Wandering through cold streets tangled like old string,
Coming on fountains rigid in the frost,
Its formula escapes you; it has lost
The certainty that constitutes a thing.Only the old, the hungry and the humbled
Keep at this temperature a sense of place,
And in their misery are all assembled;
The winter holds them like an Opera-House.Ridges of rich apartments loom to-night
Where isolated windows glow like farms,
A phrase goes packed with meaning like a van,A look contains the history of man,
And fifty francs will earn a stranger right
To take the shuddering city in his arms.-W.H. Auden, 1907. Modernist poet.
Pull out the slippers, slip on the socks. Dust off the mattress and reset the clock. Turn up the heat and go for a jog, while the cauldron bubbles with last night’s broth. Replace sunburn and mosquito bites with pasty skin and chilly nights and you’re right on the mark. While practising your poetic verse is a great way to give your brain a workout after a period of reticence, you won’t see the benefit of that fortification against dementia until you’re well into your age and pipping on your tobacco and looking out your bedroom window!
I’m here to herald something much more immediate. It might not be the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus or a giant paycheck waiting for you in the mail, but I can assure you that a great summons is coming to a city near and it is far more exciting than waiting for your brain to mature or for the grass to grow.
As you would know from my previous post, not too long ago I took to the streets for some photography of the Autumn leaves, picked up some wonderfully fresh honey and passed by my grandmother’s garden for this fantastic photograph of a growing broccoli stem. Those images of liquid amber trees dropping their leaves is soon to be a relic of the past as we confront the change of seasons.
From the view of my window, the trees are now like skeletons, waving flexible limbs in resistance against the wind, crested with chirping birds in the early morning and burdened with the buds of younger growth coming into fruition. For a lot of us, there isn’t a whole lot to look forward to with the arrival of winter. There is the routine dusting and cleaning and pulling out of the warmer closet. That’s why I’m here to remind you of the hidden glories in the colder months that are so often overlooked.
So, while you read your feeds and wait for that mug of freshly brewed Earl Grey to cool-off its steam and dissolve the granules of sugar in that hot milky vortex, ready the stove and heat up the oven. In the spirit of W.H. Auden’s profound, allusive poetry that warms your heart and soul, Wild Thyme and Sweet Pea is ready to roll out the catalogue of winter recipes and ruminations on the coldest of seasons of the year, and you are cordially invited to partake in everything that is soon to be on offer.
![200905honey_001](http://wildthyme.sevendales.net/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/200905honey_001.jpg "\")
A major fault of mine that I have battled for as long as I can remember and still haven’t shaken is that inherent sense of reservation about approaching and simply asking. Perhaps it is the fear of being ridiculed for having asked, the fear of a response that is unexpected. It is a bit tragic really, considering how important it is to query; it’s one of those great gifts of humankind that helps us overcome particular instances of uncertainty with a usual binary response: yes or no. Of course, it’s always harder to ask when the request is something larger than the words itself. Thankfully, today marked a positive step in the right direction. In fact, it was a positive few steps in the opposite direction. And as it would seem, sometimes we need to backtrack and re-analyse our actions with a pattern of fresh thinking to get the results we really want.
We decided on a fond and chilly afternoon to take a stroll. The world was our oyster – at this point in time, our ‘conquered’ world spans the length of familiarity of the local neighbourhood and a bit further beyond. Today was a time to take a few snapshots of the turning liquid amber leaves and to capture a bit of fresh air. Never in a million lifetimes were we expecting the idiosyncratic unexpectedness that is endemic to the suburban town. Where else would you find the spirit of the joie de vivre in its nativity?
Thanks to Jasmin, and based on your wonderfully informative feedback, Wild Thyme and Sweet Pea has received a facelift and a layout reorganisation. Hopefully, it will be easier than ever before to find what you seek and give you some extra eye-candy along with the mouthwatering Autumn/Winter catalogue of recipes to be published. As always, don’t be shy to use the poll system to let us know how we are going. Thanks for your visit!
Whoever once remarked that the words “fast” and “food” should never exist in the same sentence unless they are referring to some mass-produced, artery-clogging gruel, was sorely mistaken of the changing reality of takeaway. Once upon a time the idea of McDonald’s as a family restaurant might have held a grain of truth, but there is no denying the fact that in this modern day, we are simply too health-conscious to place the big corporations at the bottom of our food triangle for most eaten foods. Let’s face it: one Big Mac alone would be enough to make a two hour gym session seem obsolete, so the majority of us would rather steer clear. Another problem is that many of us are sick to death of the traditional salad for the health option – no matter how you might jazz up those limp leaves of baby cos, there is no denying the hungry horde their desire for something more substantial.
Sydney is particularly blessed in the respect of its rather haughty cultural diversity array, with many young and otherwise experienced entrepreneurs either finding their roots or seeking a greater stake of the market in this great southern capitol. New and migrating businesses, as well as the employees of the booming trade, both reap the benefits of a favourable climate of open-minded customers keen to expand their horizon, keen to fill their growing stomachs with a penchant for foreign tastes, a favourable market of current low interest rates and building leases that accommodate from as much as al fresco and veranda dining to closed-setting shopfronts and more. The visitors and residents are not limited to their choice of cuisine; in a single metropolitan street alone, it is possible to sample many of the cuisines of South-East Asia and Europe, the Middle-East and even many restaurants serving the specialities of the countries of contential Africa.
Despite how it may appear, there is light at the end of the tunnel: it is possible to find lunchtime cuisine that is a balance of nutrition and edibility, that is well within a decent price bracket and will ensure a consistent flow of your business and satisfaction in a ratio that will make you smile. If this sounds like your cup of tea, that I prithee that you read on.
In a rare twist of events from the usual humdrum and rush of getting to work, I caught a seat on the bus next to a mild but rather loquacious elderly man. He turned to me and resisted saying many things in his speech, perhaps holding back from mentioning in his chat some apt observation of my larger-than-life backpack, spiked hair and tattered jeans and shirt. Yet through his firmly smug grin and by the careful countenance of a gentleman (if not obvious by his mocassins, briefcase and checkered and tailored shirt), he still made small talk with me. On miles we spoke about Australian politics and the economy, about the crowdedness of the University bus and the overwhelming queue at his local pharmacy, where he loads up on his prescription medications, as, how he puts it, “a baited rat”.
After much ado and settling into the natural rhythm of the bus ride, he lowered his voice and kept his head ducked down and his lips spread like a cheeky child of youth. He asked a rather personal and unsettling question at first, but one that stayed with me for several days. I mulled over it, gave it serious thought (despite my obvious temptation to feel mocked) and decided to analyse precisely what it is that I do that makes my daily ink of events unique. All of this inspired by the question of: “What gets you up on a weekend?”
What makes this post particularly special is the fact that it opens a window into the Sunday routine of four distinct, but conjoined family lives in a metropolitan household.
The Wild Thyme and Sweet Pea project found its roots when it was plucked excitedly from the garden, washed briskly in a basin of water and lovingly left out to dry in a soothing marinade of vision and ambition ... More »
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