Tag Archives: food

I’ve Seen ‘Em, Now I’m in One

Diners. To my Australian eyes, they are quintessentially American. I cringe in anticipation when the protagonist in a sitcom or movie takes a seat in a diner. Along comes the sassy yet compassionate waitress and takes the order for a plate of fat and/or refined carbohydrate with some liquid sugar in a glass.

And now I get the chance to do the same. Continue reading

This Little Pig Went to Market But the Cow is Stationary

This little pig went to market.

And this little pig stayed home.

These little pigs look like content.

But this little pig is virtually unrecognisable:

I admit to a penchant for proscuitto, however, seeing the raw material puts me off just a teensy bit.

Yes, that is mould…

but, cin cin, a bit of red wine and Roberto’s your uncle. One surely cancels the other somehow.

We stood around the table under a tree, the horses on which we had just trekked through the nearby hills munching in their stables, a friendly white pony tethered to a tree next to us. Vino all round.

Home-made red wine in industrial quantities.

Laughter. A sharp knife slicing samples of the wares. Bargaining. Language translations. Deal sealed – a nice chunk to be collected down the valley. (It was mouldy yet proved delicious. The pick-up was accompanied by a celebratory wine, hard cheese and homemade pastries.)

The little white pony was ridden out to bring the cows in.

Home-made hobbles meant this one was not jumping over anything, let alone the moon.

Those graceful, defined veins make her a sculpture…or a body-builder.

This is not how Celia at The Kitchen’s Garden does it.

Sloosh, sloosh of milk into a plastic bucket.

It would almost be worth shaving one’s head for the sensation. Try it now. Place your head against a cow’s flank. Feel the warmth seep into your crown. If you’re bald or shaven, I expect you’ll love the rub of short hair against your pate. Perhaps you’ll feel the blood pumping through her body. I wonder what you’ll hear.

Yet here her head appears to be made of felt stretched over plasticine.

As if she were just a puppet character in a nursery rhyme show. Or a blog post.

Bread and Wine Like Clouds

We were hot on a restaurant recommendation from our relatives. They heard about it from the owners of their holiday rental accommodation, Pietro and Maria. There’s no way one would stumble across it, tucked as it is in the hills of Sardinia behind Cala Gonone. So we trundled along behind them. But we were going first to Pietro and Maria’s holding on the ridge of one of the hills. Continue reading

A Tale of Irrationality and Mandel-thingies

I’m on a Swiss train waiting impatiently to feel hungry so I can eat the mandelhoernli I have laid up in my handbag. To some extent, I don’t even like them. Continue reading

If the Shoe Fits…Eat It

Some tasty treats from the streets of Amsterdam.

From a chocolate shop in Haarlemmerstraat, a few minutes from Centraal Station, Amsterdam.

Continue reading

Muscovite Mouths

One final thing about Russia.

Well, two.

Plus some photos. Continue reading

I Spy, I Hear, I Smell, I Taste…Moscow

A young ladder, wet around the…er…rungs watches as the wise old home-made ladder demonstrates that one must ultimately lead to something. Continue reading