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countryhorizons_bvmarketsroadsigntotownIt is normally a sleepy little village. Its 180 odd residents living a quiet life tucked under the shadows of the southern Liverpool Plains mountain ranges, at the very beginnings of the Mooki River that will weave its way across the plains to Gunnedah. The bustle of school traffic, children’s laughter in the playground and the toll of the bell are the only sounds that would break the quiet air during the day.

I know at least one day of the year when the population of Blackville would more than triple.

I witnessed it last Sunday.

The annual Blackville Arts and Market Day.

The road from Curlewis to Blackville was picturesque as the remarkable realm of the Liverpool Plains shone in the morning sun. A carpet of green crops, fading yellow canola and fallowed black clay rolled out in front of us, a band of hazy blue of the mountain ranges bordering the panorama. Pockets of trees lined paddocks, cattle and sheep enjoyed their morning feed as, across the plains farming families finished their morning chores.

Blackville is not really on the way to somewhere or the way from anywhere. It is about a 40 minute drive from Quirindi to the north-west and Merriwa to the south, as the crow flies. I recall my dad used to refer to the Blackville area as “gods own country” – if there was a hint of rain in the skies Blackville seems to always get it.

We rounded the final bend and were greeted by ‘road closed’ signs just past the town signage. There are few places that can close off the main thoroughfare of town for markets. Blackville can, and did.

Smiling faces of the local committee greeted us, the hospitality of rural Australia evident in the air.

Welcome to Blackville.

The stall owners stood behind their wares, a sense of pride as they happily showcased their goods. From watercolour paintings, jewellery of many shapes and material, fashion, wood crafts, hand dyed scarves, straw bags, metal ornaments, clay homewares, photography, home furnishings, local produce from the plains and the tastiest honey I have had for some time. It was an exciting array of goodies.

The homemade lime and coconut cake was delectable with my morning coffee, enjoyed in the spring sun with a wisp of a breeze keeping the heat at bay. We watched younger ones tuck into fairy floss, washed down with a frozen cup of pure delight as a duet played gentle music to entertain.

Ahh this is how Sunday should be!

After our fill of tastes and a bag full of goodies we set off on a different route home. I am a bit like my father in that I try to never travel the same road twice on a road trip. We circled back to Spring Ridge and a pit stop at the local Royal Hotel. The residents of Spring Ridge wont go hungry while ever they have the burgers at the Royal!

One cant help but relax snuggled in this country.

Sunday road trip.

Family, spring, fresh air.

Living a dream.

 

 

Some great stalls that were there:

Food River Station – produce and gift ware profiling the great Liverpool Plains

Wattle Tree Love – lovely hand dyed scarves

Colourful bags and baskets

Buzz Honey – The best honey for a long time – Phone 0429 074 520

or head to the Blackville Arts and Markets Facebook page for more information.

The whale kingdom

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Malo le’ le’…again. I promised I would return and I did. I fell in love with the contagious smiles and welcoming embrace of the Kingdom of Tonga last year and I do believe I left a piece of my heart drifting gently through the cerulean waters of this island paradise.

A few weeks back I journeyed again to connect and renew, if only for a short time.

The capital city Nukualofa maybe a bit more bustling, the western influences maybe slowly creeping into its veins but once you voyage to one of the outer islands the slow-paced bustle is left far far behind and you are vortexed into a postcard. The waters, every shade of blue, turquoise and aqua are as deep as forever. The sun warmed our winter weary bodies as we were resuscitated by the dashes of island breeze that fluttered in the air.

A small boat ferried us to our island escape on Kapa, just a stone throw from the main island of Vava’u, where our host welcomed us with a warmth we had grown to expect from this Kingdom. One cannot help but just relax and fall into an island way of living, the clocks are few, the technology connections to the outside world intermittent, the call of the ocean mesmerising.

As a new day was heralded with a postcard sunrise we packed way too many belongings for a day on the water to search for the regal majesties of the ocean – the humpback whales. I am an ‘in case packer’ – I packed a large backpack for the day, in case we got wet, in case we needed some food, in case we needed an extra battery, in case the boat broke down and we necountryhorizons_tonga_reefresort_sunriseeded to spend a night on the water, in case, in case, in case. And of course, used very little of it!

On the whale tour boat (Beluga Diving) we met travellers from the across the globe, all with a similar wish.

The Japanese ladies were kitted with the iPhone in water proof pouches hung around the neck. If you ever wondered if these work – they do! We dived, we snorkelled, we were in and out of the boat and the iPhone survived brilliantly.

The Intense Italian was so concentrated and really dominated the personality of the boat. He was equipped with large DLSR cameras – one he spent more time keeping dry and free of salt spray than actually using, the other enclosed in a mammoth water proof case that took several people to lift back into boat each time.

And an Australian couple from Brisbane, Simon and Allison. Seasoned travellers who dive and snorkel regularly off the coast of the Queensland. It was good to have kin folk close by, even if I did feel a novice as this was the only second time I had worn snorkel gear.

Day One was a tad windy and the waters choppy. The calming island zephyr had decided to whip up enough to make the whales head to deeper, calmer waters. We spotted a few, jumped in to observe underwater when possible but the main act hadn’t read the script.

As we farewelled our whale-seeking-friends at the end of day, our skins parched by the island sun and wind we wished them safe travels, never believing we would see them again.

Until we met the boat the next day.

To our surprise and delight we were teamed again with the Japanese ladies and our Brisbane couple, small world sometimes. And I arrived with less ‘in case’ luggage – it was me, my snorkel gear and sunscreen today. I have to admit it was liberating.

The Intense Italian had been replaced by a young French Wanderer, travelling the world post doctorate before settling into the hum drum of mature living. Yes, a small amount of envy and a great amount of admiration for solo travelling women such as she.

What a magical day.

Within a short time of leaving shore we came across a mother and her new babe. Our Tongan guide was first in the water, establishing a relationship with her in a language that seems to cross between them in silence. We are just visitors to this timeless world of the Tongan people and their whales.

In groups of four we slid softly into the water and as quietly as possible swam close the mother and baby. I felt a bond to the resplendent mother of the blue ocean as she moved slowly, buoyed by the natural currents of the water. Her baby exuded an energy that all young seem to have as it ducked and weaved, from side to side, top to under. I could not help but relate to a time when my babes were young and rarely sat quietly in my lap!

As other travellers busily clicked their cameras and jockeyed to a position to make that ‘like-worthy’ shot I was happy to just be. The desire to capture for perpetuity can take away from just taking in the experience that is unfolding in front of you. I left that for others.

The serendipity of the moment hypnotised me. A lump rose in my throat, my mask fogged with tears unchecked, a soft choir of an ocean song echoed in my ears as I was suspended in the water magnetised and connected to this mother of the ocean. As our eyes met amongst the sunbeams dancing through the water I hope she could hear me say she was doing a great job with her babe and safe journey back to the cooler waters of the world.

And then is was over. We left the new family in peace, reminding ourselves we are purely observers to the main act and our time of theatre was over.

Malo. Thank you. My heart still stays, I will return again.

 

Footnotes and travel tips:

We stayed at the Reef Resort. I highly recommend this as a place to stay. It only has 5 cabins so only a few other guests at any one time. The Japanese coral gardens on your doorstep are wonderful to discover with snorkelling. Host, Herwig is very very helpful and a wonderful host. Hannes and Julia are top chefs – the food was amazing and they are always smiling and offering to help in any way.

Herwig booked our whale swim tours for us through Beluga Diving. Biggest tip is to book these well in advance of your travels. I did not realise this and nearly missed out! Book at least two days, preferable three. Cost is about 400TOP (= ~ 235 $AUS) per person per day.

We travelled to VaVau’ via Nukualofa but have since learnt that VaVau’ is an international airport and you can travel via Fiji. The flight times are a bit more reasonable via Fiji.

Half time oranges and Tee Vee Snacks

The crisp dark night took me back. The scent of the frost settling on the orange tree picked me up and gently eased me back into the old lounge with its well-used green chairs, open fire and stripe shag pile carpet.countryhorizons_oranges1

State of Origin football night was a family affair, complete with oranges at half time. After a hearty meal of meat and three veg the first of the children would get a seat on the lounge, the last spreading on the floor in front of the fire. Mum with her knitting and dad commanding the TV to watch the weather and then settle for the football. No remote control to flick through the stations – but we only had two channels to choose from so it wasn’t such a chore.

Out the front of the house was a prolific orange tree, the envy of many visitors and travellers. Every year we waited with patience for the first frost as the fruit always seemed to be sweeter once the bite of Jack Frost heralded in the winter air. We enjoyed fruit on tap for months.

At half time in the footy we were sent out in the bitter dark cold to grab a few oranges off the tree for our dessert. Mum would sit with a towel in her lap and lovingly peel the oranges to share as we settled in for the finish of the game. She had a knack of keeping the peel in one long length that snaked to her lap as she unwrapped nature’s vitamin C offering.

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No wifi, no checking social media status, no idea what our friends or other family were doing at that very moment. We didn’t care. We were engrossed in capturing the sweet juice as it slipped down our chins, savouring the sweet flavours that tingled our buds in the warmth of our family home and writing memories for later.

 

That warm family lounge sparks another jolt in the memory banks and one I still recall every time I see Tee Vee Snacks in the shopping aisle. To this day they are a special treat, almost a forbidden sweetness. My dad had a routine many years ago of buying the afternoon newspaper and a box of Tee Vee Snacks on his way home of an evening. For those who don’t know they are a plain crunchy biscuit, about bite size that has been dipped in dark chocolate. Just enough chocolate to satisfy the taste buds and allow you to think you haven’t been too naughty!CHN_0209_tvsnacks3

My dad would wait until we went off to bed before settling in to enjoy the quiet of the evening while reading his paper and savouring the Tee Vee Snack biscuits…except for the last few. I never knew whether he left them on purpose or he had his fill but there was always a few left. Left for my brothers and I to sneak in and find the next morning. We felt so secretive, whispering as we cautiously investigated the discarded box hiding amongst the well read pages of yesterdays news left beneath his chair.

Oh how naughty they tasted, eating the forbidden sweet biscuits while mum stirred the porridge over the wood stove in the kitchen. They were too special to crunch, you HAD to leave in your mouth until you sucked the dark chocolate away from the biscuit, making the  illicit discovery last for as long as possible. All while keeping watch to make sure we weren’t caught, though I’m sure they knew what we were doing!

Like all children I thought I knew it all. I appreciated the magical tastes of forbidden biscuit and chocolate and the sweetness of a freshly picked orange, peeled with love and enjoyed in family warmth. What more could there be?

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It was then I was introduced to the ultimate sweet flavour sensation found in a packet. I am sure most have enjoyed a freckle at some time – those little round disc of heavenly chocolate sprinkled with 100 and 1000’s.

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Have you ever tried combining them with a raspberry sweet?

Or sampled a raspberry – freckle sandwich?

It is superb. The crunch of the little coloured round pearls of pure sugar, the creaminess of the chocolate combined with the squishy flavour of the raspberry.

Gee Whillikers! A naughty explosion of heaven that dances on your tastebuds. Just try stopping at one.

You are welcome 🙂

Hard Timers

I don’t know what made me think of them or even remember what I was doing at the time. Was it when I spotted the rusted cake tin for sale in the antique shop as I was whiling away the hours waiting for mums operation to be over? The tin with the faded white flowers, dented from wear, stained from working men sweat and dust interspersed with the rusty red of time.

 

If I could see the fingerprints embedded in its crust who would I see? The shearer grabbing the last of home baking as he pulled the next burr filled, fly blown whether from the pen? The farmers wife filling the tin to feed the drovers as they made a camp on their way through their land. They will keep searching for small morsels of feed for their hungry mob? Or would I see the generous neighbour delivering baked goods to the man bereft with grief at the passing of his lifetime companion and she deciding to quietly leave the tin…she had others, she didn’t need this one anyway.

 

It may have been the smell of the cold winter winds that whipped around the geraniums along the footpath as I made my way to wait for mums return. No matter where I pick up the woody smell of geraniums I am whisked back to my grandmother’s small garden where geraniums seemed to be the only plant to prosper. Geraniums and a prolific crop of tomatoes at the back door each summer.

 

What it was, wherever it was, whenever it was I found I had a desire for Johnnie Cakes. Another recipe from my childhood memory vault. Another recipe that I have recently realised may not be what the rest of the world knows as Johnnie Cakes, so I had better call these Tunn’s Johnnie Cakes.

A google search tells me Johnny Cakes are American cornmeal flatbread. I did not know this.

My mum tells me she had never heard of these until she met her future mother-in-law – Tunn. They maybe from a CWA recipe book as Tunn was a very active Country Woman for many years. Or she may have just made up the recipe from what she had in the cupboard at the time. Yes, its another of those recipes that can be made from staples in your pantry, though these days many would not have half a pound of butter at the ready. Unless you have a milking cow at the back door!

 

Others refer to these flat-scone-like-damper-buns with fruit as Hard Timers. I do know they do get a little hard after a few days, but there is nothing like dunking them in a good strong black cup of tea (made with the billy if you can!) to soften them for a treat.

It makes lots. Mum usually halves the recipe, though her notes to the side say to keep the 2 eggs, even if you halve the recipe.

 

So let me share with you Tunn’s Johnnie Cakes. For authenticity I suggest you cook in a wood stove and make sure you wear an apron as you prepare, as my grandmother would have done.

Here goes…

Ingredients:

½ lb (225 gms) butter

1 cup sugar

4 cups self raising flour

2 eggs beaten with 1 cup milk

1 cup of chopped dates or sultanas

 

Method:

Add sugar to sifted flour. Beat eggs and milk and add to melted butter.

Add butter mix to flour and sugar.

Rollout onto a floured board and cuts as for scones

Bake in hot oven. (~180 fan forced)

There was no time on the recipe. Thank heavens for a window in the oven door. Try cooking for about 20 mins.

Serve hot with butter if you can but they do keep.

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You are welcome

A Splash of European Cultcha

I have been travelling to Tamworth a bit this last week as someone very dear to me has been in hospital. Normally when I travel to Tamworth, an hour’s drive away the ‘to do’ list is long – appointments and grabbing things you cannot get in a smaller town. This week, when the patient was sleeping I took the opportunity to explore some of the places that pop up on my social feeds.

On this particular bleak winter afternoon I happened upon a treasure tucked just below the Botanic Gardens at the top of town. The tree lined street frames an energetic CBD and the glorious Peel River valley below, the traffic echoes are muffled by the melodies of the birds that make this area their home.

The entrance is simple and easy access. A large sliding door leads you into the Weswal Gallery. I felt like I had been transported into a little piece of European artistic sophistication – for Australian art!

I was warmly greeted by Sandra who exudes delight in the place she has created. And then she let me wander.

My eyes darted from ceramics to jewellery, from paintings to sculptures a liquorice allsort of colours, shapes, sizes, tastes. This invoked what would have to be the equivalent heady joy that children feel in a toy store – for art lovers.

In the exhibition area I wandered through the journeys of local artist James White, where my European tour continued. James presents splendid watercolours from his travels in his current collection of Postcards.  I traveled with him as I stepped along each wonderful piece.

In the shop there are so many imaginative pieces to choose from. If you are looking for a special gift this is the place to go, especially something Australian for oversees family and friends. Or, if you are like me and want to treat yourself you will find a treasure I am sure.

countryhorizons_weswal8062017What did I purchase? Well I fell in love with an unusual ceramic mug. I love the orange colouring. I am not sure whether to use as my water cup or for my morning latte? I may have to get another as I still cannot decide!

The passage through Europe was hungry work – lucky for me the Weswal Café is just next door. You HAVE to try one of the bagettes – baked fresh on site! The owners Isobel and Sandy Allan were wonderfully hospitable – Sandy even followed me out to the car to give me some delicious orange chocolate as a farewell treat.

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If you are looking for a place that is a little out of the way to meet up with friends or take a relaxing Sunday drive then a journey to the Weswal precinct is worth adding to your list – especially if you like a bit of ‘Cultcha’ .

Breadcrumbs from Yesteryear

Like most days for the past six months she had been trying to keep busy. Being industrious kept the mind from wandering to depths of sadness and loneliness and would tire her weary body in the hope sleep would come easy each night. She has yet to experience the deep sleep she yearns for but she remains optimistic the time will come soon.

And there was always something to do.

In the first months the task looked enormous and they all struggled to find the start let alone a path through. Bit by bit she was making progress. First around his chair, going through the piles of papers, medicines, bills, notes. Then giving some order to the pile on the cupboard near the dining table. She is trying to downsize the freezer and cooking up whatever is next when she opens the heavy lid, knowing she is now cooking for one.

The farm will have to wait until her children and grandchildren can help. Her joints are frustratingly arthritic, her weakening limbs burn with pain, her resolve is fragile. She can work her way through each room of their house while she waits.

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Today she decides to sort through the bookshelf in the back room. Decades of school textbooks fill one of the shelves, novels from last century another. She pulls off The Web of Life Biology textbook. Its cover is faded and scruffy, the corners of the pages curled and marked.

She is taken back to a winters evening in the old kitchen, father and daughter pouring over the book together in front of the warming wood stove. Teacher and student solving the mysteries of the plant kingdom together while she hovered close and kept a check on the vegetables for dinner.  His rich, authorative voice gently explained the intricacies of the plant flower while she absorbed and trusted his teachings. Cherished times now locked away as memories.

As she leaned to place the learned book on the ‘donate’ pile a yellowing sheet jutting from the heavy pages caught her eye. She steeled herself, not sure what this glimpse from the past would tell her. Families tended to keep a few secrets hidden in the back of closets, or books. What was this breadcrumb of life from yesteryear about to reveal?

The envelope was friable, almost crumbling as she gently pulled from hiding. She could still make out the post mark, sent from Tamworth in 1933.

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It was addressed to

 

Mr Clem Tunningley

Clemisha’s Line

Via Gunnedah

 

The bookshelf was now forgotten as she was swept back to bygone days.

99 Belmore Street

West Tamworth

November 13th 1933

 Mr & Mrs C.B. Tunningley

Dear Nephew and Niece

We received your venerable little packet in due course, & we now tender our sincere thanks for same, & at the same time offer you congratulations & best wishes for success & happiness in your new sphere of life. I daresay you are quite settled now to your happy conditions by this time & enjoying the very nice season for a good start off in the way of crops & stock! I know what a lot depends on the weather to make a success of things on the land, & I trust this is a run of a few good seasons now in store for the chaps on the land. I have forgotten the name of your place, but I will chance this little scrap to reach you some day. Trusting you are both in the ‘pink’ of health as I write this, & I will now close. With all the best of wishes from your affectionate Aunt and Uncle

E.H & Will Donaldson

countryhorizons_Donaldson_Letter

In the quiet of the afternoon she takes time to relish the long curves of the hand-written letters, the gentile language of the note. She smiles at the time taken to pen a thank you note to her in-laws after their wedding in 1933.

As if on cue her mobile phone beeps and breaks the repose. She is bought to the now, the books spread across the bed in various piles of keep – maybe – donate – recycle.

She smiles to herself as she reflects what this letter would be these days, in 2017. More than likely not even a letter but a simple text on a phone

Something like…

 Hey there! Got yr parcel. Thx. Congrats on the wedding. Good luck with harvest. Hope alls good, catch-up soon. Cheers!

Footnote: The farm books from Bellevue show that 1933 was indeed a great year for wheat – Clem’s income for that year much higher than others.

countryhorizons_Income_Book_Bellevue

 

Other stories from the Wedding in 1933

 

 

Photo credit: © Can Stock Photo / Grigorenko

Golden Syrup Dumplings

I recently had the joy of all three of my girls home to visit. Before they arrive I tend to ask if there is anything in particular they would like to eat?  I know the standard answer is “Gran’s jam drops” – that’s a given. My mum has them baked and ready in plenty of time for their arrival. If they arrive on different days then there is another fresh batch on the doorstep.

Food does indeed bring back childhood memories. For our birthdays we chose the dinner for that evening. I used to ask for a roast chicken and chocolate cake. That was before my mum mastered her sponge cake! I promise I will share this recipe soon – I just need mum to give me some notice to be ready with the camera and capture some of the steps as my mum tends to get up and cook in the wee tiny hours of the morning light.

My middle daughter has a huge sweet tooth. Dinner was never complete until dessert was served. Sometimes it wasn’t much but we HAD to have dessert every evening. My grandfather Clem was the same. I remember my dad saying he would have been happy with dessert for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Yet the same man never liked to mix his courses. He disliked fruit with his main saying “I will save that fruit for dessert, no need to eat with my meat” Oh how he would struggle with current food trends!

My girl’s habits have changed a little as they moved away however when they are home the desire for some home cooked desserts is hard to fight and they do succumb. The evening my mum came for dinner was a great example. No one was expecting or needing dessert – we had been foraging on chocolate eggs throughout the day. Until Gran showed up, as usual never empty handed.

“I whipped up some dumplings for dessert, thought we should have a treat now the weather has turned cool”CountryHorizons_GSD_therecipe

Oh My Goodness! My own childhood memories of sitting around the family table with the wood stove warming the kitchen as the winter winds rattled the glass louvres behind us came to mind.

Golden Syrup Dumplings.  Passed down from grandmothers recipe book.

Note the use of words such as “good cup” and “large” tablespoon. In other words don’t scrimp and measurements are approximate.

Are your taste buds watering?

They should be.

It is a cheap easy dessert, with staples from your pantry. The sauce can be made ahead of time.

My mum makes the dumplings and then as you sit down to eat she pops the dumplings in the boiling sauce. By the time the meal is eaten the dumplings are ready.

Golden Syrup Dumplings

The Dumplings

Rub 1 tablespoon butter into a good cup Self Raising Flour (I think ‘good’ means heaped)

Mix to a dough with 1 egg, beaten with a little milk (1/4 to ½ cup)

Roll into balls, approximately a bit smaller than a tennis ball.

The Syrup

(I have doubled here to make sure there is plenty of liquid and moist dumplings)

Mix 2 cups water, 1 tablespoons sugar and 2 large tablespoon golden syrup in a saucepan over heat.

Bring to boil.

Drop in the dumplings, cover and boil for 20 minutes.

Serve hot, best with ice cream and/or cream.

——-You are welcome!

 

 

Salt on your apple, milk in your soup?

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I always like to have a few bananas on hand. They are such a great little package to feed a sweet tooth moment or satisfy the hunger until dinner is cooked. The recent heatwave of summer has seen the fruit quickly turn brown and not quite attractive to eat on its own. I know there are multitudes of recipes for old bananas from banana bread, muffins or smoothies and yes they can be frozen for another day.

In a moment of reminiscing with my mum (which happens quite a bit these days) my memory was taken back to cold winter evenings growing up, to Sunday nights where tomato soup and bananas fritters were a standard fare of our household.

In winter our routines and meals were the same most weekends. Living out of town meant that we headed off to Saturday sports for the whole day. My brothers to football or soccer while I played and umpired netball and my mum manned the netball ‘tent’ or helped in the canteen. We left home by 9 and arrived back as the sun was revealing its final wintry glow in the late afternoon. As we raced to complete the farm jobs before dark a pot of stew always seem to miraculously appear on the stove – that was our Saturdays.

Sundays, like many Australian families was a bake (roast) meal in the middle of the day, with something lighter for the evening as mum ironed the pile of clothes and we all prepared for the week ahead. In our house soup and fritters was a common menu. Banana fritters.CH_fritters

I used to think we consumed our food like everyone else. It wasn’t until I left home that I realised some family traditions seemed a little weird to others.

Probably one of the first to be revealed was salt on my cut apples. Doesn’t everyone do this? I was reminded that this might not be the norm just recently in our tea room at work. I absent mindedly quartered an apple, grab the salt pot and sprinkled over my plate. One of my co-workers stopped the conversation mid-sentence and ask…”Did you just put salt on that?!?!” “Um, yes?” to which there a small pause and a dumbfounded silence.

Growing up we always had a tin or two of tomato soup in the cupboard. Just one of those staples in an out-of-town pantry at a time when supermarkets were not open 7 days a week. While my father loved his bowl of Bonox I could never quite come at the bitter yet salty brown beef extract and we tended to cook up a pot of tomato soup for the rest of us.

And then you always added a dash milk to your soup before you ate it, no matter the flavour of soup…Don’t you?

Apparently not. That is another one of those weird family traditions that I thought was standard fare. The reason? I think to cool it down? Or maybe as my mother’s family struggled to make ends meet after her father died adding fresh free milk from the farm cow added nutrition to satisfy the hunger of a growing family?

As our family settled in front of the fire, all bathed and hair washed to watch Sunday Night Football we shared banana fritters. They are like a pikelet with mashed banana stirred in, though I recently found out the original recipe from my mother’s family was with chopped apple. Dad didn’t like apple so the next generation of tradition knows them only as banana fritters.

Banana fritters topped with a sprinkle of sugar and lemon juice.CH_cookingfritters

What? I hear you ask. This is another family fare that I assumed everyone enjoyed, only to learn many years later that this is a family secret.

Over dinner a few nights ago as I was probing my mum for the recipe I asked where did the sugar and lemon idea come from?

The sprinkle of sugar is my mother’s family tradition – that is how they used to enjoy the apple fritters as children.

The lemon juice was an addition from my father. His family used to have lemon CH_geraniumeverything. My grandmother’s garden could produce two things – geraniums and lemon trees. Even now the nutty, dusty scent of a geranium will take me back to running barefoot on the small bit of lawn of Bellevue with a multitude of cousins, the sound of laughter and family percolating through the air.

There was always lemons overflowing the fruit bowl on the kitchen table and scattered under the trees that lined the driveway – small, withered and tart enough to make any modern sour lolly taste sweet.

So now I impart a family recipe to you.

If you are wondering what to cook on a cold Sunday evening how about you throw a pot of tomato soup on the stove and whip up a batch of banana fritters? I will forgive you if cannot do the dash of milk in the soup, but the sugar and lemon juice on the fritter is a must try.

Banana Fritters

Combine a cup of self-raising  flour, a tablespoon of sugar, 1 egg and about 2/3 cup of milk in a bowl. Whisk together. You may need to add a little bit more milk to make it ‘sloppy’

Add 2-3 sliced bananas and stir through

Pour small amounts mixture into a heated pan. Cook until bubbles appear, then flip.

Serve warm with a sprinkle of sugar and lemon juice.

 

You are welcome

CH_rawingredients

Farmers Friends

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A message popped up to our family group from Daughter 1 “Hey, does anyone have the recipe for farmers friends?” While my mum tried to work through why she would want the recipe in New Zealand I took a photo from the flour stained well-worn pages of my recipe book and whisked it to her.

And prompted me to share with you.

I have found out today that the actual name of the recipe is Farmers Favourites. Either way this is one of those handy recipes to have in the library. You can have a batch coming out of the oven for unexpected guests or for a morning tea that slipped your mind in about 30 minutes.

ch_sheepyardsAs I baked a batch today my mind was taken back to watching my grandfather Clem’s nicotine stained fingers with salient twisted knuckles reaching into the dented cake tin to grab a freshly baked Favourite to dip into his black tea. The smoke from the hand rolled cigarette clasped in his forefingers swirling with the dust of the sheep yards as he takes a break under the pine trees of the sheepyards.

I can almost see him as he has a joke with his sons who have come over to help with the crutching, the grandchildren’s eyes peeping over the sides of the ute, hoping there will be some left for them.

With the last biscuit laid out on the baking tray I recall a time when my three girls would EPSON MFP imagebe vying for the beaters and bowl. The unbaked dough was always a treat with cooking, particularly with their grandmother. Today there was no-one to lick the bowl as they have all moved away, though I did treat myself to the wooden spoon.

This recipe was found in the Emerald Hill Country Women’s Association cookbook quite a few years ago. They don’t sound like much but we know when the temperature soars into the 40s, particularly around harvest time these will still be fresh in the lunch bag. The recipe even said “great for harvest” – and the CWA know what they are talking about when it comes to cooking for the people on the land.

ch_mumsrescipeMy mum had hand written it in her recipe book, I copied to my own a few decades ago.

When my girls were younger I used to sprinkle with hundreds and thousands to dress them up a little. Somewhere along the family folklore these have become Famers Friends. Either way I hope you will enjoy.

 

Farmers Friends

4 ounces or 120 grams margarine             ¾ cup castor sugar

1 egg                                                                    1 ½ cups Self raising flour

vanilla

Beat margarine and sugar, add egg and vanilla and beat a little longer. Stir in flour.

Put dessertspoons of mixture on a greased baking tray, sprinkle each biscuit with sugar.

Bake in moderate over for 20 minutes, turning from front to back after 10 minutes.

 

That is it! Enjoy with a cup of tea.

You are welcome.

Part 2: The letters home

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In Part 1 – The Burlington Hotel I penned a story about a newly wedded country couple honeymooning in Sydney in 1933. The story was based on two letters I had found amongst some family treasures. This post is the letters. I hope you find them as interesting as I did – a wonderful connection to our past, our history.

Clem:

(This letter is to his new ‘in-laws’, not his own family.)CH_ClemlettertoHome1.jpg

“Hotel Burlington”

Hay Street

Sydney

13th September 1933

To All at Home,

Well I am, & Ellie is also very happy. Many thanks to you all for making and giving us such a lovely wedding.

We are doing fairly well down here so far, haven’t got lost or anything like that. Everything seems a bit strange to Ellie tho’ I think altho she don’t say so.

We had a rest & sleep until dinner time yesterday, of course we needed it. We saw Athol Cawood(?) at Central yesterday he came off the same train as we did.

The weather is not the best here cloudy and showery with a cool breeze blowing. I hope it clears up a bit soon.

Well folks I am not much of a news writer but we have more to talk about when we get home. Most likely we will take a day train home so as to have a look at the scenery etc.

With love from your knew Brother etc.

Clem

For the Sisters and Mother ——— xxxxxxx

We will be leaving here early next Tuesday morning I think but don’t know when we will be back home

 

Ellie:

CH_EllielettertoHome2.jpg

Hotel Burlington

Hay Street

Sydney

13th Sept 1933

My dear Home folk.

We arrived here yesterday morning, we met Jo at the Creek she was very pleased to see us & was telling us about Bub & his poor old Ell – now my big boy don’t you worry about poor old Ell – there’s not a happier creature alive & you all have helped to make me so.

We slept till 12 on Monday & then had lunch & went to the Capitol till 5 & had tea & went to Haymarket theatre. I feel as tho I have been here a week – we are going shopping – Furniture – (first time) this evening – & theatre to-night & Harbour trip Thursday & more theatre.

Well my dears if you feel like sending the snap to the address we’d love to see them.

Hope you are all well. Clem is wanting to write.

Cheers with love from Ellie

 

ch_family_weddingday
The family at home – a ‘snap’ possibly taken on the wedding day

 

 

 

Fountain Pen Image credit: © Can Stock Photo / tobiasott