Blue Rinse and Scones

I’m a member of my local CWA. For those who don’t know what the CWA is, the acronym stands for Country Women’s Association. It was founded as a social outlet donkey’s years ago for housewives in rural areas. Over the years the CWA progressed from being an opportunity to catch up with friends to being the back bone of rural Australia. Come drought, come flood, come fire, the ladies of the CWA were there providing support to their local communities. They’ve quite often been the main support network of many rural towns. They’ve knitted beanies and booties for premi babies and provided lunches for fire fighters on the front line. There’s nothing charitable that these women haven’t done.

These days though, the demographic of CWA members has changed dramatically. Unfortunately, there are still some people out there that have a stereotypical image of what a CWA member looks like. Picture an old lady, bitching and whinging with a blue rinse through her hair, nibbling on scones and drinking over brewed tea.

So for those that are aware of what the CWA is when I tell them I am a member I get the “So whatya’s do? Sit around drinking tea and eating scones? Isn’t the CWA for old ladies?”
Ummm, how’s about a big, fat NO! Which is where I begin in putting them and their cliché image in their place…

In the CWA branch of Katherine we’re generally aged between our mid-twenties to late forties and you’re more likely to find us looking for ways in which we can help charities and local organisations. For example, we helped contribute to the Kintore Street School getting their new bus, we’ve made donations to the families of sick or injured kids who need ongoing treatment, every year we do a fund raiser for ovarian cancer and we’ve made donations to other charities that benefit women and children.

Our events are a combination of masterclasses and fundraisers and we try to hold at least one event a month as well as our meetings. Masterclasses have included crochet, bread making, jewellery making amongst other things. Our last fundraiser was a wine and cheese night. There goes that tea idea!

Despite all these great things that we have done and are planning to do we’re falling short in only one department… Members! We have plenty of financial members but only a select few that are committed to attending every meeting and helping organise events. Our office holders (president, vice presidents, secretary, treasurer and international officer) have quite often been the same people year in, year out and the poor, worn out souls need a break.

But if you think you’ve got what it takes to make a difference in the Katherine community, even if you are only interested in being an active member and not so much an office holder then come along to our AGM on the 19^th of April, 10am at the Finch Café.*

*To be eligible to vote or run for office you’ll need to be a financial member by the 18^th of March. Contact the CWA Katherine Facebook page for a membership form.

Big City Life

I’m starting this a little late and it now seems that the events of last week are now so far away. Maybe that’s because they are almost a life away. I’d lived a life that week that was not like my own, all in a matter of a few days.

Thursday was my last day at work before I went on holidays. My colleagues threw me a birthday smoko in the afternoon which made me feel quite special. Ren made me a birthday cake, Han made mini pavlova’s and even the entomologist made a mango cheesecake.

The next morning I drove to Darwin. I attempted some shopping and failed (I bought nothing). I visited a friend at her business and then I caught up with another friend at her workplace for lunch at which she saved me from choking on a noodle I had accidently inhaled because I was laughing so hard! Then I went to work... well, a branch of my workplace and humbugged and disrupted various people from their Friday afternoon tasks while the mid afternoon sky was darkened with heavy, monsoonal clouds. After Friday drinkies with the Darwin colleagues I went to dinner with Khams, her cousin, her friends and their friend’s friend. After kicking butt playing pool with Khams as my team mate I caught the plane to SA. Red eye, because that’s the only way to fly in or out of the Darwin airport.

Dad picked me up in Adelaide where I insisted on being allowed a nap. I didn’t get much of one before Dad returned from a spending spree in a tool shop and kicked me in the foot. Such a considerate way of waking someone! As punishment I dragged Dad through Rundle Mall looking for a birthday present for my cousin and something black and white that didn’t look stupid to wear to her party that night.

And here is where the life I wouldn’t normally live begins. Lunch was at the Art Gallery of South Australia. Dad had a miniature steak that was still running around his plate and I was served a salad in a ceramic egg carton. We were, for the most part, surrounded by wealthy women, in clacky heels, who were sipping on white wine and whinging to each other about how hard their lives were. After that it was a stroll through high-end fashion history in the Fashion Icons exhibition. It wasn’t long before I was told off for misbehaving... by a security guard, not by Dad. Apparently it’s not okay to take photos of a Christian Dior outfit that has been photographed a gazillion times already by people that have fancy cameras. There were some really nice outfits in there, some really weird shit too. Who wears a wet suit when they’re not partaking in water activities? I mean, come on!

Dad and I visited art galleries and the Mortlock Wing of the State Library where Dad gave me glimpse of his life in 1973 when we found some old electoral rolls. I bought a knock-off of an Ivor Hele painting from the Royal South Australia Society of Arts. I wasn’t sure that it was a knock off at the time but the title suggested it may have been. Everywhere we ate was either Italian or fancy (Sean Connolly’s restaurant... whoever he is). Everywhere we went there were frigging cyclists in their skinny suits trying to let everyone in the city know that they rode bicycles just like Cadel Evans. We got stuck behind barricades for ages because of the Tour Down Under on King William Street. Lucky I had my new art acquisition to shade me from the sun. We were mesmerised by magic and stunts at “The Illusionists: 1903”. We saw family and friends throughout the weekend, WAY more than I would normally see on a typical trip to Adelaide, including my sister and nieces for lunch on the Sunday who looked absolutely disgusted at my choice of a meal (squid ink linguine). Dad departed Adelaide on the Monday and Mum and Peter arrived. I celebrated my 30^th birthday with many members of my family and friends. Mum, Peter and I saw the Australia Day fireworks at Elders Park and stuffed our faces at the Pancake Kitchen with my best friend since infancy.

Tuesday saw us fly in to Port Lincoln where I insisted that lunch was not going to be a pie because I can get a damn pie anywhere in this country. My alternative being a pot full of steamed mussels with a lovely sauce drizzled over the top. It took me about 10 minutes to devour over 30 mussels. They were good! Del Giorno’s for those that want to give those mussels a try themselves! Mum and Peter ran errands while I caught up with a school friend. And then it was over. The high life was finished. Because we drove back to Wudinna, where very little happens except twice a day the grain train rolls in to town and there’s the occasional dust storm. Other than lunch at the cute little cafe in town with Mum and Nanna I spent my time working, sleeping or giggling with Nanna or breaking her sewing machine (just a needle I swear).

And today, I begin the long, unwanted return to Katherine where back to reality I must go.

Recipe: Tastes of Indonesia

Lately I’ve been working a second job caretaking a property outside of Katherine bought by foreign nationals hoping to make their own mark on the northern cattle industry. With them they have brought some cultural differences in the form of little delicacies and cuisine.

Despite my hesitation at trying common Indonesian food in Asian restaurants I was put in a situation where it would have been rude of me to turn it down. So there I sat, in a strangers’ house, with the biggest plate of nasi goreng in front of me. And actually, it wasn’t too bad. It was like the snag and scrambled eggs of Indo… with rice and sweet soy sauce. I now know there is something not too scary for me to eat if I ever travel over the Timor Sea.

I was given a little gift for my initial efforts. A box of Dodol. Think Cadbury Roses but Indonesian style. It’s like a soft toffee of indescribable texture and taste but it is sweet. Nehalennia translated some of the words on the wrappers for me given she grew up in Indonesia. There was chocolate, honey, milk, sesame, date and one we couldn’t figure out what is was.

And then this week there was another couple of gifts. Kuwe koya. I was told it was like cake but upon opening the wrapping is was more like a compressed biscuit of powdered sweetness with a pomegranate filling. It was alright except for the pain it caused in my teeth. And then there was Brem. I was told that was fermented sugar. Nehalennia said it was fermented rice paste. I tried the teeniest bit and thought it was sherbet gone wrong. Very different and requires an acquired taste.

But who knew foods of Indonesia that wouldn’t normally be found in your typical Asian restaurant would end up in my belly. Trying foods that don’t make sense to me (fermented sugar) and flavour combinations I wouldn’t ordinarily think of as a sweet (sesame Dodol). But there you have it. Because the world comes to Australia to try its luck and brings with it their foods. Just as it has since the Chinese brought us tom yum and dumplings in the mid 1800’s. Though I wouldn’t know what that tastes like… yet.

 

Dodol

Brem

 

Nasi Goreng

Kuwe Koya

Two Zero One Four

One day out from New Years Eve I wonder where the hell the year went. It seemed to go so fast. And it seems to be pretty quick to sum up too.

-          I went from casual to full time with a four year contract in my NTG job.

-          I’ve moved three times.

-          I started the year with three dogs: Roy, Monty and Kip. Roy went off to a station to work and after much mix up and frustration he’s now on a different station with more caring people and is doing quite well. Monty hung himself on a fence playing with a water leak and passed away. Despite him being nicknamed “Arsehole” by a friend of mine he was making good progress in the behavioural department. Kip is still by my side, loyal and loving.

-          There were many people myself, my family and friends have said goodbye to throughout the latter part of the year. I lost three friends to cancer and a distant family member to old age.

-          While three friends lost their battle with cancer a family member has just begun hers.

-          Despite thinking that I was going to fail a second subject in my law degree, and had I have done so I would have thrown in the towel, I miraculously passed. I will now continue my studies with added focus.

-          I bought a second car, a Prado. The windows are electric, it’s air conditioned, it has a long range fuel tank, I look after it slightly better than the Landcruiser and up until I went down the Gundegai Road one too many times I had a fully functioning stereo. The rough road killed the CD player so now I am limited to just the radio.

-          The latter half of the year has seen me caretake four different properties, at one point 3 at once.

-          The seriously dry conditions of the year saw Ruby lose weight for the first time in the three years I’ve known her and Charger lost so much weight he got turned out into a paddock that was growing hay under a pivot. Chargers weight regain was slow. As soon as the rain started Ruby stacked it on again.

-          I bought a bare back pad for riding early on in the year. Using it on Charger resulted in me hitting the dirt in a rather dramatic manner. The bare back pad never got used after that.

-          With the bare back pad being a flop (literally) I bit the bullet and put a deposit down on a hand crafted Geoff Newton saddle that I am steadily paying off. I have been without my own saddle since a bad fall in early 2011.

-          The bank account went ouch in vet bills for the first time since I lost Chief in 2010. Charger had a series of treatments for malignant sarcoids. A condition still not fully treated and probably won’t be due to its nature. Ruby was treated for laminitis in one of her front legs. X-rays showed nothing and there has been no other clear cause but the lame area was narrowed down to around her fetlock. The lameness often reoccurs, sometimes conveniently after being caught for whatever reason!

-          I had a good year with my cattle this year but unfortunately I didn’t get to see them as often as I would have like to due to one of my caretaking jobs. I sold two heifers and one steer for a good price to the Indonesian export market. Capone’s first progeny landed on the ground this year with the calving rate meeting the industry standard.

-          After being a nomad since arriving in the NT 12 years ago I have finally decided to put some roots down and am now making a serious effort to save a deposit for a block of land north of Katherine. Failing that, I will buy back home on KI instead.

The Sweet Forgotten

I know I’m about to sound like the biggest hypocrite on the planet BUT it’s explainable.

Woolworths is the place all Katherinites dread. It’s where you go to buy vegies that have expired their shelf life, catch some kind of illness that’s not bad enough to stay home from work but bad enough that you think you should go home from work before spreading it to everyone else and it’s where you go to stand in a queue while eating or drinking the things you’ve plucked from the shelf to pass this time away so that by the time you get to the counter you’re handing over an empty packet or bottle to be scanned through before the checkout chick puts it in the bin for you. It’s not the place you go to be presently surprised. But the other day I was. In fact, I was so surprised I did a little happy dance. For there on the shelf was something I had not seen nor tasted for a very long time.

I travelled to America in 2009. It was the trip of a lifetime. I met people I had been friends with for ages online. They showed me their America. Undulating, rocky outcrops covered in sage bush dotted with grazing cattle to the North West. Big houses on green acres only minutes from the inner city that hosts baseball stadiums and giant blue landmarks to the East. I travelled up the West coast with a mate. I’m sure he wonders how he survived my panic attacks in mid-traffic in the bustling cities of Los Angeles and San Francisco.

Being in another country, no matter how familiar television had made it, there’s still plenty to discover. I found Denny’s to be the only restaurants that served food I would actually eat. McDonalds wasn’t savoury, it was sweet. Costco was a jumbo sized supermarket and everything in it was jumbo sized. Food outlets are rated according to cleanliness, not food quality. And the processed food was far more processed than Australian processed food. But my one little joy I discovered amongst the super-sized and extra sweetened was a Texas made, iced tea drink called Snapples. It came in a huge range of flavours. There’s little “Did-You-Know’s” under the lid. And I hadn’t drank one since I flew out of the U.S. So to find it on the supermarket shelf had me cuddling the glass bottle all the way to the checkout where I excitedly stated “Snapples!” when I was finally served.

“Yeah! It’s back!” replied the checkout bloke. What the hell did he mean it’s back? I never even knew it was here in the first place!... Meh! I had Snapples. And I savoured it. Just in case Woolworths, in their capitalism wisdom, took it away again and it would be another 5 years or trip to America before I could drink it again.

Australian Made

I copped strange looks as I threw bag after bag of frozen peas back into the supermarket freezer. Made in New Zealand. Made in USA. Packed in Australia using imported ingredients. Why can’t I find brand name Australian products? I was forced to go against principles I’ve had in place since 2011 and buy Woolworths brand frozen peas.

For me, shopping is tedious. I don’t cook, I really only eat packaged food. I’m lazy and eat because it’s necessary not because I enjoy it. Except for good pasta. I enjoy that. So, my shopping has me checking the back of every packet looking for the words “Made in Australia” or bear the Australian Made symbol. As Australian made products slowly diminish, creating and keeping jobs in other countries rather than our own I wonder, do people really not care where their food comes from? How many of them give enough of a toss to think about checking?

Earlier this year SPC Ardmona nearly went bust and needed a government hand out to survive and keep their factory in Victoria open. Meanwhile, Italian brands flourish because their 20cents cheaper. SPC Ardmona do canned vegetables, in particular canned tomatoes (diced, chopped and whole).

Late last year Spring Gully did a Facebook call out asking for consumers to buy their products and keep jobs in Australia. The South Australian company manufacture relishes, pickles and sauces. Their corn relish is brilliant on a corned beef sandwich.

As far as I know, San Remo, another South Australian company, is doing okay. Their specialty is pastas and sauces. But that doesn’t mean we should get complacent.  If people keep buying home brand or some other brand they’ll be in strife too.

Consumers blame the government for not supporting our food industries but really, the only group we should be pissed off with is ourselves. It’s up to US to keep jobs here in Australia. It’s up to US to check the back of the packets, the signs above the vegetables, the stickers on the meat trays to know that what we are buying is going to keep fellow Australians employed. So next time you head in to the supermarket think before you buy. Even better, avoid the supermarket altogether. Buy your veggies from the grocer and the meat from the butcher. If you live in the country head to the farmers markets. Just, for goodness sake, BUY AUSTRALIAN!

Recipe: Tastes of Iran

The brilliant thing about Australia is that the people within it are so diverse. Last night I sat at a dinner table with two Brazilian brothers, an Iranian couple, a Belgian, a Dutchwoman and one other Aussie.

Earlier in the evening we smoked a shisha (what others may know as a hookah, or to the less educated “a big, giant bong with a hose on it”). But don’t worry folks, this shisha wasn’t packed with pot. My stance against illegal substances still stands! What it was packed with was grape leaves soaked in apple essence heated by chunks of burning charcoal. There’s no side effect, it’s done for socialising more than anything. And despite the apple essence it is actually more like liquorice. It gave way to lots of fun and laughs and I think by the end of the night the boys had smoked the whole packet.

Our hosts for the evening was obviously the Iranian couple. They had left their home country due to the opportunities and freedoms that Australia provides. But their journey hasn’t come without some interesting experiences.

A common misconception about Australia is that every animal wants to kill you and the place is filled with crocodiles, sharks, spiders and snakes. The couple were renting a house in Adelaide when a strange creature had made its way inside through an open door. Catching sight of it the pairs’ immediate reaction was “Crocodile! Crocodile!” They rushed to their neighbours’ house and asked him if he was able to do something about the croc. A little confused he obliged only to find that the invasive reptile was in fact a blue-tongued lizard which he effortlessly scooped up and put back outside in the garden not holding back his fits of laughter.

Mr and Mrs Iran have embraced the Australian way of life but certain traditions, just like the shisha, they have kept alive and in this instance it’s food! She made tzatziki and a tomato based sauce to accompany the Persian kebabs cooked over the barbeque by Mr Iran. The kebabs aren’t what would normally be thought of in terms of chunks of meat on a stick. The Persian way is to use very finely minced beef mixed in with garlic, salt, pepper and very finely diced onion. The prepared beef is encased around long, flat skewers that are about an inch and a half wide. When cooked properly on both sides the meat is slid off the skewers to be served.

 

The Persian kebabs were accompanied by Mrs Iran’s sauces, tossed salad, warm flat bread, tomatoes also cooked on the skewers and rice sprinkled with saffron grown on Mr Iran’s family farm in the mountains of Iran. Dessert was chocolate cheesecake (traditional out of a Sara Lee packet) and semolina cake made by Mrs Iran. And there’s nothing like a good night with full tummies and good friends.