ragingyoghurt

Category Archives: kid

3

reading of dawn’s art collection over at handmadelove reminded me that i’ve been meaning to photograph my cake painting for the longest time. this is what greets me each morning when i wake up, and what sends me off to dreamtime as i lean over to turn off my lamp each night.

strangely enough, i have never had a cake dream. perhaps my average daily cake intake is enough to keep it permeating my subconsciousness.

i remember discussing the painting with the artist, lucy culliton, whom i was lucky enough to meet at the gallery, and who was kind enough to counsel me through choosing which of her paintings i wanted up on my wall. she had originally painted the background pink, she said, but right at the end, had decided to paint it over with white, allowing the barest whisper of pinkish hue to show through.

i like the pale primaries of the painting: pink, blue and yellow rallying round the golden crumby cake.

perched on top, an old advertising card for tea, procured at arthur’s circus a little while ago, and a vintage price tag that my kind sister mailed me last year.

elsewhere in the house, the art is not quite as fancy, but i love it anyway. here is the wall above my computer, filled with stuff the kid has done, mostly from last year at preschool. i’ll be sad to take it all down when we pack up the house, but we’re fast running out of wall space anyway.

i recently started the kid her own tumblr page for her current output, but so far have been not very good at scanning and uploading. it couldn’t be that hard for an almost-six-year-old to learn to use a scanner, could it?

posted by ragingyoghurt on 25 August 2010 at 3:26 pm
permalink | filed under art, kid

8

more pink cake! we found ourselves in newtown on friday afternoon, quite famished, and stopped into black star on our way to an errand. being close to the end of trade, there wasn’t all that much left in the counter. on the counter, however, was a large jar of macarons. such pale, encrusted beauties. when i learnt they were rose and lilac, i was a little bit hesitant, because apart from rose, i am not a fan of floral flavours in food.

i should not have worried. the biscuit was crisp and then chewy, and then all heady rose perfume wrapped up in smooth ganache.

it was so good in fact, that post-errand, even with the sidewalk stools piled up high and the countergirl wiping down the counter for the day, we sweet-talked our way into buying another one.

on saturday, an impromptu and fun excursion with my cousin took a displeasing turn after lunch when we found no cake in the city.

no. cake.

to be precise: we did not want dried-out-from-sitting-in-the-display-case-all-week cake (city center); we did not quite want fancy french moussey gateaux (the rocks); we did not want spongy airline chinatown cake (chinatown). two of us wouldn’t have minded cupcakes, but one of us has an ideological issue with them. so we went our separate ways and in lieu of cake, the kid got her first pair of lace-up shoes: silver all stars.

zoom-zoom.

and we saved the cupcakes for sunday. this is what you get when you rock up to cupcakes on pitt and tell them you don’t need a box for your cupcakes because you are going to eat them right away: a little cardboard cupcake caddy. adorable, no? my zero-packaging plans were derailed, but if i remember to tuck it into my wallet, i will always be ready for a cupcake on the run.

i expect i will always be ready for this raspberry cupcake: moist raspberry cake, and a fat swirl (and then some!) of raspberry buttercream. infinitely pleasing, and gone in four chomps.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 25 August 2010 at 12:24 am
permalink | filed under around town, cake, kid, snacks

3

but we haven’t been making a habit of sailing off to bedtime on a big maudlin cloud, no. for example, mere pages before charlotte was dispatched, we read of templeton’s all-night bender, eating discarded fairground food. there was an illustration on the page: a line drawing of the corpulent rodent.

“he looks like matt preston,” the kid said.

“rat preston!” i countered.

oh, how we laughed.

ah, life after masterchef. what to do with the extra six or however-many-hours-it-was per week? i must be finding something worthy on which to fritter it away, because i have absolutely nothing to show for it.

the kid, on the other hand, assures me that she will be participating in junior masterchef as soon as she is able. so we shall spend the next two years in training. i set her dicing bacon, and then slicing olives, and not three olives in she had sent the knife into her finger, and was whimpering in a most pitiful manner. she spent the rest of dinner prep curled up on the couch, finger aloft, watching “snow white”.

she had really been counting on callum winning, and in the week before the masterchef final, had prepared this drawing celebrating his victory. judging from the masterchef logo on her shirt, i think she had projected herself into this reality too. in this reality, i wear tiaras and long slinky gowns, and my hair goes down to my feet.

ahhh… disappointment on all counts.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 3 August 2010 at 3:55 pm
permalink | filed under bookshelf, drawn, kid, tv

5

i’m not doing a very good job of being here. on the other hand, i’m doing a sterling job of not being here. i mean, i have been here, only i’ve been working. that 300-page textbook job evolved — over more 1-and-2am bedtimes than i care for — into a 384-page textbook job. it’s not over yet, but it is back in the hands of the editorial department, for now.

a couple of weeks ago, i wasn’t actually here at all. i was in melbourne, where the tree outside the cottage industry shop on gertrude street is adorned with a patchwork of lace doilies, and the adjacent sign post wrapped up in a crocheted cozy. all very apt, for the proprietor of cottage industry, one penelope durston, crafts the loveliest arm warmers in a mindboggling range of dusty hues. i must not give in to them, because i already have three pairs of arm warmers, however a couple of years ago i did surrender to a rather fetching shopping bag she’d made out of two vintage tea towels (one was covered in fancy historical teapots and the other presented a nautical scene involving lobsters and lobster pots).

but yes, now i’m back in sydney, with a little breathing room, and where it turns out another pair of arm warmers would not be unwelcome when the temperature dips treacherously at night.

no matter, i turn on my electric blanket before taking the kid into the shower, and then after she’s all clean and shiny, we tuck ourselves into bed and read. we’ve just finished “charlotte’s web”, and towards the end, i started getting that feeling of needing to put the book in the freezer. but we bravely pressed on, into the face of certain death.

afterwards, the kid was subdued, and ventured, “i have a sore throat. you know how sometimes when you’re sad and your throat hurts?” she touched the base of her neck. mmmyes, i was certainly familiar with that feeling.

i could put it down to sleep deprivation. or maybe just the passing of time, or youth, or spiders. maybe the thought of being not here, some day six months from now.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 2 August 2010 at 11:08 pm
permalink | filed under bookshelf, kid, trip, werk

4

it’s been quiet ’round here, i know. well, not so much literally: we’re currently a week into school holidays, so it’s round-the-clock chatter (and singing, and shrieking) from at least one of us. the other of us has been afflicted with the endless lurgy, and then somewhere in there, halfway through the course of yummy yellow-brown antibiotics, i started laying out a textbook on managing blood-thinning medication. 300-odd pages of text and tables and fun diagrams with lots of arrows. lots.

i am less than halfway through, and it may turn out to be 400 pages after all.

i can’t work during the day, so instead we do school holiday things like wake up at 9.30, and eat brioche and apricot jam, and go to the art gallery, or see children’s theatre… this afternoon we walked through misty drizzle to see mr freezy down at the sydney theatre company, in which a high-octane tale of an ice cream scoop unfolds, as does a great mess of flour and sprinkles and jelly babies and drinking straws, and a chocolate-iced donut is thrown into the audience.

afterwards i had a hankering for an eton mess and tried in vain to find the fratelli fresh down by the pier so that we could go to sopra — does anyone know where exactly it is? but anyway, the rain kicked in a couple more notches and sent us scurrying back into the city, where, oh hey! central baking depot.

moments after we plonked our umbrellas in the bucket by the door, the skies broke open. but we didn’t care — i had just enough cashmoney for two hot chocolates and a slice of blueberry-cinnamon-apple butter cake. the large hot chocolate is only a dollar more than the regular, but twice the size, and fully chocolatey. and just look at that cup — so covetable with its heavy china and gold trim.

on monday, it was too wet to sit outdoors with a pie floater from across the road, but we armed ourselves with BBQ pork buns — the baked kind, with the sticky glaze — from furama cake shop in chinatown, and holed up inside the powerhouse museum for several hours. the fashion week exhibition was good fun, and the 80s exhibition was more sensory overload than trip down memory lane, but it was the interactive batik design simulator which held the kid’s interest for more than fifteen minutes. that and the wonderful school holiday activity inspired by sonya gee‘s historic matchbox project.

$2 bought us an empty matchbox, a seat at the big table, and a steady stream of crafty supplies. the kid set out to make a robot cat, but in the end, it was just a regular cat… with a hidden stash of jewels in her slide-out belly. (it’s on until 18 july, if yer interested.)

and in-between? there’ve been rides on the flying fox in victoria park, a mid-week dimsum feast with grandparents, two loads of laundry in the face of the rain, and a little bit of a thrill to finally read myself in print (PAN magazine, last seen at magnation in newtown). also, i’ve been trying to see how best to get any work done during school holidays, but my shortlived experiment involving working until 2am has proved to be unsustainable, with me stumbling somewhat dizzy and nauseated through the rocks today, after just three late nights.

saturday morning, we’re headed to melbourne for week 2 of the holidays. i wonder how many pages of book layout i can squeeze in before then.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 9 July 2010 at 1:33 am
permalink | filed under around town, art, chocolate, kid, werk

5

ok, fine. we watch “masterchef“. even though i hate the clunky musical cues, the repetitive editing, the explanations and narrations by the contestants even as the very events unfold right before our eyes… the kid does not really mind — she usually gives her own running commentary over the top of the soundtrack anyway, though the appearance of the burning m logo and the cut to ad break at dramatic points sends her into conniptions.

last year, we went through a stage of playacting “masterchef”: i’d serve up breakfast, and she’d say, “now tell me, poh, how did you make this jam toast and hot chocolate?”

“well, first i got a piece of bread…”

this year, she has been documenting the action with the occasional masterchef drawing. here you see the judging of the recent onsite afternoon-tea challenge. we were very impressed with callum’s crown jewels rendered in the medium of macaron. so were the judges. WAW!*

*pronounced: WOW!

posted by ragingyoghurt on 24 June 2010 at 1:58 pm
permalink | filed under drawn, kid, tv

7

we don’t get to ballast point park often enough; it’s just that bit further than a regular after-school jaunt. also, it’s not quite your regular park in the traditional sense of the word, with trees and grass and playground. what there is, on the site of the former caltex fuel depot, is a lot of architectural history — isolated walls from where buildings used to be; enormous tanks still standing proud like monuments to fuel storage; boundary walls made of broken-down rock and tile from the old structures, contained within a frame of thick steel wire…

i don’t know how or when it began, but those of the romantic persuasion have been attaching engraved padlocks to the metalwork. two of the ones i found yesterday must have been added only minutes (or y’know, hours) before we got there, their dates freshly etched. the one from last year has already corroded in the salty air.

we picnicked up on the hill overlooking the harbour — an apple and an orange to share, and an iced donut each from the discounted supermarket selection we had bought earlier in the day. and we explored the many complex levels and hidden pockets of grass that make up the site. the kid had dressed up as supergirl for the occasion, and valiantly defended us against the gulls.

there’s a little bunker built over the edge of the water, with three tiny portholes addressing various vistas. just shy of sunset, the sky over the bridge was the softest pink. all this i will miss, one day.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 20 June 2010 at 11:52 pm
permalink | filed under around town, kid, snacks

3

i’ve been juggling projects, and the fairground music (metaphoric) in the background is at a pace that is at the same time jaunty and unsettling, rather than frantic and horrifying. i have new spectacles, with a new — lower! — prescription, which has made it such that my left eye no longer feels like it’s being wrenched out of its socket after a not unreasonable amount of time in front of the computer. the constant rain has also been a help, keeping me inside, hunched beneath my mossy green poncho, with my trusty oil heater close by. really, i can’t complain; it’s all good.

it’s been raining for just over a week now. last sunday, we stepped into the grey and wet, and onto the slick deck of a sydney ferry bound for circular quay. we were there mostly to go to the MCA zine fair, and indeed we must’ve done four or five laps of the trestle table maze, because the kid has a girl crush on sonya gee and spent much of her time at the fair nestled in sonya’s lap behind her stand of ‘kind of like a party bag for the unwell’ — “zomg you’re sick”.

in between, we delved into the MCA proper and made a half-hearted attempt at appreciating the biennale, and headed out across the road for lunch and pastry in the drizzly courtyard at la renaissance patisserie.

we started off sharing a baguette filled with poached chicken and aioli, and it was pleasant and all, but we knew we were just passing the time until dessert. unfortunately, there were no rose cream macarons on offer that day (my number one favourite, you may remember from before), so we made do with a trio of jasmin (number two favourite), passionfruit-chocolate, and cassis. the la renaissance macaron is consistently perfect: i have never encountered a brittle hollow shell, and the plump, moist biscuits hold a good amount of well-flavoured filling.

at the counter, the kid had also requested this sunny dome of a gateau — the mango-jasmin mousse cake. beneath the golden jelly skin, it was lush and light, and the two separate mousses atop a thin sponge base burst with fruitiness. not quite halfway through though, the kid stopped, quite bewildered, and whispered urgently, “there are strange beans in here.” upon investigation, i uncovered an entire nest of pinenuts hidden in the mousse, which is all fine and good if you like pinenuts… but we don’t. here’s a fun rainy day activity: pick all the covert pinenuts out of your otherwise enjoyable mango-jasmin mousse cake.

the rainy day fun continued once i got home with my bundle of swag:

two issues of vanessa berry‘s “disposable camera”, each one a rambling little freeform narrative. one has an intriguing recipe for red rice involving a whole tomato, and i will surely give it a try. the other has an amazing fold-out thought map and a reference to the one bit of “microserfs” that i remember: where one of the characters has a meltdown and locks himself in his office, and his colleagues, concerned, slip flat foods like cheese slices under the door to him. i also got some sweet mini comics from miss helen, to whom we were recently formally introduced and with whom we shared pizza and table-top drawings of kawaii cupcakes.

a couple of aisles down, i got a tiny and adorable japan guide from dudley redhead, and the heartfelt memoirs of one girl’s relationship with tamagotchis. (the girl’s name is zombetty.)

from the table of georgia perry and my candy castle, i procured “nu yoik”, a dazzling technicolor tribute to new york, in photographs and hand-drawn type. the kid picked the hilarious “kitten club”, full of cheesy cat pictures improved through the power of collage.

from the same table, i got a two-pack of mini posters: “things to know”, containing such hand-lettered gems as fetes are fun, and absolutely everyone should own a yellow + white striped beach towel, and everyone has two stomachs. one is solely for dessert. so true.

and then, from, uh, the same table, i could not go past the little compendium of illustrated junk food, nor the “save room for cake” colouring book, whose page of macaroons (sic) you would have seen beneath the macarons i told you about earlier.

i found a bunch of typewritten stories from maddy phelan, of which “ladybeard” — about her physical and psychological struggles with, and eventual embracing of, her hirsuteness — was particularly engaging; i still don’t know quite what to do with my hair. i also really liked “POTATOES” (much the same way i like potatoes), with its quirky little drawings and its potted history of… potatoes:

back in my day, everything was made out of potatoes.

we had to walk 15 miles to buy a sack of potatoes and they only cost 5c. or perhaps it was 5 shillings. i can’t remember. and i’ll have you know, our shoes were made out of potatoes.

and so on.

the bumper zine of the collection is lee tran lam‘s sold-out “speak-easy #11: the french issue”, really a magazine of interviews and recollections interspersed with photographs stuck down using ribbon and decorative masking tape. i’m still savouring my way through it, but i especially liked the list of memorable food experiences over lee tran’s four visits to france. the aisle of decorative sugar in the bon marché food hall in paris holds a special place in my heart too!

posted by ragingyoghurt on 30 May 2010 at 2:17 am
permalink | filed under around town, art, bookshelf, cake, kid

6

so yeah, in case you thought i was still slumming it in london, i’m back at home, sinking slowly into a bunch of projects — none of them horrible, yay — and the mundanity of doing the dishes, and the absolute futility of vacuuming.

one thing i’m chuffed about though, is that any day now, well ok, maybe a month from now, and hopefully not two months from now, the inaugural issue of PAN magazine will hit the streets, and the food columnist will be me.

here’s how the magazine tells it:

PAN is a new independent magazine for makers, designers, writers, musicians, artists and thinkers. combining the best elements of a literary magazine with arts, culture, fashion, literature and music content PAN magazine aims to engage with culture in a way that’s meaningful, edgy and entertaining. we won’t be running features on how to pluck your eyebrows but we will be thinking about transhumanism, heteroflexibility, emerging artists, producers and musicians.

for now it’s out twice a year, and they’re currently seeking submissions of stories or essays or, yes, poetry for issue #2. interested?

maybe you might even pre-order a copy of issue #1.

it’s not quite like helen’s time out magazine coup, but you’ll get me telling you maudlin stories of my encounters with hot chips. and this drawing i made for it? it’s running so big that the chips are larger than life-sized. well, i’m excited.

meanwhile, a week and a half ago, the kid took out first prize in the school fete craft competition. nice job, kid!

posted by ragingyoghurt on 19 May 2010 at 11:15 am
permalink | filed under drawn, kid

2

for ten days, i’d had it in the back of my head that i had to make a visit to peyton and byrne. there are four locations within a small area of central london, but all of them were just a little too out of the way on any given day. so when we were given three extra days of london, i took it as a sign, and made a special stop at the kings cross tube station on day number two, so that we could walk over to the st pancras train station, and lunch at P&B.

it’s like walking back in time, entering this large room with all the cakes and slices in the window. against the gleaming white-tiled walls, the wooden shelves are filled with colourful cartons of store brand tea, and jars of jam. and chocolate bars wrapped in plain white paper, in flavours such as orange marmalade, or caramel.

there are artisanal potato crisps and fruit juices and ready-made sandwiches in the back, and hot pies and sausage rolls behind the counter; the choice was quite overwhelming. but i was mindful of my sister’s observation that we had barely eaten any british cuisine in our time in london, and ended up with a cold pork pie from the refrigerated shelves. the kid gamely picked a sausage roll as big as her head.

it was a very pleasant lunch, sitting in the wire chairs outside the shop, within the sunlit atrium of the train station. the solid puck of a pie was filled with great meaty chunks and a herby bouquet. the pickle was bright yellow and bitey, and full of still-crunchy vegetables. i wish there’d been more of it.

when we were done, we went back into the shop and stocked up on a few comestibles: chocolate bars, a jar of chocolate-pear spread, and a cupcake. (back in sydney, i would submit the receipt to the travel insurance company, to be compensated for meals during our volcano-related delay. they would graciously accept it, and categorise the expenditure as “snacks”.)

and then we went back underground, and resurfaced at covent garden, where we spent not quite four hours at the excellent transport museum. interactive displays of centuries of public transport. some quite lovely historic posters advertising tubes and trains. lovingly restored vintage buses! stuff you could sit in! they really don’t make stuff like they used to… but the life-sized model of the contemporary bus was quite the win.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 17 May 2010 at 11:11 am
permalink | filed under around town, kid, lunch, trip
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