Rice and Vegetable Pie

This is a favourite recipe in our house; it’s one my mum used to cook. It’s a great way to use up vegies in the fridge and that little bit of rice you’ve got leftover from the curry the night before, and there’s a lot of flexibility to use your favourite flavours or whatever needs using up!

I bought a slice of this into work the other day and had two of my colleagues ask for the recipe, so here it is!

Rice and Vegetable Pie

 Ingredients:

2 cups of cooked brown rice (white rice works just as well)

2 cups of grated or finely chopped vegetables (use whatever you have to hand, favourites in our house are carrot, pumpkin, silverbeet, mushrooms, broccoli and cauliflower)

1 large onion, chopped finely

½ cup of chopped parsley (and/or other fave fresh herbs, we use marjoram, sage and oregano because that’s what we have growing in the garden. You could also use basil, coriander, rocket or whatever you like!)

4 eggs, beaten

1 cup of grated cheese plus a bit more to sprinkle on the top

2 teaspoons of powdered stock (if you prefer to use liquid stock, cook your rice in it so it takes up the flavour but doesn’t make your pie soggy)

Your fave herbs, spices and seasoning to taste (we use coriander powder and cardamom, and a lot of salt and pepper.)

 Method:

Place all ingredients in a large bowl and mix thoroughly.

Lightly grease a pie plate and place mixture in it.

Top with some grated cheese and bake at 180°C for about 45mins (my oven is a bit shonky too, so I’d check on your pie at about half an hour, if I were you, and adjust the cooking times accordingly.)

Enjoy! The pie can be eaten hot or cold. We usually have it for dinner with a salad and then take a slice to work in our lunch boxes. Also great for picnics.

End of a Challenge

So, the year is new and my Buy No Clothes for a Year challenge is over.  The goal was to go for a whole twelve months without purchasing or actively acquiring any clothes, be they brand new or second hand, with exceptions for underwear and any items necessary for work. And I’d say, more or less, I was successful. The only clothing purchases wear a pair of trousers for a job interview, a pair of jeans to wear to my neat-casual dress-code job, and a dress. The dress is the one item that walks a thin line; ostensibly it was for work – and I did wear it first to a job interview – but it felt more like I was buying it for the pretty. The fact that it could be worn to work seemed a little like an added benefit. BUT I did wear it to work (in fact so far, I’ve only worn it to work) and all three items were op-shopped, too, so I feel pretty good about it all too.

Somewhere around about September, I started to get veeeeery bored with what was in my wardrobe. Favourite, basic, comfy items like my jeans and long sleeved black tops were starting to wear out and look quite ratty and I was feeling quite frustrated with the lack of variety. This was when I started to get a bit experimental with some of my outfits, and also started chopping and hemming various other items just so I felt like I had something new to wear! Also about this, my very stylish sisters cleared out their wardrobes almost simultaneously, and without asking I ended up with a few staples and pretties to freshen my wardrobe and give me the boost to stay out the last few months.

The most successful part, however, wasn’t about whether I did or did not slip up, but it was more about my attitude to clothes. I’ve always loved to dress up, of putting on a persona with my clothes, and for me dressing had become inextricably linked with who the world perceived me as. I was getting too caught up in questioning whether I was giving the world the right perception of me through my clothes, especially since moving to the inner northern suburbs of Melbourne, a very style conscious area. In short, I was stressing too much about my image, and felt that that problem could be solved by the next trip to the vintage store (which of course it never was!). So the year just gone was about stepping back from my interaction with the ‘perfection myth’ sold to us by advertising in its many forms and learning to be satisfied with what I have.  I hadn’t realised until last year that I felt a pressure walking into, or even past a clothing store, a pressure to consider the options, weigh them up, contemplate which items I liked and which worked for me and which sold the world the image of me that I wanted it to see. The first time I walked past a clothes store and I wasn’t allowed to consider the clothes, I was surprised by the sense of relief that I felt. Over the year, that sense of relief has turned into a sense of freedom, and that is the success of this clothing challenge.

Having said all that, I wet op-shopping last Wednesday, and got quite a haul. Wanna see?

A lovely, warm green woollen coat to replace the cheap, polyester one I have been wearing.

A cute silk cropped jacket that Dom picked off the rack for me. It fits me very well!

I was very happy with this purchase: a dress from Cue. Not only is it second hand, but originally, it was made in Australia from Italian made fabric. It looks to be very well made, it fits me well, and will be quite versatile. I bought it with work in mind, but I think it'll cross into the after five category quite nicely. And all for twenty bucks!

Now this is one that has nothing to do with work!  A party frock all the way, coloured tights some ankle boots. I think I'm going to wear this to the Sisters of Mercy gig in February.

A light summer frock. I'd wear this over swimmers if we were closer to the beach, and if the weather seemed at all like anything approximating beach weather.

Doesn't look much on the hanger, but this is a pure wool, tailored skirt. Found this in one of the up-market 'burb Vinnies. It's a touch more corporate than I'm used to, but I'm sure it'll come in handy for the new job.

A few basic tees. Mostly from horrible brands like Dotti and Supre with poor ethical and quality track records that I wouldn't ordinarily touch, but second hand, that's less of an issue and they'll be good for layering.

A nice vintage jumper.

A good top which again will cross well from work wear to casual wear.

Another Dom selection. I think it's intended to be a men's vest; it's quite long, but worn over jeans, possibly with a belt around the middle, and I think it'll look quite dapper.

Another possible work dress. I think it might be home-sewn, cos I can't find any tags. Too bad I didn't find this one while I was still at the kinder -- it would have been great for orange day!

I think this is a work dress. It looks quite stylish over tights with a scarf and possibly a belt. I don't think it's quite me outside of office hours though...

And finally, a comfy, cotton knit bath robe for keeping decent around flatmates.

All in all, not a bad day's shopping. Dom got a fair few things for himself, and we picked up a few things for the house as well. Far more shopping than I've done in quite a while.

Last night, before a darkened roomful of masqued and be-costumed heaving bodies, sweaty and drunk and sparkle-laden revellers -- after the bare-tittied midnight cake-burst-Neil-snog, but before the ukulele solo -- Amanda Palmer, wearing a corset she bought from a girl in the audience for the promise of a snog, told us she didn't believe in making New Year's Resolutions.
"They're for lazy people," she said, after singing us a song about working out she's exactly the person she wants to be, right now.

I get it.

I have no New Year's Resolutions this year. I mean, it's not something I'm in the habit of doing anyway. Last year, I had one (buy no clothes for a whole year) but that was more of a challenge really. A challenge I successfully completed -- more or less -- as Amanda burst out of that cake last night. Or, more accurately, about four and a half minutes earlier, as her husband, Neil Gaiman, finished reading a poem about the effects of drinking whiskey on artistic endeavour as it relates to writing.

But, challenges aside, I see nothing that needs changing in my life.

No. No, that's not true. The Tower reversed has not turned up in my spread for some time now. No resistance to change, here. I'm happy -- more than happy, I encourage -- for things to grow and evolve. But there's nothing bad, nothing wrong, nothing that needs a stern lashing of willpower and resolve.

Things are good. Great. In just over two weeks, I'll start my new job. For the first time, I have a job not just because it's there, or just because I can do it, but because I chose it. Something that I believe in, that is changing the world for the better, not causing harm, however indirectly.

I am saving; I see the goal ahead of me, although a few years down the track, yet. A house, built by my hands and his, with a fireplace, and bookshelves, turkey rugs and patchwork curtains, a big kitchen and an even bigger dining table to have you all over for tea. With a garden all around, with oh-so-much food and chickens and neighbours and you.

Sometimes, I see this so clearly, I could knock on the front door.

But here and now, in this wonderful, quirky, home-ish house, I am deliriously content. My garden, as they say, is cranking. The pumpkins are beginning to swell, and I ate the very first beans off the vine for my dinner tonight. And if the basil never really grew, and only one capsicum plant survived and the eggplants never are going to flourish, so what? I have more tomatoes than I'll ever know what to do with, and more on the way; I get more zucchinis morning and night and there is really nothing like cucumber sliced fresh off the vine. Slowly, slowly, we remove more packaging from our shelves and less and less processed food comes into my kitchen and I am satisfied.

And I am happily, sickeningly, heart-burstingly, ribcage-tighteningly, breath-catchingly in love. His smile still gives me butterflies, his mind engages mine, and best of all, we just fit together effortlessly. Being with Dom is simultaneously both the easiest and most rewarding thing in my life. Our life together is everything I hoped for while I waited.

So, life is pretty fucking awesome right now.

But, still I say: I welcome growth, and I welcome change, even as fear flutters in my belly as I type those words, I welcome it.
(all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well)

Still, there are some things I'd like to do. Not resolutions, but wishes. I'd like to write more, and I'd like to make more balance in my life to have the time to write more. There's a novel (at least one) still sitting in my head, waiting to be ink on paper.

And I'd like to perform again. I felt that strongly last night. And not just to perform, but to build a show, craft it, fill it with weird beautiful carnie creatures. Last night, there was a big-haired, skull-shouldered, horse-headed, pegasus-winged, gyrating hipped vampire male anti-burlesque act to Lost Boys Cry Little Sister. I want to touch that again.

Last night, Neil said some beautiful words. His wish for us all this year is that we might make some mistakes. Mistakes are beautiful things, he said, because to make mistakes means you're trying something new. And a mistake means you're doing something, and it's important to do.

I hope this year I make mistakes, and I birth new things, that I am bold and that I evolve, and that I do and that, even if I feel that flutter of fear, I greet the Tower, the Wheel and the World with open arms.

Happy New Year!

Sundays.

It’s become the routine at our place that Sundays are a bit of a ‘tidy-up’ day. And I know it might be daggy, but I really enjoy it. Saturdays are often for getting all of my uni work out of the way, and then a little bit of socialising, and after the bustle of the week, Sundays are just for being around the home, putting some time and energy into the space, and just going slow.

Today, we had a lovely long sleep in, after going out for dinner with friends, and then to see one of my very favourite performers, Mikelangelo, at a wonderful, intimate venue in South Melbourne last night.

Then, I made us fresh orange juice from the abundance of oranges we received in our veggie box this week, followed by an old breakfast favourite of mine: tomato and onion on toast, with some fresh herbs, spring onions and sprouts from the garden.

And then it was getting stuck into the clean! We have a house inspection later this week, so it was a little more vigorous than usual. And it was such a glorious sunny day outside – such a welcome break from a relentless winter – that it was a struggle to stay indoors long enough to get everything done. As it was, I kept going outside every half an hour to just soak up the sunshine.

Another great thing about this warm weekend is that I finally get to wear the ‘summer socks’ I made last Easter and then haven’t had a chance to wear because it’s been too cold. They're 'yoga socks' designed to keep your feet and ankles warm and your toes and heels free for yoga and pilates poses.

But I've found another practical use for them. The perfect combination: thongs AND warm feet!

Then we had a Transition Darebin meeting at a local café. I almost didn’t want to go – I really didn’t want to be indoors. But as usual, it was so inspiring and motivating to hear about everyone’s projects and ideas, so I’m glad I went.

And now I’m home again, pulling the washing in off the line, potting out a few plants and just settling in, preparing for the week ahead. Enjoying the clean and tidy house. How was your Sunday?

The Visit

Last month, for my birthday, my mum visited me and my sister here in Melbourne, which was wonderful. It was great to be able to show her where and how I live: my home, and my lovely big back yard. We cooked a lot, and sat in the living room in front of the 'fire' (gas heater) chatting and knitting. Sarah came over and we went out to lunch in my favourite local cafe. We went op-shopping at the marvellous op-shops on Sydney road.

And we spent a day out in the garden. My mum is a biodynamic farmer and a permaculture wiz and as we wandered around the garden, secateurs in hand, she had a wealth of advice for what to plant where, how to manage the gore wasp in the lemon, how to prune the peach in time for spring.

I love my mother's approach to gardening -- it's very practical and direct. We were replanting some seedlings: I, gingerly pulling them free, delicately placing them in a hole as if they were precious (and they are!), softly tucking them in. Mum would unceremoniously push them into the ground with her thumb.

'I used to think like you do, but now I plant out so many seedlings that I haven't got the time or patience,' she said burying up to its leaves a tiny, out-of-season tomato seedling that had grown in the compost. 'It probably wont survive the rest of winter,' she warned.

For me, who, for all my cyclical enthusiasm has never been much of a green thumb, took heart in her approach -- clearly these fragile things are hardier than they look. Maybe it wont matter so much if I get a few things wrong. Its all the encouragement I need to dive right in!

And then, she boarded the train and went back to the farm.

Yarn Along

Once, quite a few years ago now, I had finished working for a man in a kilt who lived on the west coast of Scotland. I planned to head South again, perhaps back into England, and told him so.

'Oh no, you can't!' he said in a voice like Sean Connery's. 'Not when you've come so close.'

The balcony on the front of his house looked out over the harbour, and every day, just at the same morning hour, a very large ferry left for the Outer Hebrides.

'You must see the Islands while you are here. They're amazing.'

And he was right. Such wild, treeless islands of wind and ghosts. I stood on a bluff and looked out over the sea and hills and could see nothing made by man. I could have been standing there at any point in history. It broke my heart and healed it all at once.

So I stayed with the daughter of the man in a kilt with the voice of Sean Connery, in her cottage attached to a haunted manor. And we cooked rustic meals of produce bought from farmers, and went looking for ghosts, and fended off Jehovah's Witnesses who knocked on our door-at-the-edge-of-the-world, and we sat around and knitted. There was a book there, too, all about an island even further out in the uncaring sea, which had once had inhabitants who had more in common with the Norse, than they did with the Scotts (although they still had to pay the Laird their taxes). I didn't read all of this book, I left before I could finish, back to a part of the world just a little less magical.

This is not that book, but it is about that furthest-flung island, St Kilda. It is a fictionalised account of the time that a missionary and his wife went to save the natives from themselves, much to the detriment of everyone concerned. It's not a bad book, but it's not that good either. Mostly I keep reading it because it is about my favourite part of the world. And my knitting skills have progressed somewhat since sitting in that cottage too. This is the first of a pair of legwarmers, lace stitch, knitted in the round. The wool came from a jumper I bought at the op-shop and unravelled. It's going well.

Kitting and reading: two of my most favourite things. Joining in with Ginny (and Mum) for Yarn Along this week.

While I wasn't here...

While I wasn't here, I:

turned 30

And had a surprise dress up party (good thing I always have lots of dress-ups)

received outrageously expensive gifts (thats a Macbook Pro in there)

and had a lovely time.

I also had visits from

friends

and family

from far away.

I got a new job. I no longer work at the kindergarten; I now work for a company were I lay out horse-racing form guides for the newspapers. It's a step in the right direction.

I have been living happily:

gardening,

and crafting

and reading

Hopefully, I wont be away so long next time.

See you soon.