stronger in the broken places

My very first job was working at homewares store in Hobart. In the three years I worked there I ended up with an enormous Spode collection, some very fine cookware and intimate knowledge of knife sharpening and Wedgwood china patterns; all of which I'm sure was not usual in a girl of nineteen.

I remember a slow Sunday, unpacking a recent delivery, checking the contents against an invoice and then pricing them and putting them on the shelves.  I unwrapped this beautiful mug and as the last of the packing paper fell away, the mug promptly split into two neat halves in my hand.  It was such a shock, and I was horrified!  It was so beautiful and I was worried I'd broken it, but my colleague reassured me that with such a clean break it had probably happened in transit on the way down from the mainland.  We put it on the "write off" sheet and continued.  I asked what would happen to the pieces and was told they would just be chucked away.  I was so sad at the thought.  I am always full of intentions for creative projects (ask Tom about the time I brought a door home), and had visions of making something arty with the pieces, so I asked if I could have them.  The manager said yes, so they were wrapped in a piece of tissue and tucked into my bag, ready for a salvage operation at day's end.

When I got home, having abandoned the idea of a creative project with the pieces (again, ask Tom about the time I brought a door home!) I just went to my Dad's shed and glued them back together with superglue.  There was a slight chip at the top, just missing the iris.  I figured I'd see if it was watertight once the glue had dried.

Once it was established it was watertight and cleaned to within an inch of its life to wash away anything toxic, it was my favourite mug.

A good five years later, the repairs were still intact and I took it to Melbourne with me when I moved there. I used to make T2 herbal tisanes and drink them on my porch, looking around the garden.  I think the smell of dried lemongrass will always make me think of the first nine months in that city, discovering new places and people, having my senses reawakened.

When I packed up my belongings about a year later to move to the UK, the mug for some reason was placed in one of the boxes.  I don't know why but I couldn't bear to leave it behind.  Somehow it symbolised the years it had accompanied me through my life so far: a flawed but beautiful thing, and with the right binding to put it back together, it had been made whole and useful and beautiful again. 

By the time I was reunited with my boxes a few months later I was surprised to see it.  I had forgotten I'd packed it.  I suppose at the time I was only thinking about essentials.  What did I need?  Books, that was a given.  Warm clothes, for England was a cold country.  A teapot.  A mug to drink tea with.  That was about it.

I remember my first flat in London, my room on the ground floor of a dilapidated house in Clapham, with the fireplace in it.  I lined up all my books on the mantlepiece, and my mug went next to them.  I remember nights when I'd stay up late writing well into the night, only interrupted by hasty suppers of hummus and pitta bread, or an apple and a triangle of camembert, and always followed by a hot chocolate made in my mug.  I'd put a shot of Bailey's in if I was feeling indulgent.

Eleven years and five flats later, it's still in my cupboard. Well, more accurately, it's on my writing desk. 

Things that are broken can sometimes be put back together, and they are all the more beautiful because of the cracks, the life marks.  That's where the stories are.

You can always pick up the pieces and start again.

easy home-made bread

Easy home-made bread
Based on a recipe in You're All Invited by Margot Henderson

Makes 2 loaves of bread

750ml warm water
2 packets dried yeast or 20g fresh yeast
1kg strong white bread flour (see note)
250g wholemeal flour (see note)
25g sea salt (I use Maldon)


Note: you need 1.25kg of flour all up for this recipe and the quantities can be 50:50 if you want a more wholemeal loaf, or stick to the original recipe if you want a lighter loaf but still with the nuttiness and goodness of wholemeal.  The one in the picture is about 40 per cent white flour, 60 per cent wholemeal (because I was almost out of white!).  I use strong wholemeal flour rather than plain which is more suitable for making a loaf that is predominantly wholemeal.  If you're sticking to the original recipe you can use plain wholemeal flour.

Put 100ml of the warm water in a small bowl or jug and add the yeast, stir gently to combine and set aside in a warm place to rest for at least 10 minutes.  It will go frothy and bubbly.

Combine the flours and salt in a large bowl and make a well in the middle.  Pour in the yeast mixture and then rest of the warm water.  Mix together with your hands - I recommend removing any rings!  It helps to use the largest bowl you can, otherwise you might find it goes everywhere!  It shouldn't need more water, be patient and try to work it all together.  When it comes together it should be pliable and slightly sticky.

Turn the dough out on to a board that you've floured or rubbed with some olive oil and knead for approximately 10 minutes.  Place the dough in a bowl, that you've also floured or oiled, cover with a tea-towel and leave to rise in a warm place for an hour or until the dough has doubled in size.

Take the dough out of the bowl and knead again for about 10 minutes.  Divide it in half. Either shape into two loaves, or shape one dough into a loaf and put one dough into a bowl, cover with cling-film and put in the fridge for baking another day (I leave it for three days and it's fine - bring the dough back to room temperature before kneading, shaping and baking though).

Place the loaf/loaves on a lightly oiled baking tray and place again in a warm place until they have almost doubled in size again.

Preheat the oven to 180 C/160 C fan oven/ 350 F/gas 4 and bake the bread for 40 minutes. Tap the bottom of the bread after this time: it should sound hollow.  If it still sounds dense give it a bit longer.  Leave to cool on a rack.  Don't be tempted to cut a slice straight away, it will fall apart right in your hands.  Let it cool for a good half an hour before tucking in.

best-ever vegetarian nut roast

If you think nut roast is a boring vegetarian cliche, think again!

This little beauty is chock full of delicious nuts, seeds and spices that come together in a taste sensation. Don't be put off by the number of ingredients - most of these are lurking in the average spice rack and it comes together really quickly and easily. It works brilliantly as a roast dinner but also anywhere you would normally use mince, such as in a bolognese sauce, "meat" balls, rissoles, chilli or shepherds pie.

If you're making it for Christmas or Easter, you can add lots of allspice and nutmeg in addition to the named spices for a lovely festive flavour, and wrap the nut mixture in puff pastry to make a delicious Wellington-esque dish, or make sausage rolls with the mixture. The possibilities are endless! I hope you'll love it as much as I do.

BEST-EVER VEGETARIAN NUT ROAST

Serves 6

• 1-2 tablespoons olive oil
• 200g (1 large bag) walnut pieces
• 100g (half a large bag) whole almonds
• 200g other mixed nuts (I tend to use cashews, pine nuts and pecans)
• 1 cup sunflower seeds
• 2 teaspoons sweet smoked paprika
• 2 teaspoons fennel seeds
• 1 teaspoon mustard seeds
• 1 teaspoon coriander seeds
• 2 teaspoons mixed spice
• Roughly 1½ cups breadcrumbs (add more if too wet)
• 1 egg
• 1 x 400g can chopped tomatoes, drained (reserve the juices for gravy)
• 2 large handfuls fresh flat leaf parsley
• 2 teaspoons Vegemite or Marmite
• Juice of ½ a lemon
• 1/4 cup grated strong vegetarian Cheddar cheese
• ¾ of a medium red onion
• 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Grease and line a large loaf tin and set aside. If you're cooking the roast straight away (see further), preheat the oven to 180C (fan).

Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan on medium-high heat. Once the pan is hot, toast the nuts, seeds and spices, tossing everything to coat well. Be very careful and do not let it burn. Toast for a few minutes, or until the mixture is fragrant and starting to turn golden, then turn off the heat and let it cool slightly.

Add the cooled nuts and spices to the bowl of a food processor. Add all other ingredients. Blitz until thoroughly combined, or combined to your liking (it can be nice if left a little chunky). You might need to stop and scrape it down a few times. If it's too wet, add more breadcrumbs. If it's too dry, add a little water, reserved tomato juice or even a dash of red wine if you've got some handy!

Place in the prepared pan and ideally leave for a few hours (or overnight is even better) in the fridge to let the flavours deepen and the loaf firm up. If you're in a hurry you can cook it straight away, but ideally give it at least an hour's resting time.

Preheat oven to 180C (fan). When ready, cook the roast for 45 minutes to an hour until firm and golden. Allow it to cool slightly before carving then serve with gravy and all your favourite roast vegetables.

chilli cheese toast with a fried egg

My standard brunch tends to go through phases. After having one of the tastiest breakfast rolls in my life in Sydney in December 2011, my standard go-to Sunday brunch for years was a ciabatta roll with pesto, halloumi, red pepper and a fried egg. For which I am still happy to provide the recipe. It really is so good - for a time, I considered setting up a stand outside Amersham station (which was our local station for a while, in 2013-14) to rival the bacon sandwich man. I thought it would be a lucrative venture. Seriously, those egg-halloumi-pesto rolls were the best. 

But lately things have shifted and chilli cheese toast with a fried egg on top is what Tom and I find ourselves eating on the weekends. I had a similar dish at Dishoom for brunch and loved it so much, making it at home was the next logical step. 

The chutneys that I make this toast with are something of a revelation, and making them has become an obsession of mine. I have embraced my inner Mary Berry and become something of a chutney-maker this last year. There's something so satisfying about putting a pan of ingredients on to simmer on a Sunday afternoon, coming back after an hour and the house has been infused with the sharp smell of spices, ginger and chilli and the sweetness of garlic and tomato.

I much prefer chutneys to jams. They are so versatile, you can put a dollop on top of a curry, soup, a piece of grilled tofu, halloumi or fish. Or spoon directly out of the jar, as I sometimes do.

The two I currently make in regular rotation are: the tomato kasundi from Anna Jones' excellent cookbook The Modern Cook's Year, which I highly recommend; and the aubergine and tamarind chutney from Jackie Kearney's Vegan Street Food, which is also one of my most cooked from cookbooks. Both of them are spicy and have a fierce kick from the chilli, and a tangy sourness that I find so addictive. I couldn't find these specific recipes made available by their creators online but if you google the names, you should be able to find something similar (or buy the books, they are both wonderful and I cook from them a lot). Or use a store-bought chilli chutney, they are very easy to find. But it goes without saying that you should buy the best you can afford. This not a dish on which to skimp, particularly the cheese!

Cheese on toast was one of the first things I learned to make as a child (Anzac biscuits were the first, then pancakes) and while what follows here is hardly a recipe, this is how I do it. 

Chilli cheese toast with a fried egg

For 2

4 pieces of good sourdough bread
Your favourite chilli-spiked spicy chutney or sauce, as much as you like
Some piquant mayonnaise (optional, but does help offset the spiciness. I like to use Japanese Kewpie mayo)
Grated mature cheddar cheese, as much as you like
2 or 4 eggs (depending on whether you're having one or two each)
Olive oil or cooking spray
Freshly ground black pepper
Sprigs of fresh coriander or parsley, or finely chopped spring onion (optional)
A side of wilted, lemon-dressed spinach if you're feeling virtuous (optional)

Preheat your oven to 220 C (fan-forced).

Line a baking tray with foil or baking paper. Place the bread on the tray. Top each slice of bread with spoonfuls of your chosen chilli chutney and spread around to cover the surface of the bread. Evenly squeeze on a little bit of mayonnaise, if using. 

Top the bread with grated cheddar to completely cover the bread.

Bake in the oven for 5 minutes or until golden and bubbling. 

While the toast is in the oven, heat a splash of oil in a frying pan over high heat (or spray the frying pan with cooking spray). Once the pan is hot, crack in your eggs and fry until they are cooked to your liking. I usually cover the pan for a minute so the top of the egg steam-cooks but the bottom remains lacy and crispy.

The toast prior to egg being put on top! 

Put the chilli cheese toast on plates, place the fried egg/s on top, grind some freshly ground pepper on top and scatter the fresh herbs/spring onion if using.

Allow the toast to cool slightly. Then prepare for a taste sensation. 

belong to nobody but yourself

Simone de Beauvoir (source)

‘In order to write, in order to be able to achieve anything at all, you must first of all belong to nobody but yourself.’ - Simone de Beauvoir responding to Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One's Own, in a 1966 lecture called ‘Women and Creativity.’

I have been a (silent) fan of fellow Australian writer Louise Omer (formerly Heinrich) for years. Today, browsing through my Feedly in between bits of spicy leftover rice noodles at my desk, I saw she had updated her website, with a different name. Curious, I read on and clicked on the article she shared which explained why.

I find it interesting that we (and by we, I mean society) are always curious about why a woman changes her name, or doesn't. We assume so many things.

If you've been reading me for a while, you'll know I didn't take Tom's surname when we got married eight years ago and no one has ever questioned that decision, least of all him. But sixteen years ago I did take my first husband's surname and I was very excited to, because the idea of being an entirely different person was kind of the point of the whole thing (something I can only acknowledge looking back).

Strangely, I would have taken Tom's surname if he had really wanted me to…but he didn’t. And that signalled to me that I’d made the right choice. A man for whom that was vitally important would not have been the right man for me to marry. 

The world is no doubt on the cusp of change, and hopefully it won't always be this way, but it's weird that a woman changing her name or choosing what name she will be known by, still feels like a political act. But to me, and it sounds like to Louise as well, it was a deeply personal way to reclaim my identity and do what felt right to me, in my bones, not just what the convention was. It was time, as Louise says, "for my grown-up name." Which in my case had been my name all along. 

But for others, their "grown up name" is taking the surname of the person they love and have chosen to spend their life with. Which is totally fine too. We're all just making our private, personal choices. We are all different - a fact that hasn't really been reflected in how women have been treated and expected to behave over the past few centuries. 

Perhaps it comes back to this idea that many of us still feel inhibited when it comes to meeting our own needs. Being selfish, I suppose, which I was raised to think of as a bad thing to be and something to avoid at all costs. But the flipside of that is that you suppress your feelings and desires because you learn early on that expressing them is not safe. In the end you become numb to them and on the rare occasions you are asked directly what you want, you have no idea. 

And there's the "selfishness" you need, in order to create, in order to be an artist. For men this never seems to be an issue but for women it always surfaces at some point. I listened to a podcast a few weeks ago, an interview with American novelist Stephanie Danler, whose words stopped me in my tracks:

"The reasons I left my marriage were not clearcut but they had something to do with writing the book. And that has always felt like a very ugly thing to talk about. There was a point where I felt I had to either choose my life with my husband - the one we had spent six years building together - or I had to choose myself and my novel. And even with the success Sweetbitter has had, I still to this day don't know whether I've made the right choice. But this is the one I'm living with.....I couldn't have done it [written the book] in the relationship I was in, not because it wasn't supportive....but because I couldn't be selfish in the way I found was necessary for me to create. I feel that's a bit of a taboo, it's not something I find women talking about often - is that you actually might have to be deeply, deeply, painfully selfish in order to make art a priority."

 It’s funny. As I get older and (hopefully) mature, I feel I know my younger self better now than I ever did then. Every time I'm brave enough to confront something in myself, or I read articles like this or listen to podcasts with people who have also been through a divorce young, another lightbulb goes off, another penny drops and I think, yes, that was it, that was what I did, that was what I thought, that was me too. 

I long for the day when it will no longer be radical for a woman to belong to nobody but herself.