Bumpin' ... Weeks 22 & 23 with Jack Johnson and Friends

St Helena lookout above Byron Bay

Over the Easter break I travelled to my mother's home to care for her post-surgery. The nights had cooled and mosquitoes buzzed in the hundreds at the river house after the recent rainstorms. I hadn't planned on venturing away from the house much, mostly to take the short drive to the next coastal town to purchase groceries and home again to make comfort food: Roasted pumpkin soup; steaming chicken and corn soup with grated ginger and egg ribbons; roast duck stuffed with dried apricots, pine nuts and cranberries and cinnamon spiced warm apple pancakes.

Main Beach, Byron Bay

As I hadn't planned on a holiday, I did not equip myself with my usual Canon 6D camera. As a result, the images you see in this post were taken using a tiny, lime green lightweight Sony Cybershot camera. 14.1 megapixels, compact, smaller than your wallet and lighter than a mobile phone. Byron purchased it last minute at the airport some twelve months ago- An $80 impulse buy. I wasn't thrilled about wasting money although it has served us well on shorter road trips... Which brings me to the current Byron Bay road trip: The busy city drive made by Joe and B from Sydney to greet me at my mother's before heading off to Blues Fest.

Byron and Joe exploring the backstreets of Byron Bay

Joe and I take in the incredible vista of Pat Morton lookout, Lennox Head

Trying not to inhale the dust during Joss Stone's performance

3.5 cheeky monkeys listening to funky beats and husky voices belt out well-loved tunes

It was at Blues Fest where I relaxed to the smooth lyrics of my first love, Mr Jack Johnson. It has been one of the top ranked activities on my personal Bucket List to see the family man/ surfer/ soulful muso perform his chilled melodies live since I was a jittery, leggy school girl. Back then I imagined that I would be front row as he hummed centre stage before we locked eyes and he smiled as if his eyes said, 'I'm glad you made it'.

The reality of the true experience was somewhat different... I originally stood with Joe and B but as a crowd of younger teenagers pushed forward I could feel the temperature under the tent rise. The air was palpable and thick, swaying space was reduced to a tiny confined area comparable to a sardine tin where I was forced up against strangers, some smoking, some drinking, some too far gone to realise where they even were. I lost B and Joe in the crowd so I retreated to the cooler, relaxed spaces of the back of the tent where I found a lovely patch of grass. Sure, I had lost my up close view of Jack but I could still hear him strum and sing.

From where I sprawled out on the grass with the older folk in picnic chairs, my oversized hooded jacket draped over my face, my knees bent to avoid being trodden on by the odd passer by... I listened intently and sang along to songs that formed a special part of my youth. And there in the blackest tent as flashes of lasers lit up the big top roof, little Pecan began to roll and sway, kick and stretch from within my belly to the gentle melodies.

I may not have been serenaded by Jack Johnson but I took away from the live performance something far more magical and enchanting than my 17 year old self could have ever imagined.

Oh, and if you ever happen to stumble across this blog, Mr Johnson (I know friends, it's a stretch, right?)... You'll be pleased to know that I'm personally acquainted with your youngest fan.

Enjoying a moment of solitude, accompanied by the sea breeze and occasional gentle Pecan flutters

Somehow in the darkest corner of that tent, Byron found me, he took me by the hand and carefully wove his way through the thousands of moving people to guide me to an open space near the front of the tent where I could clearly see Jack on stage. Together we danced under that tall, open tent as we listened and swayed...

"Love is the answer,
At least for most of the questions in my heart
Like why are we here? And where do we go?
And how come it's so hard?
It's not always easy and
Sometimes life can be deceiving
I'll tell you one thing, it's always better when we're together"

Two lifelong friends exploring the Byron Bay seaside markets

Long afternoon shadows, salty beach hair and flip flops in Byron Bay

I wish I could have stayed longer with the boys on their road trip however, it was wonderful to return home to tell my mother all about my brief visit to Blues Fest, seeing Jackson Johnson and excitedly describing how my baby danced about to one of his/her mama's favourite musicians.

These past two weeks were spent with my best friends, my favourite music, my beautiful mother and my fondest memories, relived.

Have you ever wanted to see your favourite band or musician perform live? Is it on your Bucket List? I urge you to take that list and scribble the tour dates, venue and booking details on the back. Make it happen. Don't miss the chance to reminisce whilst creating new, fun memories. Take your friends and have a blast.

Love Bella xx

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When Friends Come to Stay: A Weekly Collection of Stills

When Friends Come to Stay

1. Crowd Pleaser
2. Choc Hazelnut Torte
3. Barnacles
4. Shake
5. Seaside Breakfast
6. Banksias and Blue Skies
7. Dating My Husband

Joining in with Emily, Bree, Trish and friends

Love Bella xx

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Orange and Polenta Cake with Glögg

Our friends Christophe and Heli came to visit this past week. They were driving south to the city after spending Christmas along the north coast and stopped in overnight to break up the gruelling ten hour drive.

When they pulled into the driveway I was in the process of removing a moist orange, almond and polenta cake from the oven. I then greeted them outside on the grassy lawn and as they hauled their overnight bags inside they were met with my citrus infused kitchen and one seriously excited puppy.

We went surfing for a couple of hours and Christophe was helpful in pushing me onto some of the waves as I'm not very skilled when it comes to paddling onto my own. Byron and I are enjoying surfing and I was pleased B could join us as he'd only just arrived home following a 14 hour non-stop direct flight from Dubai to Sydney. Jet lagged but happy he persevered and I could see improvements in both of our surfing techniques in the short time we were in the water. We laughed and splashed about until we had goosebumps from being in the sea for so long, then came home to shower and enjoy an apéritif on the steps of our veranda before the mosquitoes joined us.

L-R: Christophe, Bella, Heli, Byron.
L-R: (By country) France, Australia, Finland, Malaysia.

We dined on poached salmon, sweet corn on the cob, potatoes and salad for dinner, then Heli prepared for us a Scandinavian nightcap called Glögg. Glögg is generally prepared in the wintry evenings at Christmas time in Nordic and northern European kitchens as it is a hot, spiced mulled wine. We enjoyed ours on a cool Summer evening from large mugs as we strolled along the beach under a full moon. It was incredible to walk along the beach at night under such bright moonlight and although our dark brown puppy was a mere black ball of shadow that excitedly darted along the sand, I could clearly make out my friends faces and the glitter-tipped edges of the small waves.

Glögg

One bottle of Glögg (750 mL)
(Alternatively you can use a bottle of red wine, but you must also add 3/4 cup of sugar to a 1L bottle of wine)
250-500 mL of vodka (depending on how strong you prefer your drink)
2 cinnamon sticks
1/2 cup of almonds
1/2 cup raisins
peel from half an orange

Place all ingredients into a large saucepan and stir over low heat. Bring to a simmer and allow to bubble for ten minutes. Strain the fruit and cinnamon sticks from the Glögg and pour into mugs to serve. They're are many different variations of Glögg, including the addition of cardamon pods, dried figs and cloves but it's entirely up to personal taste. However, one thing is for certain when you use a bottle of Glögg, the undeniable Christmas scent of cinnamon as the mulled wine simmers.

Moist Orange, Almond and Polenta Cake with Citrus Glaze (Gluten Free)

Cake

2 small oranges or one large orange and 2 mandarines
3/4 cup boiling water
3/4 cup sugar
2 Tbs brandy or orange liqueur
1/4 cup brown rice flour
1/4 cup finely grained polenta
1/2 cup almond meal*
110g unsalted butter
1/2 cup caster sugar
2 eggs

*(Instead of almond meal, you can process 1/2 cup almonds, leaving some large chopped almond pieces for texture)

Citrus Glaze

1 orange (strained juice)
1 lemon (rind and strained juice)
2 Tbs honey
1 Tbs brandy
1 Tbs sugar

Preheat your oven to 180 degrees Celsius (approximately 350 degrees Fahrenheit), grease a 22cm cake tin with butter and line the base with greaseproof paper. Wash and cut oranges and mandarines into pieces, leaving the peel on. Remove pips and process the fruit in a food processor or Thermo Chef blender until you achieve a thick pulpy purée. Transfer the purée to a sauce pan with the boiling water, add the 3/4 cup sugar and brandy and boil for approximately 10-15 minutes, stirring occasionally to prevent the purée from sticking to the base of the pan. Make sure you wear an apron because the purée may spit, which I discovered when wearing a white t-shirt (Hmmm... Not so white anymore). Remove from heat after the liquid has mostly evaporated and allow to cool.

Into a clean bowl, sift the brown rice flour and polenta together, add the almond meal and stir together. Set aside.

In your new red Kitchen Aid (Oh. My. Goodness. Was Santa aka Mum kind to us this year?!) cream the butter and caster sugar. Gradually add the eggs, one at a time.

Stir in the sifted dry ingredients, then the orange purée. Spoon the mixture into your prepared cake tin and bake for 35 minutes, or until a skewer inserted into the centre of the cake comes out clean. Remove from oven and allow to cool in the tin for five minute before transferring to a wire rack.

For the glaze, carefully cut the rind from the lemon, remove any white pith from the fruit and rind, then slice the rind into long, thin strips. Strain the juice from the orange and lemon into a saucepan, add the lemon rind, honey, brandy and sugar and boil to reduce the mixture slightly. The glaze should be thick and syrupy.

Remove from the heat, allow to cool slightly before serving the warm glossy syrup over a generous wedge of cake, whipped cream optional. I skipped the cream and enjoyed this moist orange cake on our veranda in the late afternoon sun with a cup of hot tea and Maxi cat curled up on my lap.

Did I mention I love the Summer time?

Bella xx

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Yum Cha and Late Afternoon Lattes

Our Objective:

A trip into the city to have lunch and return within one hour to beat the Parking Officer and avoid an inevitable fine at 16:00 hours.

15:00 Hours

Four friends piled into a taxi the size of a toy car, well maybe not. But that's how it seemed, like giant circus clowns with rainbow afros and shiny costumes squeezing into a Mini. Somehow we managed and arrived in the city within ten minutes.

15:10 Hours

The four friends stood with their backs to the wild, dry winter wind. The hood of my jacket protected my neck as loose tendrils of my long hair whipped frantically in front of my face. We crossed the wide street and scampered into the mall where Zilver restaurant is located on the first level.

15:15 Hours

We were seated immediately and before we could adjust our wild new natural hairstyles and loosen our jackets, three heavily stocked foot carts, wheeled by three petite Chinese women suddenly appeared at our table and the offerings commenced. Lachlan sat wide-eyed, unable to decipher what was happening. I could see he understood they were offering food but I recognised that look on his face, he had no idea what the food actually was. Byron expertly leaped to Lachlan's assistance as he instructed which dishes to leave and which he did not want.

I thoroughly enjoy watching him in his element. He's so used to the unique style of service and matter-of-factly directed in Mandarin and English what we would eat and what would be turned away.

I must admit, my first experience with Yum Cha several years ago was a negative one. I was so submissive that I ended up with more food than I could possibly eat, an expensive lesson that left me with a rather bad taste in my mouth... Surely I did not order those mangled looking battered and fried orange chicken feet. De-clawed and frightening they lay helplessly on the plate, untouched by myself. I couldn't bare to look at them. Yum Cha? If only I had gone with Byron, had I known him then, it would have guaranteed a wonderful experience. In fact I recall my company was a young chef who was trying to impress me by a different cultural restaurant experience. I was a few years older than he was and I noticed he was out of his depth as he ordered this and that, not knowing what the tiny parcels contained. Some were too spicy to eat, others were nicer, though I remember leaving more food on the plates than what we consumed and having a rumbling stomach as we left, telling me that I still needed to eat something.. How on earth my lunch was $80 rendered me speechless. Was it the chicken feet?!

15:20 Hours

Within five minutes our table was covered in a bright array of fine steamed dumplings and vegetables. Bright green choy sum stems, lightly blanched, hot and crunchy, dripping with an oyster sauce concoction that I can only dream of preparing at home (mine is always so depressingly salty). We enjoyed steamed rice parcels of pork mince with mushrooms and chives, others were bursting with spinach and finely chopped peanuts, and these bright green dumplings (pictured below) were filled with scallops, cooked roe and prawns. I was amazed that the tiny roe still burst in my mouth, just as fresh roe does. It reminded me of tiny bath balls filled with oil. My mother used to have clear orange bath balls filled with apricot scented oil. When I was a little girl, she treated me a number of times to a bubble bath, followed by a soak in her giant spa bath with those apricot balls- It was heaven.

15:30 Hours

More parcels arrived, lightly fried spring rolls, and parcels that I call moneybags (I'm not certain of the actual name). I could imagine a tiny dollar sign on the outside of the bag, except instead of gold coins, they contained brunoise diced carrot, onion, mushrooms, garlic, bamboo shoots and clear rice glass noodles.

We slowly sipped our hot Chinese tea and I marvelled at how quickly one empty bamboo steam basket was replaced by another. Prawn rolls, more vegetables, another white porcelain tea pot. Kailee and Lachlan entertained us with their attempts at using chopsticks, before conceding defeat and opting for forks. I wasn't much better but decided to continue with the challenge as I should be used to using them by now.

We laughed and drank and ate until I felt I looked like one of those little steamed parcels, round and bulging.

Some small egg custard tarts were ordered next, glossy and golden in their flaky pastry cases.

15:35 Hours

We paid and left after a brief look into a few of the fish tanks, admittedly not my cup of tea to see my food living and swimming around before I eat it. If I'm honest, I prefer to see the tiny parcels, wrapped like individual presents to be dipped in sauces of every imaginable colour and delicately eaten with long, slender chopsticks.

15:40 Hours

We farewelled Byron as he rushed off to work, then Kailee, Lachlan and I hailed a taxi and sped home to arrive with more than ten minutes to spare. We ordered deliciously creamy lattes from a tiny hole-in-the-wall cafe opposite my apartment.

The cafe is called Coffee, Tea & Me, and I definitely recommend the coffee, especially as take away before you embark on a long trip. They sell bagels too, and I have heard the hot chocolates are delicious (I'll order one next time). In the warmer months, they sell iced coffees, similar to frappes but better- Perhaps it's the milk they use, perhaps it's the coffee beans I can't be sure but they certainly are addictive.

I hugged my friends tightly before they drove off into the late afternoon sun light, then turned and walked briskly towards my apartment, my latte warming my cold fingers and satisfying my afternoon caffeine craving.

15:55 Hours

I unlocked my apartment door, poured myself a cool glass of refreshing water and sat on my balcony, overlooking the city as I sipped the last of my coffee.

I must admit I'm going to miss the convenience of the city when I leave. It's so reassuring to have inexpensive food cooked at any hour, no matter how ridiculously late, prepared conveniently for you and your friends.

16:00 Hours

As I sat tapping my foot to the soothing indie beats coming from the apartment below I contemplated how much longer we have on our lease and where the next adventure will take us. I miss the open roads of the country, the beautiful beaches, the long stretch of sugar cane fields by the wide rivers of northern New South Wales and the more laid back lifestyle I once enjoyed before embarking on my respective university and city adventures.

As I drained the last glistening drop from my water glass, I relaxed back into my chair and looked at the city skyline. I can always come back whenever I want to but for now, I feel the familiar pull towards the calming sounds of the sea, the salty air and playing my own music as loudly as my neighbours if I feel the urge, without the fear of eviction.

I opened my laptop and started a new Word document on a promising blank white page. I typed quickly and deliberately, with as much control as Byron demonstrated when ordering our Yum Cha lunch. I saved the document and relaxed back into my chair again, pulling my jacket more tightly around my body. It had grown dark and the city lights twinkled more brightly than the stars.

I stared at the document for a moment and it stared back at me, my subconscious giving the document a taunting voice, which shouted, 'Do it! I dare you!'.

'I will', I thought. Then I closed my Notice of Resignation and lowered the screen on my laptop.

I want the stars be the brightest lights in the sky again and I will see that in a few short weeks. But for now, I'm going to rustle up dinner for one.

Bella xx

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Chocolate Lava Pudding

Three words to evoke the inner chocolate addict within you.

Chocolate Lava Pudding is the crème de la crème of tiny puddings.

You have been warned...

Oozing warm chocolate flows slowly down my spoon as I write this.

Any drips could potentially mean waste (NOT an option) and I find it increasingly difficult to put down the shiny silver spoon but I must as this recipe is too decadent not to share with my fellow lovers of chocolate.

Chocolate Lava Pudding

300g dark chocolate buttons
300g unsalted butter
6 whole eggs
6 egg yolks
150g caster sugar
150g plain flour

Makes 10

In a bain marie, melt the chocolate buttons and butter together, stirring until smooth and set aside to cool. In a separate bowl, using a whisk cream together the whole eggs and yolks with the caster sugar (Using electric beaters is effective if you happen to loathe whisking). Gently fold all the melted chocolate into the eggs, then slowly sift the plain flour into the bowl and continue folding until completely incorporated, without lumps.
Butter and flour 10 cake moulds, then fill each mould approximately to the brim. Place each cake mould onto a baking tray, then bake in a preheated oven at 170 degrees Celsius for 12 minutes. Allow to cool slightly and set in the mould, then remove from the mould and serve slightly warm with vanilla bean ice-cream, dark chocolate ganache, a candied vanilla bean and a generous dusting of vanilla bean icing sugar.

Your miniature chocolate lava pudding will have a slight crust on the edge and a soft chocolate centre, that will sink to form a small well on cooling.

Now I know I was going to try to avoid using instagram pictures if I'm blogging at home but I simply had to include this little picture, because it's so sweet.

And if you don't have to go to bed, I'd recommend this pudding with a delicious macchiato (Tiny Teddy optional- Although he looks as relaxed as we were, as if he were in a coffee cream bath).

We shared the last pudding at home with two duelling teaspoons, next to the warm heater. It was the kind of night where you sit with your feet over your best friend's lap, under a blanket, wearing fluffy socks, hooded jumpers and acid wash jeans with endless episodes of Friends.

Chocolate lava pudding is decadent and rich, no matter how you enjoy it.

Bella xx

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I want to go to the Seaside...

When I was a little girl I lived by sea.

I had the prettiest address, which I'm not going to disclose here even though I'd love to share the coastal sound of it with you because honestly, when I'm rich and famous, the current tenants will not be particularly pleased with me because tourist buses will be passing by daily with non-English speaking tourists taking happy-snaps of where I grew up (a slice of heaven for them, I know!) Pfffftttt... I ventured back to my home town a few months ago on a kind of nostalgic journey with my beautiful B. We arrived late and checked into our motel room opposite one of the beaches north of the one I awoke to every morning as a young girl.

The sound of waves crashing has a kind of therapeutic affect which calms me, unequalled to any experience I have had from any person, place, food, animal or scent that I can think of. We showered, went to bed early and woke to one of those typical continental breakfasts reminiscent of a cheap hotel near DisneyLand. Basic but satisfying.

After breakfast, we ventured a little further south to the centre of the township of my youth. This fishing village is known for it's beautiful harbour, which we admired from a small platform, whilst we enjoyed creamy hot chocolates.

It was here where I met up with a childhood friend of mine, Sara and her two children, Rhys (who happened to move too quickly for the camera so I don't have a fantastic shot of him being so cheeky), and India.

Wow, time travels too quickly...

Our next stop was a stones throw down the coast to the suburb where I lived and delivered papers on my vintage pink bicycle.

When I was a little girl, this was the entrance to the lake at the bottom of the road from my house. I distinctly remember carving my name in the table with my friend Julie when I was about fourteen. I tried to find it again but it has been long lost in the newly etched additions and countless layers of paint.

Although it was an overcast day, the sky and sea were startlingly impressive. Such deep hues of blue, green and grey were impaled by the warmest bands of sunlight. I think one of the highlights would have to have been seeing the brightest rainbow I have ever encountered from the lighthouse headland. From our vantage point, you can see the Lighthouse Channel, where I took my very first grown-up sea scuba dive at the age of 13.

And then of course the sky opened up and it bucketed down fat droplets of rain on us.

My Dad used to go rock fishing here. He'd usually catch Blackfish and we'd eat them just about every different way you could cook them. Dad used to smoke them in a little oven he made in the shed (his 'office') in our backyard. Mum was the head cook though and I must admit, most of my culinary lessons came from her impeccable wisdom.

Another highlight of the trip, purely for the hilarity was when Byron wanted to look over the edge of the rocks were my Dad had once stood in the same place for many days out of his life some twenty years ago.

Suddenly the sea appeared to rise a metre or more and it doesn't require the oceanic knowledge of Jacques Cousteau to predict what would happen...

Ahh B, you do make me laugh!

On our last afternoon we made a new friend, who seemed pretty interested in the fish and chips we devoured in our car (due to the rain) at the Harbour. Pity he invited his mates...

Looking at these pictures conjures up nostalgic bubbles that could almost float me back to my beautiful home town. If only I had more time and another spare weekend, then I would definitely say, 'I think it's time for another visit...'.

Bella
xx

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