Over the years of trying to grow my own food, I have discovered that the only things that don’t get eaten by the possums, grasshoppers, caterpillars & native rats (which chewed through the nets I’d put up to try & stop the grasshoppers & caterpillars) are turmeric, lemongrass & ginger. Even the chili bush was stripped of every chili & leaf by the possums last year.
Oh, and I have a very happy bay tree growing in a pot. I’ve even supplied my organic bay leaves to a local restaurant for free.
Fortunately, The Hubby & I love ginger & turmeric & have some every day, so having all the garden beds planted out with these two, and one very enthusiastic lemongrass bush, is a win-win. I’m starting to harvest the latest bumper crop little by little according to our needs. What a joy it is after all those years of failure & frustration.
It’s a life lesson really, isn’t it? For years I battled to do what I thought I should do no matter how stressful it was and no matter how much it cost me emotionally, physically and financially. Mind you, as far as growing my own food is concerned I was also passionate about it and really, really wanted to be able to make it work. But no matter how hard I tried and how much money I threw at it, nature always won. All I ended up doing was feeding the neighbourhood possums, bugs and native rats. There was nothing ever left for our table.
So now I’ve let go of that dream and support my local organic store and farmers markets instead. In so doing I’ve discovered the delights of growing the things that really thrive in my garden, things that even those voracious native rats leave in peace.
So here’s to a bumper harvest of ginger and turmeric. And here’s to celebrating the delicious things we will make together and the health they will bring – physically and emotionally.
The Hubby and I had the conversation we had to have a few weeks ago. About cake. Christmas cake to be precise. You see, one of our lovely neighbours comes around every December selling Lions Christmas cakes. Every year we buy one. In the past we have been known to give them away but last year we ate the whole cake before Christmas even arrived. We love Christmas cake.
This year we decided to buy one and divide it into thirds. We’d keep one-third for ourselves and give the other two-thirds away. Never happened. Once again we ate the whole cake in less than a fortnight, way before Christmas day had a chance to dawn. Did I mention we love Christmas cake?
But for myself, it wasn’t always that way.
My grandmother used to create amazing Christmas cakes. They were works of art. She would bake the cake months in advance and regularly soak it in brandy. Then as the day grew closer she’d cover it in marzipan and then finally a coat of royal icing with all the trimmings. As a child I’d try to grab a piece with the most icing. The cake and the marzipan always remained on my plate, naked and dishevelled. Back then I hated fruitcake but I loved the icing. Kids! My grandmother must have despaired. If only she was still alive, I’d give her Christmas cakes the respect they deserved.
Granny was a great cook but there was one thing I could never fathom. At Christmas she’d serve up jellied peas. Who in their right minds would put peas in jelly? My mum explained that the jelly was aspic, a kind of savoury jelly, but I was not impressed. However, in retrospect, I can see how devilishly clever my grandmother was. She solved the problem of children and peas with a two-pronged attack. Peas in jelly won’t fall off the fork, plus it makes peas so unattractive to children they won’t want to eat them anyway. There’s no danger of peas getting squashed into the carpet if no one under 14 is eating them.
I hope you have a joyful Christmas and I also hope that, unlike The Hubby and myself, you have some Christmas cake left to eat on the day. And wherever you are and whoever you’re celebrating Christmas with, may there be no jellied peas on the menu.
The festive season is a strange conundrum. First we’re encouraged to go to lots of parties, eat too much, drink and generally over indulge. Then suddenly it’s as if someone hits a switch. Magazines and newspaper life style lift-outs start wagging the finger and tell us that the good times are over and we must pay for all the excess. Instead of recipes for the perfect chocolate pavlova, the best Christmas pudding and the most impressive cocktail, we’re instructed in ways to remove the undesirable poundage that the pavlova, pudding and fluffy drinks have deposited on our thighs, waists and chins. It’s like getting your first credit card statement of the year. New Year’s resolutions become abound as the fun times fly out the window.
I was tempted for a few seconds once by a seductive little New Year detox number that promised to clean out my system, get me in to my old jeans and supply me with the perfect life all within the space of 10 days. However when I read what I was expected to eat, or more importantly not eat, I came to my senses. I realised that 240 hours of sheer misery was too much to endure, even for the promised perfection at the end of the torture.
Let’s face it. Diets aren’t about reaching your healthy goal weight.
Diets are about reaching your goal happiness, your goal size smaller than your best friend, your goal boyfriend, your goal life and best of all – your goal envious looks from other people. Diets are about being suddenly slim and glamorous, they’re about swanning around in sports cars and being lusted after by movie stars. Wouldn’t we all be deliriously happy, content and rich if only we were just a little bit slimmer?
I’ve waded through the sure-fire kilo-dropper starvation plans and the swathe of Celebrity Diets. There are only two things I’ve read that have made any sense. One was a famous singer saying that the only way to lose weight was to eat less and exercise more. The other was a famous actress telling us not to believe other actresses who say they eat whatever they like and stay stick thin. She said that she, like the rest of them, was hungry all the time.
So when the over indulgence of the first part of the festive season turns into the cold light of a New Year, I don’t allow myself to be harangued into a life of deprivation. Thanks to a few honest celebrities I now know that people who are slimmer than me aren’t morally superior beings who live incredibly fulfilled and fascinating lives with their perfect partners. They are just people who are a bit hungrier than me.