A Food Tour

May 12, 2015May 12, 2015 raphaela993 Comments

My friend Nicci organized a Foodie Road Trip. I climbed aboard the bus with eighteen other ladies and our very patient driver. Our first stop was Eveleigh Markets at Carriage Works. It was sensory overload! You have to do a circuit of the market before honing in on individual stalls. There was a party atmosphere with music and puppies with woollen jackets. Great value and the variety was wondrous. Tables and chairs are assembled in the centre, so you can stop for breakfast.

Our next stop was Salt Meats Cheese at Alexandria. We were to take part in a three course Italian Cucina Regionale class and lunch. We explored the foods of Calabria. My being vegetarian posed no problem for our instructors, Manuela and Sarah. We were regaled as Manuela told us stories of raising her own family, and the feasts she would create. Making pasta from scratch is indeed therapeutic and I was delighted that the Maltagliati (badly cut pasta), was meant to be badly-shaped! We devoured the antipasto before beginning on the pasta, mine flavoured with chicory and cherry tomatoes. It was as good as it looks.

The sound of laughter on a drizzling Saturday afternoon was magical, as we imbibed in rich red wine and light white’s. It reinforced that this is how weekends were meant to be spent. Enjoyed with people you love, making food from scratch and lingering around the dining table. We shared dreams and fears, lives and bread. Nobody was in a hurry. Manuela and Sarah were lovely, even gifting us recipe sheets so we could attempt to recreate this wondrous meal.

Afterward, we went down the street to Vicinity Bar and Dining. Nicci and I had an English Garden cocktail, the taste subtle and delicious. A delightful end to a beautiful day.

Breathing

May 6, 2015May 6, 2015 raphaela993 Comments

I woke up last week, battling to breathe. I have had struggles with my lungs in the past, to the point where I have suffered respiratory arrest. Of course, this didn’t stop me smoking unfiltered Turkish cigarettes as a youngster, a fact that now makes me cringe. The damage that my spine has suffered has compromised my breathing, so if I catch a virus, I feel it ferociously. A doctor who administers Botox on the side was able to see me, his secretary pulling faces as he repeated orders that she had already seen to. He had forgotten that she can pre-empt his every move. He is a raconteur, a larger-than-life medico. He was straight onto what needed to be done to help me breathe.

I started on my steroids and various medications, unable to lift my head from the pillow. My little girl put the washing out, fed me and schooled herself, using online resources. I was drenched in sweat from my fever, and drifted in and out of disjointed, fitful sleeps. A dear friend who is undergoing chemotherapy brought around soup and rolls. “I think it was Auntie Di,” my little girl said as she brought in my lunch. “She had a scarf over her face.” I was so glad she did! The next day, another friend left a bag at the back door. This lady is a single mum, and not well herself. To have friends call around when they are going through tough times themselves…A little girl called Blossie popped in with her mum to visit, and word of my pneumonia even hit the street. We found a little doll and card lovingly placed in our letterbox, overflowing with a local character’s best wishes. People offered to help in any way they could. It meant so much. To know people cared, and we weren’t alone. I am overjoyed that my daughter is able to see such striking examples of kindness. I could have got worse, and needed to be in hospital, and the assurance that friends were nearby helped alleviate a great deal of worry.

A container of soup is much more than it’s ingredients. It’s the energy of love, comfort and support. It says that you care, and want to nourish your loved one. Thankyou to my beautiful friends for being there. It’s back to the real world this week, and though I still feel weak, I am bolstered by the kindness shown. At this stage, my doctors won’t operate to provide pain relief to my spine, as it simply wouldn’t help. It is only when mechanically I need to be rebuilt so I can breathe easier that they will go in. I just need to get through winter, and then I will be okay for another year. I reckon I can do it! I have been reminded that I am not doing it alone.

Self-Acceptance

April 14, 2015April 14, 2015 raphaela996 Comments

I have had my weight remarked on twice in the past week. “Have you lost weight? You look like you have.” It was meant to commend me, most likely on an imaginary stringent diet and ruthless exercise regime. It had the opposite effect. Was I considered overweight before? Not as acceptable? My weight is like the tide, it fluctuates. I don’t weigh myself, nor focus on my weight. I couldn’t give a flying fig, frankly. I need to walk and do weight’s to combat insulin resistance and fragile bones. That is all.

I am a busy lady, and any available head space is filled with other concerns. I think of my friend with liver disease, who is doing everything in her power to keep well. The friend undergoing chemotherapy. So many friends enduring pain and illness. I think of friendship and shared meals and toasting with a good drop of wine. Weight is rarely stable for anyone. Surgery, illness, puberty, pregnancy, infertility treatments, menopause and a perfect storm of endocrine issues sees to that. My aim is to live and do it well. I remember being an adolescent, and feeling empowered by how underweight I was. Filling myself with water before the dreaded weigh-in, eating a dreadful concoction for breakfast that the other girls insisted set like cement and filled you up for the day. Walks were treks of pain, lasting hours. I can’t recall noticing anything of beauty on these hikes. That wasn’t the purpose of undergoing them.

Time has changed everything. I walk with my little girl, holding her hand. I actually take deep, fresh pockets of air into my lungs. I notice beauty. If I were to focus on my weight, I wouldn’t have time to live. I have been there, taking my pocket calorie counter to the shops, weighing and examining everything I encountered. I ended up sick and depressed. It was the opposite of life.

Seeking Movement and Colour and Life (Part 1)

April 7, 2015 raphaela993 Comments

I was meant to see Rod Stewart last week but due to circumstances out of my control, I couldn’t go. I put my granny knickers back in the drawer, and purchased two tickets to a charity screening of Cinderella instead. Saffron from Kid About and Kaity are two local businesswomen who joined forces to raise money for Kids of Macarthur Health Foundation . They put together a magnificent event, resplendent with face painting, photo props and raffles. My little girl and I went beforehand to Coco Cubano and shared a platter. Munchkin had a mango drink and I had a Mojito. We had endured a crazy schedule that day, starting off at drama lessons. Now to get there, we have to catch a train through the suburb where I fell. The building is right near the railway line, and visible in all its glory. Every week, I hold my breath, and shudder with conflicting emotions. Gratitude that I am alive two decades after the event. A feeling of absurdity that I am taking my daughter to her activities past the building which held the ledge which held the villain…A feeling of defiance. ‘Up yours! I am still here!’ A feeling of sorrow. ‘I was so little…’ I took this grainy picture and somehow it seemed fitting. The scratches upon the train window are evident. It is grainy as the building whizzed by, much like my life on that particular evening.

Anyway, we had been to drama and then guitar lessons. Mummy’s spine was beyond agonizing. I leant over toward the seat in front for some relief on the bus. Mummy needed a Mojito by the time we got to our pre-movie café.

11082435_291413370982468_8271569592284370652_o — I met many familiar faces at the movies, including Nicci, our cupcake aficionado.

I didn’t know what to expect with this retelling of Cinderella and it was beyond my imaginings. It held all the little girls spellbound, and the ladies gasped at the visual feast on-screen. The settings were beautiful. The villains were beyond contemptible; vile and bitter. Fortunately, they didn’t take Cinderella’s light. She didn’t end up a twisted old bat, wounding others as she had been. She became more of who she was inside. May that be the case with us all. I am so glad we went, to support our friends and the wonderful organization who was benefitting, and to see Cinderella come into her own.

Health food, enough already!

March 10, 2015March 10, 2015 raphaela99Leave a comment

I worked in two health food shops as a youngster. One was in the heart of Sydney. The fellow who ran it had a toupee, and an eye for the ladies. I grew to loathe oat bran, after lugging five kilo sacks into the shop. I would sit out the back, and bag up 250gm of the wretched stuff. It was the hottest item around at the time, sold to executives in need of fibre and the miraculous lowering of their cholesterol. Little effort required and so much gain!

The sack cost around $8 per 5 kilo, and was sold for $10 per 250gm bag. You do the math. People felt devout and in control as they obtained their stash. I went on to work for a naturopath who drove a gold Mercedes at sixteen.

She owned a health food shop, consulting out the back. I first saw her as a patient, and she diagnosed me as having candida, ordering a plethora of expensive remedies. When I started working for her, I noted that 100% of her patients were diagnosed with candida, and given the same costly script. I questioned her on its prevalence. Big mistake. She blew like a loose lid on a slow cooker!

I had been helped by natural therapists at times, and they certainly aided me in my recovery from the fall. However, I did not in fact have candida. I had raging endometriosis, which, if treated at the time, wouldn’t have become the monster it did. I consulted a women’s health clinic some time after, and they failed to diagnose it too. I was given generic bottles of uterine tonics which did nothing. As the disease progressed, and the pain and infertility issues became intolerable, I became desperate. If you had told me to coat myself in cow dung, I may well have. Endometriosis was then diagnosed. By then, it was the size of oranges, adhering to scar tissue from my various surgeries. There is a time and place for alternatives. My advice is do your homework, seek recommendations, and go to someone who doesn’t want to commandeer the show, nor make elaborate claims. Do you know what happened to the revered oat bran? Neither do I. It was a craze. We would sell out by the end of business. It has been replaced by other remedies.

I weaned myself off the oils and potions. Some had been costing $400 a month. You know what happened? Nothing. I felt no different (only richer). I eat well, ensuring I get enough fruit and vegetables in my day. I walk and drink water. Simple and realistic. I am doing okay. Once you have worked in the places who make a living out of the health food industry, it is rather akin to seeing behind the wizard’s curtain. A bit disappointing. As I am maturing, I have come to understand that it is imperative to partake of things which make you feel good, not because you feel you should. Health is partaking in a hearty meal with friends, and going for a stroll in the sunlight. I like my quinoa flakes and peppermint tea, but then again, I also adore coffee and dark rum chocolate. Enjoying your life is paramount. Do what makes you feel good deep into your bones.

Kindness.

December 13, 2014December 13, 2014 raphaela992 Comments

There has been grief, deep and all-consuming. In the midst of sleepless nights and exhaustion, Serena’s loved ones have also been gifted kindness. There was the little lady-a friend of mine- who cooked a wholesome meal, and took it around to people she didn’t know. Messages from people desperate to help in any way that they can, and gifts left on my doorstep, along with cards beautifully scripted. The day of the funeral, a friend put together five platters of sandwiches and wraps and delivered them to the house, so the mourners had nourishment at lunchtime. Cupcakes in Camden baked this beautiful cake.

The mother bird cake topper was made by Jan Wallace and shall be treasured forever.

Cupcake’s little girl did this picture for me, complete with my now-departed pink walking stick.

A lady from school gave me these two bags for Serena’s little boys.

Another dear lady came to my door with this angel. I showed Lizzie at the school gate and she ran home to put it on the tree. She knew it represented Serena.

The school which Serena’s eldest son attends sent this beautiful tribute, with each child’s name placed on the display.

So much kindness. People who never knew her are grieving. They want to reach out. They need to. It helps. Darling girl, I hope you can see how loved you are. Always were and always will be.

Grandparents Day.

November 14, 2014 raphaela993 Comments

Each year at school, we have gone through a ritual called Grandparents Day. I remember when my little girl was in kindergarten, my heart sank when I retrieved the handwritten invitation from her schoolbag. It was assumed that all the kids had grandparents, active in their lives. Last year, there was a huge sign in the doorway to the classroom. This year, an invite was again sent home, and it was made clear that it was for grandparents only. I know many children whose grandparents have passed away, live overseas, are unwell, or are not in their grandchildren’s lives by way of necessary estrangement. Every year my child asks questions and as the day approaches, the pain escalates. They learn songs and dances to perform for the visitors. Each year, we run away with a group of kids and parents who want to shield their sons and daughters from the pain of exclusion. I wish it was termed Family and Friends day, but it’s not, and the thought of my child alone at her desk, watching grandparents fawn over their grandkids is intolerable. This year we went to a beautiful spot, a short ferry ride from Circular Quay.

Munchkin travelled in with her preschool friend, and they argued as to why they weren’t like brother and sister as the mother’s laughed. Both stubborn, feisty, full of energy with a love of daring feats and water. Begrudgingly they were heard to admit that they liked each other’s company. We watched them play at the Bath’s whilst we ate hot chips sprinkled with paprika. More mums and kids joined us, and we were all glad to have an alternative to the festivities at school. Some things you can’t shield your child from, no matter how much you want to. Occasions like this, you can.

We devoured white mulberries, shaken out of my friend’s tree that morning, and finished with gelato. The kids took turns playing games on the ferry on the way home. I have been shut out of a school formal, and celebrations marking milestones. I know the sting of exclusion. I have learnt to look for alternatives when that feeling comes.

10751990_855524427814737_508262317_n — White Mulberries.

These children felt a part of a community, as did the mothers. I love the saying, ‘Go where you are celebrated, not merely tolerated.’ We did just that.

Raphaela’s Companions-Nicci Peverill

August 28, 2014December 30, 2014 raphaela99Leave a comment

Nicci Peverill owns Cupcakes in Camden, and runs food tours via her site, Made in Macarthur As if those two endeavours aren’t enough, she is also a resident writer at In Macarthur Magazine She is a whimsical nature spirit, resplendent with colour and art, flowers and fairies. “Often my biggest risks turn into my biggest triumphs!” She was born across the ditch in Auckland, and came to Australia at 27. She moved into Camden three years ago, and everybody has fallen in love, both with Nicci and her cakes! She has degrees in psychology and zoology, and after having her gorgeous daughter Liv, she brought her small business to fruition. She did an inventory of all the equipment she would require, and then practiced and refined recipes. “If you are determined, and have a love for something, anything is possible!”
She has a love of nature, and bakes from her heart, using natural resources. She is a storyteller, and clients open up to her, knowing their hearts are safe. It isn’t just about cake, but rather building a story around this ancient tradition. There is an affiliation between life and baking “Every wedding story that I tell- every event that I bake for- I really try and capture the personality of the people, whether it’s through a colour or a flavour. Food and emotion go together and food brings people together. I try to make the cake interactive. It’s not just about putting cake on the table.” She loves experimenting with flavours, and is a gluten-free expert, baking for local gourmet haven, The Epicure Store

Persian Love Cake and Salted Caramel Brownie.

I asked what triggered Nicci’s love of baking. “My grandmother did loads of baking for her family. It’s always been a love of mine. I looked at the skills that I had, I was pretty determined!” I asked Nicci about how she unwinds, as one of the challenges of running a home business is that you are always accessible. “I have to be strict with myself. I do really simple things. Livi and I go on nature walks after school. We also escape Camden and travel to the city or Southern Highlands, normally outdoors and centred around food, shared with other people. Every morning, gear yourself up with a good attitude. You might not feel great each day, but it is how you conduct yourself. Life is not an easy thing. You need to look after yourself. I see a lot of people not doing that. I think it is the most important thing, as a woman operating in society with all its demands. We have to take time out to look after our wellbeing, physically and emotionally. Most of the time I am pretty good at doing that, but other times I have to remind myself. It is having that awareness there.” There is a family link to depression. Nicci’s father was a Vietnam Vet who came back from the conflict with deep depression. When he passed away, she went through a dark time. She forced herself to get out into the world, rather than retreat. “It’s the natural stuff which helped, exercise and friendships.” She has a very happy life today. “So many people get bogged down with everyday life. You see it and you want to tell them!”

What is your vision for the next year?
“There are some amazing people who have moved into the area. I think it’s really started to change Camden, and we are on the creative map! Growing my gluten-free baking range. I always want to be a small boutique operation where people can come and get an old-fashioned cake. I will continue to experiment!” I have no doubt this cake artiste shall do all this and more. I am honoured to have a friend of such generous spirit, wisdom, love and laughter in my life.