cherry pie and twin peaks

Cherry pie is delicious. I’ve blogged about it previously so there’s no surprise that this was going to be my first pit (pie?) stop on my pie odyssey.

When I think of cherry pie, I think of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks. I watched the TV show with my mum back when it first aired in the early 90s and considering my age at the time, I’m okay admitting that I didn't understand much. All I knew what I loved how much it freaked me out.

However, I wasn’t making the pie from Twin Peaks (mainly because at the time I didn’t realise that this recipe was available), I was making the pie from Mrs. Rowe’s Little Book of Southern Pies. I made a change to the base, using crushed chocolate-covered HobNob biscuits instead of pastry (they’re seriously the second-best biscuits in the world). So I made my pie, popped it into the oven and waited.

While the pie cooked, I let thoughts of ‘she’s dead, wrapped in plastic’ swarm through my mind. I’d actually had a run in with Lynch’s characters earlier in the year when I finally read The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer. I'd wanted to read this book since I watched the show but felt it was too taboo for me to purchase at the same bookstore where all my BSC titles and Pen Pal titles had been bought. And, man, that book freaked me out all over again. Laura Palmer was into some fucked up shit!

I have to admit, though, that it wasn’t the book, the initial film, or the TV show that freaked me out the most. That honour is reserved for the film prequel Fire Walk with Me. I watched it by myself one day after school, so yes, it was daylight outside, but I still had to stop the film halfway through and take deep breaths before finishing it. There were way too many Bob-hiding-in-the-corner-of-the-bedroom scenes to make me sleep properly for weeks after.

Anyway, after about an hour, my pie was ready and it was pretty yum. Although I dare say it would have gone better with a cup of that Joe that Agent Cooper always went on about. (Or even David Lynch's own brew.)




Next stop, Maple Pecan Pie and the American breakfast.

american pie (or my obsession with american life and how it made me want to bake a pie a week)

From a young age, I (like most people) was intrigued by American pop culture. During primary school, this intrigue blew into full-scale Obsession. At one stage, I could name all 50 states and got into one of the biggest fights I’ve ever had with my parents when they wouldn’t let me buy, and proudly display, an American flag. Yeah, I know.

American tv and thoughts of one day getting to travel through those 50 states kept my Obsession healthy. In year 9, a close friend and I would spend hours mapping out the road trip we would one day take from the East to West coast. Those planning days are still fond memories for me.

But if I had to pick a starting point for my American Obsession, it was when I read my first Baby-Sitters Club book, Kristy’s Big Idea. Now, I know I’m not the first to walk down the nostalgic BSC path, many blogs have done so, so I’ll quickly move on to say that while BSC was an important part of my pre-teen years, I expanded my reading list to include any series that gave me the snap shot of American life that I so wanted to be my reality. Of course, as high school, boys, parties, BFFs and such entered my life, there was little room left for my Obsession…until now.

I’ve decided to channel my Obsession into one symbol that really sums up what that fantasy world offered. Comfort. Familiarity. Fun. Deliciousness. (Okay, not that last one). That symbol? The pie! And so begins my pie-a-week odyssey. Why not join me?

i heart the socceroos

Lucas Neill is a fox. Tim Cahill’s sleeve is amazing. Harry Kewell gets better looking the shorter his hair gets. Oh, and they can also play football.

These three players, and many others, make up the Australian Socceroos. I heart the Socceroos and only wanted good things for them as they headed to South Africa for the World Cup. Thankfully, I was without television coverage for the match against Germany, which I’m sure would have left me in tears (I was in Woodend, I didn’t even have a signal on my iphone. It was liberating…sort of.) I watched the Ghana match (but have blocked out the 25th minute and Harry’s red card) and was also up this morning to see Australia take on Serbia.

I stumbled from my bed, to my couch and prepared myself for an upset. As much as I wanted Australia to win and go through to the round of 16, I feared the worst. I think this cautious hope was symptomatic of the Australia v Italy match in 2006. I was in Fed Square with the rest of Melbourne watching that horrible game and still find it hard to talk about those last, terrible minutes of the match and that look on Neill’s face when he knew he’d given away a penalty that would secure Italy’s win.

But moving on. That was 2006 and this is 2010.

I kept the volume of my television down to a low roar, hoping I wouldn’t wake my neighbours. Turns out I didn’t have to worry. They were up. And since I know them to be German, I suspected they were biting their own nails while watching Germany take on Ghana. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard a cheer from beyond my lounge room wall and then promptly heard the SBS announcer declare that Germany had scored. But I digress.

Australia played well. They played very well. Cahill’s goal was stellar and Holman was inspired. If only Australia hadn’t taken such a beating from Germany during that first match (and then if only Germany had scored just a few more times against Ghana…thanks for NOTHING Germany!) and if only Kewell had been playing…but I could go on like this all night, so I’ll stop. Australia exited the 2010 World Cup on a high. It’s just sad to think that Neill, Cahill, Kewell, Schwarzer and the rest have probably seen their last World Cup. It’s too bad, I could have easily waited another 4 years to see them play football on the world’s stage. Good on ya, boys. And don’t forget, you’re all FOXES!!

julian at the palace

Julian was wearing red pants. Not many people can pull off red pants. It was a bold choice, but it worked. Of course, it helped that Julian was Julian Casablancas, basically the coolest human ever (well, in this blogger’s opinion, anyway).

So where was the lead singer of The Strokes while he was wearing these red pants, you may be wondering? Well, he was performing at the Palace Theatre as part of his Phrases for the Young solo tour (the album has been reviewed on this very blog).

After a delay of half an hour (but really, what self-respecting rock musician takes to the stage on time?) Julian appeared and the previously restless crowd went completely crazy for the charismatic singer – my sister and myself included.

The set list included songs from his album, obviously, but we were lucky enough to hear three Strokes songs, each sending the crowd into a frenzy of heaving energy. Something tells me The Strokes concert in July is going to be completely nuts.

A highlight for me was Julian’s acoustic rendition of You Only Live Once. It was completely mesmerizing. And while I’d hoped to hear The Lonely Island’s Boombox, the encore more than made up for it.

Yes, all too soon the encore was upon us and my sister and I screamed ourselves hoarse when we realised what Julian C was about to sing.

‘I wish it was Christmas today’ was originally sung by Jimmy Fallon and company on a terrific episode of Saturday Night Live quite a few years ago. When Julian Casblancas appeared on said program recently, he covered the song and it was even included as a bonus track on the US edition of Phrases. Having been fans of Jimmy’s version since hearing it, my sister and I were completely ecstatic to hear the opening riff being played by Julian’s band – we really hadn’t expected to hear it at all, since SNL unfortunately doesn’t air over here, and therefore it was the perfect end to a kick-arse concert.

Bring on The Strokes in July!

moving

Since leaving the family home some time ago, I’ve packed my possessions and moved eight times. Last weekend, I made it nine. (Don’t worry, I still proudly boast the 3054 postcode!)

Admittedly, some of those moves involved going overseas and I didn’t have to pack up ALL my possessions but let me tell you, it hardly makes a difference. Packing up your crap and moving is the same regardless of how much you’re packing or which country you’re doing it in. And it’s exhausting. There are movers to research and hire (if you move as often as I do trust me when I tell you I’d have no friends or family members speaking to me if I relied on them to get me from my old place to my new place with my heavy furniture and boxes of books). There’s mail to redirect, utilities to be cancelled, paperwork to be filled in, and bonds to be paid. Oh, and let’s not forget the process of finding boxes to pack your stuff in, and the packing itself.

The weekend of the move is usually full of anxiety (will the movers find parking close enough to the house/flat? will they wreck my stuff? can they fit everything through the new doorways?), physical pain and thoughts of ‘what the hell am I going to do with all these boxes now?’ ‘are the neighbours going to be too noisy/quiet?’ ‘why do I need eleventy-five keys to get into my flat?', ‘where the hell are the bins?!’ and 'why, dear God, do I have so MUCH STUFF!!'. But once that last box is unpacked and you can sit on your couch in your new home with a glass of wine, it all seems worth it. A new environment can do wonders and you tell yourself you’ll never, EVER move again. (But then the lease expires and thoughts of a new abode creep into your brain, which has conveniently forgotten the trauma of the last move.)

I went through that trauma and now find myself in a lovely new flat in a block that definitely has a Melrose Place feel about it. I can see palm trees from my living room window (where this very piece is being written) and the neighbours aren’t afraid to smile when you pass each other. The distance to Rathdowne Village and Piedimonte’s is about equal and the tram is just around the corner. The flat itself is modern, has no carpet and the shower pressure is GREAT! I never, EVER want to move again.

kill your darlings

One of Australia’s latest literary journals, Kill Your Darlings, has taken its name from a quote attributed to William Faulkner. As stated by the journal’s editor Rebecca Starford, the phrase means ‘to ruthlessly cut out that which doesn’t serve a purpose in one’s writing, no matter how sentimental one feels about it’. And thus, I was hooked. The striking title and cover had me at ‘hello’ but as soon as I read about the meaning of the journal’s title, and its vision - to create literature that demands attention - I felt very happy that I had been in a buying mood that fruitful afternoon at Carlton’s Readings.

New fiction, essays, commentary and reviews. This is what the content promises and each section has been a delight to read. I particularly enjoyed Clementine Ford’s piece on internet dating, ‘Love in a LOL-ed Climate’, and ‘Talk Derby to Me’, which is Georgia Gowing’s ode to roller derby (something I wish I was brave enough to be awesome at!). The fiction offerings are just as thought-provoking and here I want to give a special shout-out to ‘Theories of Relativity’ by Chris Womersley. Just, wow.

I can’t wait for the next edition…make sure you get your hands on a copy.

hazel curtis: fear doctor

Fear. We let it run our lives. We all have a fear of something. I'm TERRIFIED of popping champagne corks. (What if one of them hits you in the face and you LOSE AN EYE?!!) A girl I work with is scared of fish and another can't be in the same room as a rubber band. We all have fears.

So how do we go about getting rid of these fears? The answer, I've now realised, is Hazel Curtis.



I was lucky enough to attend a session of Hazel's last night and can now say that through her three H program - 'hear' the fear, 'hold' the fear, 'hiss' the fear - I am no longer scared of champagne corks, immigrants, climate change and growing old (well, the last one still scares me, but now less so).

I would highly recommend attending a Hazel session for yourself - but hurry because she is in great demand and only available until March 14. (Oh, and watching Hazel and Jimmy, her sweet assistant, interact with each other is simply wonderful!)