Paddock to Plate: Orange Regional Museum

On a trip to Orange, when Him Outdoors was busy competing in a cycling race, I went to the regional art gallery and museum. Their exhibition was Paddock to Plate: a history of food and wine in Orange and the district.

While it did pretty much what you would expect - using historic objects and photographs to illustrate how growing, processing, distribution and consumption of food has changed over time - it was curated in an interesting and interactive fashion, encouraging visitors to learn more about the stories of the people of the region. The exhibition starts with the mountain, an ancient volcano, which created the soils and climate that attracted indigenous people, then others from across the world. 

Stories about producing, processing and forces of change run around the perimeter walls, giving space for large farming objects and showcases containing smaller artefacts. A range of farming tools is mounted on simple white backing boards, so the timelessly beautiful shapes of these objects can be clearly seen. 

Curator Sandra McEwan and the museum team assembled an impressive trove of over 200 historic from around the Orange region with enormous variety of size and scale. Ploughs, refrigerators and a rare wheat flail join whisks, butter pats and dainty mementos of dining in a bygone era. 

Central to the exhibition was the concept of food in the home, and this was represented through a stylised 'kitchen' displaying utensils in a pigeonhole format that echoes kitchen cupboards. Some of these cupboards are see-through, and others have solid doors. Each door has a single word printed on the face giving a clue to the use of the object inside, such as grind, whip, cut, beat, squeeze, shape, lift, protect and hold, which sounds either like cookery, cosmetic surgery or a particularly violent poker game.  

A dining table is covered in a series of projections showing changing styles and tastes of home eating from the 1800s to today. One table features a display of seeds and legumes as in a curiosity cabinet, including wheat, wattle, apple, pumpkin, hazelnut, cucumber, kurrajong and kangaroo grass. 

Paddock to Plate tells the story of food and wine production in this beautiful district through the stories of people, place and a passion for produce. Lists of words always inspire poetry in me, so naturally I took myself to the café where I had coffee and cake and thought of my domestic culinary memories.

Pitter patter of kitchen helper;

patty cake with butter pat,

licking clean the whisk and spoon

with mother in the warmest room:

better batter on baking day.

Friday Five: Iso Puzzles

We ordered a new table a while ago, and it arrived on the day that the government banned gatherings of more than two people and prevented us from welcoming folk to our house to share meals and laughter. So we might as well put it to use as a puzzle board until the restrictions are lifted. 

The Painted Ladies, San Francisco

I did the easy bits, and left the gradations in colour of the sky to Him Outdoors.

I was surprised to learn that not everyone does puzzles the same way - some people don't do the edges first. This knowledge has confounded me completely.

Portland Head Light

This one was lent to us by The Luminosity and it was quite tough, but (although there were lots of similarities in the pieces), I couldn't be cross because... well, just look at their fluffy faces emerging!

Lena, Linus and Luke

Another pack of borrowed pieces - from Doctor Kay and the Design Diva - this has fantastic shapes, which are wonderfully easy to slot into place. The laser-cut wooden pieces are very satisfying to touch and arrange into the picture, and the puzzle incorporates several 'whimsy' pieces. These pieces are apparently a historical link to the Victorian puzzle-making past; as the name suggests, the original Victorian puzzle cutters added the individual pieces on a whim and so the term 'whimsy' was born. I broke with my usual method to finish areas first, before completing the edges. I didn't like that. 

Picture frame in the water

Motorcar and butler in the sky

Elephant in the walls

Dolphin in the gondola

St Mark's Square

We also borrowed this last one from Original Gravity. It has no edge pieces. That was challenging for my OCD puzzle building method. The picture on the front is not quite the same as the completed image. And there are five extra pieces. Some people are sadists, pure and simple - can you have a pure and simple sadist? Yes, they design puzzles like this one. 

Take a Coffee Break

The extra five pieces

Special chewed-by-the-dog pieces

Friday Five: Good Beer Week Learnings

When one goes to a week-long beer festival and drinks 178 'unique' beers, it may be difficult to keep track of things. So to prove that I did indeed learn some things, I am willing to share them with you:

5 Things I Learned at Good Beer Week:

Sour beer face (No, it isn't Him Outdoors)

1. You can have too much sour. Not just in terms of the fact that mouth puckering isn't always fun, but some people also have internal reactions to the acids and yeasts involved. When you've got a hall-full of beer drinkers, these effects may not be particularly pleasant. Just saying. 
2. I'm fed up with coffee in beer. I like coffee. And I like beer. But I like dark beer that doesn't taste of bitter grounds. There are many flavours I look for in dark beer including chocolate, spice, vanilla, smoke, nuts, toffee, caramel, liquorice, toast, raisins, molasses, and dark fruit (probably not all in the same beer). These days most of those flavours are overwhelmed by coffee, however, which has become pervasive. Wake up and smell the beer, people!
3. Bourbon burns. Not always, as is proved by the utterly sensational Stockade Old Money Barrel Aged Bourbon Imperial Stout. This was the best bourbon-barrel-aged beer of show and is rich and big and boozy and beautiful with delicious chocolate notes. Many bourbon-barrel aged beers are just too harsh, however, and they burn.
4. Lavender has no place in a beer. I understand that brewers want to try all sorts of ingredients in beer (I had a beer with snails in it and another including crickets) and many spices blend nicely. I've enjoyed beer with basil, chamomile, and one with Rogan Josh spices in it. But unless you want your beer to be reminiscent of granny's bathroom, may I suggest leaving out the lavender.
5. Write it down: you WILL forget. Remembering what you thought of 178 beers is hard enough at the best of times. It's even harder when you've had 178 beers. If you care about recording thoughts and impressions for future reference, do it there and then, or you'll have no chance.

Not a mental image you want from a beer

Automatic for the People

According to a recent 'fact' I heard on morning television (so it must be true), nine out of ten new drivers learn to drive in an automatic car. They can't actually drive a manual.

Now, I know I've gone on about this before, but I don't consider sitting in a seat and looking out of the window occasionally, so as to know where to steer or turn on the windscreen wipers (although some cars do that for you autonatically too), to be driving.

The breakfast show interviewed an 'expert' about this issue. He claimed that one in ten people like driving and they probably drive a European car. The other ninety percent just want to get from A to B as quickly and comfortably as possible. If they don't have to change gear or worry about the clutch pedal, they can enjoy their coffee more.

I'm sorry, what? Aren't they meant to be driving? Aren't there places where you can pull over and stop for a rest and a coffee if you need/ want one to break up the journey? Are you going to say they prefer to have their hands free so they can do their hair or play games on their i-Phone?

This is the unfortunate legacy of the dreaded multi-tasking; the scourge of the twenty-first century. We expect to be able to do more than one thing at once, which is fine if you are watching morning television and eating your breakfast, folding the washing, getting dressed or cleaning your teeth.

But when you are driving, you are supposedly in charge of a potentially lethal weapon and you should be giving it your full attention.If you have to remain alert to choose which gear to use, then so much the better. If you can't drive a manual, you can't drive.

Friday Five:Mini Steps to Recovery

Six weeks ago I ruptured my medial head gastrocnemius playing football. Apparently it is a textbook injury (I prefer the word 'textbook' to 'common') and the rheabilitation period is twelve weeks, made in incremental steps.

I spent two weeks in a cast with my leg totally immobilised, and hobbling around on crutches, and no, sadly, I didn't look anywhere near as good as Emily Blunt. I am going to the physio two or three times a week and doing stretching and strengthening exercises for about two hours a day. It's getting better slowly and steadily, but it will be another six weeks before I am allowed to run again (and I'm not sure if and/or when football will be permitted again).

Yesterday I returned the crutches to the hospital with a great sense of satifaction, and it led me to think about injuries and recovery and the things we (or certainly, I) take for granted.

5 Mini Steps to Recovery:

1. Being able to carry stuff, particularly drinks, particularly hot drinks - have you any idea how long it takes to move a cup of coffee from room to room by putting it on a surface, picking up the crutches, hopping forward a step, putting down the crutches, moving the cup forward a few inches, picking up the crutches, hopping forward a step, etc? About twenty minutes. Of course, I could just lean in the kitchen and drink it standing up, but that somewhat defeats the purpose.
2. Being able to stand up - hopping around art galleries or racing through airport terminals is simply not possible so although most of the time crutches are manageable, there were occasions when I needed to be in a wheelchair. Although some of my friends enjoyed pushing me around for a change (you know who you are), it is not pleasant to be at groin level with the general public - especially those who insist on exposing midriffs and bumcracks. Please put it away - I don't want to look and when I am at this height, I really haven't got a choice!
3. Having a bath - sitting on a garden chair in the shower with a plastic bag wrapped around your leg just isn't the same.
4. Driving a car - it's my left leg, so if I drove an automatic it wouldn't be a problem, but I don't and so it is. The pressure you need to apply to depress the clutch and change gears has been beyond me for the last month and a half. Appreciative as I am of Him Outdoors dropping me off and picking me up from places, the nature of his job means he is on-call and his timekeeping is fluid if a call comes through that he must attend. Being given the all clear to drive last week has returned much of my freedom and independence - hurrah!
5. Exercise - I never thought I'd miss it. Times have been tough over the last couple of months and I realise that I like to get out and go for a jog or a bike ride in the fresh air to clear my head and stop things getting me down mentally. As this has been impossible I have been sitting in the sweltering heat with my leg elevated and my mind churning over depressing thoughts. Yesterday I went for my first bike ride in the outdoors (only twenty minutes around the block, but so much better than the stationary bike in the garage) and it felt good.

This is not part of the recovery five, but I have noticed the amazing kindness and generosity of many of my friends, from holding doors open for me, to patiently waiting while I hobble slowly, sitting doing nothing but drinking cups of tea or glasses of wine, and even coming round to hang out my washing when I was incapable. Thank you all - you're great and I appreciate all your friendship and support.

Coffee Culture in Italy

In a bustling café in Rimini men stand at the counter and knock back tiny cups of powerful caffeine – ristretto is ‘very short black coffee’ – shuddering as they swallow, almost as if it is a chore – so why do they do it? It costs more to sit down.

I ask for a latte and receive a glass of milk. If you ask for a caffe é latte, you also get a small jug of coffee (a shot of double strength coffee – not espresso) which you add to your milk and watch the colours and flavours mingle. These are generally only drunk at breakfast and made in the privacy of your own home (and certainly without froth).

They are akin to the French café au lait, and what Americans call a latte would be considered an abomination on the continent. US lattes were first made in Berkeley in America and are basically a cappuccino with extra milk added. What they call a latte; New Zealander’s call a flat white. This is all getting confusing.

But don’t worry, because you can only drink milky coffee in the mornings unless you are uncouth or a tourist – which seems to amount to the same thing. Otherwise you have an espresso, or an espresso doppio (a double espresso) or a caffe Americano which is an espresso served with a jug of hot water so you can make your own – they can’t bring themselves to adulterate the coffee in this way. New Zealanders call that a long black.

Italians are also known to drink moccaccino (which is a third of espresso with two thirds of steamed milk mixed with chocolate), caffe macchiato (espresso ‘stained/marked’ with a dash of milk) or latte macchiato (vice-versa; i.e. milk ‘stained’ with a dash of espresso). They do not drink triple Venti nonfat decafe latte white chocolate blended mocha frappucino whip. Without froth.

They do get a bit weird though with the old espresso confuso, which is a sort of coffee desert – espresso mixed with a chocolate gelato. Very confuso indeed. And the freddoccino is a cold (freddo) cappuccino. I’m not sure if they make these specially or just leave them lying around until they get cold. My mum’s good at that. I bet they don’t then put them in the microwave and forget about them though.

My very favourite is the caffe corretto, which is a shot of espresso, 'corrected' with a shot of grappa. Wow! That's enough to blow your socks off. We were walking in the snow in Dolomites for four hours and stumbled back off the mountain to a cutesy cafe by a lake when we discovered these. I could have done the walk all over again. Well, maybe not, but for about ten minutes I thought I could. Mind you, I thought I could leap tall buildings in a single bound. I was wrong.

Reading the paper

I like to read the paper in the morning with a cup of coffee before I head to work. I sit in the cafe and watch people come and go clutching their takeaway paper cups and their bags of bagels. I read the paper from cover to cover, lingering over the meagre world section and the comments and editorial.

I do this when I'm on holiday and I once read an article that said one way to extend the holiday feeling was to do the things that you associate with your weeks off. Unfortunately I can't laze in bed for the morning, go scuba-diving with shoals of angel fish, lounge on the deck of a yacht, or cycle through vineyards filling my panniers with champagne and baguettes. What I can do is leisurely catch up on the day's events and it is one of my few simple pleasures.

How I hate it, then, when someone asks if they can 'steal a bit of the paper'. For a start I loath the idiom. It is not my paper - it is thoughtfully provided by the cafe - so you wouldn't be stealing it. This is a Kiwi-ism I have noticed, whereby people try and lessen the impact of what they are doing by referring to their actions in a depreciating manner - apparently they 'swing by' the house to 'grab a feed'. Are they Tarzan?

Leaving the language aside, of course I mind! I don't wish to be disturbed. I wish to read the paper, chronologically, at the pace I choose without being hurried or harried. It bothers me when people fold the paper the wrong way (it's almost bad as realigning maps) or insert sections out of order. I consider it inconsiderate when people do the crossword in a paper that it is not their own, and as for tearing out a section or an article - you'd be surprised how much this can annoy me. Or maybe you wouldn't.