OK so that’s obviously not the real name of this cake, but a post by David Lebovitz happened to arrive in my Inbox the same week as the first June Bellingen Growers Market, and seeing as it’s apple season, it all seemed a bit serendipitous.
The Bellingen Growers Market is held at the showgrounds on the second and fourth Saturday of each month, and it’s a small, eclectic mix of bric-a-brac, plants, books, second-hand clothes and of course most importantly home-made, home-grown and mostly organic or spray-free seasonal food. The fruit and veggies are not the perfect, polished specimens you find at the big supermarkets (you know, the kind that have been in storage for months – maybe even since last season!) They are more often than not, distinctly ugly …
Of course, it’s what’s on the inside that counts, so I picked four knobbly, pock-marked red varieties, one of which was so crisp and tasty that didn’t even make it into the cake. Luckily I bought extra, but I need to go back to the next market as I don’t remember which variety it was. Anyway the recipe is straightforward so just follow the link …
The only change I made to the recipe was to substitute Frangelico for the dark rum (to save buying yet another bottle of alcohol) and to drizzle some lemon icing over the top (because I just happened to have half a lemon to use up).
The result was unanimously declared to be delicious… eat fresh, eat local and eat ugly fruit!
For several weeks I’ve been trying to track down what I thought might be a strange new frog in the garden. The discovery that the “frog like” sound was coming from a Bladder Cicada (charming name) has prompted me to re-post this lament from several years ago. The Bladder Cicada uses its large hollow abdomen as an echo-chamber to amplify its mating call – as if cicadas need amplification!
Below is my original post and nothing has changed, although I have heard a rumour that this year might be worse …
It’s not enough that I’ve discovered still more variations of cicada in the garden, now they’ve gone and organised themselves into shifts !!
First the Dawn Shift which starts at five am and continues until six. So just when you think “ Thank God they’ve stopped” you realise that it’s time to get up.
Then after one hour’s silence, the Day Shift starts. The Day Shift runs from seven am to six pm. This is when all the species of cicada not already rostered on the Dawn, Dusk or Graveyard shifts, compete with each other in an attempt to send you troppo with waves of their ear-piercing calls.
The Dusk Shift starts at six, just in time to drown out both the news and current affairs programmes on television. It stops suddenly at around eight, when the Graveyard Shift takes over for a few hours. The Graveyard Shift is the quietest of all, as dying cicadas crash into windows and lights, then fall to the ground on their backs and rotate like demented helicopters often uttering strange and un-nerving distress calls.
I’m all for a bit of biodiversity, but this is carrying it a bit too far …
I am a complete novice when it comes to fermenting Kombucha. But I decided to try making it myself after sampling several bottles of commercially produced and boutique organic Kombucha. I found them to be either overly effervescent, or the flavours not to my liking. So after consulting the internet, I decided to “give it a go”. And it’s fascinating – like having a small, well-behaved but slightly repulsive pet.
I managed to grow my own scoby, the hard way, from the dregs of a bottle of local organic Kombucha. It took six weeks, but it may well have taken less time if I hadn’t sniffed, prodded, poked and held it up to the light every day. I probably didn’t give it enough sugar either, because once I added a little sugar syrup, the sad looking scoby perked right up, and within a few days “she” was blowing bubbles.
So throwing caution to the wind, I made up my first big batch of sweet tea, let it cool and then slid the scoby into the jar. She promptly flipped on her back and sank like a stone. OMG – I’ve killed her! Consult the internet – apparently not a disaster, it happens quite often. After a couple of days she rose to the top of the jar and I was able to flip her back.
Then she started growing all sorts of trailing appendages and dropping bits of sediment.
Consult the internet again – apparently normal. I’m a bit dubious because “normally” something that looks like this would go in the compost.
And then yesterday, on the seventh day of fermentation, I drank my very first glass of home-made Kombucha and it was delicious. Just a touch of sugar, a little effervescence, and a hint of black tea. Poured over ice cubes on a horrible, hot and windy 36 degree day, it really hit the spot.
I’m not a tea drinker, and I’ve always found black tea to be somewhat bitter, but I really felt like it didn’t need any other flavouring. Well, perhaps just a bit of ginger or a little Turmerix powder for extra health benefits. The next batch is already fermenting …
My first scoby
The start of another scoby?
Here is a link to thewebsite I used to get me started – she is very informative.
I used the proportions: 1 litre filtered water, 2 organic black tea bags, 55g sugar, 100 ml of store bought organic Kombucha. I used the dregs from the bottom of the bottle. Once you have fermented your first batch, you can use 100 ml of that to start your next batch.
Make sure you keep the scoby covered with cloth, and sterilise your jars and bottles by filling them with boiling water.
Start tasting from the seventh day, when it should be slightly sour and fizzy. The longer you leave the scoby in, the more vinegary it gets.
I filtered the Kombucha through cheesecloth to remove most of the sediment
Finally, here is a link to a website which shows what your scoby should and should NOT look like.
For the last week, my house has smelt like a sauerkraut factory. In fact, unless you are partial to the smell of boiled cabbage, the word you would probably use would be stink rather than smell. The aroma of stale boiled cabbage is NOT nice.
What was supposed to be a quick eco-dyeing experiment with Purple Cabbage, iron and eucalyptus leaves, turned into a week long obsession quite by accident. On discovering that I had run out of plain cotton fabric to insert between the layers of fabric and leaves, I decided to improvise by inserting sheets of ordinary copy paper before wrapping it around bamboo and simmering it in a pot of cabbage water and iron.
I expected that the paper would be a soggy mess destined for the compost pile, but no, there were some really lovely outlines of leaves on a soft aqua background …
Dry Eucalypt on 80gsm 2
Dry Eucalypt on 80gsm
So then of course I was hooked. I had to continue, with different weights of paper – 80gsm, 110gsm and 250gsm, and fresh leaves, dried leaves and leaves soaked in iron water. Endless possibilities.
Fresh E. citriodora
Dry unknown Eucalypt
Dry unknown Eucalypt
Dry leaf detail
Dry E. citriodora
At the same time, and in the same pot, I was trying fresh and dry Eucalyptus citriodora leaves on linen …
Fresh E. citriodora
Dry E. citriodora
And some unidentified dry eucalyptus leaves on Raw Silk
Every morning I bounded out of bed to see what unbundling suprises awaited me. But eventually, I had to stop, clear everything away, and simmer some citriodora leaves for a few hours to get rid of the stale cabbage aroma. I’ll be at it again as soon as I’ve caught up with my garden jobs.