Archive for the ‘I ate this’ Category

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Friday is good because

April 6, 2012

Did somebody say buns?

20120406-200433.jpg

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Some plans

April 5, 2012

The Curmudgeon is making hot cross buns. I am watching one of those train-wreck shows about hoarders until Noel Fielding’s new telly show starts. Soon I will to bed, for tomorrow we rise at dawn to eat buns. That is why it is called Good Friday. Because Buns are Good.

Oh, and then on Sunday? Really, really early? I’m going to get up and go to the airport and go to America for a month.

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Meet my new-found cholesterol problem

July 14, 2011

I just bought BAKE by the Australian Women’s Weekly after some years of drooling covetousness. Now I feel obliged to make everything in there before I die. It may hasten my death. But it will be a good death – buttery, moist, and adorned with chocolate curls.

First recipe made – lemon butter and almond slice – was flipping incredible. Bodes well for future BAKE endeavours.

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Four days of Sydney sunshine

August 31, 2010

Oh boy, that was nice. First, there was the bit where we didn’t go to work on Friday or Monday.

OK, there was the bit where our hotel was really naff. But that might be because I chose it for its proximity to the best bakery in the world – Bourke St Bakery in Surry Hills. Specifically: its proximity to their ginger brulee tarts.

But in Sydney it’s important to…

One way you might achieve this is to shop in a classy Sydney boutique:

Errr, yess.

It’s also important to look right at the Fifties Fair. Here are the fabulous finalists in the best-dressed comp:

Ms Olive Floral second from left won. Her prize? I got her dress. We both win! Hurrah!

What else, what else….

More Fifties Fair lovelies. Big crowd!

And some wandering housewives..

And, of course, we missed the Squid so much that we talked to every dog we encountered. Even if sometimes they weren’t very interactive:

But all good things must bugger off. We’re back home in Melbourne rain (wettest winter since the mid nineties! Hurrah!). And while we were away, Spring started.

So, how was your weekend?

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Head toxins

August 1, 2010

I was rabbiting on about something or other yesterday morning, who knows what, when it became clear that the Curmudgeon wasn’t really listening to me.

“I’m sorry Lady, it’s just that your hair is so big. I’m looking at this tiny round face amid a mass of hair.”

My usual gauge for when I need a haircut is when it starts looking like the follicular statement sported by Lyn from Neighbours:

but maybe this time I’ve ignored the warning signs. Perhaps it’s what’s been causing my sore neckĀ  – it’s not that I “suffer from inefficient draining of toxins from my head*” but that my hair is larger than my neck can support.

In happier news, yesterday I made the calculator cake I’ve been promising to make for the Curmudgeon for about three years:

calculator cake

I hope it inspires the same puerile snickering in y’all that it did for us. I always enjoyed the humour of 5,318,008 more than the other classic number, 71,077,345.

*hilarious quote in the ludicrous Sunday magazine’s alternative therapy column last week. I believe it comes from one who proclaims expertise in aromatherapy and kinesiology. It made me laugh so hard that I hurt my neck.

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Sushi train

June 3, 2010

LIfe-long dream realised this evening: I sat at a sushi train and plucked plastic platters from its conveyor belt. I dream of a world where every restaurant gives me the opportunity to sit on my ample behind and the food parades past. Hell, it doesn’t have to be a restaurant. My own kitchen would do.

We sat next to two very earnest ladies in their 20s who were talking about VERY important heart-to-heart things the way earnest young ladies do sometimes. As soon as we walked out, we started swapping some of the gold nuggets our ears had harvested:

  • “It’s the same place that Pink gets her toes done when she’s in town.”
  • “I found this Maori proverb I like, it goes… um… if you turn your face to the light, the shadows will fall behind you. Or something like that.”
  • “He lied to me about his age. He’s six months younger than me, right? But he made it less, like he was only two months younger. It’s not that bad, but it was still lying.”
  • ‘This is why I don’t want to get into a relationship. Hang on, that text is from him. Oh my god!”
  • “I’m going to try door-bitching for a while.”

They were AWESOME.