Making Lemon Butter, or Lemon Curd - depends where you come from, is easy.
Simple. You need:
Two eggs
Two egg yolks
160 grams of sugar
80 grams of butter
The juice and grated rind of two lemons
You put the sugar, eggs, egg yolks in a small saucepan and whisk them together. Then you add the butter, lemon juice and lemon rind in with the egg and sugar. Placing the saucepan over low heat, continue whisking the mix until it thickens - don't leave it, just keep gently whisking the mix - takes about 5 minutes. Once thinkened, strain the mixture into sterilised jars. It keeps in the fridge for about a fortnight.
Lemon curd lasting a fortnight in my fridge?
Never. Three days if I'm really lucky.
They say it's good for cakes and pie fillings. Sure... I remember my grandmother making very good lemon meringue pie when I was a kid. It was the best. Lemon meringue pie is my favourite of favourite desserts. Actually anything lemon and sweet goes down well with me.
I offered Blarney and Jay a jar if they wanted some. Blarney had never heard of it (Poor, poor Blarney). Jay said yes to a jar, but she had to get COVID tested, so she was going nowhere and I wasn't going to interrupt her quaranitining while the test results came in. Besides, it doesn't yield that much after you strain it... why share it?
So I'm stuck with two one jar of lemon butter.
This morning, I found that lemon butter is wonderful on toasted crumpets (or grumpets as a friend of mine calls them - I can't have them without thinking about this and smiling)
And this will be breakfast for the next couple of days. Grumpets and lemon butter.
My life is just so hard and horrid. (Not)
Lemon butter really is the perfect salve for the weary soul during this lockdown.
Lockdown is easier to bear when it's cold and damp outside. Okay, I don't like wearing a mask while walking, but it's okay, a minor inconvenience. As long as I get a chat with somebody, once a day, preferably face to face, I'm fine. Hopefully the restrictions will ease on Thursday. We're hoping they will anyway.
1. When is the last time you went out to a meal with someone special? Tell us about it.
Ergh, I've had some lovely meals out over the last while, but the last time I went out to dinner with "somebody special" was probably with him in Sydney and that was at least two years ago. I remember one time going to a high-end Mexican place in Sydney, Mejico. (Oh, good to see there is one in Melbourne now). I love Mexican food. He hated anything with spice (i.e. chilli, coriander (cilantro) and pretty much anything hotter than cinnamon). He sat all night eating the guacamole they make at the table, complaining about how the spices leeched into the food from the pans. From my opinion, nothing was remotely hot. Their patatas bravas were incredible.
We were never meant to last. I can't go out with somebody who can't do at least a little spice again. Life is boring without spice.
2. Show us a picture of your favorite cuisine.
French food is the bomb. Find about, tarte tatin. Love it. Love anything French. They use lots of butter. Butter is good.
If it can't be French, the Spanish or Vietnamese food. Love them both for very different reasons and flavours.
3. What is the funniest thing a man/woman has said to you lately?
There isn't much to laugh about in Melbourne at the moment as we are in lockdown. I think somebody said to me that they thought the Prime Minister was doing a good job. I could have spat my beer over him. I had to laugh. The Prime Minister is a lying, shady, incompetent baboon.
4. What makes a gentleman a gentleman in today’s dating world? Are there any left?
Oh, don't talk to me abuot dating. I'm not ready to do that again yet. Middle-aged Australian men are really not that inspiring. But I think if you can a man who listens to you, then you're on your way. They are around. They're rare, but you have to weed them out. If they're considerate of your needs, then you're on your way. I'm not sure what we thought a gentleman was in the days of yore - the man who opens doors for you, pulls your chair out etc - not sure if they still exist. Somebody who is kind and considerate - that works for me.
5. Is there anything you won’t tolerate when out to dinner with your significant other?
If they're rude to the waiting stuff, they're done. I can't abide that.
6. What type of ambiance do you enjoy in an eating establishment?
I don't have a preferred ambiance - but critical is to be able to hear my dinner companions' conversation. Stylish and fairly minimal with comfortable chairs is always a bonus too.
7. Tell us about the worst public dining experience you ever had, whether it be a date or with your family.
I think we had a book group once where the food was terrible and the staff were overly chatty, trying to butt in and interupting our session. The restaurant used to be good, but the food just kept on getting worse and worse over a couple of months until it was just greasy and inedible. The restaurant is no longer there - we go somewhere else now.
8. What is the lamest or rudest thing a man/woman has said to you lately?
The lamest thing? Anybody waiting for vaccinations who are entitled to them, but are thinking of holding off - sorry, that's just lame. I'm sick of being in lockdown. Vaccinations are our way out of having these happen again and again.
9. Are you a good tipper?
No. But there is a reason for this. In Australia, our waiting staff are paid a living wage - so unless we're going high end and/or the service is really, really good, I tend to pay menu price. But for really good service, a tip will be left. It's the big difference between Australia and America. People's livelihoods do not depend on them.
10. Do you ask for doggie bags when you leave food on your plate at a restaurant?
Depends on what it is, but sometimes. If there is a lot left over, then yes.
11. What is your pet peeve about restaurants and dining out in general?
A big one in Melbourne is not being able to book a table at the more popular restaurants in the city. There are a lot of great restaurants which you have to queue to get a meal at - places like Chin Chin, Supernormal and my favourite, Cumulus Inc. You have to get there early, or stand on the footpath for hours to get fed. I don't queue for restaurant food. Unless it's a place you can book or walk straight into, I won't go there.
12. Do you prefer to order yourself or do you ever let your significant other order for you?
I order for myself unless it's a group, sharing arrangement when I'll let the table work out what we're having. Very occassionally I'll say that I don't want to choose and let somebody else pick for me, but that's pretty rare.
13. Describe your most intimate romantic dinner ever. (fantasy or real)
I'd be happy with a tasting platter in front of an open fire. But you could also take me our for a really great degustation meal - one where you get dressed up and just bliss out on the amazing food and wine - something to aspire to after this lockdown. As I've never experienced this, it's hard to envisage it.
14. Do you enjoy piano bars?
Generally, yes, but it's been years since I've been to one - in fact, the last time I think I went to a piano bar was on Mykonos in Greece in 2003.
15. If you could go anywhere in the world for dinner, where would it be and who would you be with?
I'm not sure if it's still open, but I'd love to go to Heston Blumenthal's Fat Duck restaurant in England. I'd go with anybody who could to afford to go with me.
Jay and I went for a walk along the river today. We timed it well as the morning was wonderful, but the afternoon revolting - cold and windy. It was a good morning to walk along the towpath, avoiding cyclists, joggers and other walkers - most wearing masks, some not.
The directive to wear masks while outside is annoying, but understandable. When walking, they do get a bit constrictive and the odd stop was needed to get our breath back. To be honest, I'm just happy to go for a walk and get out of the flat for a bit - bugger the mask.
We did our normal route - round the river to Bridge Road, then back through the side streets to Victoria Gardens, where Jay stopped to pick up a few groceries and me, a coffee.
And we run into Yanni from the gym.
Yanni is wonderful - he sets up our pump gear most Sunday mornings. But we had a chat about some stuff while waiting for Jay to come out of the greengrocers.
"Have you had your COVID vaccination yet?" he asked.
"The first one, yes." I answered.
"I think I'll wait," he said.
"What the fuck to you want to do that for?"
"Oh, you know.." I'm not sure he was expecting my vehmence.
"No, I don't know. How old are you? 53? 54?"
"53."
"Are you waiting to get the Pfizer shot?" I asked.
"Well you know, it's supposed to be better."
"Bullshit. Besides, they're not goiog to give it to you. You're over 50. It's the Astra Zeneca or nothing, unless you have some fairly specific medical conditions, that's it. There's a lot of it around. The sooner you get it, the sooner you build up some immunity. "
"And what did you have?" he asked.
"The Astra Zenaca. Because I'm over 50, have no specific medical conditions and I got it as soon as I could. You might feel crappy the day after - I did, but it's nothing a day on the couch with some panadol won't fix. "
"But why did you get it so soon?"
"Why? That's a stupid question. Well, other than I want to travel in the future, and I take public transport, and I work in an office, this is a public health priority. I don't want to be fucking locked down again. Sooner this is done, the better. Besides, waiting to get this done is dumb. Sooner it's done, sooner this goes away. I see vaccination as a community service activy. We don't have polio, smallpox and the like because of vaccinations. This should join them. "
"But the Pfizer is better..."
"Bullshit - all the vaccinations will stop you dying and getting really sick from this horrible disease. It's like a flu jab - won't stop you getting the flu - will stop you getting really sick and dying drowning in your own chest fluids. It will also cut down the chance of passing this on. "
"Oh, yeah, you're probably right."
"Don't tell Jay that. I'm not right very often. But we agree on this."
"Well, I'm getting some blood tests back on Monday - I'll talk to my doctor."
"Good man, but he'll probably tell you to get your Astra Zeneca shot as soon as possible."
"Hmm. I'll ask Jay - see what she says."
Yanni is a glutton for punishment. Jay is G.P. Jay is also a Scorpio who doesn't suffer fools. Jay has had this conversation 20 times. It's all Jay whines about while we're training. I think most doctors are having this talk multiple times on most days.
Jay came out of the supermarket.
"Hey, Jay. Should I get the Astra Zeneca shot?"
"How old are you?" she asked. I could see a vein in her temple throbbing.
"53."
Jay exploded. "Should you get your COVID vaccination? Of course, you idiot. Just do it. You're not going to die. You might feel a bit crap the next day. Nothing that panadol and ibuprufen won't fix. The sooner you get it, the better."
"That's what Pand said."
"Pand is not an idiot."
We walked home, shaking our heads. Jay at Yanni's attitude. Me at the thought of having to have that same conversation hundreds of times a week. I could never be a G.P. I can't deal with the general public.
Still, it was a nice walk.
I'll check in on Yanni next week.
And if you can, get vaccinated. It's not about you. This might be your once community service activity for the year.
I remember the night well. I was home in my flat in East Melbourne, it was late, like in past ten. It was 2001 - before September. They'd been spruiking this show for a while. Six Feet Under. A show about a family of morticians in Los Angeles.
The show came on.
I was standing up. And I remained transfixed to the television, standing, for the next half an hour, absolutely entranced by this quirky, edgy, completely wonderful show.
For the next five years, I was hooked.
From Nate (Peter Krauss) the prodigal slacker son who returned from running an organic food shop, the David, the closeted second son who ran the family company, but really wanted to be a laywer, the Claire, the lost soul, arty, hippy sister who drove around in an old hearse, to Ruth, the mother who was wound up like a two bob watch, to Brenda, the woman Nate picked up at the airport who hung around, to Rico, the happy-go-lucky mortician's assistance...
Six Feet Under provided the early naughties with some of the best writing and acting that's ever graced our televions.
I used to love seeing the deaths at the start of each episode, where you were graced with the knowedge of how that week's body had died. Some were sad, some were blackly funny, some scary.
Yes, Alan Ball, producer, writer and director of the series is amazing. He was responsible for American Beauty and True Blood - is also responsible for this. Stunning stuff.
There was so much good in this show (okay, with the exception of the episode in Season Four entitled "That's my dog?", which is horribly violent and it gave me nightmares. I loaned my DVD set to a colleague. He was hooked - but I warned him about that episode. He thanked me. I'm not sure I could watch it again.
Still, it was 20 years ago since Six Feet Under came out. It feels like yesterday. It's a pity it's not played for reruns (Though it's currently available on the Binge streaming service in Australia).
I found this scene in the city yesterday as I went to collect my mail.
What is normally an hour round trip to collect the mail, with a third of that time trying to find a park, took just over half an hour.
The streets are empty. And rightly so. We're in lockdown. People are heeding the warning. Allegedly this D-Variant COVID is far more virulent than other strains. But collecting your mail once a week is a necessary evil, and being one of the invisible, mask-wearing, middle-aged women, who nobody gives a toss about, a quick trip in is going to harm nobody (It's also in my five kilometre, soon to be ten kilometre radius, so ner....)
The police were practicing their traffic hand signals on the corner of Queen and Bourke Streets. Not much traffic there to run them over. Good for the newbies.
I found a park just around the corner near the post office. For a change I didn't have to beg the Parking Fairy for help.
I was in and out in five minutes, stopping for a quick chat with Tom the postie and grabbing an egg and bacon roll from a nearby cafe on the way back to the car (Which was magnificent, toasted up in my new Kmart issue, $19 sandwich press.)
But unlike the last big lockdown, the city doesn't feel dead.
It's not a strange sight anymore, this empty city.
I prefer to think the city is hibernating. Everything is shut down for a reason. Life goes on around the place, but it's at a quieter, necessary pace.
The trains and trams are still running.
The coffee shop guys is ready with a quick smile and a chat.
There is a wonder in driving through an empty city - once described by Catherine Deveny as being like of Good Friday at 5 am.
But some things remain the same.
Cyclists remain annoying.
They're doing road and building works all around.
There are a few people, inhabitants, city dwellers, out on their walks, with or without dogs.
Mood: Just okay, Want chocolate. Can't have chocolate.
I woke to an empty bed this morning.
On rising, and going out to the living room, I found this.
Exactly this pose. Exactly the same place.
He didn't sleep next to my legs, which is where he normally sleeps. He slept on the couch.
I wander what I have done to deserve this.
I like sleeping with the cat. I like waking up to find him snuggled up next to me, not that he stays there once I'm awake.
As I write this, he's sitting next to me on the windowsill, where he deigns to let me pat him or kiss his back.
But he slept on the couch last night, and I think he's a bit of a traitor.
Don't I do enough for him? I mean, I feed him, brush him (not that he likes it that much, but it's good for him). I clip his toenails and clear his poo box daily for turds. I'm nice to him. My right arm looks like his scratching post.
Is this payback for bringing him into an online meeting yesterday?
