Sunday Evening

They say, never go shopping whilst you are hungry and about to have your next meal shortly. In the logistics of modern life, when you are travelling or commuting over long distances, sometimes you cannot avoid this. I found myself in this potential quandary. I promised myself that I will only get a carton of free range eggs, some fruits of the season and some Spanish onions. I diverted into the Rhodes shopping centre on the way to a home dinner hosted buy cousin Susan and her hubby, Boo Ann.

After an hour there in Rhodes, I had collected the latest catalogue from Ikea and also placed four shopping bags at the back of the car. Inside, there were macadamia flavoured soft nougat; a tray of fresh okra; herb focacia buns; a blueberry flavoured cake; a small packet of ready-to-eat popcorn; a bunch of purple-coloured muscat grapes; some fresh tomatoes; a bunch of seedless green grapes that heralded autumn; banana bread; and spice bags of cumin and galangal. Yes, I did get what I had planned, but got more.

The home cooking spread in Carlingford had the theme of spicy hot. Even the salad mix had a twist of Thai and Malaysian sour and chili hot flavours with the cherry tomatoes and greens. I especially felt the tastiness of the marinated pork chops. This was before I allowed the three different types of curry to kick in - prawn (reminiscent of Goa, fish ( whiffs of Bangkok) and chicken with potato ( normally associated with curry puffs). Dessert consisted of nashi pear cuts, banana fritters, baked char siew (barbecue pork) pastries and two types of grapes.

The day had commenced with heavy passing showers about a hundred kilometres away. The evening ended in a crisp clear night, with food in the stomach and in tow for the home kitchen.

Once In A While

Once in a while, I love the opportunity to turn over long unmoved corners of the house, and discover an unexpected delight that had been waiting for me all along.

I relish in being able to indulge in small talk, about apparently trivial matters, which at the end of the proverbial day, are truly more important to the soul than matters we go through whilst earning a living.

I enjoy the unexpected ocean breeze that brings to my senses the tail end of a myriad of stories, seen and unseen, above and below the water surface.

I am thrilled riding on the wave of having to keep persistently at a whole series of seemingly small tasks, but when I look back at it all, and having completed most of it,does give me an innate feeling of accomplishment.

I bask in the calmness of running water, whether in a fish tank or in a pond, but especially when rain continues to pour down in gentle showers over green grass and stones of character.

I get my adrenalin going exploring through hidden valleys, mysterious novels and diverse magazines, where the outcome at the end of the trail can be anything - and everything dear to the heart.

I am happy watching the full moon hover my moving car, as if both of us are gliding through a star-filled universe.

I feel the sense of forgotten freedom when I step out of an airplane ride, looking forward to reunions, food of childhood past and the liberation of both not doing anything and yet to be able to do something longed for.

I am refreshed by the cool crisp evening air of autumn and a silence of the night when I can hear a leaf move or an insect take off in flight.

Balmy in a Bungalow

After dinner, it seemed the perfect time to write. The blokes have gone for a walk in the unexpectedly deserted beach, beer stubbies swaggering on hand. The evening air was balmy but not that nippy for this time of the year. The ocean let out a low key murmur and splash, and then went on repeatedly. There were no coconut trees overhead, for this was too far south the eastern seaboard of Australia, but the abandonment of care and the utter lack of sense of time was most rewarding and enveloped the young night.

And what a dinner it was. We started with a rather thick piece of individually served fresh salmon, doused lightly with a refreshing hint of garnish that brought out the inherent sense of the seas rather than overwhelm it. I saw on a side table the cupcakes and the strawberry gourmet ice cream dollops waiting for us. The main course caught me by surprise, a possibly fusion creation that combined soy sauced chicken cuts cooked lovingly in a curry that brought out sensations of cumin, cinnamon sticks and pomelo seeds. Its spiciness was not diluted but rose sufficiently above the savoury texture of double cooked chicken. It reminded me of a dish in the household of a marriage between a southern Chinese and a Brahmin Indian. And the common binding element was the fluffy well steamed rice.

The ice cream amazingly came with fresh mangosteen - the succulent white folds had a firm tastiness that offered a contrasting relief from the curry heat. This was much better than biting into cheese and biscuits at this juncture, and continued the tropical theme for the sit down meal. I thought of white planters from a few generations ago perhaps taking in all these in the middle of the plantation they were stationed in. They wore white - much more stark white than the white haziness of the insides of each purple-coloured mangosteen. Did they get salmon as the entree? Most probably not, in those times - it would have been just bread rolls and butter.

Yes, I was on holiday, and at that moment, nothing topped up a satisfying meal than a cupcake. I chose the apple flavoured version. A latte was the finale, a post script to the dry Carlton that accompanied the curry very well.