Often it's the simple things in life that are incredibly memorable!

Here in Melbourne the days are getting shorter and there is now a definite chill in the air. With the gradual change in temperature, there is also a noticeable change in our eating habits. Alfresco dinning has sadly been replaced with 'ducted heating' dining as the barbeque has been dragged into the shed as it's far too cold and dark of an evening to cook and eat outside.

Hence, most nights you will find us huddling together around the dinner table clutching a warm bowl of soup. I love soup and could eat it day in and day out without complaint. Being who he is, Fussy would prefer that his vegetables were not swimming in a mass of liquid as vegetables are a lot easier to doge if they are sitting on a plate.

Hoover - well she could not get this soup down her neck fast enough!

Hoover has been unwell this past week with a nasty cough and runny nose, so I have kept her away from kinder. While she has been home she has helped me out in the kitchen, has played with play dough, painted, played dress ups, argued, debated and watched way too much television for a four year old. Despite the constant activity she declared that she is 'bored with my life'. Desperate for ideas I suggested that maybe we should go collect some autumn leaves and then bring them back home to make a collage - thankfully she went with the idea.

I spent the better part of last week trawling through dozens of Italian food blogs. Not only did I find some great blogs, but I also managed to meet a whole lot of wonderful new people in Italy who are also passionate about food. Hence, it soon became apparent that Italian food bloggers are some of the most friendly, helpful and jovial bloggers that I have come across to date.

One blog that I keep returning to again and again is Sigrid Verbert's blog Il Cavoletto di Bruxelles. I have easily bookmarked about ten recipes from Sigrid's beautiful blog. If you are unfamiliar with Sigrid's blog I urge you to take a moment and go have a look at her site as her photographs are stunning and her recipes are both imaginative, yet uncomplicated.

One recipe that leapt out at me was the Crostata di Mele con Crema di Noci.  The fact that I already had a kilo of walnuts and a bowl full of Granny Smith apples was all the encouragement I needed. Unfortunately my Italian is not what it used to be, so this is literally my 'interpretation' of Sigrid's delicious crostata.

Broccoli is one those vegetables you either love or hate. I happen to love the stuff and often eat it steamed with just a little olive oil, lemon juice and sea salt. To my utter joy Hoover has been eating 'little trees' ever since she started on solid food. Fussy on the other hand protests furiously over anything slightly green, so you can imagine the histrionics that take place at our house over broccoli.

I suppose I should be grateful that at least I have one child that eats everything and when I say everything, I mean pretty much everything.

So the other day when I made this chargrilled broccoli with chilli and lemon for Huxley and I to have with our chicken schnitzel, I was completely gobsmacked when Hoover decided to try 'our' broccoli. Not only did she try it, she loved it and proceeded to shove whole florets into her mouth chilli and all. Fussy on the other hand - well he pretty much continues to live up to his name.

The other day I was having one of those days where nothing was going right and everything was going wrong and I just couldn't get it together. So rather than 'push through' and persevere I chose to do something far more sensible. I decided to duck into this gorgeous little cafe in Piper street and escape, albeit for a moment.

At the ripe old age of thirty-something I finally got around to getting myself a proper blow torch. I have wanted a blow torch for years as I have struggled in vain to make perfect crème brûlée and crema Catalana the 'other' way - under the grill. So the other day while I was out shopping with Hoover I decided that it was about time that the 'blow torch moratorium' be lifted.

The reason for the 'agreed' moratorium in the first place was due to the fact that whilst I was pregnant and breastfeeding I became an absolute scatter-brain. Hence, the high levels of prolactin in my system at the time temporarily rendered me a 'risk' to the community.

I am grateful for many things in my life - my good health, a wonderful,
supportive husband, our two glorious children and some pretty amazing
people that I am fortunate enough to call my friends.

What I am *really* grateful for this morning (well most mornings) is my
exceptional foresight in getting @Huxley a coffee machine for his birthday
a couple of years ago. So every morning I am greeted with a morning
kiss and a wonderful warm caffeine offering.

Last Sunday we had a family wedding in Port Douglas of all places. For those of you unfamiliar with Australian geography Port Douglas is a long, long way from Melbourne. In fact it's a three hour flight to Cairns and then another hour's drive to Port Douglas.



Our 7am flight out of Melbourne was delayed (for whatever reason) for forty minutes. So rather than a half an hour wait in Sydney before catching our connecting flight we had three minutes to run from Gate 5 to Gate 9 with hand luggage, the flower girl dress and two bamboozled children.

No these cumquats are not another food gift that I found on my front porch from Corrie, Harry or Lanie. These cumquats are from my next door neighbours abandoned cumquat tree. You see Steve and Ava have been living in Paris for the past couple of years, as Steve was transferred to IBM's Paris office.

So for the last couple of years I have collected abandoned cumquats from their poor lonesome tree. But today as I collected these cumquats I realised that I won't need to do so next year as Steve, Ava and their now five year old girl Olivia are returning to Melbourne in the next month or so.

I look forward to picking up where we left off and am also grateful that their silent house will breathe life again. Their home will soon be filled with the hustle and bustle of life and the 'oh so LOUD' Olivia! Hoover is so looking forward to play dates with Olivia and Fussy can't wait to get his hands on their Wii console. But I think Corrie and I are most excited to be resuming our long lost 5pm cocktail ritual with Ava.

The thing I love most about food is that it brings people together as food is meant to be shared. Hence, one of the most exciting things about food blogging is that this shared experience is taken to a whole new level. So you can imagine how thrilled I was when Madalene from the British Larder graciously accepted to do a guest post on Gourmet Worrier.

What led me to Madalene's blog in the first place was a mutual respect for using local and seasonal ingredients and supporting local producers and farmers. I also resonate with Madalene's simplistic approach to food, her uncomplicated flavours and her attempt to use the best quality ingredients available. So without further ado, I introduce you to the extremely talented Madalene Bonvini-Hamel.

Photo - Madalene Bonvini-Hamel (2009).

It's not unusual to find food gifts on my doorstep of a morning that have been left by Corrie my friend and neighbour who happens to live three doors down to my right. So the other morning after my usual morning shuffle (car, school, car, gym, car, greengrocer, car, home) I was pleased to find a bunch of fresh flat leaf parsley and a handful of teeny weeny baby eggplants on my doorstep.

I immediately sent Corrie a text to thank her for the fresh herbs and eggplants and she text me straight back to say that the stash was not from her! Mmm - I did a little double take and had to think twice about who would have gifted me with these tiny little eggplants? I then realised that it must have been Lanie my other neighbour and friend four doors down to my left.

I'm so grateful to be living amongst some wonderful friends and neighbours.

The other morning I was doing my usual crazy mama thing (car, school, car, gym, car, grocery shop ) when I suddenly came face to face with a lovely pile of Corella pears. I was taken by surprise because this was the first time I had seen Corella pears for the season.



I'm not a huge pear-alone fan as I prefer to have my pears 'in' something like a torte, crumble or frangipane tart. But when it comes to Corella pears I just can't bring myself to cook them. Maybe it's the allure of their warm gorgeous tones that causes me to stop dead in my tracks so to speak - who knows!

Today the children and I and @Huxley (aka Mr Man) are heading out the door at an obscene hour (5.30am) as we are catching a plane to Cairns. We will then hop in a car and drive north for an hour or so until we reach our final destination - sunny Port Douglas.

The reason for our sudden departure is a family wedding this Sunday. Little Miss Hoover thinks it's all about her as she is the token flower girl. Whilst Fussy would much prefer to hide under the nearest rock as he is not given to extroversion like his sister and Papa! It will be four fun, filled days and we are all looking forward to being together in the sun, albeit for such a short time.



I look forward to connecting with you all again next week. It's an exciting week for me as next week will mark the first 'guest post' on Gourmet Worrier. First cab on the ranks is none other than the over talented, extremely gifted Madalene from the British Larder.

If a child is picky and selective when it comes to food you would naturally expect these finicky tendencies to be manifest across the board - no? Not when it comes to my fussy child. Hence, Fussy will carry on about broccoli, yoghurt, eggs, lentils, beans and tuna. Yet in the same breath he will devour Turkish delight, pistachio gelato, chestnut pie and halva.

What does this say about his developing palate? I wouldn't have a clue!

So the other day when I decided to make some Basbousa for afternoon tea I thought to myself 'he won't eat this' because it's got yoghurt and semolina in it. Sure enough he could not stuff it down his neck fast enough. He not only had some for afternoon tea, but requested it again for dessert that night and then asked if I could pop some in his lunchbox so he could have some for play lunch the following day at school.

Most weekdays I am out the door and running by 8.30am. I drop Hoover at kindergarten, Fussy at school and jump back in the car and go to gym. After spinning on a bike for an hour I normally whizz past the butcher, the baker and the greengrocer and then go back home to dump everything before I hop back into the car to collect Hoover at lunchtime.

On days like this when its go, go, go I am really grateful to open the fridge and find delicious leftovers from the previous night that I can have for lunch. Today my leftovers were Middle Eastern lamb pizza - perfect either hot or cold.

Do you have childhood food memories? Well I have lots of them. Whenever my siblings and I get together we often end up reminiscing about food. Like the time dad made ox tongue and forgot to peel it first and how we all gagged and complained about the 'tongue texture' of the tongue. Or the time dad and Uncle Maurice brought a fully grown turtle home from the market and slaughtered it in my aunty Maryanne's marble bathroom in Floriana, Malta and then proceeded to stink the house out for the next six hours with the smell of their foul turtle stew.

And then there was the time dad decided to cook an entire pigs head one Sunday for lunch. He just seasoned that head with a little salt and pepper and banged it in the oven for a couple of hours and then expected us all to eat it without complaint!

One of the better or should I say more edible childhood food memories has to do with this ricotta pie. Traditionally in Malta you would make this ricotta pie with fresh broad beans. Dad would lament whenever mum made this pie because he would compare it to his mother's ricotta pie. Apparently my Nanna Marija would add fresh sultanas to the ricotta and broad beans which is quite common in Gozo. Mum being Maltese refused to do so because her mum made it the proper way 'without' sultanas.

And so whenever we sat down to eat this pie, which was at least once a fortnight, my parents would squabble about the same thing - whose mum made the 'better' pie.

It seems like yesterday that I saw him for the very first time. I was only six weeks pregnant and the only evidence I had (apart for the stick I had just peed on) that another life existed within me was flashing before me on the foetal monitor. I can't explain how I felt at that very moment - somewhere between surreal and miraculous I guess. One thing I knew for sure was that suddenly everything had changed - forever!

Today my gorgeous boy, my first born child, my only son is eight! Effectively that means I am eight years older than when I had him and that in itself is a strangely, wonderful thing.

Although his universe is all about Star Wars, Super Mario, Lego and soccer he still freely grabs my hand to hold as we walk together down the street. He is still lavish with his affection and often writes me letters.  He is my sage and guileless comic.  But above all he is endearing, altruistic and inimitable.

Congratulations!

Today is your day.

You're off to Great Places!

You're off and away...

Oh! The places you'll go!