Elements of a Room in Progress - first corner

Slowly (9 years after moving in) I am finding the energy and inspiration to do something with my Problem Room. This is the room at the front of the house which in spite of its size (large) and light (perfect in the morning) we have never really done properly. It is a formal room but I do want to to be used.

It gets dappled light through the leadlight windows and is quite the perfect place to read, sit in front of the fire or to take a little tea or gin and tonic.

Here are the basic elements so far:

(Persian rug, 5 m by 4m)

(shot of one of the couches, 2 and 3 seater, upholstered in pale green corduroy type fabric)

(one of the windows, this is in the creepy alcove, there is also a bay window)

(this is our disco ball light, I think it is Swedish)

(this is it switched on - I sometimes think it may take out the local powergrid)

(some of the bird prints)

(we have to keep this it is from the 1950s or maybe earlier and was my husband's grandparents)

As you can see there is quite a lot of green going on. The colour of the new century. So who could be more suitable than that early 20th century dark soul, Gustav Klimt. So, my idea is that the room would be a suitable place to display this.

Or this.

I think planning a room around a painting one will never own is just as good a starting point as any.

And this is what I have done so far. One corner.

The size of the room makes it difficult to plan. I am beginning to think I need to have little sitting spots, different zones and areas to make it work. Something like these:

Is this approach sound? I hope it doesn't take me another 9 years to finish this room!

(Images - Jane and last three Homes and Gardens UK)

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Breakfast with Italians in Melbourne - Eat Ate by Guy Mirabella

I love the fact that I can have what would reasonably be described as a surfeit of cookbooks and yet there are still new wonderful cooks and chefs to discover. In this instance, it is a cook called Guy Mirabella, who runs a cafe just an hour to the southeast of Melbourne in Mornington.

Eat Ate is his second cookbook. For most of his life, Guy Mirabella has been a teacher and graphic designer.

This book is beautifully photographed by Earl Carter, which would therefore in theory make it fall under the coffee table cookbooks category (and therefore be one which I wouldn't usually like), however his recipes are wonderful and he writes so evocatively about his family and their history that one can't help but be seduced. And how could you not like someone who loves his mother so.

Italians in Melbourne have contributed an enormous amount to all parts of our society, not just food and coffee wise, but in the arts, politics, literature, business and manufacturing. One of the largest construction companies in Australia, Grocon, is still run by the Grollo family. Guy Grossi is a celebrated chef who has restaurants in Melbourne (Florentino) and also now in Thailand. Ron Barassi, footballer, coach and 'sporting great' has Italian ancestry. And the list just goes on and on.

Italian is now the fifth largest ancestry identified by Australians, after Irish, English, Scottish and 'Australian'. Italians have migrated to Australia since the Gold Rush in the 1840s but the level increased markedly after 1921 when the US imposed restrictions on Italian migration. (This was also impacted by the rise of fascism in Italy in the 1920s). After 1946 migration rates increased markedly resulting in 100,000s of Italians migrating to Australia, mostly to New South Wales and Victoria.

Guy Mirabella evokes these times in his sections on the food he ate growing up.

This is how he describes the two different ways of partaking of breakfast by his father (Sicilian born, came to Australia in the middle of last century) and his wife's father, also Italian but from the North. Every day at 6 am, his father-in-law, Vincenzo, would down a whole raw egg with a glass of his home-made red wine.

In contrast, in Guy Mirabella's house, breakfast was warm milk and bread soup. The bread was always day-old ciabatta style, and the milk came from theirJersey cow Mary. Because there were in Australia, their mother sprinkled Teddy Bear biscuits over the top.

Many immigrants to Australia speak of Lunchbox Differentiation. Whilst I was sent to school with Vegemite or cheese sandwiches, the MIrabella children were sent to school with brocolli fritti in their sandwiches.

This is a wonderful book with some unusual and rustic Italian dishes. He loves broccoli (brocolli fritti, brocolli lasagne) and fresh salads ( chilli calamari and radicchio salad, egg, white anchovies and pancetta salad and ocean trout, citrus, mango and peach salad) , chicken dishes (chicken and muscatel, pictured below) and my very favourie, asparagus, gorgonzola and lemon risotto. If you can, buy this book.

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Australiana to sit on

Australia has a noble heritage of kitsch. This runs in a long line from giant objects (mostly in Queensland - what is it about Queenslanders and their large food objects?):

To tea towels:

(Image: melb-opshopping.blogspot.com)

To Dame Edna Everage.

But look at the use to which Suzie Stanford, whose studio is just up the road from me, has put the humble teatowel. She makes bespoke furniture upholstered in vintage Australiana fabrics.

Here are the chairs she has created for Bistro Guillaume using French teatowels.

And here is her work for another wonderful Melbourne place to have a cocktail, Mink Bar at the Prince of Wales in St Kilda.

And who wouldn't feel productive and happy in these office chairs?

Suzie's pieces are incredibly special. Like all creative people she is constantly searching for new ways to express herself. Her latest work is tapestry chairs, and these are the ones she has created for Liberty in London:

And here is another piece.

I would love to just put all her work in this post but that would be overkill. You can see all her creations here. Her other work includes jewelry and lighting - her teaspoon light is at the top of this post.

A final thought for the weekend by the inimitable Dame Edna herself:

'Never be afraid to laugh at yourself. After all you could be missing out on the joke of the century.'

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Forget them not

Today is Remembrance Day. 91 years since the end of the Great War. 70 years since the beginning of World War 2. 75 years since the Shrine of Remembrance in Melbourne was completed.

Suffer dishonour and disgrace but never resort to arms. Be bullied, be outraged, be killed but do not kill

(Wilfred Owen - letter to his mother May 1917)

Merry it was to laugh there

Where death becomes absurd and life absurder

For power was on us as we slashed bones bare

Not to feel sickness or remorse of murder

(Wilfred Owen - Apologia Pro Poemate Meo 1917)

You cheering crowds who roar and cry

As soldiers on the way pass by

Sneak home and pray you never know

Where youth and laughter go

(Siegfried Sassoon)

Come on you sons of b**ches! Do you want to live forever?

(Attributed to Gunnery Sergeant Dan Daly, 6th Marine Regiment, Marine Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division, when he and his men were besieged, outnumbered and pinned down in the Battle of Belleu Wood, 1918)

I have always been appalled by war. But it is more complex than just being pro-peace or anti-violence. History shows us that sometimes war is necessary. Sometimes it is inevitable. To say that is not to endorse violence or the killing fields which inevitably result. At other times war is the result of man's folly, greed, egotism or stupidity.

I have found that since having a son, my emotions about war have become a bit more personal. There is a possibility, however remote, that my son could, at some point in his life, be involved in fighting a war.

This morning I explained to my daughter about Remembrance Day. She asked me why Australians would travel all the way to Europe to fight. I said that when you believe in something no distance is too far to travel.

The Shrine of Remembrance is the biggest memorial shrine in Australia. It was built between 1928 and 1934. Only 6 months were needed to raise the funds for its construction. It was a controversial building. Many people wanted a cenotaph style structure. Still others wanted the money to be devoted to care for the war injured and their families.

So why such a monument. This is explained by Professor Bruce Scates who has just written a history of the Shrine. He says that unlike the US, which repatriated its war dead, and the English, who could visit her graves in France, the vast majority of Australians could never visit northern France. Victorians (who lost 1 in 5 people who went to WW1) needed somewhere to go to remember and reflect on their losses.

I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones

(Albert Einstein)

(Images Real War Photos and quotes from Military-quotes.com)

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Spice World

I have been rereading Elizabeth David's eccentric little tome 'Spices Salt and Aromatics in the English kitchen'. It is a short book, which reviews spices in the English kitchen, their use for preserves and pickles, the Indian influence in England and includes lots of recipes for things like pickled onions and a 1950s style curry.

She quotes Sir Henry Luke from the Tenth Muse (1954):

'To turn to spices, mace - that aesthetically beautiful by-product of the nutmeg tree, a network husk of deep and brilliant lacquer red while it is still fresh on the nut - enriches thick soups and the stockpot generally with its singularly piquant aroma. Nutmeg itself, grated, is also a help in soups no less than in a bread sauce and a rum punch. Saffron is as indispensible to a good Milanese risotto as it is to a bouillabaisse and a paella. A touch of cardamom or coriander seed transforms a humdrum stew with the aroma of a Middle Eastern souk.

And what a rich evocative aroma they have, those ancient vaulted bazaars of Aleppo and Damascus and the Old City of Jerusalem, of Qazvin and Meshhed and Isfahan, as you approach the streets of the vendors of spices. Here you inhale an amalgam of all the aboriginal savours and smells of the Orient: the pepper and cloves; the cinnamon and turmeric and coriander.'

I cannot wander an Arabian souk today, and this is the closest I have ever been to a Middle Eastern Spice market:

(Market, Singaraja, Northern Bali, 2005)

Isn't it incredible how the scent of spice can evoke a long dormant memory. For me, cloves take me back to when I was 10 and we made pomanders for Christmas by sticking cloves into an orange. Cinnamon reminds me of the cinnamon and sugar mixture I ate sprinkled on buttery toast when I was a teenager. And the mixture of pepper, nutmeg, blachan, galangal and turmeric brings back many meals from Bali.

I may have written about the pointlessness of muffins. Well here is a wonderful Nigella Lawson muffin recipe which has some spices, and last for a few days in a sealed container. Your kitchen will be filled with a spicy Christmassy ginger glow.

Gingerbread muffins

Ingredients

250 g plain flour

1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda

1 tsp baking powder

1 1/2 tsp ground ginder

1 tsp ground clinnamon

1/4 tsp ground cloves

1 egg

50 g dark muscovado sugar

50 g light muscovado suger

150 ml milk

1/4 tsp balsamic vinegear

6 tbsp vegetable or corn oil

4 tbsp golden syrup

4 tbsp black treacle

Method

Preheat oven to 200 degrees celsius. Line a 12 bun muffin tin with muffin liners.

Combine the flour, bicarb of sada, baking powder and spices in a large bowl. Whisk the egg in a large measuring jug then add the sugards, breaking up any lumps. Add the milk and vinegar then measure in the oil with a trablespooon. Use the same oily spoon to add the syrup and treacle so they don't stick to it. Whisk the mixture to combine and add to the flour and spices.

Stir until mixed but still fairly lumpy - the mixutre may be quite runny but this is okay.

Spoon or pour the mixture ino the muffin papers and bake for 20 mins until the tops are browned - the muffins will still be squashy when you take them out to cool on a rack. Note you will not get the hump topped look of other muffins. This is a good thing.

And if you want to learn more of spice history, go no further than Giles Milton's Nathaniel's Nutmeg in which (amongst other things) the farsighted English, following a little spat wih the Netherlands, traded the tiny island of Run (part of the Banda Island chain in southeast Asia) with a rather larger rocky island off the coast of north America called Manhattan.

The transation was considered to be fair largely because Run had scores of nutmeg trees, and Manhattan had none.

(Images: (1)(5) Taschen (3) Flickr (4) Jane (5) Point Click Home)

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To Russia with love

I have just bought these three little dolls for my daughter. They are made by the very talented Lisa Tilse (check out The Red Thread).

They remind me of babushka dolls, and Daisy looks just like a little Red Riding Hood.

Everywhere I look at the moment I seem to see babushkas and many are made right here in Melbourne.

Here is a babushka softie made by another talented crafty lady - Jhoanna Arenez:

Here is one made by Morgan Wills out of vintage fabric (they come as rattles or mother and child)

And here are real wooden ones sold through the Babushka Shop in Melbourne.

And if you want to freak your children out, what about some wall decals?

So why do we love babushkas? It is something to do with the nesting aspect, the fact that you can put them all away neatly into one package and perhaps they remind us of the rosy cheeked plump smiling mother we all need.

But for me, it is because, as my husband says, I have a depressed Slavic soul residing deep down inside me.

I have always loved Russian history, perhaps inspired by studying Russian politics at university at the same time as perestroika and glasnost were happening in the USSR in 1989. I have always related to the pre WW1 period. I also love (in no particular order) birch tree forests, tiaras, borscht and beetroot generally, author Simon Sebag Montefiore, Cold War spy thrillers and books by Robert Ludlum, snowy mountains, James Bond films set in Russia, Mikael Gorbachev, as I have previously mentioned Peter and the Wolf, Prokofiev, the Ballet Russes, Marc Chagall, Kandinsky, Dr Zhivago and all things Boris Pasternak, sleds, fur hats, balalaika music, St Petersberg, histories of Stalingrad, Dosteoyevsky, the film 'Burnt by the Sun', a dacha in the Ukraine and Russian iconic art. However I do not like vodka.

If you read only one Russian history book in your life, make it Robert K Massie's Nicholas and Alexandra which you can buy second hand online:

And if this photo does not sum up the tragedy of 1919 Russia nothing does:

If you are familiar with this period you will know that Tsar Nicholas came very close to escaping (as his mother, the Dowager Duchess who was actually Danish, managed to do). He was stupidly brave and never really believed that his life was really in danger until the very end.

(Images: (1)(2)(3) The Red Thread (4) Red Robin (5) Morgan Wills (6) The Babushka Shop (7) Tangletree Interiors (8) The Russian Shop (9) Not sure)

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Melbourne Cup Special

Happy Day before Melbourne Cup day to you all. The above photo is an accurate representation of the remains of a day out racing at Flemington. Champagne, prawns and strawberries. Chicken sandwiches and very sore feet.

The top photo epitomises the elegance and style one would hope to see at any horse race worth its salt.

How I love the Spring Racing Carnival. Coming from a family who has owned and bred racehorses, it has been a big part of my life for many years. Through years of baking heat, and flooding muddy rain, I have trooped out to Flemington to at least one day, whether it be the Cup or Derby Day or the Oaks.

But first, a teeny peek into the history books.

The Melbourne Cup was first run in 1861, a long time ago for any Australian event, bearing in mind that Melbourne itself was really only established in around 1833.

The idea for the Melbourne Cup was to create great handicap race, which is run over a distance of 3200 m (2 miles). The race needs stayers, not sprinters, horses who have been around for while, not flighty little colts. Many thought that being run on a handicap basis (weights based on weight of horse and jockey, not set weights) would encourage mediocrity. As it happened, this was not the case.

In the 1880s Melbourne Cup attendances regularly reached 100,000.

Melbourne Cup 1889

During the stock market crash of the 1890s (the first big one) almost one third of the Melbourne workforce lost their jobs. The gold was running out, and people needed something to believe in and hope for. And in the time honoured style of the Romans, bread and circuses have often filled that need.

This is Carbine - one of the best racehorses in Australian history. He was originally owned by Donald Wallace, a founding partner of the Broken Hill Mining Company (now BHP) but was sold in England when he fell on hard times. Carbine won the Cup in 1890.

A carnival atmosphere has always prevailed. In the 1800s shooting galleries, picnics and tent parties were held. Today, not much has changed.

But really, for many people it is all about the clothes. How often does one get to wear a hat and carry a neat little bag? One year I took my grandmothers beige lizard skin Kelly style bag to the races and I did not look a jot out of place.

Here are some ladies on the steps of the grandstand in the 1960s. Check out the turban, the top hat, the little cloche hats and the sensible shoes.

Here is a vibrant photo of some English models at the race in the 1960s.

Like all public events there must be a controversial moment which is endlessly discussed. For the Melbourne Cup it was Jean Shrimpton's attendance in 1965 in (gasp) no gloves (oh no) a short dress and (goodness gracious) no hat.

Here is a Japanese model daring to wear a jumpsuit in the early 1970s. You can see the disapproving looks in the background.

Of course, there are many many criticisms levelled at race wear today. Many women no longer wear hats, but fascinators or flowers. Along with that look comes very short dresses, spaghetti straps, lots of chiffon (or the cheaper flammable equivalent). I say let them wear what they want, as long as they feel pretty who cares? My personal preference is for something more covered up. I looked around for some recent photos of what I would consider stylish racewear. I have to say it was not easy, perhaps due to the absurd preponderance of celebrities who sometimes focus more on attention seeking than style. In any event this is what I liked:

This is Derby Day 2008 where black and white is traditionally worn. The lady on the right is Erica Baxter, married to James Packer.

This is Jennifer Hawkins. She can pull off a short dress without looking too nightclubby.

This is Miranda Kerr, I love the freshness of this look.

So, to all, have a happy Day either at the races, or at least a little Champagne for the winning horse.

(Images (2) Nato Welton (3) (4) Not sure (5) as indicated (6) Sportbetaustralia.com (7) (8) Rennie Ellis - National Archives of Australia (NAA) (9) NAA (1) and (10) Fairfax Media (110) (12) (13) Vogue. Other sources: flemington.com.au)

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