CFD/AFD

No, it's not some trendy new diagnosis of children who obsessively wash their hands while screaming that they have nut allergies, it's my new mantra.

And, as every good Buddhist knows, mantras MUST be abbreviated to TLA's (which in itself is a joke, three letter acronyms? geddit!!)

So, this weekend, past, My delicious friend, Peakie and I embarked on my very first Blonde Ambition Tour.

Peakie is (sometimes, even erstwhile) blonde, as are some of her besties, and they all get together on various girls weekends, in the country and overseas, and each one of these girls weekends/weeks are referred to as a Blonde Ambition Tour.

Very similar to my Namaste Bitches sisters and our Florida Tour last year

(pee ess, The Namaster Bitches 2011 Tour is to the UK to see THE OPENING NIGHT OF THE FOO FIGHTER'S WORLD TOUR.. more on that later!)

And what happens on a Blonde Ambition Tour STAYS on.... well, you know the rest.

Except this time, we decided to be a gang, The Blonde Ambition Gang, which of course, leads me back to the topic of this post.

BAG.

Thus we all had to have gang names.

Mine, I am proud to announce, was Lemon Iced-T (BAG). And rocked the SHIZZ out of the Torquay Caravan Park. We TOTALLY  played Lilly Allen's "Fuck You" really loud. Like on 4. At about 6.30pm.

We were ROCK STARS, man, we kinda slumped around that Caravan site causing fear and havoc in the hearts of all who saw us. Although we replaced the hoodies and bandanas and low slung jeans for one piece bathers with built in spandex support and sarongs, we were FEARSOME, dude. Our slumping gang skillz even had a zed.

We even had someone knock on the caravan door at 10.30 and tell us to "Keep it down" . It was one of the proudest moments of my life.

Now, Girls weekends, I've had a few. But I can honestly say that I have never come home from a weekend having only existed on chicken twistees, blue cheese, havarti and cowboy shots.

Seriously. That is all I consumed for an entire weekend. Maybe a few random CC's in there, and there is a vague memory of a handful of BBQ Shapes. And possibly a mouthful of  2 minute noodles.

Did you know that you can re-use the pre-fab Cowboy shot glasses, and make BETTER ones? Like with Baileys and Scotch?

Believe me, after your 17th, they taste AMAZING!

Tip for young players?

Make sure you get the angle of the weird little curvy plastic divider in said pre-fab shot glasses right, or it just dribbles out of the side of your mouth, and you look drunker than you actually are.

And you waste alcohol, which is a violation of both BAT and NBT rules.

So, this past few days have been deemed CFD/ AFD's

Cheese Free Day and Alcohol Free Day.

Quite seriously, if you put a wodge of  Pule in front of me, I'd just about vom.

So, Sunday night, after the above weekend, I had this:



Tofu and chive Asian dumplings, with wilted choy sum, tomato and cucumber.

I could actually feel the nutrients returning to by blood stream and forcing the chicken twistie badness from my liver.

I'm too old for this. 

Hello, I'm pg and I'm a...

phaffer.

I come from a long line of phaffers. My Mum's a phaffer, my father was a world-class phaffer, and I fear my children have inherited the phaff gene.

So, I'm home from work, I've completed my nighly phaff (clean the kitchen in prep for starting dinner, put on load of washing, answer personal emails), I've got me a brandy and dry, to ease me into the weekend, and as one does, a goddess' thoughts turn to dinner.

Here's what's happening on the stove right now:

 

Not a bad action shot, hey? Further to my impening move to Saudi Arabia, I've sprinkled them with a mix of Rasa al'Hanout. I'm thinking of mandhi smoking them, once they've melted a bit.

And in true phaffer style, I'm not too sure where I am going with this, but I'll let you know.

Addendum:

In true phaffer style, I took inspiraion from last weeks broad bean bruscetta, and created this:

See, that's what phaffing is all about. It's opening the 'fridge half a dozen times and weighing up how well saganaki would fo with broadbeans. It'd about starting off with a Middle Easten profile and the realising that the last of the shredded smoked chicken would  totally work with that! It's about World's Best Son, the Lima Bean sniffing and tasting and choosing to add some smoked sea salt and fennel.

And while phaff-style cooking doesn't always work, and is NOT for the faint-hearted, when it comes together, as last nights "smoked chicken, broadbean, saganaki and slow roasted tomato bruscetta" did, it's worth it!

Tomato Day

communal cooking is fast becoming a lost art. The ritual of tomato day (as seen in the seminal Australian film, "Looking for Alibrandi"), is something that only seems to happen these days in ethnic enclaves, like the wine making or olive pressing days of the Greek community in Dromana. Tomato Day is that wonderful women's ritual, when all the female members of a family all get together, usually in Nonna's kitchen, to boil, bottle, can, cook, puree, peel and preserve the last of the season's tomatoes, ready to keep the family in passata and sugo for the rest of the year.

When Mater Beige and the Hobbit married, a Fowlers Vacola kit was de rigeur as a wedding present. The art of canning, or preserving and laying down fruits and vegetables was considered just another part of running a house.

While I am grateful I don't have to use a mangle to wash my family's clothing, and I love my new steam iron, I do mourn for the lost arts of communal cooking.

It's easy to grab a can of SPC peaches out of season, and there is a real place in my kitchen for frozen veggies. What I mourn for most is the women's mysteries of Tomato Day. When recipes and tips and secrets and gossip brewed and bubbled along side the pounds of tomatoes.



Cooking feeds my soul, and sharing cooking knowledge and cooking space is, to me, a very intimate experience. The process of cooking is how I nurture those I love. And to do it with other women is a profoundly spiritual and moving thing, for me. There's something about being together weighing and measuring and tasting that I find deeply soothing.

So to this end I was both chuffed and honoured when my darling friend Georgie suggested we get together to turn her box of end-of-season tomatoes into sauce and passata. We poured a glass of wine, poured over some cookbooks and sliced and diced and cooked and baked and measured and pored and laughed and sighed and bitched and moaned and nurtured both one another and our families.



More soul-fulfilling than a coven meeting, more bonding than a chick-flick, more fun than a night out on the tear (and cheaper!), the art of turning whole produce into a rich, thick sauce is almost alchemic. And the secret of this magical process? Passion and laughter.



off to turn those bags of yumions into caramelised onion jam.

Bloggers Banquet!!!

It's tonight!!! And I've just finished reading what people are planning to bring!!!

Oh my giddy aunt!!!

Anyhoo, check out what's waiting in MY fridge!!!



Sorry about the dodgy dishwashing powder in the background!!






Yup, as promised, prosciutto-wrapped 'sparowgrass and organic, vine-ripened tommies stuffed with a green olive, garlic and roast capsicum "pesto"

AND, some Mornington Peninsula strawb's, ready to be drizzled with my very own, home-made balsamic reduction!!!

So, what are YOU having for dinner tonight??

Dead Sexy Bruschetta...

Hmmmmm... insert Homer drooling noise...... The Spring is sprung, and all of that, so it's time to get ready for Summer by practicing Bruschetta.

Bruschetta is actually a reference to the toasted bread, on which a topping sits... so you need to start of with a good, crusty Pasta Dura or something similar. For this one I used Turkish pide from the local baker. Cut the pide in 1/2, rub a cut clove of garlic over the surface of your pan and toast. I used a cast iron skillet, but you can go it on a grill, for the traditional grill marks. Once toasted and cripsy, rub the warm, crispy toast surface with the cut garlic again.

What you have now is actually "bruschetta" and wonderful to munch on in its own right, but here is a variation on a summer bruschetta topping.

Finely dice 1/2 a red onion. Cut the best quality baby Roma tomatoes you can get you hands on in 1/4's. Mix with some pesto.

I confess that I didn't have any pesto left from last Summer, so I bought some Always Fresh Basil and Parmesan Tapenade. This stuff is new, and is INSANELY good... I mean, I am a purist when it comes to pesto and the like, but when you got a jones on for tomatoes and basil, and it's the middle of winter, this stuff is second to none.



See!!!! How rich and yummy is that stuff... I'll never feel guilty about using the last of my home made pesto again!!!

Anyhoo... mix a goodly dollop of it on with your tommies and onion. No need to add any oil, as the tapenade is plenty oily enough.

I refrigerated my topping for an hour or so, and then made the toast, so I got the lovely warm, crispy bruschetta, with the cold, fragrant topping.



Stop licking the screen... it's weird....

Understandable, but weird... ;)

Oh... and the left over topping (if there is any)... bung some good quality pasta, like a bucatelli on to cook, and run the topping thru it.

Beyond divine, I tell you!!!!