almost two before we actually took the leap and landed in Tasmania.  I cannot get over the serendipity.

I'm looking forward to hitting the road and meeting people and telling my story. I will probably be overwhelmed, I will probably cry.

As a special part of the book tour, I am also super excited to be teaching three Food Styling and Photography Workshops at The School with incredible Megan Morton.  Not only do I get to teach you all my tricks and feast on some recipes from my book, but we get to play on the most stylish camera on the block - the Olympus OM-D E-M10.

Maybe you could come and say hi!  I will also be doing a lot of radio interviews so I'll keep you posted on my Facebook page, if you want to listen in.

What a chatfest over the next few weeks. I'm certainly going to need more biscuits.



A Table In Orchard Tour Dates * 

30 April 5:30pm  Fullers Book Shop Hobart Thursday 

Saturday 2 May ABC Bookshop Hobart - 11am  and 2pm 

Friday 8 and Saturday 9 May AGFEST Not Just Books stand (CWA Drive)
 (if you can't find me I'll probably be over near the tractors)

Tuesday 12 May 7pm Melbourne Books for Cooks event 

Wednesday 13 May 12:30 Readings Hawthorn 

Thursday 14 May 6:30 Sydney Berkelouw Leichhardt 

Saturday 6 June Hobart Food & Styling Workshop 

Saturday 27 June Sydney Food & Styling Workshop 

Saturday 4 July Melbourne Food & Styling Workshop 

* All these dates have links to the details.