Category Archives: My Mother and Me

Sex Medicine

My mother had just thrown a handful of spaghetti into a pot of boiling water when she casually asked, “Are you using sex medicine?” “Sorry?” I said, thinking I must have misheard.  I was setting the table for lunch; a … Continue reading

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The Cunning Peasant Never Reveals His Sources

I’ve done a lot of food foraging in my time but it’s usually of the domestic variety. You know, my mothers’ freezer or pantry. So I was a little surprised to recently find myself bent over double, holding a knife in … Continue reading

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The Service Station Vintage

Me: Where do the grapes come from? Mum: The service station. My parents were wine-making Italians but not the squish it between your toes in a concrete bathtub types.  We left that level of authenticity to our inner city cousins. … Continue reading

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Little Italy in Liverpool

This is no pomegranates and cinnamon memoir. My childhood memories of food are all about broccoli sandwiches, tripe in tomato sauce and home slaughtered chicken. At play lunch I longed for the simplicity of a Vegemite sandwich but had to … Continue reading

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L’orto

There is a food revolution underway in Sydney. Or at least there are regular stories in the newspapers of inner city neighbours collaborating to grow vegies on the nature strips in front of their houses. They remind me of my … Continue reading

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Basil

A few weeks ago I captured and froze the last days of summer. Now they’re in the freezer ready for use in the long winter months ahead. I was standing in my  mother’s backyard amongst an explosion of late summer … Continue reading

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