Putting on Its Holiday Best

While we were in Ballarat for our Mid-Week Weekend, dearest and I visited the Ballarat Botanical Garden.  Dearest wanted to show me Prime Ministers Avenue, where each of Australia's Prime Ministers have been immortalized in a bronze bust.  It's an interesting place.  The even have a bust of the Prime Minister who was only there for 9 days.  Just in case you were wondering what they did in a President Cleveland situation, Prime Ministers serving non-consecutive terms have only one bust with all the dates of service carved into the base.  If you want to see them all in service order, there would be a good bit of walking back and forth.  Dearest is a politics buff, so Prime Ministers Avenue was quite captivating to him, and he spent a good bit of time taking photographs of each bust in different light conditions.  It can get a bit boring watching someone else take pictures, so I spent the time wandering about the garden and snapped my own photographs.

This tree just captivated me --  I am not sure if is was the size, the age, or just the feel, but I really was awestruck at it, and did actually stand gaping open-mouthed for a few minutes at its base.

Continuing my wandering through the garden:

This tree was interesting not only to me, but to a group of siblings, who played hide & seek in its trunk.

Dearest took these last two photos of the municipal Christmas decorations as we were waiting for our dinner that night in Ballarat.  (I noticed that there was not the same kind of backlash against Christmas decorations in the areas of Australia I have seen as there has is in the US.  It should be noted all the decorations I saw were secular, none were overtly Christian -- there were no nativity scenes or heralding angels, and I saw absolutely no municipal Hanukkah decorations -- but it was refreshing to see decorations up without partisan arguments, separation-of-church-and-state sniping, or unrepresented minority complaints.)

Dishing the Dollops

For some reason, I didn't flip the channel fast enough tonight and found myself getting drawn into an episode of Nigella's Kitchen.  This was a mistake.  Every time I watch Nigella, I come away stabby.  Something about her just grates on my nerves and I get angry, and before I know what is happening, I am too mad and catty to even consider her dishes as something worth making.

This episode was an interesting mix of international foods:  chicken teriyaki, churros with chocolate dipping sauce, indulgent linguine for one, and a Venetian carrot cake.  I have no real objections with the first three dishes, other than her overtly sexy, dishy instructional style.  It's this last item that aggravated me no end in this episode.

She discussed how carrot cake is really a traditional Venetian pastry and that the Venetian-style cake is infinitely better than any American-style carrot cake.

Nigella's Venetian-style carrot cake varies from the American-style cake in two ways.  First, the Venetian-style cake is made not with butter and sugar creamed until pale and fluffy, but with sugar blended with olive oil.  And second, the Venetian-style cake uses ground almonds in place of the flour and leavening agents.  Both styles feature eggs, grated carrots, soaked raisins, and spices.  Nigella's Venetian-style has toasted pine nuts sprinkled on top of the cake, while American-style cakes generally have walnuts mixed in the batter.

While she doesn't really care for the dark, rich, dense American-style cake, what she really dislikes is the frosting the Americans spread thickly over the cake.

American-style carrot cake is traditionally frosted with a cream cheese frosting which is, at its most basic, made from cream cheese, powdered sugar, and vanilla, thinned with  drop or two of milk or cream.  This is a very good, basic frosting, and compliments the rich, complex flavor profile of a spicy, raisin- and walnut-studded carrot cake well.

Nigella suggests that you serve the Venetian-style cake with a healthy dollop of mascarpone cheese mixed with powdered sugar and a shot of rum.

My question to Nigella:  How exactly does that differ from a healthy dollop of a thinned version of the objectionable American-style cream cheese frosting?

This is why I should not watch Nigella's Kitchen.  I end up either ranting for the rest of the evening, or stabbing out an irate blog post detailing the sheer idiocy and ignorance of her comments.

Mid-Week Weekend

Both dearest and I had some time off in December and we decided to take a few days and make a long-overdue visit to some of dearest's family.  We decided to take the time mid-week rather than over a weekend, partly because its just easier for hotels and driving to be on the road when most people are at work, and partly because we could.

We took it easy on the drive, stopping along the way for meals and wandering.  The first day out, we stopped for lunch and some shopping in Kyneton.  We found some interesting buildings:

one that was apparently built as the Bank of New South Wales (interesting as we were in Victoria); 

a couple of Art Deco pubs;

separated by the Bank of New South Wales building:

some roses peeking around the wall;

and a sculpture of something only the artist can properly identify:

After lunch and a bit more wandering, including a taste of a fudge like candy called "White Christmas" and a mini Christmas pudding (really a steamed fruit cake with marzipan frosting and a sprinkle of pistachios), we headed on to another town.

We stopped for a look at what was on offer in Castlemaine, and I had a lovely wander through a bookstore, where I found a couple of birthday cards, a present for a friend's daughter, and a next-in-series book for a series I am sharing with my Dad.  I'll read it before forwarding it on for him.  Also, wandering through the store, sitting on the top of a stack of books, I found this:

I could not let that bit of fate pass without snapping a picture.  It amazed me that there would be a market for such a specialized book so far from home.

After a bit more wandering around on my part, and a trip down memory lane for dearest, we headed on to the first overnight stop.  After checking into our hotel, we took a drive around the town where dearest's grandparents had lived.  I found some interesting things:

a croquet club (which reminded me very much of Jasper Fforde's Thursday Next books -- so much so that I expected a full-contact croquet game to break out):

I could just see the Super Hoop being contested here:

succulent gardens always capture my interest, and this had some very unusual (to me anyway) succulents:

Turning around from the Croquet Club, I was treated to a view of the restored, historic Maryborough Station:

After some wandering about the station, we took dearest's uncle out to dinner, where we shared the most interesting plate of nachos I have ever had.  My difficulties in finding decent Mexican food here in Australia are well documented to everyone who knows me, so it should come as no surprise to anyone that even something as simple and ubiquitous as nachos can be subjected to an interesting twist.  I am used to getting nachos here made with jarred salsa, extra jalapeno peppers dotted on a bowl of corn chips with mountains of semi-melted tasty cheese, and frosted with dollops of sour cream.  I fully expected this interpretation of nachos.  What I got was a platter of corn chips topped with a marinara sauce and tasty cheese.  It was a very interesting taste sensation.

We had a lovely evening with dearest's uncle, and after a chat and tea, we headed back to our hotel for tan uneventful evening.  As we got ready to leave in the morning, we were greeted by the hotel's dog.  She (and I did not check to be sure I was calling our new canine friend a girl), was very friendly, but very insistent that we play stick with her.  She had a rather large piece of tree bark which she would drop at our feet.  She would then toss her head as an indication that we needed to throw the "stick."  We obliged a few times, then headed back to the room to gather our gear and get ready for checking out.  Our friend was not so easily put off.  She had apparently been trained not to enter the guest rooms, and she did not.  She did however, throw the stick into the room and sit at the door looking from the stick to us and back again.

We got the message and threw the stick from the doorway as we packed up.  We were in no hurry, and we were the last guests at the hotel, so we played stick for a while, until she indicated she had had enough by walking back to her spot under the porte-cochere.

We stopped by and had morning tea with dearest's uncle before we headed on to the next stopover.  We took our time heading into Ballarat, with a stop in the small town of Clunes.  There it was exactly as if we had stepped into a Hollywood Old West back lot.  We wandered along the main street, stopping here and there.  We had lunch at the Window Twankey's Cafe, Confectionery Emporium and Ice Cream Parlour.  It was a very nice lunch and we indulged in some candy -- including gummi raspberries & blackberries.  After a bit more wandering we were on our way to Ballarat.

We got a bit disoriented driving along and we pulled into a parking place to see if we could find our way again.  I let dearest play with the map app on his iFruit machine and I looked about us.  I found we were parked right in front of a bandstand which serves as a memorial to the bandsmen of the Titanic.  On my cruises, I have been to the Maritime Museum of the North Atlantic in Halifax, Nova Scotia and had seen the memorial there to the victims of the tragedy.  Halifax was the closest town to the site of the ship's collision with the iceberg and the place where many survivors were brought ashore and where many victims are buried.  But I had not seen a memorial so far removed from the route of the ship or the location of the tragedy.

After finding our way, we made a stop to visit one of dearest's cousins, then we checked into our hotel.  By that time we were getting on to hungry, so we headed out to search for dinner.  Before we came to a decision about dinner (we almost always have delays in dinner decisions because we cannot as to who should choose -- dearest calls it our comedy of manners), we took a wander around Lake Wendouree and the Ballarat Botanical Gardens.  Dearest had been to Lake Wendouree a few years ago, when it was a dry lake bed, so he was keen to see it full again.  The Lake served as the rowing and canoeing venue for the 1956 Olympic Games in Melbourne.  I was interested on that count.  It makes four Olympic venues I have seen (though I have been in London, I have never seen any of the venues from the Games held there).  I have a soft spot for the Olympic Games.  Just as I am ticking UNESCO World Heritage sites off my travel list, I am ticking Olympic Venues off as well.

As we were heading from the Lake to the Botanical Gardens, I saw a black swan waddling along the shore.  I had to go investigate him close up.

I also checked out some ducks swimming on the Lake.

Before crossing to the Botanical Gardens, we passed a playground.  There was a free swing, and the child in me took over.  I had a blast.  I shall have to search out more swings.

I took many pictures of the roses and other sights in the Botanical Gardens, but I'll post those in a separate entry.

After a dinner of Thai food, we went back to the hotel for the night.  The next morning, we began our trip home with a wander through Ballarat in search of breakfast.  We were unsuccessful in the search, but did have some time for some pictures along Sturt Street.

The last stop on the journey was a stopover at Sovereign Hill, a gold-fields theme park.  It reminded me a great deal of the Ozark Folk Center in Arkansas with working exhibits of life at the time.  There was a bakery, a foundry, a newspaper/printers, a dry goods store, a general store, a milliners, a theater, pubs, bowling alley, etc.  We watched a gold pour -- pouring melted gold to form an ingot.  Originally, it was meant to purify the gold by melting the impurities out, but this particular ingot has been melted and poured so many times it could not be anything but pure.  It was interesting, and the kind of place parents would take their kids for a hands-on educational experience.  I'm glad I went, but it's not something I would have been incomplete had I missed.  It was also a quite warm, sunny day and there was little shade or air conditioning available, so I got a bit hot and as a result, I ended up with a bit of a headache.  I did spend some time watching the turkeys wander along the Main Street -- and took note of their subtle hint for the festive season.

We took it slowly on the ride home and were back in our own house, under a blowing air conditioner by 6:00 p.m.

It was a lovely mid-week holiday and a nice escape from the rush of media-frenzied holiday prep at home.