She Gathers No Moss

How’s the Weather with You?

Posted on 19 September 2013 by sheg4184

So here I am, settled back in the Philippines at last, after almost three months away.

I left at the end of the Filipino summer, worn down to a cranky crisp by the heat and humidity, swearing never to return. Of course, after fifteen weeks in a cooler climate, I changed my tune. I love winter, and I love the cold weather, but I did get a little tired of being chilled to the bone. My wardrobe is no longer adequate for temperatures under 20’C and Australian houses are not designed for the cold weather either. Canberra was literally freezing – we had to scrape ice off the windscreen – and Melbourne was chilly, wet and windy. Manila is always warm, albeit a little damp lately, and I am thawing out nicely. Yet, I have to admit, it won’t be long before I am back to whinging about the heat and humidity…

What is it about weather? As kids, we take little notice, but adults can talk of it incessantly. Do you remember those pricey international calls before emails and texting when we spent a small house mortgage for the chance to check the time difference and find out ‘how’s the weather with you?’ with distant relations around the world? So when did we get so old and boring and so hung up on the temperature?

I do remember our first snow in the UK, four kids between three and eight years old, sliding madly down our steep driveway on tin trays – in bare feet and pajamas! Shoes were for wimps, and even in winter, if you were outside in bare feet long enough, they eventually went numb, and the sharpest gravel felt like soft carpet. I have uncomfortable recollections of swollen, itchy chilblained toes and walking to school in leg warmers that never stayed up at knee level for more than ten steps before they had drooped miserably to my ankles and the rims of my gumboots were rubbing angrily against raw, frozen shins.

And anyone with ears in the UK remembers “the wrong type of snow,” a phrase coined by the British media after unexpected snowfall disrupted British Rail’s train services that left commuters blearily anticipating another lengthy wait in steamy carriages or on chilled platforms, despite lengthy preparations by BritRail. (That adroit turn-of-phrase has since become a euphemistic catch-phrase for any lame excuse.)

On the other side of the planet, we faced different extremes. In Australia, the summers were hot and dry, often reaching temperatures in the high 30s (centigrade), particularly the week school went back after the Christmas holidays. As a teenager I would walk home from school in the enervating summer heat, counting steps to the next splash of shade, as fierce sun rays pounded a drum beat on the top of my head, while my armpits grew damp and uncomfortable, and my feet trudging wearily through melting tarmac.

There were those summer weekends on the coast, and driving back from the beach in a station wagon with vinyl seats that had spent three hours grilling in the sun and then melting onto the back of our unwary, sandy thighs…

In the Tropics we discovered monsoons, those capricious storms that dump water on the world with enough vigour to cause flooding in minutes. Days of watching the clouds empty vast volumes of water onto the ground still makes me wonder where all that water came from – particularly astounding when you come from a bone-dry state like South Australia. In Bangkok, we could time the daily deluge to a ‘T’ as rain gods flicked the switch on the hour for sixty minutes downpour, just in time to settle on the balcony with a G&T to watch the show.

Here in the Tropics, air conditioning is a must for fair-skinned, strawberry blonds like me, who are rarely designed well for surviving the humidity. While I love adventures, I always think I would have made a feeble pioneer or missionary to the jungles of Africa or Asia: two minutes in the Tropics wearing crinolines, stockings and boots, and I would undoubtedly have been reeling damply onto the next boat home. And yet our teenage sons careen around the sports field, tackling, leaping, kicking and throwing, apparently regardless of the heat, while their mother wilts in ungainly fashion in the bleachers, not perspiring but leaking.

In Eastern Europe, on the other hand, where temperatures dropped so low the rain would freeze as it hit the ground and create an ice rink on the patio, we took hours to get ready for school, adding layer upon layer to keep small people warm and cosy, with back views like short, barrel-shaped, Michelin men, the youngest zipped into a thick, fleecy one piece suit like a strait jacket, impossible to escape from. Cheeks and ears turned scarlet with cold, but the children themselves rarely seemed to notice.

And the odd thing is, our memories treat the temperature flippantly: once it is over, our bodies move on, quickly confining memories of discomfort to the far reaches of our brains. Who has not collapsed through the doors of a department store, reeling from the outside heat, gasping with joy at the icy, air-conditioned air on our flushed faces? And yet how quickly do out bodies adapt, so that in the blink of an eye it is suddenly too cold and we are berating ourselves for forgetting that jacket? Weird isn’t it?

Anyway, enough already! Only boring old grownups talk about the weather. So I won’t. I’m off to jump puddles instead…

Posted in Lifestyle, Philippines | Tagged monsoons, snow, Tropics, weather | Comments Off

Corner Tree Café : vegetarian favourites

Posted on 14 September 2013 by sheg4184

Jupiter Street is thriving. It is the place to go in Manila to find quirky, one-off restaurants, and take a breather from those ubiquitous chains. Corner Tree Café is one such idiosyncratic eating place: a cheerful little nook between N. Garcia Street and Bel-Air, tucked beneath a large, leafy Narra tree. The dining room is quaint and cosy, the walls decorated with interesting artwork, bookshelves and ornaments. And it has an international menu of vegetarian dishes that hit the spot. It may not be the only vegetarian restaurant in town, but it is one of a very small handful, and it is undoubtedly one of the best. I have visited it regularly over the past three years, recommended it to in-coming vegetarians and shared it with friends. And you don’t have to be a vegetarian to love this food – I’m not!

The menu includes Asia dishes such as the vegetarian bibimbap, a CTC version of the Korean one-pot dish with organic red rice, bean sprouts, carrots, zucchini and shiitake mushrooms; tofu teriyaki with sautéed asparagus, shiitake mushrooms, and homemade kimchi. Europe is represented by a nut roast served with mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, grilled green beans and gravy, as well as spaghettini with nuts and broccoli. There is a moreish starter of white bean hummus, EVOO and dukka, an Egyptian snack made with a dry blend of seeds, spices and nuts. There is even a selection of Pinoy dishes such as Kare-Kareng Gulay, a traditional Filipino stew made with fresh vegetables and peanut sauce, served with organic red rice and vegetarian bagoong. For thoe who like a drink with their meal, there is a mini wine selection, a couple of local beers and some interesting house cocktails.

Owner, Chiqui Mabanta, states on her website:

“I’ve wanted to open a vegetarian café for a long time. While visiting my sister… in London in 1996, I saw how easy it was to eat healthily. I was also exposed to the idea of vegetarian food being mainstream… this was something new for Manila. ‘

Wanting to create a neighbourhood café with a sense of community, Chiqui opened the Corner Tree Café in May 2009, and has since been serving simple, down-to-earth, tasty meals, great desserts and soft music.

“My main purpose in setting this cafe up was really to give options to people looking for healthiER food and not to tell them how to live.”

Popular blogger Anton Diaz thinks it is the best vegetarian restaurant in Manila. I whole-heartedly agree. CTC never fails to delight. From the vegetable dumplings (siomai) stuffed with shiitake mushrooms, spinach, carrots and singkamas (or jicama – a large, bulbous, potato-like root vegetable only sweeter and nuttier) with a rice vinegar dipping sauce to the North African stew of potato and eggplant, zucchini, carrots and chickpeas topped with toasted almonds and fresh coriander and served over couscous or red rice, I have loved every dish I have had there. The thick roasted carrot soup with cumin is one I am keen to recreate at home, while the baked tofu walnut burger slathered with mint yogurt sauce and sweet potato fries is one I am more than happy to have as a treat when I visit CTC. The fruit smoothies are fabulous, although I am not so turned on by the lemongrass iced tea which is too full of muscovada to taste of anything but sugar water. Yet, sweetness is as sweetness does: the rich, dark Toblerone chocolate mousse and the incredibly decadent Banoffee Pie are utterly divine! Tempted yet?

For a long, chatty brunch with girlfriends, a quick sandwich over a business lunch, a family gathering or cuddling up in a corner with the one you love, CTC serves every purpose, and feeds you well into the bargain. I never leave before planning my next meal!

Corner Tree Café is open daily from 11am to 10pm.

150 Jupiter Street, Bel-Air, Makati City, Metro Manila

Tel: +63 2 897-0295

Posted in Food & Wine, Philippines | Tagged Corner Tree Cafe, Jupiter Street, manila, vegetarian | Comments Off

Secret Balut Business

Posted on 7 September 2013 by sheg4184

Balut is a Filipino street food; a hard-boiled duck egg containing an almost fully developed embryo.

Back in Australia for the holidays, I was sent on a mission to find balut. Filipino migrants must crave a taste of home from time to time, and I discovered that balut is produced in Canberra and Sydney, where there are large Filipino communities. Yet anyone I spoke to in Adelaide seemed wary about sharing their sources. One Filipina restaurant owner was ‘too shy’ to give me her supplier’s details, another bluntly denied any knowledge of its existence. Whether this was professional discretion or fear of repercussions from an unsympathetic public, I couldn’t decide, but everyone seemed remarkably tight-lipped. Despite the secrecy, I eventually found that it is possible to buy balut in select Asian groceries and restaurants, you just have to know where to look.

Another thing I discovered is that this Filipino delicacy is popular throughout South East Asia. China Laos, Cambodia, Thailand and Vietnam all have their own version of balut, and the age of the embryo is a matter of local preference. It’s called khai luk in Thailand, máodàn in China, pong tea khon in Cambodian and hột vịt lộn in Vietnam, but most Westerners know it by its Filipino name. Balut was probably introduced to the Philippines by Chinese traders and immigrants and has since been indigenized by Filipino balut makers or mangbabalut.

Mention balut, and you will conjure up a range of facial expressions from squeamish repulsion to lip-licking relish. Recently, there has been a spate of sensationalized reality TV shows in which participants are inevitably shocked and disgusted by the concept of devouring a boiled duck embryo. Balut seems to be a cultural hurdle most westerners are unwilling to leap.

I have never eaten balut, and I thought I never would. I, too, could not get my head around balut, as Filipinos cannot understand why Australians love Vegemite (that black, salty, yeast extract spread that looks like axel grease disguised as chocolate paste) or would eat kangaroo. Yet, in theory, surely eating balut is not so different from eating roast duck?

One Vietnamese shop owner described how to eat balut Vietnamese style: cooked in soup seasoned with fresh herbs, salt and pepper, or eaten with a pinch of salt and pepper, lemon juice and Vietnamese mint leaves (southern Vietnamese style).

In Cambodia, balut is eaten while still warm in the shell and served with nothing more than a simple mixture of lime juice and ground pepper. A similar preparation, with a slightly older embryo, is known in China as máodàn: literally “feathered egg”.

In the Philippines, balut is seasoned with any combination of salt, chili, garlic and vinegar. The broth around the embryo is sipped from the egg before the shell is peeled off, and then the yolk and young chick inside can be eaten in one mouthful. I have seen balut cooked adobo style in Salcedo Market, and apparently it can also be cooked into omelettes or even used as a filling in baked pastries. One of these days, I thought, I will conquer my cultural aversion and ‘give it a go!’

Today was the day, as it turned out. Returning from the beach with my family, we drove along Hanson Road, renowned for its selection of Asian groceries. A tip-off from an Australian grocer with a Vietnamese wife found us talking to Yen, the owner of a Vietnamese restaurant five minutes down the street. Apparently we could buy balut at the neighbouring Chinese grocery store and she would cook it for us.

Three eggs duly acquired, we sat down to wait. Two local workmen were eating lunch at the next table, one of whom initially seemed willing to be my ‘guinea pig’ and sample the balut for me. Further details, however, had him sliding surreptitiously – and speedily – out of the restaurant.

A Cambodian/Australian family was seated at another table. Lee agreed that balut was not unique to the Philippines, but was popular throughout SE Asia, especially in China where, she told me, laughing, there is a saying: “Anything on legs, eat it!” Lee and her three children really like balut. She warned me, however, that it is very high in protein, so people with high cholesterol levels should be careful. “I never eat more than three,” she admitted.

I told her how I had had trouble finding out where to buy balut; that some store owners were very cautious about divulging information. “They are probably worried it is illegal,” she explains, “and that you may be trying to shut down their business.” Ah-ha!

Yen, the restaurant owner, brought out the condiments to accompany a hard-boiled quail egg she wanted me to try as an hors d’oeuvre. Rolling it in salt and pepper soaked in lemon juice, I pop it into my mouth, breathing a sigh of relief that it didn’t contain an embryo.

An older Vietnamese lady sat down nearby and watched as our three eggs came to the table. I asked if she would like to share one with us. She accepted with alacrity, cracking and peeling the shell away, before dipping in eagerly with a teaspoon. We watched fixedly.

Then it was our turn. My father adamantly refused to participate, while my nine year old niece explained very quickly that she “is allergic to duck.” Three nights before my son and I had watched queasily as Australian DJs, Hamish and Andy, vomited their way through balut in the backstreets of Manila, to cries of “Eat the beak! Eat the beak!” So I was impressed when my fifteen year old decided, with a wry grin, to accept the challenge. Determined to follow his lead, my mother and I also decide to give it a go.

Yen showed us what to do. Cracking the top of the egg with a teaspoon, she presented us with a dark, marbled, slightly murky surface, not at all like the white of your average egg. “Don’t look the first time” she advised. We passed the egg cup round the table, each of us extracting a small mouthful with a spoon. It tasted more or less the same as boiled duck, which may not be my favourite flavour, but was certainly not offensive. A second mouthful, followed by a leaf of spicy Vietnamese basil, was actually quite pleasant. While we all agreed we couldn’t eat the whole egg, it had all been a bit of an anti-climax.

I decided, then, to experiment with the third egg, as we needed to see this duckling properly. Like a science experiment, my son and I cracked open the last egg and peeled back the shell, revealing veined egg yolk wrapped around a dark, meaty shape like a fist. Unfolding this with our spoons, I suddenly found myself staring into the accusing eyeball of a tiny duck head attached to a thin neck, formed as if from clay, and smaller than I had imagined.

At the end of the day, we realized, eating this challenging snack is less about taste and more about cultural expectations and what is in your head. It was the thought of eating a partially formed duckling that made all of us a little queasy, even after we realized that it actually tasted no different to boiled duck.

I am euphoric at hurdling over the cultural barrier and finally eating balut. I feel I have earned my stripes as a temporary resident in the Philippines, but I doubt I will ever do it again. In future I will leave balut to those who find it truly irresistible!

Adapted from an article published in COOK: connecting foodies, Vol. 14, No. 5.

With thanks to Google Images for the top photo.

Posted in Australia, Food & Wine, Philippines | Tagged balut, embryo | 1 Comment

A Taste of Abruzzo

Posted on 1 September 2013 by sheg4184

So let’s begin with a short geography lesson. Abruzzo is a wild and woolly region half way down Italy’s booted leg. It straddles the Apennine mountains east of Rome and west of the Adriatic. Largely industrial, it also has a wealth of small agricultural land-holdings that primarily produce saffron, licorice, olive oil and wine.

Abruzzo, true to form, has an industrial approach to wine making, and almost eighty percent is produced by large co-operative wineries, many of which sell wine to Italian and French winemakers for blending.

Montepulciano is the most popular grape in the region, which produces wines with strong colour but gentle tannins. Montepulciano wines are best when youthful and accompanied by food (isn’t is so often the case with Italian food and wines, which – to paraphrase Frank Sinatra – go together like love and marriage).

Cerasuolo, a rosé made from Montepulciano grapes, is a speciality of the region. Cherry coloured, with a spicy aroma, Cerasuolo tastes of cherry and orange peel, strawberry and cinnamon and is described by wine experts as “one of the world’s great rosés”.

The Talamonti Cerasuolo rosé is certainly a delightful wine, and cheerfully accompanies a variety of dishes. We first made its acquaintance in the foyer of the EDSA Shangri La last week, where, with wine on our minds, we had gathered for ‘cocktails,’ before attending another lovely dinner hosted by the Wine Depot and Talamonti at ‘Paparazzi’. (No, unfortunately I wasn’t sipping wine in the late summer sunshine in Italy, maybe next time!) This lightly fruity rosé – melon and raspberries spring to mind – enhanced by a dash of spice, went down very smoothly. It also paired up extremely well with the melon and prosciutto canapés on offer, and conjured up dreams of vines rambling up an Italian hillside .

We eventually settled at our table before a phalanx of glasses, and bowls of fresh, crisp Italian rolls that rapidly disappeared, via side plates daubed with olive oil and vinegar. I have only been to Paparrazzi once before, and I cannot pretend the cooking shone that time, but tonight, with a set menu to match a selection of Talamonti’s best, everything met with our approval. The service was swift and efficient, and the orange Venetian glass orbs sprouting medusa-style green strands that hung from the ceiling were utterly jaw-dropping.

We were served a simple starter of soft, fresh, creamy pillows of mozzarella di bufala and cherry tomatoes served with Trebbiano D’Abruzzo Talamonti Trevi, 2011. This is a light white wine, with a floral aroma and a faint flavour of apple and peach that worked well with the subtle flavours of the dish. Nonetheless, I couldn’t resist livening up the tomatoes by dribbling the last of the balsamic and olive oil over them, and we were all very liberal with the tall pepper grinder!

Next we were presented with a perfectly cooked piece of seared salmon, firm of flesh and crisp of skin and topped with delicate pea shoots that I mistook for watercress. Sadly the minted peas themselves were unspectacular – the frozen kind common to Manila that can be cooked for days and still come to the table hard enough to break your teeth – and I am only ever so slightly exaggerating! We were delighted, though, to see our affable rosé return to the table, matching perfectly with the salmon.

A primi piatti of maccheroncini (mini macaroni) was next off the ranks, coated in a rich but light truffle sauce and sprinkled with chorizo and spicy Italian sausage, leading to a lengthy discussion on whether it was flavoured with real truffles or merely truffle oil. The consensus supported the real thing. The accompanying Talamonti Moda, with its deep aroma of berries and ripe cherries has taken the silver medal in an international wine competition. Talmonti and truffle made a good match, which we topped off with freshly grated parmesan.

A slight breather was provided by an unusual orange sorbet lightly sprinkled with dark chocolate to cleanse the palate before we moved onto the main course: Kurobuta pork served with polenta and pecorino. I laughed at the recent fashion for ‘naming’ every ingredient on the menu: not simply pork but ‘Kurobuta Pork’, while Australian menus had been full of ‘Berkshire Pork’. Low and behold, “Kurobuta Pork is the most highly prized pork in Japan and comes from the ancient breed of pig known as Black Berkshire…regarded as the highest quality pork in the world.” Unfortunately, despite its reputation, none of us were particularly inspired by the stewed pork, which was a little stringy, but we did like the polenta, and we loved the wine! It didn’t have the strong aroma of the previous red, but this pure Montepulciano wine hit the spot. Talamonti Tre Saggi 2010 was a gold medal winner in Brussels, and it is Talamonti’s flagship red. Apparently the name means Three Wise Men, and was chosen from a fresco in a nearby church.

As we played about with the various wines, comparing, sipping and re-exploring, the staff cleared away the debris of dinner. We were left to our own devices for a while before the dessert made an appearance. I had hoped for a thick, creamy tiramisu – yes, I know, probably a bit plebian, but nonetheless scrumptious – but I was to be disappointed. The ricotta torta was not my cup of tea at all. Full of candied fruit (sorry, never a favourite with me) and iced with a burnt chocolate sauce, I was happy to dessert the dessert and return to the rosé and some rather delicious chocolates, and dream of balmy summer evenings on a hillside in Abruzzo. Buon Appetito!

With thanks to Google Images for the photo of Abruzzo, and, as always, to my One & Only for his photographs of the food.

Posted in Food & Wine, Philippines | Tagged Abruzzo, Cerasuolo, EDSA Shangri La, Kurobuta pork, Paparrazzi, Talamonti Wines, The Wine Depot | 2 Comments

City of Angels

Posted on 26 August 2013 by sheg4184

The Royal Palace is one of the sights to see in Bangkok. Home to the Kings of Siam for almost two hundred and fifty years, this sixty acre compound – one square mile – contains the Royal residence, throne rooms and courtyards, government offices, a couple of museums and the illustrious Temple of the Emerald Buddha.

After the island capital of Ayutthaya was destroyed by the Burmese in 1767, a new capital was established. First in Thonburi and then, in 1792, Rama I began the construction of a new dynasty, a new capital city and a new Royal Palace on the east bank of the Chao Praya River, to keep it safe from attacks from the Burmese. The King named his new city Krungthep mahanakhon amonratanakosin mahintara ayuthaya mahadilok popnopparat ratchathani burirom udomratchaniwet mahasathan amonpiman avatansathit sakkathattiya witsanukamprasit’ or ‘Great City of Angels, the Repository of Divine Gems, the Great Land Unconquerable, the Grand and Prominent Realm, the Royal and Delightful Capital City full of Nine Noble Gems, the Highest Royal Dwelling and Grand Palace, the Divine Shelter and Living Place of Reincarnated Spirits’. Beside such a splendiferous and unpronounceable name, its original identity as a small trading port called Baang Makawk – since truncated by traders to Bangkok – sounds a tad plebian!

At the heart of the new capital was the Royal Palace. Originally built from wood and surrounded by a high wooden fence, the new king eventually replaced the wooden structures with brick and stone reclaimed from the ruins of Ayutthaya and ferried downriver in barges. The Palace was finally completed in 1785. Although the Royal Palace is no longer a Royal residence, it is still used for ceremonial and state occasions.

Today the main buildings are literally dazzling, as the sun reflects off the trillions of tiny mirrored tiles decorating the walls of the main buildings. In fact every surface is coated in coloured tiles: deep blue roof tiles; swathes of golden tiles on the Stupa, painted tiles on the stairs, terracotta tiles on the floor… it must have been a mammouth tiling job! We laughed about the primary school teachers who encouraged us not to leave any white space on the pages we were colouring: the Thais have obviously taken such advice seriously, and decorated their ‘page’ in every colour imaginable.

In stark contrast is the model of Cambodia’s Angkor Wat (which once belonged to Thailand), grey and dignified in its muted simplicity. Still, the colour and splendour of the Palace is totally eye-catching and absorbing. I love the curving roof, boldly elegant and twisting its corners unexpectedly up to the heavens like the hands of the Thai dancers.

I have visited the Palace several times over the years, and it is invariably hot, so don’t forget to take suntan cream and an umbrella – or buy one from the touts outside the gates. This number one tourist attraction is also invariably crowded, and can be particularly thick with tourists through the European and Northern American summer holiday period. It can really help to have a private tour guide to save on queuing, and for the ability to move about with a smaller group. And don’t forget the dress code. No open-toed sandals, short dresses, shorts or strappy tops should be worn.

Our guide and taxi driver took us first to the small museum just off the outer courtyard. This is an excellent aside, a little like visiting the Crown Jewels at the Tower of London… and air-conditioned! The Pavilion of Regalia, Royal Decorations and Coins was established in 1976 by the Royal Treasury to house coins and has gradually been enlarged to include a number of fascinating Royal artifacts referred to as “Auspicious Royal Paraphenalia.”

Royal Paraphenalia or regalia symbolize prestige and rank. It is an ancient tradition whereby the King bestows gifts on members of the royal family, courtiers and officials according to their rank, status and service to him.The Royal Utensils, for the King’s personal use, include an ornate, gold enamel betel nut set that would be placed beside the King at the dining table. The set includes an areca nut cutter and a box of lip wax. Thai monarchs would present such sets to favoured courtiers.

The Quintet of Royal Regalia includes a crown, sword and sceptre. A little more unusually, be sure to see the Royal slippers of gold with the turned-up toes like Aladdin, to prevent the king’s feet from touching the ground,and the Royal Fly-whisk – yes, really – made from the tail of an albino elephant. Apparently, the fly-whisk in Buddhism represents the symbolic sweeping away of ignorance and mental afflictions.

The entrance to the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, or Wat Phra Kaew, is guarded by a huge and fiercely ugly pair of green yakshis, or ogres, five metres high and determined to frighten off intruders. I suspect they do a good job, they are truly scary!

The Temple of the Emerald Buddha is probably the pinnacle of the tour, both literally and figuratively. This royal chapel is home to Thailand’s most scared Buddha. Discovered in Chiang Rai in 1434, it is carved from a single jade stone – emerald in Thai generally means the colour not specifically the stone. It travelled throughout northern Thailand and Laos over the centuries, before coming to rest in the Royal Monastery in 1778. Sitting in meditation on a lofty golden throne above a golden altar, the Emerald Buddha even has its own wardrobe. Clothed in seasonal dress changed ceremoniously by the King in March, July and November – you can see the various outfits in the museum – this illustrious image watches over Thailand from its meager height of 66cm or 26 inches tall.

The Buddha is greatly revered by Thais, and it is important not to treat it with disrespect – most notably by climbing on any images, or sitting with your feet outstretched towards it. Always sit cross-legged, if you can!

Unfortunately the heat drove us away before we had visited every corner of the Palace compound, but it is all so overwhelmingly ornate, I think it is almost better – if you have the opportunity – to revisit again and again, a little nibble at a time.

*With thanks to John Reed for sharing his photographs.

Posted in Local Culture, Thailand, Travel | Tagged Bangkok, Emerald Buddha, Krung Thep, Royal Regalia, The Royal Palace, Wat Phra Kaew, yakshis | Comments Off

Celebrating at the Kasbah

Posted on 20 August 2013 by sheg4184

The Kasbah is an attractive Moroccan restaurant at the Strip in Fort Bonifacio, and also in Borocay, apparently. I have dined there on several occasions, for lunch, dinner and even as a supper theatre venue, with mixed results. This weekend we were invited to celebrate a friend’s birthday, and it proved to be the best meal we had ever eaten there.

Stepping up to the broad, carved, wooden doors framed by Middle Eastern keyhole windows, we were greeted by smiling staff, who ushered us through to a bar bristling with bottles. At night time, the first thing you notice is the aesthetic décor. There is a warm, relaxing ambience of exotic, sultry-coloured fabrics and Middle Eastern furniture: hanging glass lanterns and tasseled lampshades create a seductive, intimate mood; vibrant cushions are tossed over curvaceous chaises longs; electric blue and lime green floor tiles look like rugs on the wooden floorboards, and heavy wooden tables are huddled into nooks. There is also a lovely outdoor deck area, particularly enticing in the evening, to sit and smoke a fruity sheesha with friends.

We began the evening upstairs on the mezzanine floor, and it was like our own private dining room. Needing to squeeze one more person onto our table, we felt no compunction about re-arranging the furniture a little, and no one seemed to mind. Ice buckets were laden with a variety of BYO wines, and the waiters stood aside and gave us time to settle.

It is tapas style eating at the Kasbah, and I love to graze. Our bubbly hostess had chosen the set menu with plenty of vegetarian options. The Kasbah has a poor reputation for rather sleepy service, but tonight the staff was prompt and efficient. With a homemade look to them that I really enjoyed, bowls of creamy, smooth hummus (chick peas and tahini), Zaalouk (a delectable smoky eggplant and tomato dip) and a roughly chopped salad of cucumber, coriander and cherry tomatoes arrived in rapid succession. These were served with warm pizza-slices of pita bread wrapped in cloth and tucked into small baskets, which was a really nice touch.

And then – so much tastier than the ones made with tobacco! – a platter of deliciously moreish ‘Moroccan Cigars’: filo pastry spring rolls filled with soft, mushy eggplant, zucchini and pistachio nuts to add a satisfying crunch, served with a light yoghurt sauce, a firm favourite with everyone at our table.

The somewhat oddly named ‘brochette’ (a French term for kebabs) reflect the history of this north African country, that has hobnobbed with France for centuries, and was a French protectorate in the first half of the twentieth century. Long skewers of tender, gently spiced fish, the brochette had a perfect, firm texture, and were definitely worth a second glance.

The Chicken Tagine or tajine is a dish named after the beautiful, glazed earthenware pots with chimney-like lids in which it duly arrived at the table, brimming with chicken and olives, potatoes and preserved lemon. To misquote Eloise “ooooo, I looooove preserved lemon!”

And finally, a platter of juicy lamb meatballs, Kefta Tagine, drenched in a rich, spicy tomato sauce.

Tables had been cleared and we had all begun to move about, visiting friends at different tables, when plates with morsels of baklava suddenly appeared before us. Manna from heaven – and courtesy of the Ottoman Empire – these sticky, sweet pastries were thick with walnuts, pistachios and almond, held together with honey and a subtle splash of cardamom. Despite the sky-high levels of sweetness, I found my fingers creeping back for more.

The one problem with a restaurant party is that wine and convivial conversations can distract from the glory of the food, but the Kasbah did an amazing job of forcing us to focus on what we were eating, and for a little while at least, we talked only about the wonderful food… I only hope our gorgeous and garrulous hostess had time for a mouthful too! Happy Birthday!

Posted in Food & Wine, Philippines | Tagged baklava, brochette, Fort Bonifacio, manila, Morocco, tagine, The Kasbah Restaurant | Comments Off

Snippets from Siam

Posted on 14 August 2013 by sheg4184

Bangkok – or Krung Thep, its Thai name – began as a small trading post on the west bank of the Chao Phraya River in the fifteenth century. Today, the capital city of Siam – now Thailand – has grown beyond belief, covering over 1,500 square kilometres of the Chao Phraya River delta, and supporting a population of over eight million: almost 13% of the country’s population. The city lights, as we fly in at midnight, stretch to distant horizons.

Landing at the vast new Suvarnabhumi airport, my memories of crawling, noisy traffic and constant activity are belied by empty streets and a ten minute gallop to our hotel. Luckily, while the streets are bare, the bars and restaurants are still humming. At 1am we smile upon a huge bowl of tom yum, thick with tender calamari, lemongrass and lime leaves, prawns and mushrooms, the spices creating a tongue biting heat only dimmed by a large bottle of cold Tiger beer… and I know I am back in Thailand…

It is almost twenty years since we lived in Bangkok, in the mid-1990s, and since then it seems that little has changed, except the taxis that glimmer like iridescent dragonflies, the sky train making road traffic a little lighter, and they have bulldozed my favourite shopping mall, Naraya Phand! Cranes, however, are still a prominent part of the skyline, motor cyclists will mow you down on the pavements – which are as cracked and lethal as ever for unwary pedestrians – the sois still flood after every tropical storm, and the khlongs, to quote Shakespeare, are ‘the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril.’ Bangkok’s rapid economic growth over the last fifty years has been undermined by inadequate infrastructure, lack of planning, suffocating air pollution and ‘chronic, crippling traffic congestion.’

Nonetheless it is a city full of fascinating contrast. In Bangkok, slums squat clumsily beside glamorous five star hotels, up-market shopping malls are flanked by messy, chaotic street markets, eye-catching modern high-rises exist cheek-by-jowl with dazzling golden wats and palaces that reflect the grandeur of a glorious past. It is a twenty-first century Asian city, warts and all, smothered in concrete and billboards, yet somehow, indisputably, retaining its unique culture, its charm and exoticism, and its vibe!

The next morning we clamber into tuk-tuks, breathing in those delectable petrol fumes and the arousing aroma of fetid drains, gawping at the knotted lengths of electricity cables, like varicose veins, winding sinuously above our heads, peering into the bumper-to-bumper street stalls wrapped in pink tarpaulins, shrieking ‘whiplash!’ as our driver jerks his mighty beast into a gap between two lorries …

Strolling past the Erewan Shrine on the corner of Rajdamri and Ploenchit, melting away like candles in the midday heat, we listen to the musicians thrumming their discordant notes on khim and lute, while the dancers, their hands bending and twisting at unnatural angles, dip their heads graciously beneath the weight of their high, conical head-dresses…

Later we sit on the terrace as the mid-afternoon downpour drowns out any hope of conversation and the thunder grumbles querulously, constantly, above our heads, spitefully spitting lightening shards into the clouds. We watch the soi fill with water like a bath tub – which we will have to wade through later to reach the shops…

We spend a day at the whim of a bossy tuk tuk driver, ducking between buses and weaving around the those iridescent pink taxis, to Jim Thompson’s House. I used to bring guests here when the heat was so enervating we felt our eyelids perspiring and our lungs struggled to breath the heavy, humid air, but the tourists were minimal, the value-added attractions non-existent and there was no newly built, air-conditioned restaurant and bar or over-priced gift shop. Today the courtyard is packed with tourists and the fish in the urn rise to the surface to have their heads scratched. We watch the weavers strip bright yellow silkworm cocoons on a tiny spindle as we wait in a queue for the next English tour, then dodge three other tour groups through the overcrowded museum that was once Jim Thompson’s house, which he constructed from six old Thai teak houses just across the klong from where his Thai weavers worked on their looms.

Jim Thompson was an American architect who first came to Thailand during WWII. When he left the army he returned to Bangkok, where he became fascinated with the locally manufactured silk. He took samples back to the States and had soon established a thriving business in Thai silks, now recognized and adored around the world. Also an avid collector of SE Asian art, antiques and artifacts, Thompson’s erstwhile home exhibits samples of Bencharong earthenware, blue and white Ming porcelain, Chinese garden stools, Cambodian carvings, Thai statues and Burmese furniture, Belgian chandeliers, and a dining table once used by King Rama V of Thailand.

Saying kop khun kah to our sweet, softly-spoken guide, we hopped aboard our waiting tuk tuks and headed down to the river for a ride along the Chao Praya River and through the khlongs, or canals, which always remind me how lucky I was to be born in Australia. The poverty and grime eventually starts to catch in our throats, as we chug past garbage piled on the banks and the stilt houses lining these filthy waterways leaning crazily as the wooden stilts rot beneath the corrugated iron walls. High, spiked walls protect richer residents from the grislier sights, while the odd temple adds colour and welcome glamour to the scenery. We are mobbed by old women in canoes, who want to sell us tacky souvenirs that have not been updated since the eighties. The high point of the trip was seeing two huge lizards – water monitors – swimming past us within arm’s reach, and clambering heavily onto the banks. We pass through the huge lock gates, built to protect the villages from flooding, and bounce back down the river on the frothing wake of the enormous rice barges and passenger ferries.

It’s Friday night and we are heading out into the rush hour for dinner. Yet why would anyone sit on Sukhumvit in the notorious Bangkok traffic – it took our friends 3 ½ hours to get into town from the airport – when these days you can rise above – literally – to the sky train and swoop over the immobile cars in air conditioned splendour? The sky train, like a mighty aqueduct, is the main artery through the city, a tip of the cap to Roman invention. It’s a great way to travel through central Bangkok. So we do…

Alighting at the corner of Sukhumvit and Asoke, we wander down Soi 14 to Suda, an open air, street café that would have had my friend Helen reaching for a monster bag of wipes, but for me it has a comfortable familiarity. Stray cats hover on the periphery as we sit down at a battered but sturdy 1950s Formica table wrapped in a plastic table cloth and decorated with pink melamine plates and a container of toilet paper for napkins. There are no frills, but the service is prompt and friendly, once you have learned to helicopter your arms about to catch someone’s attention. It is a popular place for tourists: reliable, good quality street food at a good price. We drain eight bottles of water, and leave our host in charge of ordering, with a mild request for something green in the mix. He goes wild. To our original order of three appetizers – the requisite spring rolls and pandan chicken, and some delicious fish cakes – he enthusiastically adds: a huge dish of crab fried rice; a tasty chilli and basil chicken; satays; chicken and cashews; fabulous fried prawns and beans; a mild larb gai and a garlic-soaked dish of morning glory (a nod to my need for ‘green’), all for the princely sum of 2000 pesos (or AUS$15 per head). Replete to bursting point, we head home in a psychedelic orange taxi…

…And we complete our visit with a blissful foot massage to sooth aching, shopping-weary feet. Surely that wasn’t a whole hour? It felt like 10 minutes, I must have dozed off…

* With heartfelt thanks to John Reed and Fergus Gregori for their terrific photos, and to Google images for the psychedelic taxis!

Posted in Thailand, Travel | Tagged Bangkok, Bencharong, Erawan, Jim Thompson, khlongs, Suda, Thailand, tuk tuk, wats | Comments Off

Greek Cuisine: Perfect Simplicity

Posted on 4 August 2013 by sheg4184

The mere mention of Greece conjures up images of small fishing boats on sapphire blue sea, golden sand, bright, white, flat-topped houses baking in the red hot sun, and luscious displays of fruit and vegetables on quayside market stalls: a rainbow of vibrant, living colour.

Over the centuries Greek cuisine has been heavily influenced by the cross-pollination of cultures and crops, recipes and ingredients from Africa, Arabia, and the Mediterranean. The Ancient Greeks had three main staples: wheat, olives and grapes. As trade developed, spices were introduced from North Africa and the Middle East, while a wide variety of fruit and vegetables were shared around Mediterranean shores, until every Mediterranean cuisine became a mélange of cooking styles and ingredients, while still maintaining its own distinct flavours.

Blessed with a warm, dry Mediterranean climate, Greece never has a shortage of fresh, quality vegetables, pulses, fruits and nuts that form a fundamental part of Greek cuisine. As an archipelago, Greece also has an abundance of seafood, served fresh, or preserved in salt or olive oil. Meat is generally used only for feast days. An arid, rocky terrain means meager grazing for farm animals, which are often working animals too, so meat can be lean and tough. To ensure it is tender enough to eat can involve hours of cooking.

Quintessential Greek cuisine, therefore, is fresh, simple food, cooked with love and respect, high in nutritional value, and low in animal fat. “Why interfere with what nature has perfected?” seems to be the national culinary philosophy. With such a cornucopia of quality ingredients, combined with a simple cooking style – and a lot of olive oil – Greek cuisine is considered to be one of the healthiest in the world.

So what makes Greek cuisine so healthy?

Firstly, there is the predominance of olive oil in the diet. High in mono-unsaturated fats, olive oil is the perfect medicine for reducing high cholesterol levels and keep heart disease at bay. It is also full of Vitamin E and antioxidants. All these benefits add up to a healthier, longer life.

Secondly, there is a high consumption of fiber in the Greek diet: eggplant and artichokes, chick peas and garbanzo beans, nuts, dried fruits, whole wheat breads, rice and pasta appear regularly on the dining table.

Thirdly, Greek cooking uses dairy and meat only sparingly.

Lastly, the Greeks include one magic element, often undervalued in our busy lives: the belief that dining should be a relaxed, family time and meals should be thoroughly savoured.

All these benefits have resulted in Greece being included in the Blue Zone: those regions identified by experts as promising a longer, healthier life.

Filipino chef and entrepreneur, Robby Goco, owns Cyma, an authentic and popular Greek restaurant in Greenbelt 2. Chef Robby trained at the California Culinary Academy in the early-mid 90s. In 2000 he went on a pilgrimage to Greece, where he immersed himself in the language, the culture and the cuisine. Then he came home to the Philippines, determined to create an authentic Greek restaurant. Chef Robby opened his first Greek restaurant in Borocay. Cyma means ‘to flourish’ in Greek, and Chef Robby’s restaurants have done just that, evolving into a chain of eight restaurants across the Philippines and Metro Manila. He also owns ‘Charlie’s Grind & Grill’ and Rockwell’s Mexican restaurant ‘Achiote’. He runs them all with a firm hand on the tiller, keen to build an empire that includes top quality chefs and top notch service. He even encourages his waiting staff to taste everything on the menu, so they can describe every dish from first-hand knowledge.

So what appealed to him about Greek cuisine, I ask. First and foremost, he says, he loves the parallels between Greece and the Philippines. Both countries are archipelagos, where no one lives more than 100km from the sea, so there is a common emphasis on seafood. Also, he says, both the Greeks and the Filipinos prefer their meat overdone, neither likes their food rare or al dente. ‘No blood is the rule of thumb!’ he laughs. ‘For us, meat needs to be cooked inside out,’ he explains, ‘not seared on the outside and raw in the middle.’ His advice is to cook it and then cook it again. ‘Cook it to oblivion,’ he laughs.

Chef Robby adheres to a strong belief in honest cooking. ‘Integrity on a plate,’ he calls it. The secret of Greek cuisine is to use the best quality, freshest ingredients possible, ‘and then you will never mess up!’ He wants his customers to taste the true flavours of the ingredients, without masking them in heavy sauces. ‘Filipinos love complicating stuff,’ he explains, ‘they get distracted.’ For Chef Robby, the essence of Greek cuisine is its perfect simplicity. ‘The less you process the food, the better it is,’ he states firmly.

Chef Robby agrees that sourcing quality ingredients can be difficult in the Philippines, but insists that fresh is best. There are only five basic ingredients required to begin, and they are easily found in the Philippines: lemon, extra virgin olive oil, oregano, salt and pepper. From these foundations, he advises, just add the freshest ingredients you can find, and don’t worry if they are not typically Greek, the effect will still be pure and authentic, and true to Greek culinary heritage.

‘I am not a big fan of fusion,’ he says, ‘for me, it is confusing.’

In his own restaurants he keeps the faith by producing as many traditional dishes as possible, but he is always happy to create dishes that reflect the essence of Greek cuisine, but have been ever-so-slightly indigenized. To prove his point, he brings out the popular Roka Salata made of fresh arugula (ROKA), chopped romaine lettuce, sun-dried tomatoes, candied walnuts, sundried tomatoes and shavings of Parmigiano Reggiano. The traditional Greek dressing is a little too sweet for my tastes, but nonetheless I almost lick the plate clean! Robby enthusiastically shared several of his favourite dishes with us, including my favourite Lamb Yiouvetsi, finishing up with the simple, sweet and healthy Yiouerti Mi Meli, or homemade Greek yoghurt with honey and pistachios.

Recently, I took some friends for lunch at Cyma. We started with a tasting platter of five dips and pita bread while we read through the menu. Tzatziki is the classic Greek dip of cucumber, garlic and greek yogurt, cooling and creamy. Melitzanosalata is a Greek version of the Middle Eastern baba ganoush, a dip of roasted and mashed eggplant, tomatoes, garlic and fresh lemon, without that strong smoky flavour. The ever-popular hummus – chickpea, tahini and garlic – is actually another traditional Middle Eastern dish that has wandered around the Mediterranean to Greece. Htipiti is made from creamed feta cheese flavoured with roasted spicy peppers and the ever-present EVOO, its milder flavours a firm favourite with the kids. And finally, taramosalata, a truly Greek, pink dip, traditionally made from taramas – salted and cured cod roe – mixed with bread crumbs, lemon juice, vinegar and olive oil. Sadly, the chef has been a little heavy handed with the vinegar. Usually my favourite, today it takes a back seat to the fresh and zesty melitzanosalata.

Lamb Yiouvetsi is a large, shared dish of orzo (rice-shaped pasta) served with baked lamb. While the quality of the lamb could have been improved (there was very little meat and a lot of fat), this is usually a really tasty dish. The Greek Phyllo pies are always fabulous. On a good day (go early) you can get a sample platter of them all: Spanakopita (spinach, leeks and feta), Prassopita (onions, leeks and feta), Tiropita (feta, Greek béchamel and kefalotiri cheese, and Kreatopita (ground pork and ground beef with béchamel sauce and sliced tomatoes). My favourite today, however, were the chicken Shish-Kabobs, made from mouthwatering chunks of quality chicken, fresh tomatoes and capsicum slices grilled together on satay sticks and served with pita bread, a small parsley salad and a garlicky yogurt sauce. No room for dessert now, but I’ll be back…

Check out the full extent of Cyma’s menu on http://www.cymarestaurants.com

*Adapted from an article published in HealthToday magazine, April 2013. Thanks to Google images for the photo of Greek rooftops.

Posted in Food & Wine, Philippines | Tagged Cyma, Greek cuisine, Greenbelt, manila, Robby Goco | Comments Off

Tasting Tinola Soup in South Australia

Posted on 31 July 2013 by sheg4184

I have spent the past three years in the Philippines exploring the history and flavours of Filipino cuisine, so I was delighted to discover a Filipino restaurant in my own home town of Adelaide, in South Australia. Map book in hand – it was located in a corner of town I didn’t know – I headed out to the north eastern suburb of Ingle Farm, to find the Bamboo House.

The only Filipino restaurant in South Australia, the Bamboo House is tucked into a busy corner of the local shopping mall. This now spacious restaurant began life in 1994 as a tiny 100 square metre café and grocery store. As I glanced into the display counter, I noticed many of the dishes were Chinese, but the menu was well endowed with Filipino favourites, and around the side of the counter I came upon a selection of popular Filipino snacks, including salted eggs, balut (now produced in Sydney) and a real buko pie.

Rosalie and Ramon Racela migrated to Australia in 1988: she a qualified accountant; he a Mechanical Engineer. They immediately began bridging courses to acquire recognition for their qualifications, but the pressures of work and family began to take their toll, and Ramon was soon bored with the process work he relied on to support his growing family. They decided to rethink their future. Ramon headed out to do a vocational cooking course, and on returning from a family funeral in the Philippines, they passed a vacant shop at their local mall. The rest is history.

Both Rosalie and Ramon knew the restaurant business through their respective families, and quickly displayed an instinctive knowledge for running one of their own. Rosalie’s accounting background also came into play as she worked on feasibility studies and an effective business strategy.

Realizing there was not a single Filipino restaurant in Adelaide, they decided to provide some home cooking for local Filipino families, while introducing the Aussies to the unique flavours of Philippine cuisine. As the Filipino community at the time was very small, however, they decided to begin as a Chinese/Filipino restaurant.

Ramon’s cooking course had provided a basic knowledge of Chinese cooking. The Filipino recipes came from his home kitchen in Ilocos Norte. Their first ‘double’ menu was originally 60-70% Chinese, but they had a long-term goal to reverse this in favour of their own Filipino food.

‘We started from a single spoon and a single fork,’ the diminutive, but energetic Rosalie tells me – and every new immigrant she meets – ‘and everything was second hand.’ Today it is a thriving business and a home-away-from-home for many migrant Filipinos, who throng to the restaurant for familiar flavours and advice on life in Australia from Rosalie, Adelaide’s unofficial Filipina ambassador.

The first five years, however, were not so promising, and proved to be a challenging

Kare Kare

time, especially when they threw a small daughter into the equation. Rosalie was doing a bit of everything – cooking, cleaning, serving and book-keeping – but she knew they had to keep working to earn a living. Initially, the emphasis was on take-away and the small grocery of imported Filipino products, with just a few tables for eat-in clientele, but they always hoped to expand one day.

‘Our daughter grew up in this restaurant’ she says proudly, describing how Zarah would do her homework on Table 8 every afternoon, and help behind the counter in her spare time. Today Zarah is a fully-fledged Pharmacist who knows the value of working hard to secure a decent life. Watching her parents has been her inspiration, she said, at the opening of the recently renovated restaurant.

About five years ago, Adelaide had opened up to Filipino migration and word-of-mouth has helped to enlarge their clientele. ‘Since we started the business, the local Filipino population has grown by about forty percent.’ The Racelas decided the time had come to expand, and started to explore their options. When the shop next door became available, Rosalie began negotiations with mall management.

Enlarging the Bamboo House meant hours of research and planning. There was

Goat caldereta

also a long search for an architect who understood what they wanted. When they finally found him, he listened to Rosalie’s ideas and went off to prepare plans ‘that were absolutely perfect the first time.’ Their daughter got involved too, creating a photo board menu to hang above the counter, which has proved a really effective way of introducing Filipino dishes to their Australian customers.

The new store was designed to retain the original concept of a combined restaurant and grocery store, but this time they made the determined decision to cook primarily Filipino food, retaining a small selection of Chinese dishes for western clientele. ‘I really wanted the ambience to be Filipino,’ Rosalie explained.

Scanning the Filipino menu, I was thrilled to discover that it reflects many of the classic dishes I have enjoyed in the Philippines, and began explaining them to my family. We chose half a dozen dishes, before turning to the back of the menu to find, amongst other desserts, halo halo, cassava cake and leche flan. A feast indeed!

The adobo had already sold out, but I ordered a soothing chicken tinola soup and a

Laing

wonderfully spicy goat caldereta. The kids loved the moreish bistik, the kari kari with its strong peanut flavour, and the perfectly crispy lechon kawali. My mother enjoyed the tasty rellenong bangus, fascinated to know how it was made, while I went back again and again to the laing, which Ramon makes from dried taro leaves that have been soaked for hours until they taste just like fresh ones. Each dish arrived, steaming hot, in aluminium pots set over tea candles to keep them warm, and I suddenly realized how well these tropical Filipino comfort foods warm the stomach on a cold winter’s day.

Rosalie explained that while they buy quality Australian meat and fresh fruit and vegetable from the local market, many ingredients are imported from the Philippines to ensure that the Filipino flavours are authentic. Fish, such as bangus, are unavailable in Adelaide, so they buy it frozen and ship it out from the Philippines. And although they can access products such as canned sardines and canned tomatoes in Australia, Rosalie insists they taste different from the ones she grew up with in Romblon, so they too are imported, along with such items as dried taro leaves, noodles and bagoong. A bakery in Melbourne provides them with fresh Filipino breads.

As we were leaving, Ramon put in a brief appearance – it was lunchtime and he was busy in the kitchen – to pose proudly with his wife in front of the shop sign. I asked about the large trophies sitting on the open shelving between the grocery shelves and the restaurant. Apparently, there is even a local Filipino basketball league of twenty teams and the Bamboo House sponsors one of the teams, which has won the last two years in a row. A real taste of the Philippines in South Australia indeed!

*Adapted from an article first published in COOK magazine, Vol.4 No4. in the Philippines.

Posted in Australia, Food & Wine, Travel | Tagged Adelaide, Bamboo House, caldereta, Filipino cuisine, kare kare, laing, tinola soup | 1 Comment

Heavenly Peace

Posted on 25 July 2013 by sheg4184

I first met Kelly in Kuala Lumpur over fifteen years ago. Today, we are a far cry from that modern, bustling Asian city with its Twin Towers, multi-cultural population, concrete overpasses, lush tropical gardens and heavy, humid climate. Kelly and her family have escaped from such hectic city scenes to the wide open spaces and pure sea air of Eurobadalla, on the south east coast of New South Wales.

Here they found a nineteenth century, weatherboard rectory at the end of a long farm track, built in 1864 as part of the Bodalla Company Estate. Tucked off the main street of Bodalla – and easily missed – All Saints is bordered by the Tuross River and views that stretch to the horizon across lush green dairy farms and distant wooded hills.

Bodalla (population 528) is a pretty country town in the heart of Eurobadalla (a twenty minute drive from Moruya airport, four hours south of Sydney or two hours east of Canberra ), a land of eucalypts and farmland, wooded escarpments and swamps, state forests and national parks, winding roads, rivers and beaches – it’s only an 8km drive to Potato Point Beach.

Nearby towns provide a positively poetic string of names: Batemans Bay, Moruya, Merimbula, Narooma, Mogo, Tilba Tilba, Broulee, and Tuross Head, and a string of activities: surfing, sea kayaking, fishing charters and whale watching. Inland, you can go horse riding, or visit Moga Zoo, local art galleries and country markets. And for the foodies, there are reams of restaurants at your fingertips, including Bodallas Dairy Shed and Blue Earth organic café, the Whale Restaurant at Narooma and The River at Moruya, its menu chock-a-block with local, seasonal produce, or the Wray Street Oyster Shed at Bateman’s Bay. There are cheese factories and wineries to visit too.

Meanwhile, back on the farm, Kelly has created her own corner of heaven above the Tuross River. We are greeted by two wolf-like, but soft-as-butter huskies, Phoebe and Sibu, who escort us cheerily through the gate. The broad wrap-around veranda is edged with box hedges, perfectly trimmed. A magnolia tree has been espaliered to the wall on the near side of the garage, which has been designed like an old American barn and painted in a deep, rusty reddish-brown to match the house.

When the Kershaws first bought the property in 2002, there was a scattering of fruit trees and an enormous eighty year old pine. Over the next decade Kelly designed, dug and developed three acres of garden: twelve landscaped ‘rooms,’ where once there were only paddocks, framed by seventy Leyland Cypress pines to create a wind break to protect the flower beds from the overly enthusiastic southerly winds. On this clear, wintry day, the garden is quiet and understated. Large flower beds of stone and rock encircle bare-branched trees and huge Ali Baba urns. Archways of naked wisteria vines and wrought iron gateways lead us through the maze of gardens past a dam, sculptures created from local iron-mongery, box hedges and a rose garden. Occasional benches provide resting spots to sit in the winter sun and soak up the view. Horses in the next paddock bow their heads in prayer.

Kelly also has a hen house where she maintains a clutch of chooks that happily provide fresh eggs for breakfast, just beside a large veggie patch. She has also built a wood fire pizza oven beside a cosy picnic area overlooking the orchard of about thirty fruit trees: apples and pears; pomegranate and peaches; plums, figs, and olives; mandarins and mulberries; lemons and limes. An old-fashioned flower bed behind the salt water pool sends forth a seductively strong scent of jonquils and violets. The garden has been such a success that Kelly was persuaded to enter it into the Open Garden Scheme in 2011. Now she shares the gardens with visitors three days a week for a small fee.

She also provides Bed and Breakfast through Spring, Summer and Autumn. Fresh and pristine, after a two year renovation and reconstruction through 2004-5, the house has been tastefully and simply decorated with memorabilia from years spent abroad. The white weatherboard walls provide a comfortable, beach holiday feeling, the sofas are deep and inviting. There are two bedrooms which compete for the best view, over garden and hills, one with an en suite bathroom, one with a full-sized bathroom next door, for which she charges between $169 and $199 per night per room. It is a heavenly, luxurious getaway.

Kelly is not only a creative gardener and an expert interior designer, but a fabulous cook. We are only five for lunch, and despite the appetites of two tall, teenage boys, we are quite daunted by the array of food: she has cooked for a multitude! Two huge pizzas, a roast vegetable tart in perfectly crispy filo pastry, a cous cous salad with cashews and roast pumpkin, another green salad with feta cheese, rich brownies dusted with icing sugar and an enormous ginger cake with delectable lemon icing lie invitingly on the vast kitchen island . Luckily we toured the garden before lunch, as I can barely waddle from table to sofa when we are finished, utterly satiated. Still, I am looking forward to staying for a sleep-over next time, and checking out breakfast!

To book a weekend at All Saints you can contact Kelly on +612 4473 5764 or +61 450 731 909 or email: info@allsaintsbodalla.com

*Photos 2,4,5 are borrowed from Kelly’s website. The rest were taken by my daughter, with thanks!

Posted in Australia, Food & Wine, Travel | Tagged All Saints B&B, Bodalla, New South Wales, Open Garden Scheme | Comments Off