Etcetera - 5th Anniversary & Rejuvenation

Normal service has resumed, hasn't it? I think so. Well, while it may have resumed on the calendar, on the fifth year anniversary of this blog I feel I need to refocus and rejuvenate - get back to the original idea of having a food blog and blogging about other things, whatever they may be.

This comes after some time spent pondering as to whether or not to continue blogging. But in January I was inspired by other blogs (some food, some non-food) and it hit me that I did want to continue. From now I will be moving in the direction I first envisaged. Bear with me - I'd love that.

With that in mind, I'm leaving you with my favourite books of 2015. There were many good ones to choose from, as well as some re-reads, but these two held a special place in my bookworm heart. Both use the landscape around them in such an evocative way as to immerse the reader completely in the storytelling.

Mr Mac & Me   -   Esther Freud
As a long-time admirer of Scottish architect, designer & artist, Charles Rennie Mackintosh, it was with some trepidation I opened this book. I need not have feared, this gently unfolding story, based on an episode in CRM's life, held me captive throughout its gentle pace. Set at the outbreak of War World 1 in a Suffolk coastal village (a place where Mackintosh and his artist wife, Margaret McDonald, spent some time and which is also the author's home), the narrator, a 12-year old local boy, Thomas, is both suspicious and interested in the artists' lives. Thomas's talent in drawing draws the boy and couple together. The only part which felt out of place was the ending.

Burial Rites - Hannah Kent
In an accomplished first novel, Burial Rites takes the reader to 19th century rural Iceland. As an exchange student in Iceland, the author was fascinated by the real life story of a young woman accused of murder which gave her the inspiration to write her own fictional account. A superb, moving evocation of landscape, isolation, injustice and hardship and the people who inhabit the land.

I found this photo essay very beneficial as a companion to the book.

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Baking - There was a whole lotta baking going on at the weekend.  Saturday’s predicted “weather bomb” showed up as gusts of wind and showers so baking in a warm kitchen seemed the right thing to do.

I’d started a barm brack loaf the night before – just because my partner loves it. Instead of soaking the dried fruit and sugar in Earl Grey tea, I used the fragrant Kiwi Christmas Tea from NZ Live loose tea (yep, Christmas came and went without it being opened).   The smell alone was enough to convince me it would spice up the tea loaf in a good way.  And it did.  A blend of Assam tea, chocolate, orange, clove, star anise and cinnamon, with manuka leaf and pink peppercorns (wow, that’s a lot of star attractions), gave the loaf a gorgeous spicy flavour and turned it a warm reddish colour.  It may permanently replace the Earl Grey.

Next up were some Monte Carlo biscuits (more of in another post).  And following on from my stint in the kitchen, my daughter made a caramelised apple pie.  It's all going down rather well!

Appearing everywhere - Often when I‘m considering blogging about a recipe or ingredient I suddenly see that same thing occur everywhere – it’s a really strange phenomenon.  Reading The Kindness Of Your Nature by Linda Olsson (a book which I highly recommend), the main character was asked to name things she liked and one of her preferences were blood oranges.  I love the appearance of a blood orange and the name.  It conjures up something both rare and exotic, which is odd because you’d think the word “blood” would put you off.  Next thing, I was browsing the web and blood oranges were everywhere.  OK I exaggerate they were here and here and here (with mango oranges which I have never heard of).  But really, is it just coincidence that they kept cropping up, seasonal activity or something else (cue strange paranormal activity music)?

Ballet – At the opening night of NYC staged by the Royal New Zealand Ballet, I noticed there were lots of young women in the crowd.  For those who watch the behind the scenes TV programme, The Secret Lives of Dancers, Sergio has arrived and is hot!  Gasps of delight accompanied his “stripped to the waist” stroll across the stage in the second act.  This man has one hell of a body. As one tweet summed it up, “the walk alone was worth the admission price”.  Apart from the smouldering Sergio, the ballet was the best I’ve seen from the RNZ Ballet – youthful, energetic, and sexy, with some outstanding solo performances.

Updating - I’ve been removing links to blogs that haven’t posted in a while.  So if you’re missing, it’s not that I don’t love you anymore, it’s just that you’re not around.  Let me know when you’re back.

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Time to reflect.  I love going for walks in the bush (forest) and leaving work behind at the end of the day. While it may not have the incline of the road walk, it is therapeutic, full of peace and quiet except for the birds and the movement of wind and trees (and the odd tractor noise from adjoining fields, but that’s fine). 

Good food craving.  I’ve been enjoying the moments in between Christmas lunches, dinners and treats, when I return to more wholesome food.  Porridge for breakfast. I am not perfect so it is sprinkled with brown sugar, but less than normal.  And no craving at mid-morning coffee break for anything other than two chocolate covered coffee beans. I told you I wasn’t perfect.

At last, a movie. One wet Sunday after meeting my sister at Teed St Larder in Newmarket, Auckland (and bumping into the lovely Mairi from Toast), a stroll along the shops wasn’t on the cards.  Sister had to go to Smith & Caughey (department store) to purchase both a Christmas and a birthday present for me.  I used this as the perfect opportunity to escape Christmas shopping and indulge myself – so I headed off to the Rialto for Midnight in Paris. 

Not from the film, but our own night shot of Paris

Normally I avoid films with Owen Wilson but a Paris location and Woody Allen directing were the drawcards.  I’d not long finished reading The Paris Wife by Paula McLain, a fictional account of Ernest Hemingway’s relationship with his first wife, set in Paris.  The book and film shared some of the same characters – Hemingway (although his “Paris wife” was absent in the film), Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein and Alice B Toklas, to name a few.  It was a nice segue from one form of media to another and a really pleasant way to spend a wet Sunday afternoon, although it did make me laugh that it was raining in onscreen Paris too.

December’s book club featured The Hare with Amber Eyes by Edmund de Waal. I have not yet read this but I really want to after listening to everyone’s comments.  Julie said she wished every book she read made her feel the way she did when she closed the pages.  How lovely is that?

Book club treats this time around – mini Christmas puddings; the yummiest, softest rocky road I’ve ever had (I have failed to understand rocky road but now I do!); white dusted, crescent-shaped Christmas biscuits and muscatels draped alongside blue brie served on caraway seed bread (the sole savoury bite).  

Vistas - I’m looking at a white horse in a field in the distance, reminiscent of the White Horse whisky advert.  No cars, no people just the horse and the wind unsettling everything as it passes through.  I like having little vistas – whether it’s looking out the window and framing a scene in your mind or creating little areas in your home.  Taking pleasure in beauty.  Do you have little areas of your home or garden that you like to linger on?

Wishing you a peaceful and happy Christmas.


I have given up with Blogger - it keeps adding spaces where there are none, hmmm.

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I missed out on seeing any Auckland Film Festival films this year.  But I have seen…

Bill Cunningham New York

Movie/documentary

I admire creative people. I wish I could be more imaginative.  I envy those who work daily with their passion in life.  This charming documentary follows Bill Cunningham, a photographer in his eighties, as he rides his pedal bike or stands on street corners snapping people who catch his eye, covering society events and capturing the city’s nightlife for the New York Times.  Fashion is Bill’s passion in life and he lives it obsessively.  Attending numerous events (and turning down quite a collection of invites too) such is his integrity that he doesn’t accept even a glass of water whilst working as he does not want to be obliged to anyone.  What a breath of fresh air.  I stepped out onto the street after the movie smiling and wanting to be kind to people.  It has that effect.  It has such heart.  Go see it.

Afternoons with Margueritte

Movie

Yes, I spelt Margueritte correctly – it’s Margueritte with two t’s as the little old lady points out. 

Treated as the village idiot by other inhabitants and even worse by his own mother, Germain (Gerard Depardieu) meets a petite, elegant lady in her 90s in a park he frequents to feed the birds.  A friendship develops and Margueritte introduces him to the world of books.

Friends who’d seen this French movie all recommended it. I don’t know, perhaps I just wasn’t in the mood but I found it slightly irritating, ponderous, at times implausible and verging on slapstick.  Did Gerard Depardieu write into his contract that he had to have a very young lover?  I can’t think of another reason why a sexy and attractive young woman would be in a relationship with this character – sorry, it was bordering on creepy.  Does a supposedly barely literate man start reading effortlessly in such a short time, gliding over each word without pause?  I thought not.  Perhaps I’m just too cynical?  But you don’t have to listen to me.  Apparently I’m in the minority, so view it for yourself.

I should have gone to see this film instead.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2

Movie

Finally I got to see this at the Rialto in Newmarket, Auckland.   I recommend an early morning sitting if, like me, you want to avoid the texting, feet on seats, talking, giggling at inappropriate moments audience you might normally find at such films (they’re still in their beds).  Bliss - there was only one other person present (adult with no apparent cellphone nor restless foot and mouth), and I had a lovely coffee to sip. 

And the film? I’m always apprehensive I will dislike movies I have high hopes for.  No disappointments here.  The stylized darkness of more recent HP films is still evident – a disarming bird’s eye shot of the Hogwarts’ rampart with dark, sombre students almost frog marching was quite chilling.  There's enough action but not excessive. I’m not much into action films.  Is it just me or has there been a glut of giant trolls in films since Lord of the Rings?  Oh yes, I know, the script called for giants.  Groan.  Every time I see one I think of Weta workshop and there goes the magic!

The sad moments were mercifully consigned to the background (well, Dobbie dying in the last one was enough for me, thanks) and although it was a more serious chapter, the humour was still evident.

And that’s it, the end of the books and the films.  I have lost my voice on occasions or choked back tears reading the books to my daughter when she was younger.  It was a lovely connection we had together and now it’s all over.  Bye bye Harry Potter, we loved you!

If you’d like some more film reviews, visit this link to Plum Kitchen and see how she uses  “tractor” ratings to rank movies  – very amusing. 

And read this book.

Hand Me Down World

Lloyd Jones

I purchased this book at midday one day, starting reading it at 4 o’clock to get in a few hours reading.  Next day, I sat in the sun at lunch reading for half an hour, then read solid for two hours when I got home.  By 6pm I had closed the last page.  Whew!  But why?  Well, to be in time to discuss it at book club, that’s why.  Like me, one of our book club members had done the same.  We’d both read reviews that implied there was a twist to the tale.  So the dilemma – do we limit everyone to talking around the book and avoiding spoiling it for us?  Or, do we push to finish it. This was the kind of book that made me want to keep turning the pages.  Drawn in from the start, I was captivated.  It was satisfying to devour it in a couple of sessions as a continuous flow without forgetting where I’d got to in the plot the last time I put it down.  

The novel is the story of a mysterious woman, whose child is taken from her, and we follow her journey from Tunisia to Berlin to find the boy.  Except she’s not telling the story.  The author uses people the woman meets along the way to recount her journey.  The truth or versions of the truth unfold slowly.  Finally, readers get to hear the woman’s own personal account.  This is a beautifully written, haunting story about identity, other people’s perceptions, survival and motherhood that you will want to read again. 

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The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake

Aimee Bender

I’ve tried not to give too much away of the plot.  If in doubt, don’t read.

If you read my last Etcetera you’ll know how much I had anticipated the arrival of this book. But having heard whisperings of it - something a little strange and weird - I hesitantly turned each page.  Something disquieting was happening and I was soon to realize that the quirky title and light-hearted cover design belied the wistful story inside. 

Rose, 9 years old, is given a slice of lemon cake her mother has baked.   That is when she discovers she has a gift – she is able to taste and feel the emotions of the person who made the food.  In her mother’s case, the tastes she feels are ones of upset, distance and hollowness.  My mother’s hands had made the cake … but she was not there, in it.  From then on, eating food becomes a huge burden for Rose and as she ages we follow her journey through her feelings and thoughts about her gift; her relationships with her family; her school girl crush on her brother’s friend; to her awareness and an eventual kind of acceptance. 

Rose is a believable and likeable character.  She shows maturity way beyond her years and in spite of her gift appears to be the only “normal” one in her family.  Her parents and brother are less well drawn.  Perhaps this is intended to highlight their self-absorption and withdrawal from each other. Rose tries to anchor the family together, reassuring her mother and keeping secrets; trying to find a common bond with her father and to connect with her brother.  But in the end Rose must make her own way in life and find a way to live with her gift.

So far so good, but when the novel moves its focus to Rose’s brother, Joseph, it takes off in a different direction, one that I just found weird and not in any way as convincing as the first part of the book. The reason for Joe’s disappearances was confusing (I had to go back and reread it to see if I’d missed something).  It wasn’t satisfactorily explained. From this point, I felt less interested in the outcome and the remainder of the read was perfunctory.

If you ask me whether I liked it, I’ll tell you that I don’t know.  It was not what I expected, for sure. I can only say that it was a beautiful, melancholy read for the most part but overall it left me unfulfilled. The writing was beautiful and Rose’s childhood and teenage experiences were utterly convincing but in the end it was just a little too weird. I would still say read it – many people have loved this book.  I wanted to love it too.  I just didn’t.

A Family in Paris – Stories of food, life and adventure

Jane Paech

And so from kicking leaves to skipping through them, I picked up this book.  A memoir from Australian, Jane Paech, of observations, stories and anecdotes of the joys and maddening frustrations of living in Paris, this book was so enjoyable and amusing.  One of the delights of Paris is discovering what’s in each shop window or around each corner and so it is with this book.  Beautiful design and layout, great photos, easy, intelligent writing and thoughtful inclusions of her favourite places, this book will either make you want to go there or return.  I’m already making my list.