There’s a little part of me that still loves flavoured milk.

But there’s another bigger part of me that doesn’t want to consume gratuitous quantities of sugar, and the same goes for artificial sweeteners, colours, and flavours.

I got way too excited when I spotted these new sugar-free flavoured drink powders in the supermarket earlier this week. I did indeed buy three flavours: mocha chocolate, banana, and strawberry.

While we’re on the subject of food confessions, I must admit to a certain fondness for fake-banana-flavoured anything, especially those chewy, chalky banana lollies. Oh, they’re so kitch and awful and disgusting for you – but I love them. Banana Quik used to be the next best thing. Alas, sugar = no for me.

These Vitarium powders are sweetened with stevia, a natural fructose-free sugar alternative that is low in calories and super sweet. The mixes contain no other artificial sweeteners (e.g. Aspartame, Saccharin, or Sucralose) or colours or flavours. They are suitable for coeliacs and vegans: no gluten, no nuts, no yeast, no egg, and no genetically modified ingredients.

Overall, I’m really happy with these products. The strawberry- and banana-flavoured powders are still luridly coloured — bright, bright pink and canary yellow. I tried not to be alarmed by this. The instructions suggest four teaspoons of powder per cup (250mL) of milk, but two teaspoons is plenty. My mother was enamoured with the strawberry flavour, which reminded her of the “drinks of pink” she used to get from milk bars in her youth.

My only complaint is that none of the Vitarium powders could make my rice milk taste in any way palatable. I don’t think, however, that it’s any fault of the drink mixes: rice milk simply tastes like a hessian bag blended in creek water then strained.

5/5

I heart circles.

In fact, I felt vaguely uneasy when I came across this little sketch because it so succinctly sums up my design ethos (I can’t find a credit for it, sorry).

Here are some things from around my house.

Top: a little watercolour project that I’m working on. Bottom: some madagascar beans that my uncle harvested for me — aren’t they pretty? I’m not sure how I’ll use them yet. They’re almost too cute to cook, like little skewbald horses.

I like to sit out there with a cup of tea to warm my bare legs and to coax the cats to leave whatever nests they’ve made inside and get some fresh air.

It’s all well and good until the dogs realise that the people and the cats (their favourites!) are sitting outside, and throw a dog party on the stairs: tails wagging and thumping against the railing, lots of panting and whining, and Molly’s persistent attempts to entice someone into throwing the ball for her.

This display of canine enthusiasm does not please Oliver.

If you can sneak outside without the dogs noticing, the side landing is also an excellent place to have a think.

I have been thinking and planning a lot lately, which is making it difficult to stay grounded and to maintain the things right in front of me. The pursuit of growth and betterness sometimes means that you have to leave a few things behind.

So, I’ll let you in on a little secret: wabiblog is on its last legs. I have been blogging here for the last two-and-a-half years, and while I am proud of how far I have come in terms of my style and content, there’s a great underbelly of heavy, flaky writing and uncategorisable posts that I now need to leave behind.

I have, lately, been letting some of my bitterness and anxiety seep into my writing here. I don’t believe in masking one’s true self, and it appears that the blogging community, too, is starting to tire of the pretence of perfection that pervades much of our work. Did you catch any of the things I’m afraid to tell you series? So, no, I don’t believe in masking or concealing the self, but I do believe in being able to look back over my own work without thinking “Yuk.” Creative outlets should be liberating, not binding. And lately I have not felt that my writing has been cathartic, but indulgent and sluggish and inhibiting.

There are things that I would still like to address as I blog: chronic illness, the darker days we all experience, the complexities of relationships. But I would like to lift my game. I would like for the content to be inspiring, not worrying or saddening. That’s not my purpose, and it’s not my true personality.

Sometimes I find myself posting something just to have posted something. I keep a gruelling writing schedule, but I could certainly be more engaged and organised. My new rule is that I will not upload a post until I am 100% happy with it. Writing is my life now, and this is the standard to which I must hold myself.

I have been planning this change for a while. I am approaching my 750th post here (!), but I have been tinkering with something in the background.

I hope to be able to share it with you soon.

I ordered 500 business cards from a semi-local printer in March, and due to my own frustration at the convoluted process and also my lack of experience in dealing with the print process and printers, I approved a print-run that wasn’t what I’d requested a quote for.

Of course, then, when I received the printed cards, my gut reaction after opening the boxes was dismay. My unease grew and grew the more I handled them. The stock was too lightweight. The trimmed edges were flaky and obvious. They looked as though I had manufactured them myself somehow on the back table using a guillotine cutter from Lincraft. I just wasn’t happy handing them out to clients or even friends.

Although I communicated this back to the printer, I had to accept my share of the responsibility. There was nothing clever about my design or anything that made the cards pop. (Might I add here that I am not a graphic designer, just a starving writer with CS5 on my laptop.)

So, it was back to the drawing board. And over to moo cards.

While I feel a little disloyal about choosing and using an off-shore printer, I am extraordinarily happy with the results now that I have the finished product in my hands. (You can tell how exited I am by how many syllables and commas accumulate in my writing.)

I ordered a small batch of the new Luxe cards, which are not only beautiful, hefty, and precise at 600gsm weight, but available with a coloured layer between front and back in black, red, or blue. Because my professional logo is black and white, I chose black. This looks subtle but fantastic. I have also added a deep, slightly muted lipstick pink into my palette. The wording is better; the whole design is better.

I am so impressed with moo. My cards arrived approximately two weeks from my order date, and their communication with me — although automated — was prompt, flawless, and engaging. The uploading/design process was clear and intuitive, and their attention to detail in presentation sets a benchmark that I, unfortunately, have not seen from local suppliers or printers.

My cards arrived in a bubble-wrapped box. The box itself has a white canvas surface and was bound with a ribbon and a plastic seal (made to look like wax) printed with the words “Designed by you and Moo.”

I cannot believe how good and affordable the products are. Moo’s production model is squeaky clean and professional with just the amount of quirk in the way they present themselves. If I were the type of person to make hand gestures, I’d be giving the thumbs-up right now.

*I’m sorry if this sounds anything like a review. I just wanted to share my excitement.

Moooo…

If I ever go out for breakfast, I cannot look past eggs benedict on any menu, no matter how tempting the waffles, pancakes, or exotic corn fritters with heirloom tomato jam may sound. This little café was bursting at the seams, with waitstaff bustling happily between tables where patrons also looked bright and happy, so I felt that we couldn’t go wrong.

Once we were seated, I immediately scanned the menu for eggs benedict. Nestled among the other offerings were eggs benedict served not on English muffins or sourdough, but on potato rösti. I wasn’t actually particularly excited about the rösti — just my usual hankering for poached eggs and hollandaise on something — but the “rösti” were amazing.

Traditionally, rösti are made from grated potato; but these each stood at least several centimetres tall and were crisp on the outside with a pillowy interior, as if formed from cooked, mashed potatoes. They were topped with cured salmon and a delightful, piquant hollandaise sauce.

And I became instantly obsessed.

I have been wanting to make something similar every day since, but laziness has prevailed. Let me tell you, it’s difficult to spoon down bowl after bowl of Special K of a cold autumn morning when you’re privately dreaming of hot potatoes and smoky salmon and a creamy, citrussy sauce. I decided, however, that this weekend would be it, so I scoured the Internet for possible recipes and boiled some potatoes last night to make this morning easier.

As Borat might say: “GREAT SUCCESS!”

If I’d had the foresight to boil more potatoes yesterday evening, I would happily have eaten the same this morning. But as I am going out at 10.00 am and am trying to muscle through some chores, I haven’t had enough time to put together another batch of potato cakes. Bread just will not do.

The original recipe for the potato cakes came from Delicious magazine, which I found on taste.com.au. I changed the quantities and method a little to reflect what I ate at the café in Cotton Tree, and have published my version below. Also, I had made hollandaise before, but because that was several years ago, I couldn’t recall which recipe I’d used. I looked at several recipes online and they all differed somewhat in their measurements. I was horrified by the amount of butter in some and befuddled by the lack of eggs in others, so I made my version as a “mean average” of everything that I had read. It worked well, but I did cheat by using electric beaters instead of whisking the emulsion by hand. If you have a stick blender with a whisk attachment, this would be ideal to use.

It’s still impressive enough to tell people that the hollandaise is home-made.

PS I think Masterfoods used to make a decent hollandaise that came in sachets or pouches that you could microwave. My sister and I tried this recently and the sauce was absolutely awful. I don’t know if we got a bad batch or whether they have altered the formula, but it was just revolting. I’m afraid I do not know of any other cheats or corner-cutters. I firmly believe that made-from-scratch food trumps mass-produced anyway. Don’t be afraid of emulsions like mayonnaise or hollandaise: go slowly and methodically and you will be ace.

eggs benedict with potato cakes
I had leftover hollandaise from this morning and made my father breakfast for dinner last night before going out. I reheated the sauce in the microwave for 20 seconds on high, whisking it with a fork, and it was fine. I wouldn’t recommend doing this more than once or twice, though — if you serve four people, you should have just the right amount of hollandaise for everybody without leftovers to store or discard. Because, what a dilemma, right?

for the potato cakes
500g small brushed waxy potatoes (yes, waxy), boiled and cooled
1 large egg, lightly whisked
1 t salt
3/4 cup plain flour
1 t baking powder
2 T light olive oil

Preheat your oven to 250° Celsius. Line a baking tray with aluminium foil.

In a large bowl, lightly crush the potatoes (with a masher or huge fork)so that they retain some small, chunky pieces: you do not want a smooth, gluey mash. (I kept my skins on, by the way: they are nutritious and add texture.) Stir in the salt and whisked egg with a large metal spoon.

In a medium bowl, sift the flour and baking powder together to combine. Gently stir the flour through the the potatoes until just combined.

Using a large scone or cookie cutter (or an egg ring with high sides), form the potato mixture into four even cakes.

Heat the olive oil in a heavy-bottomed saucepan over high heat. Fry the potato cakes so that they are crisp and golden-brown on each side, then place them on the foil-lined tray and bake for a further half hour so that they are cooked through and remain hot and ready for the next stage of the recipe.

hollandaise sauce

3 large egg yolks
2 T warm water
100g salted butter, cut into cubes and softened to the point of melting
2 T lemon juice
a couple of sprigs of thyme

For this recipe, you will need a medium-sized glass or metal bowl and a saucepan of a similar size. Find a bowl that will sit snugly inside the saucepan leaving at least two inches between the base of the saucepan and the bottom of the bowl.

Fill the saucepan with enough water to create a gentle simmer without quite touching the bottom of the bowl — an inch and a half (sorry that I switch between metric and Imperial measurements — I’m not a professional recipe developer!). Place the saucepan over a low flame.

Meanwhile, whisk the egg yolks with the warm water. When the water is simmering (do not allow to boil or bubble rapidly), place the bowl over the saucepan. Begin to whisk the egg yolks and water together continuously. Whisk for two to three minutes until the mixture is pale, foamy, and tripled in volume.

Now you can begin to add the butter. Add a cube of butter of a time, about 30 seconds apart each time. At first, your mixture may thin before emulsifying; just keep whisking. Wait for the butter to melt and become completely incorporated. Once you have added all of the butter, turn off the heat and whisk in the lemon juice. Finally, strip the leaves off the springs of thyme and stir through the sauce.

Set the sauce aside with cling-film resting on its surface while you assemble the eggs benedict.

to make eggs benedict for four

1 quantity (4) potato cakes
4 slices of cured/smoked salmon
8 large, fresh eggs
1 quantity hollandaise sauce, as per above
extra thyme for garnish
pepper

Remove the potato cakes from the oven and top each with a crinkled piece of smoked salmon. Allow the salmon to warm through this way while you poach the eggs.

Set a shallow saucepan of water over medium flame on your stovetop. To poach the eggs, add a teaspoon of white wine vinegar to the water, then stir vigorously to make a “whirlpool”. Crack one or two eggs into the centre of the whirlpool. The hot water should “catch” the whites of the eggs and prevent them from spreading raggedly throughout all of the water. Simmer very gently for three to five minutes (depending on how you enjoy your yolks), then, using a slotted spoon, remove from the hot water onto the potato cake. I can only cook two eggs at a time. If you’re more proficient in the kitchen, maybe you can cook four or more simultaneously.

Top each potato stack with two tablespoons of hollandaise. Sprinkle with cracked pepper and the extra thyme.

Go for a lazy stroll to work off the hollandaise.

We all donned our daggy hiking attire and set out in my little red car.

I felt happy.

I’ve been trying to gently increase the amount of physical activity I do as one of my “New Year’s Resolutions”. Since chronic pain became a regular companion in my life in 2008, I have found myself doing less and less and less as time goes by. Last year, I realised that weeks would pass where the most I had exerted myself was walking down to the mailbox to collect the post some evenings. Or getting in and out of my car. Or opening the fridge door.

It’s easy to do nothing when your body hurts all the time.

But I decided that, if I could still move my body fairly easily, then move this body I would. I swim each week now, and I try to take every opportunity that I can to walk further, to use stairs, to squat, lift… just move.

With the sun filtering through the canopy on Saturday afternoon, and the cool, dank smell of creek water and gum leaves filling the air, I felt so good to be outside and moving. I revelled in the brilliant machination of my legs and feet traversing rock pools and stick-scattered paths. I rejoiced in the dampness of the perspiration beginning to collect on my hairline and in the small of my back. I even celebrated the uncomfortable burning sensation in my thighs and calves after a kilometre of uphill climbing.

If you’re sore, overweight, unmotivated — whatever — then I recommend the following personal motto: “Just do something.” I’ve been known to almost salivate with envy when I see some slender 20-year-old in designer lyrca jogging breezily down a residential street as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. For some, that is normality and reality. For others, it’s not.

But you just have to do something physical. Hang out the washing instead of shoving it into the dryer. Throw the ball for your dog. Park further away and walk to your destination. And get somebody to do it with you.

I cannot emphasise enough the importance of having accountability and support. If missing a swim means that I’m letting a friend down as well, I’m far less likely to pike. If I’m hiking through the bush with my dad and my sister, suddenly it becomes an outing, a communion, rather than a requisite hour of cardio.

You might even see a rock wallaby.

And they’re pretty darn sweet.

I’m smitten with this daily mood flipchart, which I first spotted on the receptionist’s desk of a doctor that I see.

What a great idea!

Even better would be to have the entire contents of the flipchart printed onto a t-shirt — one for every possible day of the week.

They would be excellent conversation starters.

Or stoppers.

Which is what you need sometimes, depending on your mood…

I’m already a great admirer of Florence and the Machine. However, “Breath of Life” is particularly special: Florence recorded this beauty for the soundtrack to the film Snow White and the Huntsman with a 100+-piece orchestra.

It never ceases to bemuse me how small and breathy Florence Welch sounds when she speaks compared to how huge and powerful and cinematic her voice is when she sings. You can watch some behind-the-scenes-footage here about the making of the piece.