Saturday, March 31, 2012

Anatomy of a Sunday

Today we...

Felt that fairpalooza had been a bit of a bust, so decided to swing by the Hawker Primary School fete.


 We decorated cupcakes, and then spotted on the horizon...


Both boy and father were bitterly disappointed the cut off age for the hot air balloon ride was 4.  I suspect we'll be back next year for that if nothing else.

Other verdicts: as a school fete, it was pretty big, with quite a bit to do.  Thanks to daylight savings and my inability to realise that while some of my devices change automatically not all of them (hello oven!) do, we arrived as the very beginning, and it was still quite crowded.  A truly bizarre white elephant stall could have revealed some treasures, but Toby entered melt down phase so we headed off for the markets.



To puzzle over this one.  Mighty Perky Nana chocolate bars.  I .... I just.... I don't...   Part of my problem is I keep thinking of Nana as Nanna, not as (ba)nana, which leads to all types of questions about what exactly is perky.  And leaving you with that image,


Smoked meats!  I love a good deli.  But we abstained this week and came home to clean, and to make a muti-layered Indonesian spice cake.

And Toby did his first watercolour painting.



Not bad, kid.




Finally, I headed outside, lured by a flash of colour.  You see, we bought these nasturtiums at least 4 weeks ago.  And then failed in the whole planting stakes.  But they grimly held on despite our total neglect, and have even decided to flower, still in their pitiful little pot.

So I planted them into the flower bed.  What's the bet they're dead by tomorrow?

PS - The cake is delicious.

Monday, March 19, 2012

In defence of Canberra

I was driving into work this morning listening to 666 ABC, and heard a few comments by one the guests disparaging Canberra.  It's sort of trendy to Canberra-bash.  We moved here from Perth 5 years ago.  When people found out we had just moved, the inevitable question would always be (often accompanied with a look of pity) 'Ohhh.  How are you finding it?'.

You know what? We love it!  We weren't expecting to (my husband particularly) and for a couple of sand gropers the lack of an immediately accessible beach still grates sometimes, but overall I love this city.  For its body and its brain.  Where else would you have the stunningly beautiful sight of hot air balloons over Lake Burley Griffin at dawn coupled with a city that buzzes with so much politics that even the local baristas have their opinion on the latest spill saga?

(picture from the ABC)

The thing I increasingly come to realise about Canberra is it's not really one city - or if it is, it's a split personality.  There's the Canberra that is the national capital, and there's the Canberra that is just a big country town.  The national capital Canberra is centered around the parliamentary triangle, and is populated by a mix of fly in/fly out politicians and their staff, and public service types doing the requisite three years at DFAT before they can score an overseas posting.  It is by its nature impermanent and transient, and I'm not sure the people who live in that Canberra ever really consider it home.

Canberra the big country town is another place all together.  It's a place of the EPIC farmers market and Murrumbateman field days.  (Being a country town, a lot of what is great about this Canberra is actually in its surrounds - though there's a lot within the territory borders as well.)  It's a place where the local radio station has a jam making afternoon and invites listeners to drop in with a jar.  In this Canberra, we don't have just a plumber and an electrician - we have a milkman (yes, he delivers!), a chicken lady and a direct line to at least 3 local producers of alpaca fleece. 

It's not to say Canberra is perfect.  There is a lack of really good dining in the city itself - some good second tier stuff is pretty good (Italian & Sons, Pulp Kitchen, Dieci e Mezzo and the like) but a Flower Drum or a Quay?  No.  The funny thing is the actual produce here is fantastic, and most people I have met have been produce driven like I have never seen in any other city.  Backyard veggie patches are the norm, chickens a common accessory, and the various markets on the weekend (EPIC, Woden, Belconnen and Fyshwick) are always packed.  Perhaps all the really good cooking is just going on inside the homes of Canberrans.  Some of the complaints though always strike me as a little sheltered.  Housing affordability?  We bought our 3 bedroom, renovated, on a big block house in 2007 (well after the fabled boom) for a good deal less than we sold our 2 bedroom, somewhat renovated, on a smaller block house in Perth for.  Now, we're not in a salubrious suburb (*coughCharnwoodcough*) but even that seems overrated.  It's quiet, clean and filled with trees.  And at a 14.5km commute from my front door to my work at the ANU, it would be considered practically inner city in most other capital cities.

Canberra may not have the best nightlife in the world, and frankly I wouldn't know.  But I think it embraces a different rhythm.  A rhythm that includes incredible local fairs, which I'm determined to visit this year.  (They run sheep down the main street of Bowral, for goodness sake!  The Collector Pumpkin festival!  Cherries! Young!).   And the lack of fine dining?  Head over to Grazing at Gundaroo and it all starts to feel a little better. It's a city of stunningly blue skies and bitingly cold winters - all the better to snuggle down in your handknit alpaca scarf (you've got to do something with all that fleece you bought!).   And the national capital side has its perks as well - with the National Museum, the National Portrait Gallery and the National Gallery of Australia, there's no excuse for feeling culturally deprived.  In need of a political fix?  Head out to Griffith Vietnamese during a sitting week.  Or just hang out near Parliament House at around 6 or so to see all manner of politicians having their morning run.  (This may or may not appeal - a sweaty Tony Abbot is not perhaps the best thing early in the morning.)

I can understand for those who never venture outside of the Parliamentary triangle Canberra may seem a little sterile.  But for those of us who live in both Canberras, the city's pretty great.

Saturday, March 3, 2012

A Fair to Forget

We've had a little bit of rain in Canberra lately.   A fairly wet end of Summer.


(Our backyard, where the chooks used to live.  Luckily we foresaw this and moved them while they were only damp, not sodden.)

 Sullivans Creek at ANU is flowing rapidly for the first time I can remember.



My mother's basement didn't fare so well.



All of this was ok (well, I wasn't the one with a flooded basement) until the rain began affecting FAIRMAGEDDON!.  You see, we'd had a busy couple of days last weekend ripping up carpet and building a bunk bed, so we decided to skip the Canberra Show.   Never mind, says I, there are lots of shows in March.  Why, next weekend alone there's 3 events that I want to go to.

And then it rained.  And rained.  And rained and rained and rained and rained and rained and rained.  (You get the picture).

And then:




It's the Crookwell Potato Festival I'm most upset about.  It sounds like it just walked off the set of Gilmore Girls.  I was going to go and revel in all things potato.  Eat potatoes! Dig potatoes! Throw potatoes! Potato prints! Potato sack races!  It was going to be a glorious, spudtastic celebration of everyone's favourite tuber.  

But, that rain.  By this time Canberra was starting to feel limp.  Grey and drizzly and soggy.  It felt like perhaps it would never stop raining - that this was just the way it was from now.  So I decided to embrace the weather and cook something for dinner that longed for rain and damp as a backdrop.



An oxtail stew with bright spinach dumplings, cooked in lovely English ale, courtesy of Jamie Oliver.  It seems that all of Canberra had the same idea, because I couldn't find oxtail anywhere today.  I settled for osso bucco, and started chopping.  The brightness in my kitchen was a nice antidote to the washed out world outside.



So now the stew has been bubbling away for a few hours, filling the house with all kinds of depth of winter, comfort food aromas.  And outside?


Well played, Canberra.