Wintry Windsor

An American visitor remarked that it suggested to her of a small town in Oklahoma. The wind was bitingly chilly, but people moved about in a purposeful manner all rugged up, especially in the central pedestrian mall which happened to host a craft market. The outer approaches to the suburb heralded farming country, and I was not surprised that we saw signs of trucks, tractors and other agricultural machinery - real sized or in the displayed craft - as a possible main stay of the economy. Welcome to Windsor, New South Wales.

It was not the best of weather we had to put up with that middling Sunday in June.

However, there was a crispiness in the air in Windsor that afternoon, which made the camellias, hibiscus and other blooms even more of a sight. We were fortunate to come across a couple displaying their rather healthy nursery plants for sale - and I could not resist obtaining their parsley, mint and succulent jade. Hand painted plates, wooden receptacles and household knick knacks in other stalls were also irresistible. Located at the foothills of the NSW Blue Mountains, Windsor exudes an atmosphere of the old Australia, and so we were delightfully amazed to find a shop selling Egyptian wares, fabric and icons. I was given the impression that it is also a lifestyle place, where migrants from over crowded parts of the greater Sydney area have found refuge - hey not dissimilar to Wollongong and the South Coast. Large punnets of freshly picked strawberries were sold for ten dollars for two.

Will the march of mass housing inevitably overcome the present charms of Windsor? Maybe it already has. However I still take comfort in admiring the sandstone and the architecture that remains in this essential village community, and you sense that every resident knows everybody else, and can pick out a stranger like poppies sticking out in the field. Windsor was settled in 1810, very soon after Captain Cook landed, even if it is located relatively distant inland from the coast. How it has kept its charm in these past 200 years can be a most interesting secret. The Big Smoke of Sydney city centre can be reached by car in under 90 minutes.

A Place in Our Hearts

1230am, middle of a long weekend. I was taking another route back to Wollongong after a long day in the Sydney suburbs. The Hungry Jacks joint beside the road jolted my memory - that was where Dule first arranged for me to pick him up when we first went out after work. The Cabramatta Golf Club was across diagonally at the set of lights. The surroundings to me were like flat plains, but the Cumnberland Highway was undulating and meandering. These suburbs were like in middle America, but we were far removed from that. Two Olympics ago, through Dule, I had learnt to appreciate life growing up in Sydney's sprawling residential corridors.

I thought that maybe I was in a time warp. A holiday night, and I passed by two sets of police patrols checking for breath analyser tests. Most of the drivers still on the streets were Gen Y. Things have not changed much on such evenings when Dule was still working in Sydney. I saw the miniature Sydney Harbour Bridge facade of an overhead pedestrian bridge and knew instinctively that was my cue to turn right into the road leading to Dule's family home. Dule's Mum cooked up a tasty feast and his Dad is so good to chat with. I am always thrilled to meet Ned, his other, who has a young family of his own. Dule had taught me a route of inner roads to use from my place to his house - and I had absorbed the route to a T.

The winter evening was nippy, but maybe not as cold as where Dule now is, across two oceans and another two continents away. I had talked with Dule about Europe, and he has now totally embraced it. Before, we had drinks in a Croatian or Serbian club or had eatouts in a fast food place. These outlets are still there, catering for another generation. Dule's career propelled him from university in the Big Smoke of Oz to banking and on to London. As I drove past last night the iconic landmarks of his teenage hood and young adult life, I felt both melancholy and pride for him. We who know him miss him, and that means his family, little dog and mates. Yet one cannot but admire Dule's continuing passion for his dreams.

Dule's parents keep a very tidy house and lawn. The full moon is very bright and clear overlooking this neighbourhood. We all ponder of this same moon shining on Dule far away but still in our hearts. And there is Nina to take care of him.

Two Gems in the Meadow

I pass by them most days and yet have not fully realized their shine.

Just a twenty minute walk from my house north of the Wollongong cbd is the Jam Shop Cafe. It has red coloured wooden tables outside on the pavement, and more seats inside, but more importantly it is reminiscent of a Parisian scene with a touch of NSW Southern Highland countryside charm. It has an eye for detail, in the way it has delightful surprises on its shelves and walls, and in unexpected corners. The shiny red radio seems out of step with souvenirs from an enchanted past. Standing out in this cornucopia are Julia's home made and lovingly crafted preserves and jams, which are the anchor of this ambient cafe's offerings. Julia has a delightful boisterous personality and whose passion for her cooking shines through her offered menu selections. Add to all these is a view straight towards the hills of Mount Pleasant and Mount Ousley.

I was introduced to this gem of a place by Wendy - and we had a light lunch of mains graced with fresh salads and a soul rendering risotto. I had a rich tasty veg patty while Wendy relished in her sausage roll. These were garnished with dollops of Julia's specially made jams. For dessert, we chose the intense choc fudge with ice cream. The sun broke out from a week long cloudiness when we arrived at the cafe and after the meal, the sun receded.

Across the road, five minutes walk away from Julia's place is a boutique cake shop, Zweefers, which has captured my attention through its flourless chocolate cake. When I bite through a piece, the sensation of fine hazel nuts and agreeable chocolate combine to create a rare experience - neither too sweet nor overwhelmingly rich. I am also partial to its mango and coconut offering, followed by the coffee and kahlua cake.

I am thankful to live so near such creative outlets, and not just think it's only in Sydney that I can get such specialities.

Simply Shanghai

Dumplings with hot tasty soup inside. Some were as big as an apple, others were delicate as blossom flowers. Some had crispy bottom crusts, others had a tiny square of green underbase.

It was not a cold night for late autumn in Sydney's Ashfield, a suburb on the south-west outskirts of the Sydney CBD.The current demographics still retain the significant presence of mainland Chinese, which started from the mid-nineties onwards, but now also has Indian grocery outlets sitting side by side with the Greek fruit wholesalers and an icon of Australian residential life, the local club (in this case, the Wests). Retail shops like newsagents and food suppliers are open late even on a weeknight. Young Caucasian Aussies were buying fresh fish after work, or gathered together to sample northern Chinese food. A strip along Liverpool Road has all the main regional cuisines of China represented, from Beijing to Hong Kong.

Five of us had gathered for a casual mid-week dinner in a Shanghai styled restaurant. I was impressed with the mung bean pasta, drenched in a delicate sauce that reminded me of Italian styles. The whole unshelled prawns were savoury and crisp. Wantons were served in a rich clear stock. Cut chillies, black vinegar, chili paste and sauce were all provided as accessories. Dessert was a familiar after dinner treat on tables from Macau to Penang - the red bean pancakes. Service was efficient, the tea was thick but the food was good. The cold entree made an impact, vegetarian gluten with hints of vinegar. Shanghai duck is so different from Beijing duck, with so much less fat and more condensed meat. Uncle Alec shouted the meal.

Looking around us, I observed that most of the customers were from China, save for a mixed marriage couple and us. We could have been in Shanghai itself. The language is not the same as standard Mandarin. However, Shanghai is even more cosmopolitan than suburban Ashfield and its night life is more than the fraction reflected in this overseas colony. I could find easy parking at the Ashfield Mall, and just walk across the road to dwell in this outpost of Shanghai cuisine. Weekend mornings can be pretty chaotic with shoppers and traffic, but the Liverpool Road that runs through Ashfield is no Nanjing Pei Lu. Still, for a few hours, we enjoyed eating what is simply Shanghai.

Your Graduation Day

Dear Tze Yin,
With utmost grace, you walked the stage
towards the Chancellor, tall and smiling
He capped the mortar board over you, like over the hedge
and you remained unfazed and beaming

The marquee in the morning covered a maze
of delightful hearts content in having achieved
Jazz musicians, teachers and parents ablaze
with the magic of the occasion, real and perceived

With the band boys of Auckland Grammar marching ahead
you strolled down Queen Street in casual splendour
With friends and family alike in a slow parade
you took the real steps to the world of commercial wonder

The cameras captured your smile on the large screens overhead
when you did the roll of honour walking inside Auckland Town Hall
Your red dress under the Cambridge-inspired graduation gown said
with elegance and beauty that you were having a ball!

In Albert Park, I sensed the camaraderie of your mates
on this special day for campus life and career ahead
A sunny day for all meaningful to gather, when all is done and said
to congratulate you and each other on this special date

Cheers
Kevin