The Elegant Sufficiency

The Postal Clerk and His Wife

How fabulous is this? (Thanks to The Art Life for the tip-off):

A Late Livestrong Submission

Long past deadline, but there you go, I’m good at that. You want excuses? Where do I start? Still, hope Barbara at Winos and Foodies might give me some credit for my efforts.
This post is a contribution to her annual A Taste of Yellow blogging event in support of Lance Armstrong’s Livestrong Day on May 13, an initiative to raise awareness and funds for the cancer fight. (You can donate here to my chosen cancer charity, the Mater Medical Research Institute in Brisbane, which is doing some really amazing work to find a prostate cancer vaccine.) 
Barbara's A Taste of Yellow demands of its participants that they cook and photograph something yellow with a yellow Livestrong band in the photograph somehow. “Please join me again as we remember those loved ones who are no longer with us, support those still fighting and celebrate with those who have won the fight,” Barbara wrote on her blog when she launched the 2008 Taste of Yellow a month or so back.
Dad is very firmly still with us and, if I have my way, he’s not going anywhere soon. (Although, if he were to eat this as I have done today — straight out of the jar — a heart attack would get him before the prostate cancer does.)
Well, what else are you to do with very very runny mandarin-lemon curd but slather it on sourdough toast as you would honey?
One of my roles at work is to be the editor of Sean Moran, of Sean's Panaroma. The lovely Sean writes a monthly column for us called “Fresh”: a seasonal ingredient, how to select it and store it, and what to do with that ingredient. Next column coming up in our June edition is about mandarins and one of Sean’s recipes is for mandarin curd. Loved the idea, thought it might be perfect for A Taste of Yellow.
Pity though, that I have a sad history of wrecking anything involving cooking eggs slowly into a dish. Custard, crème brulee — you name it, I mess them up. Impatience, incompetence — who knows? (Have been saving up the story of making crème brulee for the Belgian countess during one of my cooking jobs after finishing a Le Cordon Bleu course: my crème brulee was as eccentric as she was. But really, a temper tantrum over a curdled crème brulee? For heaven’s sake!)
Couldn’t get the ferocious, crazy Countess de la Laing out of my brain as I embarked on my mandarin curd. You’ll have to wait for the next the(sydney)magazine for Sean’s recipe, but suffice to say that, when my egg yolks very deliberately started to solidify in my butter-sugar-juice mixture, I could feel the countess’s wrath descending all over again.
Remedial measures were called for. The saucepan off the heat; the mixture strained to remove the cooked bits; a new egg yolk deployed in the now cooler mixture to compensate for the egg lost; back to the stove. Well, I wasn’t going to waste all that mandarin zest. Do you know how hard it is to zest a mandarin?
Of course, it was never going to be perfect, was it? One egg yolk wasn’t going to do the trick, and eventually, reluctantly, I admitted defeat, took it off the heat, poured the runny mixture into jars.
Sean’s recipe wasn’t at fault — my vagueness and impatience were the problem. The tangy, two-citrus flavour is divine and I’ll be attempting the recipe again soon, but in the meantime, I just can’t keep away from that jar in the fridge.

Reasons to Be Cheerful

Daylight saving ended overnight Saturday in these parts, shutting down summer and its restorative evening light. Leave the office tonight in damp gloom after my least-favourite day of the magazine’s monthly cycle; the day when we proof-read the “positionals” — PDFs of the completed magazine. The third or fourth time I’ve read much of the text. Tedious beyond belief. Energy-sapping. Tragic that the day’s highlight is to swoop on typos, red pen in hand.
Old people on the train, trumpeting such. “Let the old people sit down,” one cackles, as I make way. Bloody hell — could that be me one day? Too long since I felt carefree.
Am needy for something hopeful, light-hearted, optimistic. So, for you and for me — 10 reasons to be cheerful. Feel free to supplement my list.

1. My ice-cream maker still works. Thought it had died but it remains faithful, churning out this fabulous strawberry sorbet for me on the weekend. Must remember always to have the mix chilled when it goes into the machine — that, I think, helped it do its important work. The recipe was from Ices: The Definitive Guide, by Caroline Liddell and Robin Weir (Grub Street, 1995). 450g fresh strawberries, 375ml sugar syrup, juice of two lemons, strained, 1 egg white. Blend strawberries with a little sugar syrup. Strain away seeds if you prefer. Blend in remaining syrup and lemon juice. Stir. Chill. Churn. Ten minutes after you’ve started, add lightly whisked egg white. Am looking forward to making basil-flavoured lemon sorbet with the last of my summer basil, and lime sorbet.
2. An exquisite colour spectrum. When I converted the image above to a “GIF” file for use on a web page, the “colour table” in my Mac broke it down into the most exquisite colour spectrum — turquoises and aquamarines and pinks and oranges and reds. Confirms my thinking that reupholstering Aunty Amy's unsprunged, faded 1930s dining chairs (in 10 years when I can afford to do so) in a racy turquoise/aquamarine colour might just work with some of the existing red-hued interior features of my decor.
3. Lilies. With the weather as it is, the yet-to-open lilies I bought at Fox Studios Entertainment Quarter markets on the weekend might yet linger healthily for weeks.
4. A new crop of thoughtful, dynamic, expressive food writers might soon be born. Over three Saturdays in May, my friend John Newton will take a UTS-accredited food writing course at the NSW Writers’ Centre designed to show students a range of food writing and to introduce them to “the other branches of food writing that go beyond taste and flavour to politics and the environment”. (The far more interesting — and increasingly important — side of food writing.) Writers’ Centre members $330; non-members $360. No surprise that there’s a great recommended reading list, including Elizabeth David’s An Omelette and a Glass of Wine, Waverley Root’s The Food of France and Harold McGee’s On Food and Cooking.
5. Early-morning starts. Now that the light has left the evening, but returned to the morning, I’ll be able to really seriously contemplate getting up to go to OzPaddle’s 5.50am kayak fitness training at Rose Bay. (On second thoughts, maybe that’s not a reason to feel cheerful…)
6. Blue cheese. The uninspiring-looking Kavil crispbread my mother bought last time she visited is still fresh and tastes just fine with a little St Augur blue.
7. Just a small cut. It’s only a little operation I have to have next week and the surgeon says it’s curable.
8. A mother's love. My loving, hoarding mother, who will arrive next week to serve me soup and mop my brow, continues in her op-shop quest to find me old cookbooks and her last find — The Australian Women’s Weekly Cookbook (I reckon it’s from the early ’50s, a very different beast to today’s WW offerings, and was under the direction of someone called “Leila C. Howard” — is that a clue for anyone?) — is a treasure. And thankfully I’m not relying on it to make ice-cream, as its “Homemade Ice-Cream” recipe calls for dry powdered milk, gelatine, butter and flavouring.
9. Creamy pasta. I fully intend to go to the kitchen now and cook myself my favourite comfort food — Marcella Hazan’s spaghetti carbonara — and I’m not even going to think about calories.
10. Eel. I’ve got smoked eel in the fridge.

•    Catch Radio National’s The Media Report on Thursday morning (8.30am), to hear me interviewed by host Antony Funnell for a program that “explores the symbiotic relationship between food and the media”. Podcasts too if you can’t be near your radio.

Happiness is...

Happiness is only ever as far away as a David Jones food hall (think Dean & DeLuca, think Peck) ... and Sydney's is inestimably better than Melbourne's. In the face of that wicked abundance, what do I buy? My comfort food — weisswurst (to be eaten with my own tomato relish and a baked potato and green beans for dinner), and cognac pâté to be taken to my brother's place tomorrow night (if I don't midnight-snack on it before then).
In the face of jamon and wagyu and you name it, that's about all my indecisiveness could settle on as I lurked and swooned in that basement on the corner of Market and Castlereagh. (And when I should have been Christmas shopping.)

Memories Are Made of This

Here's one that goes straight into the Favourite Food Memories file: a wondrous, mouthful of a dish at Pearl.
Sukiyaki of Moondara beef with tofu, shiitake, enoki and daikon, shiso and chrysanthemum shoots, quail egg and a dashi broth added at the table.
Chef Geoff Lindsay's carefully anotated menu notes that "Moondara beef is from Tajima strain grass fed Wagyu beef grown on the Prentice family farm at Moondara in the Gippsland Mountain Rivers District". (For the non-Australians among you, we can't walk five paces here without stumbling over a piece of Wagyu: chefs are going crazy for it.)
Damn, that beef was silken (I was ever so happy to hear some know-it-all in the dining room pipe up at one point during the special dinner and claim that Wagyu beef has good fats, not bad). Waiter poured over a fine broth, lots of shoots everywhere, cubes of daikon, and the sweetest little quail egg on top.

Things I Love

How I love wild, wet and windy Melbourne days, a pot of soup on the stove, part-time work, my new Mac, Carla Bruni's album Quelqu'un m'a dit, and the internet. Look what I just found: a blog called Gridskipper, "the Urban Travel Guide". It looks at an endless list of cities (you can subscribe to feeds on individual cities), including Mumbai/Bombay. With one keyboard stroke, I've learnt about Mumbai's women's-only cab company - Forsche - plus some great fabric shop tips. (Problem is, I keep buying fabric when I travel ... you should see my Shanghai silk... but never have it made up... about time I started to learn something from the craft bloggers among you.)

100 Favourite Food Memories

I’m celebrating 100 posts on Elegant Sufficiency with a list of my 100 Favourite Food Memories. I don’t want to sound like a wanker here… I know I’ve been incredibly fortunate (and spent way too much money eating!). But what started as just a list has become a far more curious exercise, bringing back tastes and sensations and emotions and wonderful and difficult memories. (This list, which is in no particular order, would not have been possible without my crazily obsessive Virgo characteristic of filing systems and extensive notes.)
To mark this milestone (although my boss rather took the wind out of my sails when he told me that the author of one of the world’s most popular blogs about gadgets has written 6,500 posts), there’s something special at the end here that might interest you: If you’re yawning at my meandering memories, skip to the bottom.

Liqun roast duck restaurant

1. Peking duck at Beijing’s Liqun Roast Duck Restaurant – including a heaped plate of duck liver.
2. Crab-filled xiao long bao dumplings at Nanxiang steamed buns restaurant, Yu Yuan Gardens, Shanghai – to bypass the queues running out the door, on my visit here with my parents I had no option but to tell the waiters that my father was very unwell and needed to sit down urgently. Which, at the time, was a long way from the truth.
3. I can’t remember the details but Greg Malouf's AMAZING tongue salad at Mo Mo.
4. Pulled noodles at a streetside stall beside Yue Hu (Moon Lake), Ningbo China. OK to be honest, I was terrified of its hygiene levels, but I was with my plucky 60-year-old godmother who was teaching English in Ningbo at the time, and her enthusiasm for the noodles and the local beer was infectious.
5. The extraordinary vacherin with fine layers of meringue, Syrian apricot ice-cream and orange praline sorbet made by clever Alison Wall, the former pastry chef at Greg Malouf’s Mo Mo.
6. Loch Fyne oysters – eaten in a chill breeze blowing off the lake on the west coast of Scotland.
7. Mrs Wang’s zha jiang mian – the ubiquitous northern Chinese noodle dish. My godmother and I stayed with Mrs Wang and her family in their Beijing hutong courtyard house.
8. My first taste of green chicken curry in Bangkok with a man I loved – at a backstreet stall with kittens crawling over the tables.
9. Corned beef with parsley sauce: the first dinner Grandma would cook when we’d arrive at my grandparents’ place for holidays after the 12-hour drive from Queensland to Sydney when we were children. (Are we there yet?)
10. Sydney rock oysters at the miraculous Pier restaurant in Sydney; a teary, bonding meal with my brother.
11. Cold tofu cubes in the lightest wispy garlicky sauce, alongside the crisp deep-fried mutton at Shui Hu Ju restaurant (68 Peel Street, Hong Kong.)

Those buffalos and me, I mean, I

12. My first taste of Australian buffalo mozzarella in the Western districts of Victoria.
13. Wonton noodle soup on my exhausted, emotional, uncertain and lonely first night living in Hong Kong. (89 Hennessy Road, Wanchai.)
14. Crisp roast pork served the next night by the very kind Raymond Sinn at Hong Kong’s Tai Woo Restaurant. (27 Percival Street, Causeway Bay.)
15. Crème de Chou-Fleur, Truffes et Pain d’Epices Grillé – an intense cauliflower soup with slices of truffle and grilled spicy bread at Guy Savoy’s Les Bookinistes restaurant in the 6th – with Megan and Meaghan. How I miss them.
16. Tea-smoked duck at Bamboo House.
17. Sally Cuthbertson’s lasagna: layers of spinach, basil, tomato passata, provolone, ricotta, mozzarella, white sauce and pasta after a hard morning bottling tomato sauce under my ex-boss, her husband Slattery’s, exacting eye.
18. My 30th birthday meal at Mezzo in London – roast wild salmon with white beans and pistou, with Veuve Clicquot, my brother and his ex-wife, the self-centred Austrian sex kitten.
19. Spaghetti vongole on the terrace of an Amalfi restaurant with my mum and my brother.
20. Thai stuffed omelette with chilli fish sauce and jasmine rice at Meera Freeman's old Kin Kao in Prahran, Melbourne.
21. Paul Wilson’s poached egg, truffle and soft polenta – at Georges, at Radii and at the Botanical.

Spareribs, Silk Road style

22. The Silk Road flavours of the fried lamb spareribs with sliced chilli sauce at the crazy Old Beijing Zhajiang Noodle King restaurant.
23. Steve Szabo's “tarte tatin” of braised beef cheek + glazed root vegetables with parsley and truffle oil during his old Jimmy Watson’s days (I’m embarrassed to admit that I wrote “incredible orgasm” next to this on the menu I’ve just found from the night!).
24. Rudderfish in smoldering cedar bark at a special wine dinner for Mountadam Vineyards at the Grand Hyatt cooked by Kyoto chef Yoshihiro Murata.
25. Suckling pig in the town of Mealhada, Portugal.
26. Suckling pig at the Flower Drum for a Chinese New Year banquet: Gilbert Lau sliced the poor little piglet’s rouged skin into meticulous little squares and served them, if I recall correctly, with a little bun and some sweet sauce.
27. Jeremy Strode’s pig trotters – stuffed with sweetbreads and a wisp of ginger – at the now-defunct Pomme in Toorak, Melbourne.
28. Steamed black sesame paste dumplings in ginger soup in the back streets of Bangkok’s Chinatown.
29. David Thompson's red curry of minced Murray perch with shredded ginger green beans, Thai eggplants and basil – at a special dinner at the now-defunct Blakes restaurant in Melbourne.
30. Oeuf à la neige, crème anglaise et amandes at Le Petit Bofinger in Paris.
31. Caramel and meringue gelati at Massimo’s Gelati in Noosa. (I just asked my father to get in the car and drive 10 minutes’ up the road to check that I had this description right and, what would you know, he couldn’t be bothered! Ungrateful man!)

Purple-tipped water spinach in southern China

32. The purple-tipped water spinach stir-fried with garlic and mushrooms at a little restaurant in the Guangdong home town of Gilbert Lau during a trip with the former Flower Drum restaurateur back to his home village – his first trip there since he left in the late ‘50s. A wonderful story for another day.

The Shunde fish dish

33. Freshwater fish with Chinese olives and Yunnan ham in a restaurant in Shunde in the Pearl River Delta with Gilbert.
34. Fenouil confit, sorbet citron et basilic at Le Clos des Gourmets in the 7th arr. – intense sorbet with confit fennel.
35. Bresse chicken with foie gras sauce and truffles under the skin at Alain Ducasse in Paris (loved the stool beside my chair for our handbags).
36. Fried minced beef with onions and carrots cooked over a campfire during my Grade 10 school camp at Maroon Dam in Queensland.
37. Crème brulée at the Bibendum Oyster Bar at Michelin House, SW3.
38. Frites cooked in goose fat at Bistro Vue, Melbourne (pity about the completely naff design).
39. Tung Po pork at Liu Yuan Pavilion Shanghainese restaurant (54-62 Lockhart Road, Wanchai).
40. Tempura prawn soba noodles at a rickety stall near Tokyo’s Tsukiji Central Markets.
41. Spinach and mozzarella tramezzini sandwiches in Rome near Piazza Barberini.
42. My first taste of sushi in Japan – at Azuma restaurant in Asakusa, Tokyo.
43. Spaghetti alle cozze e pomodorini on Christmas night at the very local, very hidden Osteria Anice Stellato in Venice’s “Ghetto”; at the end of a misty walk through calles and over bridges following Veneto winemaker friends.

A hutong breakfast

44. An early-morning breakfast in a Beijing hutong – braised meat of an indeterminate variety, chopped minutely with coriander and green chilli, and served in a bun.
45. Life-threateningly spicy dan dan mian noodles at the hole-in-the wall Q Sichuanese restaurant in Wanchai.
46. An oyster omelette with tomato sauce in a Taipei street market. I was in a huff with a Chinese dissident poet.
47. Frank Camorra’s white gazpacho with grape granita at MoVida, Melbourne.
48. Bellinis at Harry's Bar in Venice. My diary recalls: “A woman pulls off a fine cream leather tan-trimmed glove and reveals a perfectly manicured hand and diamonds – immense”. Someone in my party stole an ashtray. We were much younger then.
49. Andrew McConnell’s smoked eel carpaccio, gewürztraminer jelly, dill and crème fraiche at Circa the Prince in Melbourne.
50. Mum’s lamb curry with sambals – most often cooked for Labor Party fundraisers when I was a child.
51. David Thompson’s miang som – pomelo and lobster on betel leaves.
52. Fresh sea urchin tossed through spaghetti at Cafe di Stasio in Melbourne.
53. Uni eaten out of a little wooden box with wasabi and soy with a dear old friend at her Hong Kong apartment.
54. Chu-toro, o-toro and uni sushi at Hong Kong’s Sushi Toki with that dear old friend. (Shop G1015, G/F., Yiu Sing Mansion, Phase 10, 14 Taikoo Shing Road, Taikoo Shing.)
55. That same dear old friend’s Danish open sandwiches with pickled and curried herring. How do you stop your heart breaking when, without explanation, that dear old friend stops returning your phone calls?
56. Kanom krok – coconut-milk-based street food snacks in Bangkok.
57. Juicy barbecued chicken with sticky rice served in a little basket and sweet chilli sauce at the Issan restaurant Krua Rommai. (16 Sukhumvit soi 36, Bangkok.)

Xiao long bao dumplings

58. Magical xiao long bao (“little dragon dumplings”) at Liu Yuan Pavilion Shanghainese restaurant – the original soup dumplings. (54-62 Lockhart Road, Wanchai.)
59. Raclette with boiled new potatoes at the home of Swiss friends in Bern.
60. Homemade bircher muesli with the same Swiss friends, including raspberries from their garden.
61. Sausages in white bread with tomato sauce outside the Prahran Market for a Country Fire Authority fundraiser.
62. With David Thompson, a stir-fry of catfish, curry paste and holy basil at Bangkok’s Tha Chang pier on the Chao Phraya River, dirty water sloshing up on the wooden boards underfoot.
63. Hoy tod – crisp mussel pancakes with bean sprouts – at Spice I Am in Sydney’s Surry Hills.
64. Unagi sushi at Kenzan, Melbourne.
65. The suckling pig my brother cooked in his father-in-law’s pizza oven, Christmas 2005. A niece-in-waiting.
66. River prawns with nahm pla prik at the riverside Phae Krung Kao restaurant in Ayutthaya with David Thompson (followed by a salad of deep-fried frog).
67. The oysters my brother shucks every Christmas.
68. Tony Tan's beef rendang.
69. Every Tony Tan dish that I’ve ever been lucky enough to eat.
70. My first taste of Jamón Ibérico, standing in the middle of a Valencia market. Swooning.
71. Kumamoto oysters from Oregon at Grand Central Station’s Oyster Bar.
72. Oyster omelette with chilli jam at the Flying Vegetable restaurant in Phitsanalok, Thailand.
73. Macaroni cheese at Bubby's Pie Co. in Tribeca with my friend Abby. It’s time I got in touch.
74. Mum’s pressed ox tongue. (Future post coming on this.)
75. McDonald;s Filet-O-Fish for the hangover after my 35th birthday.
76. Chilled lobster and corn chowder at Lever House at Park Ave. and 53rd.
77. Karen Martini's gorgonzola pannacotta with a salad of asparagus, radicchio, witlof, apple and aged balsamico.
78. Warm lamb’s tongue and potato salad with saffron potatoes and honey-lavender vinaigrette at Gary Danko in San Francisco.

Crab in Lockhart Road

79. Steamed crab with garlic at Yuet Wah Wui Crab, Lockhart Road, Causeway Bay.
80. Little gem lettuces with green goddess dressing and roasted beets at Chez Panisse downstairs.
81. Puree of summer pea soup, riesling, scallop carpaccio and peperoncino oil at L'Impero, New York.
82. Jeremy Strode’s free range eggs “sur la plat” with creamed mushrooms at the now-defunct Pomme.
83. Mum’s lambs brains in white sauce.
84. My friend Jane’s goats cheese salad, served at her old Paris apartment.
85. Crisp riesling, or fino sherry, at Ricky Ricardo's in Noosa as the sun goes down over the river, fried stuffed olives and aioli at the side.
86. Foie gras and cured pork on lentils at Jeanty at Jack's, San Francisco.
87. Robiola cheese with great tomato, bought at Peck food store in Milan, eaten at a truck stop with Mum and Dad after driving through a scary tunnel in northern Italy.
88. Cold Shanghai noodles served in a tumble in the middle of a platter, surrounded by little dishes holding condiments including chilli oil, vinegar, hoi sin-style sauce, pickled vegetables and ground peanuts at Kung Tak Lam Organic Shanghai Vegetarian Cuisine. Mix and match the toppings to create a personalised noodle dish. (31 Yee Wo Street, Causeway Bay, Hong Kong.)

Rut & Lek, Bangkok

89. Fried rice with crab and egg + Singha beer at the sidewalk Rut & Lek in Bangkok’s Chinatown (Yaowarat and Soi Texas): toilet paper rolls are on the table if you need a napkin.
90. Mum’s baked chicken with mayonnaise: a (bizarre) family favourite in the late ‘70s.
91. My first taste of a Parisian baguette – with unsalted French butter.

Bangkok street food: I need a name?

92. The Bangkok street food (above) that I can’t remember the name of: little sweet, soft, translucent pastry pockets with pork and I think peanuts in them. Can someone help?
93. The incendiary, chilli-oil-smothered pork dumplings at Man Jiang Sichuan restaurant. (1/F 482 Hennessy Road, Causeway Bay.)
94. The weisswurst or bratwurst from the deli-hall stall at Queen Victoria Market in Melbourne. No sauerkraut please.
95. My first taste of fresh horseradish – whipped through cream and served with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding: a meal I cooked while “studying” at Le Cordon Bleu in London.
96. The fresh fish served at a long-table, flame-lit, tropical-sultry dinner on the Fijian island of Vatulele.
97. A farmers-market and garden-generated meal at the Bay Area home of friends, cooking teacher Linda Hillel and her husband, Jon: okra, brushed with olive oil and sprinkled with kosher salt and barbecued; sautéed millet and bulgur wheat with red Russian kale, olive oil and garlic; tomatoes from the garden and basil; and Cypress Grove Humbolt Fog blue cheese.
98. Braised tripe at yum cha at Victoria Seafood restaurant, Wanchai, Hong Kong.
99. My first taste of rucola – after descending from the Roman ruins of Tiberius’s  "Damecuta" villa on Capri.
100. Strawberries from my late grandfather’s Sydney garden with icing sugar and cream at the big antique table with the lace cloth. It's now my Melbourne desk.

SOMETHING SPECIAL: OOH LA LA, A COMPETITION!

It’s your turn: I’d love to hear some of your Favourite Food Memories and, to encourage you to stop lurking and come out of the closet with them I’m running a little competition. Post a comment here with your Five Favourite Food Memories by Sunday, May 20, and I’ll send a prize to the person who writes what I judge to be the most fabulous. The prize (which I’ll post anywhere in the world) is a copy of the luscious and award-winning Saha: A Chef’s Journey Through Lebanon and Syria, by Greg and Lucy Malouf (Hardie Grant, 2005).

Beautiful Handmade Things

One of the final books I worked on late last year in my previous job as a publisher was a stunning book called Handmade in Melbourne (by Jan Phyland and Janet de Silva with photographs by Dean Cambray, Geoff Slattery Publishing, 2006) that left me seething with envy at the rich, time-honed talents of the book’s 80 subjects. Textile artist Masako Shibata, for example, who uses rare vintage kiminos to stitch delicate bags, obi sashes and brooches. Cobbler Johanna Preston, who crafts avant-garde shoes from the finest leathers. (A pair of her Moroccan-ish slip-ons now resides in my wardrobe.) Homeware designers Kyle de Kuijer and Stephanie Flemming, whose funky Holly Daze fabric designs are deployed in cushions, lightshades and doorstops. Ceramicist Kris Coad, who creates exquisitely delicate and transclucent porcelain pieces. And here’s me, to my craft-loving mother’s great distress, not even able to sew a button on. Working on the book has left me with a lengthy shopping list: I want some hand-rolled Est soap, a fabric-covered hammer & daisy journal, a Barbara Richards lamp, a Jack Pompei timber dinghy, a Greg Hatton willow chair, a Lynley Traeger chain-mail cake cover. (Pictured above, clockwise from top left, the Handmade in Melbourne cover, the Lynley Traeger cake cover, a section of a Barbara Richards' lamp, a fabulous pink Preston Zly shoe.)

The New-Craft Phenomenon

My former colleagues tell me that the response to Handmade has been tremendous. As anyone who has surfed the limitless world of craft blogs knows, individual creativity, making things by hand with love and care, and exploring old artisanal skills, have come together to develop into a powerful and pervasive early-21st-century trend. It all taps into some deeply held need we have for creation, individuality and self-expression, and a desire to nurture ourselves and others. And, in what strikes me as a curious post-modern twist, the internet has fed this new-craft phenomenon, allowing professional artisans and the countless home crafters with blogs to establish intense communities, and spawning an explosion in new paths of commerce.
I’m about to start work on an article about blogging, so I’d be really interested to hear your perspectives on the subject. In the meantime, in no particular order, thought I’d share some of the interesting sites I’ve come across that, to one degree or another, feed or nourish this whole new-craft thing.

Buying and Selling and Looking at Beautiful Things

Etsy.com: Four American blokes started this ebay of the handmade world, which allows you to buy handmade things – according to conventional categories, through searches, by colour, or via lists of items hand-picked by Etsy members – or sell your own handmade goods by setting up your own Etsy shop.

Modish: This site calls itself a “stylish blog for indie shoppers” that “ignores the stale, the overdone” and is “not interested in the mass-produced or mass-marketed”. Current posts feature jewellery by the Iowan company Circle Designs, art and T-shirts by Monster Town, and vases by Blue Bell Bazaar. Through its posts and an “indie shopping directory”, Modish directs visitors to the creators’ own websites, where you can buy online mostly using Paypal. Some have their own Etsy shops. By quoting a “Modish code”, some products attract a discount. (Not all sites ship internationally.)

i shop indie: This is a “collective of online independent artists, shop owners and crafters who want to increase awareness of online indie shopping”. Only 12 craftspeople are featured at any one time. Again, it’s a portal-style set-up that will direct you off to the makers’ own sites if you want to make a purchase.

Georgielove.com: a Melbourne-based online store “which promotes and sells handmade delights from independent and emerging artists from Australia”. The site takes online payments, organises shipping and will act as an intermediary between artists and buyers who want something custom-made or a little different from what is seen on the site. Some of the featured craftspeople include Leila & Pacquita, who make how-did-I-ever-manage-without-one “jewellery hangers” and Wendy June, who creates kooky toys.

Creature Comforts: What started as a blog about beautiful products and designs has spawned an online shop called Wren Eleven, which organises gift-wrapping, shipping and payment of a range of handmade items. I’m rather liking the featured cupcake necklace from Danielle Maveal Jewelry.

Modamuse: This blog showcases modern Australian and New Zealander designers and artisans, linking visitors to the sites of designers such as ceramicist Liz Low, jeweller Mark Vaarwerk, and jeweller Bridget Kennedy.

ShopMoose: This Australian-based online shop sells jewellery, ceramics, fibre and art and claims to be “all about creative people”, aiming to “foster the creative spirit in everyone”. Artists include Jess Dabro, who makes soft, eccentric toys and Melbourne ceramic artist Sophie Milne.

Decor 8: “Fresh finds for hip spaces” and design consultancy, coming to you from New Hampshire, Boston.

Design*Sponge: Website and online shop featuring from Brooklyn-based writer Grace Bonney dedicated to home and product design.

All Handmade Gallery: Sydney-based online shop featuring an especially good range of ceramics.

Trust Your Style: A site by Los Angeles-based Mary Jo Matsumoto celebrating all “the fashions, designs and people who trust their own style”.

Hope I got all this information right. Please let me know if I’ve slipped up anywhere. And have I missed anyone?

Danish Design

I’m looking for a cheap flight to Copenhagen. Not just because I desperately want an Arne Jacobsen Egg chair. And not just because I’m currently waging a campaign to convince my mother than I really do need the Georg Jensen cutlery set she received 40 years ago as a wedding present and which languishes, unused, in a sideboard at home.
I want to visit Copenhagen to eat at Noma, a Michelin-starred, tantalisingly beautiful restaurant in the Danish capital that showcases Nordic cooking using regional food.
From the Noma website:

“We view it as a challenge to play a part in bringing forth a regeneration of Nordic culinary craft … we have been finding a number of simply phenomenal ingredients that we have flown into town for our use: Horse mussels, deep-sea crabs and langoustines from the Faeroe Islands, which are living right up until the moment they are served to our visitors. Halibut, wild salmon, cod and seaweed and curds from Iceland. Lamb, musk ox, berries and the purest drinking water from Greenland.”

In what is a pretty inadequate review, The Guardian writes of Noma dishes such as beef tartare with a tarragon emulsion and wood sorrel; "klipfisk", a warm variation on salt cod brandade, with a truffle broth and toast; and homemade muesli with sheep's milk yoghurt sorbet. The Noma website, which includes some extraordinary photographs of the restaurant and dishes, is more illuminating – to a point. The sheer foreign-ness of the dishes and their ingredients is intriguing: Seared lobster and celery, tapioca and elderberries; cooked leeks and truffles from Gotland, bread salad and sautéed langoustine; glazed musk ox and caramelized apple, beetroot and woodruff.
Please, if anyone has eaten at Noma, I'd adore to hear more. Should I buy that air ticket to Copenhagen?

Strange Settlements

Melbourne is atwitter. A massive, wrap-around advertising billboard has sprung up in my neighbourhood showing a leggy model in frock and hat astride what looks like a child’s rocking horse or a carousel horse. It promotes a large shopping mall’s fashion offerings, but the oddly kinky image of the model on the horse is transfixing. Passing a local milliners this morning, I got a glimpse of a woman inside trying a frothy, blue-net confection on, tossing her head and preening. My local betting shop was packed; no fashion here, just the intense, the rough-around-the-edges, the addicted, the tense, the mutterers, the screamers.
The Spring Racing Carnival, the highlight of the Australian social calendar, is upon us. It’s the Kentucky Derby, Royal Ascot, Hong Kong Cup and Prix de l'Arc Triomphe rolled into one and tied up with a sleek bow. The highlight of the Spring Racing Carnival is the Melbourne Cup Carnival, four race days – Derby Day, Melbourne Cup Day, Oaks Day and Stakes Day – at Flemington race track.
At this time of year, in the Members’ enclosures at various points around the track, strange little settlements spring up – the Birdcage, the Nursery, the Rails, the Champagne Lawn. Like a tented refugee relief camp, the white marquees go up overnight. The decorators come in, bringing their rolls of fabric and carpets and flowers and their bits and pieces to create their themes (antiques and gilded mirrors for a Victorian theme; some chinoiserie for the Oriental look; some blond-wood furniture for a Scandinavian do-up). The caterers are next, in a flurry, with their flutes and platters and their elegant, expensive little tastes of Wagyu beef cheek on horseradish crème, or Berkshire pork belly with green apple jelly, or the merest slivers of chicken sandwiches, or whatever.
These contrived little settlements have developed a miniature political system, where status and power and influence are everything. To be anyone in this system, you must, at the very least, have a pass to the Birdcage. To be a person of considerable status, you must have an invitation to the Emirates marquee in the Birdcage. But to be in the highest echelons of power, you must have an invitation on Derby Day to the Emirates marquee in the Birdcage. If you make it that far, past the heavy-duty security personnel at the tent flap, and few do, you’ll rub shoulders with actors and celebrities and corporate titans and sports stars, be served as much champagne (not sparkling) as you can drink, and as many elegant, expensive little tastes as you can eat, and you’ll give your bets to slender women dressed in racing silks, and probably not see a horse all day.
I fell from invitation lists a long time ago, and reckon that the Birdcage-Emirates Marquee-Derby Day trifecta is one that I’ll be waiting a very long time to come in. But I feel sure I'm going to cope. Because I have:

1 A funky hat that I’ll wear regardless but which surely would be sniffed at in the Birdcage;
2 A chicken sandwich recipe that should be patented but which in its photographed incarnation here is substantial and rustic rather than elegant and expensive;
3 An invitation to an exhibition opening at a friend’s gallery that I’d like to share with anyone who’d like some artistry mixed in with their spring racing.

1 The Funky Hat



2. The Elegant Sufficiency Chicken Sandwich

Poached chicken:
4 skinless, preferably organic, chicken breasts
2 large onions
2 sticks celery
2 sprigs thyme
3 bay leaves
2 cinnamon sticks
1 lemon
1 ½ teaspoons white peppercorns
1 ½ teaspoons allspice berries
Chicken sandwiches:
160ml good mayonnaise (S&M or Best’s – more if necessary)
½ cup chervil, lightly chopped
½ cup parsley, chopped
½ cup chives, chopped
a few leaves of basil, chopped
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
1 cob-style loaf of white bread, crusts removed (Babka’s Casalinga is brilliant but not evenly shaped, so if using Babka bread, your chicken sandwiches will necessarily be rustic! Babka: 358 Brunswick Street, Fitzroy, Melbourne)
unsalted butter

To poach the chicken: Put the chicken and aromatics in a large saucepan with enough water to cover. Bring to the boil, then lower the heat and simmer gently for 7 minutes. Turn off the heat and leave for about 25 minutes in the hot stock to complete the cooking. (I've stolen this brilliant poaching technique from a recipe for Upside-Down Chicken and Eggplant Pilaf featured in Greg and Lucy Malouf's Saha, Hardie Grant, 2005)
To make the sandwiches: Remove the chicken from poaching liquid and lightly chop. Combine with mayonnaise, chopped herbs and salt and pepper.
Remove crusts from bread by using bread knife to saw off each of six sides. Slice and butter fairly thinly. Spread chicken mixture on slices to form sandwiches.
Slice sandwiches in desired shapes (triangles, fingers, squares or something fat, satisfying and rustic as here) and serve sprinkled with finely chopped chives.

3. The Invitation

Andy Dinan of [MARS] Melbourne Art Rooms invites you to the launch of ‘The Cup’, a collection of ceramics and paintings inspired by the Melbourne Cup by Kate Dorrough

[MARS] Melbourne Art Rooms
418 Bay Street Port Melbourne
   
Tues 31 Oct, 10.30am - 12noon
 
Morning tea, including cupcakes, Cinzano cocktails and the Elegant Sufficiency chicken sandwiches, with a parade of 'Cups You Can Wear' by Kitty K

RSVP Essential to Andy Dinan by Mon 30 October
9681 8425 andy@marsgallery.com.au
(Exhibition closes Sun 12 November)