Thursday, 2 June 2011


So, while my husband has been away working for the last two weeks, I have been left without my camera. Also because there is only one of me left in the house, my desire to cook has slightly lifted. Momentarily I promise, but none the less I have been living off bachelorette food (slightly more fancy than bachelor food, but still lazy attempts at meal making. For example; bachelor meal: ‘Eggy- in-a-basket’ vs. bachelorette meal: ‘French toast with a sprinkle of nutmeg’, still lazy). All in all there is just nothing really to report on the western front.
Therefore I will skip back a few weeks, gosh, months even, (already?!) and tell you about that little Island that fell off the bottom of Australia. That little crumb of land that is so many times left off maps and logos. That little mouse of a state that looks up quietly whilst all the other states clamber over each other for attention.  Tasmania. That is where a piece of my heart will always stay.
Being in Tasmania for a month really set apart of me ablaze, like for a moment, everything was perfect.  It was like being in a fairytale. Being surrounded by hills and mountains again, I can’t explain what I did to me. I almost cried with joy when I hopped off the plane in Launceston.  I was home again. Of course I was on holiday and everything is wistful and dreamy when you are holiday, but in ‘Tassy’, it was more-so.
Oh so much more more-so.
It was while I was in Tasmania that really I understood how much I enjoyed cooking and that I really decided to start this blog. I suppose it was a place filled with inspiration. Everything made you want to cook. but what was it that really sealed the deal you may ask? That really pushed me that little step over the edge? May be it was the long walks through the Lachlan hills, picking blackberries and shoving them into my mouth like a small child would, fingers out, lips clambering over the palm. Perhaps the Salamanca Markets and the crisp juicy apples almost sour with freshness. Or the fact you buy fresh fruit and veg from people's front yards. Was it the fact that berries and apple trees alike grew like weeds on the road side? Or the quaint little cafĂ©’s that knew how to serve a strong pot of tea along side the fresh flavors of local farms? Or perhaps it was the chill of the mountain winds that could freeze you too the bone, but made you appreciate a steaming hot meal when came back home. lavender fields that sold friands, cakes an tea all laced with that distinct purple scent. Wineries in every second back yard or stone cottages littering the countryside or even just plain nostalgia. It could be any of these things.
Actually I think it was ALL these things, but mostly, I think it was the air. Yes, the air in Tasmania made me do it, it just affected my head.

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