Shepherdess Pie

As the weather finally starts to feel a tad autumnal, my cooking turns toward the hearty and comforting. 

On a cool and rainy easter sunday, There was basically two choices. Pie or Pie.

I mean, who doesn't love the smell of pies baking? (Except of course, my oven is busted and the landlord might fix it, oh, sometime-in-the-next-millenium which means I have to bake it across the road at Mum's thereby missing the whole 'who does't love the smell of pies baking?' point, but ANYWAY...)

I decided on the all-time bloke-favourite, The Shepherd's Pie.

Except it isn't. The actualities of the pie proper are reasonably complicated and involve cottages, re-naming, some hoo-ha about beef vs lamb (shepherds don't herd cattle) and then the slightly important fact that my version uses neither beef, nor lamb and is therefore (apparently) a Shepherdess's Pie ( the logic being that girl shepherds don't eat beef or lamb?....ANYWAY...)

My version has also been a 'Cumberland Pie (with a layer of breadcrumbs on top), may have been a pastel de papa if I happened to live in Chile or Uraguay, a hachis Parmentier if I were french, or Kibbet Batata if I happened to be cooking in Syria...in autumn. My favourite though is the Finland's version is "lihaperunasoselaatikko". I'd probably call it that if I could pronounce it.

I ruin things further by adding grated cheese on top of the potato, making it a shepherdess/milkmaid pie? Maybe it's just a 'female rural employee' pie? I think ...

Recipe

1 can lentils, drained

1 1/2 cups dried TVP, re-hydrated in vegetable stock

1 large onion, diced

3 sticks celery, finely diced

2 medium carrots, finely diced

1 small tin tomato paste

2 tsp garlic powder

3 tsp dried sage

a small handful fresh oregano

2 tbsp gravy mix (I use brown onion)

1/3 cup tomato sauce

1/4 cup BBQ sauce

1 tbsp chipotle sauce

3 tsp ground black pepper

2 tsp VEGETA

4 large floury potatoes

100g salted butter

1/2 cup hot soy milk

100g grated tasty cheese

2 tsp smoky paprika

1. Fry off veges in a little EVOO til tender and fragrant

2. Add everything else and a cup of water and let that bastard simmer until all the flavours are rich and blended

3. Make your mash and spoon it on top.

4. Top with grated cheese and smoky paprike

5. Bake for 1hr at 180.

I'm having an internal war over whether to serve it with salad, or more autumnally with maple and walnut roasted carrots and parsnips, and some minted peas....

By the way, the autumnal sides won the day...and how little Gabriel LOVES his maple-roasted carrots!

Why I gave up

It's a simple thing really.

I have seemingly always wanted to lose weight.
When I was 55kgs (circa 1988) I wanted to be 50kgs
When I was 60kgs (circa 1990) I wanted to be 55 again
When I was 65kgs (circa 1992) I wrote "gahhh!!" in my diary and proceeded to starve myself (again) for weeks.
This goes on and on and on and on.

I'll skip a few years due to the agonizing boredom of watching someone else's paranoia.
2008. Good GOD I'm getting married! There'll be photos! raw vegan...
2009. Trying for a baby. Punishing 8km walks every morning up and down mountains, calorie counting obsessively.
2010. pregnant! relax a bit. Lose the baby
2011, IVF. Stack on weight due to IVF hormone stimulants. Vow to lose baby weight before baby-weight even becomes an issue.
2012. IVF fails. IVF #2 starts. No time to lose IVF #1 weight. IVF #2 stacks on extra.
2013. Baby! The miracle of my world arrives! Sooo happy I could burst,...BUT...I'm still worried about the tummy-pouch, the excess fat. I compare myself obsessively with my sisters-in-law/every currently slim woman who's given birth EVER.
2013. Low point. I spend $125 on Duromine to hopefully shed the pounds once and for all.

I spend a month on Duromine and lost 4kgs.
I realise I can't afford to keep doing this.
I worry about what this is doing to my body.

[CUT]

Forward to one evening 2 weeks later watching the television (MKR) with husband..

FRIGGIN' EPIPHANY!

It was a shampoo commercial that did it. I don't even know which 'brand'. It's the one where the impossibly gorgeous model (Miranda kerr?) says; "we've been going about this the wrong way!".
Apparently now we need to concentrate on our scalp (not the hair).....ANYWAY...
The following occurred to me;
(1) I have spent over 14 YEARS dieting.
(2) I have spent over 14 years buying the bullshit and believing that I was somehow 'unworthy' because I didn't look like I did when I was 15.
(3) I have spent over 14 years eschewing ambition/creativity/furtherance because I honestly believed I couldn't really do it until I'd conquered my 'weight demons'.

A Minefield of Opinion...

This photo of my baby boy was taken 3 days ago. Apart from the bruise on his forehead (gained whilst believing he could stand unassisted and quickly face-planting into the nearest toy), does this baby look unhealthy? malnourished? Weak and poorly? Showing any signs of 'failure to thrive'?...
OK, fair enough. You'd have to take behavioural aspects into account as well as careful observation of digestive issues/skin-tone etc.
Short of posting photos of baby-poo for your delectation, I assure you, he does a nice big poo twice a day (sometimes thrice), has excellent skin tone, shows no signs of dehydration, sleeps 1.5hrs twice a day, and 11-ish hours at night.
While awake, he is the jolliest little man. My Mum's favourite saying at the moment is, "What a miserable child!" (please insert heavy sarcasm!). He smiles constantly, babbles away merrily, kisses people frequently and generally loves his life. Food, ALL food is an excellent thing to him. Even if the taste is unfamiliar, or he doesn't 'like it', he dutifully opens his little birdy-mouth for more.

So it is utterly, utterly beyond me that people still question my parenting-wisdom in raising him as a vegetarian.
Like most mums, I am hit with a daily barrage of RDI's, RDA's, 'new recommendations', Breast-feeding advocates that will not accept that I am unable to breast-feed, various parenting 'styles', 'expert opinions', etc etc...when they say parenting is a full-time job, they're not bloody kidding.
But, like most jobs, most of the really 'hard' work seems to come from bored/trying to prove something middle management.

The most common outcryings seem to be;
(a) But where does he get his PROTEIN?????!!! Gahhh!!! The PROTEIN!!!
(b) The IRON! The IRON!...Oh Lordy, this child will die forthwith!!
(c) (and this is a relatively recent nutritional obsession of the masses) -What about the Omega-3's and the Omega-6's?? If you don't give him fish he will endure a life of sub-standard intelligence/cretinism/behavioural issues/retarded brain function...blah blah etc etc.

I am simultaneously amused and horrified, and yes, there's always a large portion of my mind that thinks I could do better for my child.
Today, for example, after too many recent 'comments', I have spent nearly 6 hours obsessively analysing his daily nutritional intake just to be sure. This was only possible because I have a nasty dose of the Flu, and Mr Me took a 'family day' off from work so that we could shield the little monkey from any nasty virus that may spew forth from my infected self.

So here's the thing Boys and Girls;
FIRSTLY: He is a mere (almost) 9 months old. This means that he gets most of his nutrition from Formula.
According to his age and weight, he drinks a 200ml bottle 4 times a day (sometimes 5 x).

WARNING: THE NEXT BIT IS DEADLY UNLESS YOU'RE A NUTRITION-IS-RELIGION-NAZI...

This means: He gets 73% of his RDI of calories from formula alone.
                  He gets 110% of his RDI of PROTEIN from formula alone
                  He gets 98% and 99% respectively of Omega-3 and Omega-6 from formula alone
                  He gets 72.7% of his RDI of IRON from formula alone
                  He gets over 200% of his RDI of calcium from formula alone.

Oh No! Some of those numbers don't say 100%!.
Settle down. He also eats copious amounts of actual food.
Between bottles, my son ingests;
BREAKFAST: 2/3 cup mixed fruit. This week; Mango, Banana, Nectarine puree with baby Farex, + 2 tbsps natural greek yoghurt.
LUNCH: 2/3 cup mixed vegetables (mostly from my garden). This week; roasted potato, kumera, zucchini with broccoli, spinach, cheese and avocado
DINNER: 2 Baby-Iron-Man balls (Red lentils/tofu/almonds) + 1/3 cup homemeade rice pudding with caramelised figs and agave nectar.
SNACKS: 2 rusks, 1-2 slices of wholegrain bread and vegemite, 1 piece of fruit (consumed in increments throughout the day).

His calories are SORTED
His PROTEIN is WELL SORTED
His IRON is SORTED
His vitamins and minerals look pretty damned cheery from where I'm sitting.
Every second day I try to give him some scrambled egg at breakfast or lunch, but he's not loving it. I'll keep trying.

END TOTALLY BORING BIT.

For those of you that have actually objected to me 'denying' my son McDonalds and KFC....ummm, you were kidding....right?
For those of you that are stressing about his lack of chocolate or other refined sugar products...go scratch yourself (oh, and do some research sometime).
For anyone else that thinks they know 'best' for my son;
SOD-THE-HELL-OFF.

Aren't you glad I didn't get into the micronutrients too? :-)

And just to RAM the point home, here's another picture of my horribly waning and desperately undernourished son, taken a week ago.

Blackberry Pie, Rain, and a screaming baby.

If you were an alien being trying to follow the emotional nuances of human beings, you would do well to follow my school-holiday cooking schedule.
Last Night of Term: Comfort food spectacular for Brett (a 'well done honey!' feast).
1st week of Holidays: Serious Christmas Prep. Too much sugar, boring nightly menu.
2nd-4th weeks of Holidays: Blissful long-prep dishes that I don't have time for during term while single-handed baby-wrangling.
Last Day of Holidays: Some dish that screams 'home/comfort/care/love'.

It's possibly my last-ditch panicked attempt to help Brett (ahem) 'overlook' my new fashion...dishabille-without-the-innate-class, and give him one more extra-special treat before the dreaded TERM.
So, as it is summer and Portland is somewhat lax about Blackberry obliteration, there are tonnes and tonnes of shiny black berries just sitting there for the taking. This naturally results in Blackberry Pie (served with homemade vanilla bean icecream) and Blackberry Jam.

Last night my 8 month old son thought it would be amusing to be awake between 3 and 5am. This resulted in  a pretty dire version of me this morning, but I was determined to do my pie, so I headed over to Mum and Dad's to recruit blackberry-pickers.
Dad's hand is always the first to go up for foraging adventures, so off we trotted to my favourite 'patch' (opposite the produce store).

The berries on offer were quite small this time (due largely to the serious lack of rain over xmas), but we forged ahead. Dad's 80 year old skin took a bit of damage...a few spectacular scratches and rivulets of blood, but he was pretty determined to get his pie and simply dabbed with his hanky and continued!

It did begin to rain in earnest mid-forage, but there was no point in returning home with 'almost enough' berries, so we pressed on. In the meantime I discovered that picking berries in the rain, stomping down aggressive canes with my big gumboots and humming folksongs was actually a tremendously pleasant way to spend a morning. Just me and Dad, quietly plucking in the cool stillness and enjoying being quiet together.

 After an hour and a half of picking I finally had enough for my pie. Sadly, not enough for jam-making this time, but after the current rain, next weekend should see some nice big fat fellas ready for my jam pot!

So, while Brett headed off to have a looooong bath, Gabriel and I took to the kitchen to make pie.
Warning: this pastry is very VERY short. It results in a gorgeous, light, crumbly pie, but it isn't for the faint-of-heart (or the very tired....). After a few choice expletives, I did manage to get it together...well enough for the much-prized 'rustic' look anyway...

Pie filling                                                  Gabe 'helping'                                           Fresh berries

Of course, being a sleep-deprived mess with a baby that absolutely and resolutely REFUSED to nap this afternoon, I completely forgot to take a photo of the finished product before I raced it over to Dad. In Lockley tradition, Dad always gets the first slice (only fair after his foraging efforts), and then I collect the remainder for Brett.

PASTRY
2 cups plain flour
1/2 cup almond meal
1 cup unsalted butter
1 tsp salt
2 tsp brown sugar
6 -8 tbsp iced water
FILLING
4 cups fresh blackberries
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup plain flour

"Hey Mumma...."                                      "I'ma gonna....."                                       "Getcha!!!".

 Not my pie, but this is pretty much exactly what you get!
Now to organise dinner and perchance, have a nice glass of wine...

TEOTWAWKI

Gabriel's having his afternoon nap, so I thought I'd do some searching on Doomsday psychology. It turns out there's an awful lot of stuff on various Doomsday scenarios, but not much (apart from, y'know books) on why end-of-the-worlders are so damned set on ending life-as-we-know-it.

So, in a brief and irreverent run-down, the nominees for Best Planet Destruction Event are:

(1) The Mayans. Their long-count calender (not their short one, or teensy one, or super-dooper long one) runs out tomorrow. Despite this, they didn't prophesy the end of the world. I guess that's because calenders don't signify anything other than ending of a period of time.

(2) Planet X/Nibiru. I love this one. HUGE planet hurtling towards us (by tomorrow) is apparently also an invisible planet...has been for ages too. Right now, we should be seeing something in the sky the size of the moon..at least. A while ago, a random astronomer or two probably should have seen something in their super-dooper observatory set-ups.

(3) Magnetic Pole shift (I sooo blame the 2012 movie for that one..I mean who wouldn't believe Dennis Quaid??)...for that matter, who wouldn't want to snuggle up with Jake Gyllenhaal in a library in front of a fire?

(4) Mega Sun Flares. Crispy us. Pesky scientists are assuring us that this is about as likely as me winning a Nobel prize, but what would they know? It's a conspiracy!

(5) The black hole in the middle of the universe is going to suck us all in...well, something has sucked a lot of people in, but it ain't a black hole (unless we're talking the intellectual variety...)

(6) The Rapture! Lots of Christians floating up into the sky (I assume Jesus has some kind of 'off-switch' on atmospheric conditions? I mean 8000m is currently touted the "death zone" on Everest, and I'm assuming Heaven is a bit higher than that?)...

I'm sure there are others, but I'm a bit over reading the bunkum and pifflery to be honest. What really interests me is why people really really want the world to end.
At first I assumed that said 'people' mustn't be very bright. It turns out though that various important surveys have been done and that Doomsdayers are often 'above average intelligence'. As measured by what?

So here's my theory (such as it is).
I think people are bloody overwhelmed.
It's a very big and very scary world out there. In 2012 we know far more about the various goings-on globally than we can reasonably manage to process.
I get overwhelmed. Like my recent ancestors, I have to live, provide for my family, pay taxes, work, laugh, dream, play, foster my mind/ambitions, act for my community and try to help others less fortunate. Unlike my recent ancestors, I am in constant contact with the whole world, it's massacres, it's wars, it's tsunami's and hurricanes, it's starving millions, it's disabled and elderly, it's struggling animal populations, it's human rights violations, it's religious manias, it's climate and environmental destruction.
It is definitely overwhelming. Where to help? What are my responsibilities? What can I reasonably expect to achieve here? I can 'Think Globally, Act Locally', but to be honest, between caring for a 6 month old and getting the dishes done, I don't do a whole lot of 'acting locally either.
On this point alone, if the WAWKI ends, I have far less to worry about.
In fact, I get to return to the basics really. Surviving.
Of course, doing that probably won't be quite as romantic and heroic as some might like to think. No water or electricity supply would put quite a dint in things...even if you were snuggling Jake Gyllenhaal in a library.

I think people really really fear death. Atheists and Theists alike. Perhaps there's something quite comforting in the idea of not 'getting old' ?. Perhaps it's even more comforting to imagine everyone going out together in one fell swoop? Perhaps only the belief that you can predict death (of yourself and the planet) makes you feel a bit better about it?. I mean, there's a Doomsday for everyone, but the trick is that you can't predict it.
I get that 'the Rapture' is quite comforting for Christians, -you actually get to avoid the 'death' bit entirely and just go straight to heaven where everything is just-lovely-thankyou, but it does seem a bit smug doesn't it? "Ooh, sorry everyone else! We did tell you...thanks for that delicious choccie cake last thursday, but I'm off to heaven. Enjoy your catastrophic destruction".

In fact, I think pretty much all Doomsday philosophies have quite a bit in common with religious belief (even if they're 'secular' in nature).

So, in my-very-own-doomsday scenario here's what happens;
The Magnetic poles shift and that effects the Atlantic Current thingy (toldya I like that movie). This means that I now live in a cold place, which is a jolly good thing.
The Government collapses and I no longer have to worry about tax/superannuation, buying a house, paying bills etc. This has no consequence other than freeing me from annoying obligations.
All my family members (well, OK some of my family members) survive, as well as the most excellent friends and we all manage to get together somehow.
No no, I have it figured. I've got a really good mix of scientists, medicos, artists, gardeners, tradies etc, so I get to have a cool micro-community full of people I like.
We grow vegetables, write new books and plays, save important bits of previous human culture, sing songs by firelight and go to bed early every night. Someone also figures out how to make great wine, and we storm some great property with heaps of arable land, lots of grape vines, an underground aquifer and a picturesque location. Maybe a lake nearby for fishing.
Eventually we may accept other tribes (for the sake of genetic diversity you understand), but it will all be peaceful and lovely and stuff.
Oh, and there'll be horses and goats and chickens and a huge stock of soy-bean seeds so I don't have to revert to caveman-style eating of dead creatures.
Yay apocolypse!

It's a very different world Mr Madison...

I was just one of many mothers around the world on Saturday 15th December 2012 that happened to switch on the news. I was one of thousands, if not millions, that listened with increasing horror and disbelief as reporters told us of 20 children and 6 adults shot by a suicidal gunman in Newtown, Connecticut.

I'm certain I wasn't alone in holding my little boy and telling him how much I loved him almost obsessively through the days that followed.

I am absolutely not alone in being one of many many people that have, and continue to search for a way to deal with it. It may be a need for 'answers', a need to feel 'safe', a need to be someone who helps in some small way, or just a Mother's need to 'arm' myself against this eventuality ever EVER applying to my family.

Some part of me knew that this would be an impossible task. I didn't even really know 'why' I was doing all this obsessive research, -and it's fair to assume that one is unlikely to find 'the answer' when one can't even formulate 'the question'.

The closest I could get was 'why?'.

Why what Cath? 

Why did that particular man choose to vent his frustrations on tiny children and teachers?

Why does the second amendment still exist?

Why do the NRA and [Republican] Americans hold to their 'right to bear arms' as obsessively as they hold to the Bible?

Why do people still insist that arming everyone (including teachers) is a BETTER option than doing away with guns entirely?

Why are a huge amount of people still petitioning God to come and save America instead of doing something?

I assure, this is only a very very small selection of the questions that have been on my mind. 

I pored over the second amendment (and its various commentaries) forever. . . And knew that once again, the same twisted voices would say, Oh, this had nothing to do with gun laws or the misuse of the Second Amendment or anything except some singular madman, of whom America for some reason seems to have a particularly dense sample.

I considered the definition of 'militia' both now and in the late 1700's. I pondered the psychology of a nation founded against the invading forces of British and French colonialists in conjunction with violent and bloody aboriginal conflict. 

I considered the social ramifications of a country still at war with various world nations, at the glorification of the 'Military', the reverence with which Americans and Australians treat their fallen Soldiers, the poetry of war, the clarity and 'peace' that many soldiers find through killing.... I wondered again about the prevalence of violence on our movie and game-screens and how much and what is filtering through the minds of our young ones.

I fielded voices as diverse as Morgan Freeman and Julie Bishop. I realised that I did in fact have some respect for John Howard and the Australian Governments swift and furious action following Port Arthur. 

And yet, each night as I fed, bathed and sang my son to sleep, all I could think about were the mothers and fathers of the world that have lost children. I can see and feel the unstoppable keening wail of a mother holding an empty blanket that still retains the scent of her dead child...and the blank empty silence that follows as she tries to remember to eat and live on. The pure hopelessness of a couple who aren't and never could have been equipped to deal with such a thing, and the way they will claw and rend at each other without wanting to. The useless but well-meant condolences that make you want to scream. The fury. The rage. 

How I longed for a proper brain. A book-writing, world-changing brain that could neatly compartmentalize and analyse violence and mental illness. I would even have settled for a brain that was capable of writing a thorough and incisive article. An article that helped.

As it turns out, I am not that person. 

I am simply one of millions on this planet that is continuously confused and horrified. I don't have answers. I have plenty of questions, but I suspect none of them are what I really wanted to ask.

As a singer/musician I, again, have to fall back on music to help me.

"My Precious One"

My precious one, my tiny one, lay down your pretty head.
My dearest one my sleepy one, its time to go to bed

My precious one, my darling one; don't let your lashes weep.
My cherished one, my weary one; it's time to go to sleep.

Just bow your head and give your cares to me.
Just close your eyes and fall into the sweetest dream, cause in my loving arms.
You're safe as you will ever be so hush my dear and sleep.

And in your dreams you'll ride on angels' wings.
Dance with the stars and touch the face of god
And if you should awake...

I'll kiss your little cheek
And underneath the smiling moon
I'll send you back to sleep.

Today's harvest = Tonight's Dinner

When you're on a [cough] 'budget' (read: no money to speak of), the humble legume becomes your very best friend, like, in the universe.
They're cheaper than chips, they're full of marvellous (but boring) vitamins and minerals, they're nutty and tasty, and thank jeebus, everyone in my family likes them.
So, today I whacked together a pot of my 'Posh Beans'.
See, what I actually served for dinner was beans-on-toast, but Posh beans on toasted sourdough with parmesan, spring onions, fresh peas and bitter greens sounds more appetising :-)

First, it was a quick trip to the garden to source the greens (Cos and Mizuna), peas, and spring onions..

Gabriel watched on in delight, squealing and wriggling on Daddy's lap while mummy picked green things.
Next step, washing. This is a 2 step process in my house as after you've washed all the leaves, you have to save and transport the dozen or so ladybugs floating in the sink water:-)

Washed and ready to go. It's probably just me being super romantic, but greens from my garden are much greener than other greens...:)
Then it was a simple toasting of sourdough slices under the griller, pile with chopped mixed greens, slap on a couple of ladlefulls of Posh beans, and top with parmesan, spring onions and fresh peas.

Posh Beans

3 tins cannelini beans, rinsed
1 brown onion, finely diced
2 celery stalks, finely diced
1 red capsicum, finely diced
1 small Aldi tin tomato paste
1 jar passata
1 tbsp massel chicken stock
1 passata jar of water

You can add as much or as little of the following as takes your fancy;
Cajun Spice
Chilli Flakes
Salt
Garlic granules
BBQ sauce
Worcestershire sauce
Savoury yeast flakes
basil
thyme
sage

If you like it a bit 'creamy' add 2 mashed potatoes to the sauce...I do.

In other news, my delightful little munchkin has just mastered the art of sitting up by himself. This means that we've put him down 3 times now for bed. Every time we check on him, he's sitting up in the middle of his cot grinning from ear to ear at how damned clever he is :)
Oh, and all my careful, considered baby-food smushing and mouli-ing...not as important as I thought.
The little fells sits next to Daddy while he eats, and was opening and closing his wee gob like a birdy with great intent this evening.
Focus on food, make birdy mouth, look pleadingly at Daddy.
Rock a bit.
repeat.
I finally relented and allowed Brett to feed him a teensy bit of the Posh beans...
I truly expected him to screw up his face and wail as the chilli burned his little tongue. But nope. It was 'thankyou-very-much-and-where's-the-next-helping?'.
I guess I may have ignored the 'one food at a time' and '4 days between new foods' thing just a bit....{BAD mumma, BAD BAD BAD!}.