Pasta I can eat more than 3 times

July 30, 2014July 30, 2014 / smikg / 2 Comments

Third Place
286a Epping Road Wollert

We’d driven past the café/restaurant a few times, with the intention to go in and grab a coffee, but the opportunity truly presented itself one night during Hubbie’s leave period, when we wanted to go out to dinner but didn’t want to venture too far. We needed a local, and so urbanspoon-ing I went.

When I crossed the path of Third Place online, I realised we had to go, and their motto only cemented our decision, as it rings so true. ‘For everyone there’s Home, Work and a Third Place…’

Was this going to be ours? We needed a good local.

I called ahead and booked for dinner at 6pm, but upon arriving on that Thursday night, realised it probably wasn’t that necessary, as there was ample room and only one other group of people. It filled up a bit more during our dinner, however for a small group, on a weeknight, I think you’d get away with no phone-ahead booking. For us with a pram though, I don’t favour the thought of unpacking car and pram, only to be told ‘sorry’ at the door for not thinking ahead. So I’ll continue with my reservations.

Again, we found ourselves in a bluestone building, but this one was decorated by little blue fairy lights, probably so you could see it from the Main Road. Cute, and appropriate for Winter I guess. Inside the décor was interesting. You would expect to find perhaps a more historical style, suited to the age of the building, but it had a bit of a modern edge to it. This is in no way inappropriate, as I’ve seen plenty of television programs where untouched historical buildings have a completely renovated and modern style within its walls – only thing is it appeared far from finished. The lightbulbs hung from red wires over the tables, and the walls seemed unfinished, as well as the ceiling. There was a beautiful fireplace near us, but it was a modern one, with a pink wall around it. I don’t want to comment too much as I don’t know if they’re still in the process of doing up the venue, but I think it’s safe to say there needs to be a bit more sprucing up. Doing so would benefit the other pluses of the place.

The service was fantastic. Our waiter was very attentive, and brought the specials board over to us before we ordered, explaining all the dishes, and he almost sold me on the snapper if I hadn’t already seen prawns on the menu. I asked for a jug of hot water to warm up baby girl’s ‘pouch’ food, and it was a tiny bit slow on the deliverance – it’s the smallest of things but big to me, because when we go out to eat, it’s: feed baby girl, then I get fed. The longer she is delayed, the more chance my meal is sitting there, untouched and going cold as I finish feeding her. My meal did sit there for a while, as I’m now getting very accustomed to, but the meal was still warm, so I was a happy camper.

The food, the food! I was excited about the options: as the menu is not overly extensive (away from the pizzas that is) I was under the impression that what they do, they do well. The website states that the food is inspired by the Head Chef’s home town in Italy, with an emphasis on fresh home style cooking. We were pleasantly surprised when before our meals came one of the chefs (I assume) came to each of the tables and offered some complimentary pizza dough balls – an Italian word was pronounced but not understanding it I sure as hell can’t remember it, but he said there was some cheese and other herbs with it as well. It was warm, soft, very light and fluffy, and sooooo good. Bonus points on free food, as usual.

I had ordered the:

Scialatielli – pasta sautéed with fresh prawns, zucchini and cherry tomatoes

Hubbie ordered the special, which was:

Scotch Fillet with salad

And we also ordered rosemary potatoes on the side.

I loved my pasta. It was so yummy. The prawns were almost creamy, the pasta itself was al dente and fresh, and the saute it was all in was so good, I continued to dip the rosemary potatoes – also really tasty – into the saute long after the pasta and prawns were gone.

I loved my pasta so much, I really wished there had been more. Unfortunately it wasn’t enough for me – there were only a few prawns, and if the meal had been only a little bigger, I would have been more satisfied. Delicious, but little light on the serve. I do realise the dish I ordered came from the ‘Primi Piatti’ section of the menu (meaning first dish, therefore assuming there would be a subsequent dish…) but like I said, a little more would have been ideal. And for $25, I guess I was expecting more. Still, super delish, and would definitely order it again, but with a side, again.

Hubbie said he would have enjoyed his scotch more, if it had been cooked to his liking. He requested medium for the meat, and it was definitely more on the rare side. He will still eat it if it’s not exactly as requested, but when the centre of the meat is bordering on raw, I can understand why he would feel unhappy about not getting what he asked for. It was a shame, because everything else was so good. He still ate most of it, and the salad too.

For dessert we decided WTF and shared a Pannacotta – baby girl was still good and I knew when Hubbie goes back to work our dinner nights would be over, so we had to make the most of it.

I’ll be honest, I haven’t tried heaps of panna cotta, but I assumed it was going to be more of a custard-y texture? Yes, it is custard, but this one was creamy, and I could see what appeared was traces of vanilla bean through it. Ice cream on the side, and some little fruit. It was easy to eat, and would be so even if on a really full stomach, as the dessert wasn’t sickly sweet. It left a lovely taste in my mouth, even though we were there going ‘is it meant to be like this?’ Hubbie wasn’t convinced, yet ate all of his portion. We scraped the plate clean, leaving our waiter jokingly asking us “What did you have?”

All up our meals and drinks were just under $90 – which is what we used to pay going into the inner-city suburbs for a meal on a Saturday night. Closer to a $100 when I used to get a glass of red. So a bit more on the pricey side, even the dessert, $14, is a decent price if you’re having the pannacotta just to yourself. So pricing is on the up-side, but the produce seems fresh and as I already said, the service was great.

Food: 8/10. Fresh, home cooked, all that good stuff… my meal was great, and I would love to try their other pastas too. Servings on the smaller size though.

Coffee: Yikes! We ordered none! Will need to do a Review part 2 on that one…

Ambience: Lovely and warm. Really digging the whole fireplace thing, hoping all restaurants start doing it. Once it’s more renovated, I think it will do heaps for the place.

Staff: Very friendly, accommodating. I’m encountering some exceptional wait staff of late. +++

People: We had a few couples, a group, and an older group. Pretty much locals I’d say, a mixed crowd.

Price: On the up-side. You’re paying for the produce, but that freaking pasta (it’s still on my tastebuds) is worth it… I just really wish they up the serves too.

Advice: Get a few plates. Have some nibblies, and then do the meal with sides thing, or as they suggest, do your antipasto, first plate, second plate, dessert… the food is great, you won’t regret it. But your wallet, might. These are the Northern Suburbs after all, not inner-city Melbourne.

In a nutshell: I would love to come back, try more pasta, some coffee… however Hubbie tends to get scarred when his meat is not cooked well. Not only is he a fusspot (he’d say rightly so when you’re forking out cash) but he’s a butcher, and he almost always gets meat when we order out. Poor restaurants everywhere. I’ve lost count of how many times our dinner conversations have turned to how rare/well done his meat WASN’T meant to be, and the number of times chefs have served up meat, the menu saying it’s one thing, Hubbie saying “no it isn’t…” yes, that actually happens.

He’s sorry to say it but he’s not keen to try it again. Because of the locality and food I will use my strongest powers of persuasion and get him to give it one more go… if only for that damn pasta.

So, not a Third Place. Not for us, not yet. But we are yet to try their coffee…

Forgiveness

July 22, 2014August 22, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

I’ve been toying with the idea of forgiveness.

Interestingly, this solution, for this very old, old, old problem of mine, came to me while watching an episode of The Bold and the Beautiful. I know a lot of people may snigger and deem it so low-brow to be getting advice from a soap opera… but hey, at least I’m getting it from the most popular soap opera in the world.

In it, (SPOILER ALERT!!!!) Oliver is trying to convince his new girlfriend Ally, to try to let go of her hurtful past and forgive the woman (Taylor) who while drinking and then driving accidentally killed her mother (Darla) on the side of the road, who was at the time helping the daughter (Phoebe) of the woman who killed her.
And now Ally’s Dad (Thorne), so many years later, wants to be with the woman who killed her Mum.

Of course, only in a soap opera. However as I go through life, I seriously realise that the shit that happens on the real stage is far more fantastical than any soap opera can conjure up.

Ally hasn’t been able to forgive Taylor for Darla’s death, and even says she hates the woman; she ruined her life.

In the episode in question, Oliver is trying to help Ally see that if she forgives, she’s not doing it for Taylor, because she still has to live with what she did for the rest of her life – but she is doing it for herself, to have peace, and to move on.

In particular, when he remarked that her holding on to her anger has only increased the negativity in her life, I couldn’t help but see the immediate parallels between the two on the tv in front of me, and a conversation Hubbie and I had a couple of nights ago.

You see, there’s a person, or persons, that have been the thorn (LOL, above) in my side for a good while. Out of respect for all involved, I won’t name names, other than to say that the situation is made difficult because these people are so infuriatingly difficult to get along with, and I can’t get them out of my life. I have a million negative expressions for them, but the kindest words would include:
arrogant
self-centred
narcissistic
selfish
rude
insensitive
narrow-minded

Recently, these people did something very inconsiderate to me. As things go, they are probably unaware of what they did. You might say I have no reason to get mad then. But they are the types that if I, or anyone else, did what they did to me, to them, well, let’s just say our Prime Minister would be discussing it in a special 7:30pm bulletin tonight with a full audience of the public voting ‘yes’ and ‘no’ to the arguments and points of contention being put forward.

They are very one-sided, and explain everything away so it suits them.

I’ve had so much anger and frustration, pain and sadness building up and boiling over in me for the past few days now, that it’s been sickening. I’m consumed with angry thoughts, full of scenarios of me telling them where to go and where I vent ALL of my feelings to them, feelings that have been simmering and building now for years.

It’s happened in the worst week. I’m meant to be busy finalising preparations for baby girl’s Christening – instead I’m busy imagining scenarios of them, upsetting me AGAIN, where the end result is some massive and long overdue confrontation.

I’ve been trying to work out how to get control of my thoughts, and my reaction to it so I can live in peace. So many quotes out there advise that ‘it’s all in your head,’ and ‘you are the master of your thoughts.’ That’s all fair and good, and usually something that I would swear by; in real life however, when something has been stewing in you for ages, and an untold and furious story is waiting to be unleashed from inside of you, it’s fairly hard to take the latter statements to heart and live by them.

When I heard Oliver mention ‘forgiveness,’ something inside me softened. I can’t say how it happened, but it was almost as if I was so desperate for a solution that the answer, and indeed it seems the only answer, made me reach out and grasp it with vehemence.

Could I forgive them? Could I really forgive them, or would I just be convincing myself that I should forgive them, as so many hurts have been involved that it would take years and much concerted effort on their part to mend things, where I could really start to forgive. And that was the thing. On TV, Taylor was crying to Ally and telling her how sorry she was, how sorry she’s always been for what happened that night. My situation, though no where near as dramatic thank goodness, was different, but still very difficult. I was dealing with people who have a chip on their shoulder, believing the world owes them and everyone should bow at their feet. These are people unwilling, I think also unable to change. They have been their impossibly difficult selves for so long, I don’t think they would know how.

However, the thought of forgiveness, and moving on, appealed to me. It’s a hard one – would I be admitting that what they have done to me was ok? That all the hurtful moments I’ve endured with them was acceptable? That they weren’t accountable for the hundreds upon hundreds of slights and mean-spirited words/actions/intentions that have come from their direction? No. Like Oliver said, I was doing it for me. I was doing it so I could move on.

Hubbie had bought flowers home for me last night, because he had wanted to cheer me up – seeing me so upset had made him realise how much of a happy person I was.

That was the other clincher. I was a different person when they upset me. I wasn’t me, and I didn’t like the person I was in their company. Now, sometimes, I may not be able to avoid them all together… but like all those freaking clever people say time and time again, I had to change my reaction to them, rather than change them. Because I couldn’t. Not when they couldn’t change themselves.

What happened to Oliver and Ally and Taylor in the end? Well, at the end of the episode, Oliver had convinced Ally to speak to Taylor – and after she confronted her with more ‘why’s, she came to understand that Taylor had actually helped her Dad heal… and they hugged. With tears.

My ending may be a bit different. I can’t do what all those clever-thinkers tell me to. I’m going to play a very impassive role when around them – kind of blind, ignorant to them and the way they are. I will do that, because I don’t want to amplify the situation… because I’m better than that. But if they push my button –

I’M GOING TO BITE.

Coffee rules and Fireplaces are Nice at Carome

July 14, 2014August 7, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

Two Beans and a Farm
10 Hathfelde Boulevard Mernda

This was our second outing to the Carome Homestead, as the first one had us there to celebrate our 5th wedding anniversary months earlier. It was our first dinner outing with baby girl, and even though I wanted to stay close to home ‘just in case,’ I wanted something nice, something different, something special that wasn’t an overbooked rambunctious restaurant with every tom, dick and harry from down the street walking in.

Two Beans and a Farm was the perfect fit.

It wasn’t totally evident then, as we had arrived about 6pm and it was already dark, but driving through the homestead grounds to get to the restaurant car park, it already felt like we were far away somewhere… and yet it was only Mernda, a short drive down the main road. It felt odd that a place as unique as this could be within our immediate area, and even as we walked to the front entrance of the bluestone building, pushing the pram on the gravel footpath, helped along by the low, dim lights in the chilly darkness, I vowed we would be back during the day to fully appreciate the temporarily pitch black scenery.

On our second journey there we could see that even in the broad daylight there was something evidently distinctive about this place: it was so removed, the restaurant in the middle of the large grounds, accessible via long drive – I actually turned to Hubbie and told him I felt like we were ‘away,’ as we had toyed with the idea of daytripping that week. This place made me feel like I was someplace else, and that was good enough.

It isn’t just the far-removed homestead that makes Two Beans feel so unique. The restaurant, with its old-world charm and comforting fireplaces, does something for the venue as well. It appears that the original rooms have been kept and renovated/transformed into the many eating areas, which only adds to the ambience of having a meal away from other diners, as you may likely only see them in an adjacent room. There are stunning fireplaces within, and can I just say, you need to come here in Winter. It’s the place to go when it’s freezing out, and just be warned, you may not want to leave.

The first time we arrived, we had booked ahead, it then being a Saturday night and a special occasion; this time however, being an ‘ordinary’ Sunday (or so we thought) we decided to wing it, only to be advised at the door that we should book. Oops. Fortunately for us, we were able to be squeezed in, and once again, found ourselves beside one of the glorious fireplaces. Towards the end of our meal, a lovely waitress asked if the room was warm enough, or whether she should put the fire out, and we politely yet strongly advised against doing such a thing. 😉

Our meals, did I say? That’s right. So I ordered a fresh orange juice on arrival, Hubbie got a latte, and then for the brekkie:

I got the Huevos a la Mexicana – chilli scrambled eggs with caramelised onion, sweet corn and chipotle mole

while Hubbie got The Homestead Big Brekkie – scrambled eggs, bacon, roasted mushrooms, tomato & homemade baked beans on sourdough toast

I was already advised that the chilli scrambled eggs weren’t too chilli, which was fine by me. If you’re a heat-seeker hoping to break down in a sweat and gulp some ice cold water down in ferocious spirit, well you won’t. Instead you’ll have a pleasant taste in your mouth, further accompanied by some bite at the back of your throat. Manageable bite, subtle enough for the tamest of adventurous foodies.

My ‘bite-y’ eggs were smooth, almost creamy, the corn giving some great texture, and it wasn’t overly ‘egg-y’ if you know what I mean. Although it seemed a big meal, I ate the whole thing quite easily. Again, could be the whole ‘Mum’ thing with me eating so much more in the last year, but it didn’t leave me with the overly-full feeling usually associated with decent sized breakfasts, and I think this can be attributed to the fact that it was a fairly healthy breakfast. Chilli eggs were atop rocket and sourdough, and their web site advertises the fact that they use homegrown produce, evident from the outbuildings situated alongside the restaurant.

Hubbie enjoyed his meal. I tasted some of his eggs, the beans and mushrooms, and they were good. He commented on how much egg he had on his plate when it arrived (he’s one of those not keen on the ‘egg-y’ flavour) but I noticed he ate most of it. He’s fairly fussy, my Hubbie, but he complimented the bread, the beans, and the meal in general, saying it was far superior to another breakfast we’d had in Mernda recently: “this s*&ts all over – .“

My coffee was great: strong, but so smooth, and the chocolate-y flavour on top of the froth was a beautiful compliment to the strength of the coffee. Hubbie loved his latte, complimenting it many, many times. We were impressed, and I almost asked them what kind of beans they use, until I realised that just because we are coffee snobs, doesn’t mean I have to let them know about it.

Food: 9/10. Spanish/French inspired, homely, fresh and inspiring. The cuisine adds to the other-wordly vibe, and they do it well.

Coffee: 9.5/10. Probably one of the best we’ve had.

Ambience: Warm and inviting, comforting. Being in different eating areas you feel separated from other diners, even if they are only 2 metres away on the other side of the fireplace. It’s a getaway restaurant, with real class, real ease.

Staff: Very accommodating and professional. All restaurants should cater like this.

People: With the general requirement it seems to book ahead, you don’t get just walk-in’s… how should I say… people are prepared? No. Look, the people are nice. I’ve seen couples, families, groups, friends, and just generally nice people.

Price: A little on the up side, however we’re always willing to pay when the quality (and ahem, coffee) is to this standard. Both our meals, coffees and my juice tallied to around $44.

Advice: Book ahead, no matter what time/day it is. I fear this place becoming all too known to the public around it, and if that becomes the case, you won’t just have to book, but you’ll be placed on a waiting list. True story. Pleasant places like this that have that far-away feel, holiday vibe, are unfortunately hard to find in these parts…

In a nutshell: As the Terminator says… you know.

Happiness Is… #2

July 14, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

Happiness Is… Hubbie. Knowing how to diffuse the bomb that is me.

Last week I was in a huge rush to get out of the house in the morning. I was juggling feeding baby girl while eating brekkie myself, all the while as Hubbie sat very relaxed at the end of the kitchen table, scrolling through youtube and calling out to me each time something wasn’t going right: “this clip isn’t loading,” “how do I stop this now?” “why is this happening, I didn’t click anything.”

Which meant of course I had to get up, multiple times, and assist him.

I grew very, very angry. Not just with the interruptions, but he was just so happy, sitting there, not helping me, that I grew enraged. I knew I could have just said “can you please help me? I wanna get out of the house before lunchtime.” But that would be too easy. So I stewed instead.

Once we were done I practically threw baby girl at him with the statement (note, not question) “hold her.”

And then I started to wash the dishes. Furiously. I threw things around the sink, let things clang and bang, until Hubbie asked “what’s wrong?”

With a deep breath, I told him that:

I was mad that I hadn’t asked him to help me feed baby girl (this was my gentle lead in)
I was mad that he knew I was rushing and hadn’t offered to help
I was mad that he had just left a wet coaster on the kitchen bench, and commented how it might be a month until he put it back clean, unless I of course cleaned it up for him
I was mad that he had left the toaster out from yesterday’s lunch, when I hadn’t needed it.

I was just freaking mad.

I then rushed up the stairs to get changed.

I was brushing my teeth, standing over the sink, absolutely seething. I was almost boiling over, I was that shitty. Hubbie came up from behind me and in an over-exaggerated fashion started to rub my back. Without looking up I kept brushing my teeth, ignoring him, but his action had somewhat lessened my bad mood. He was making fun of me in his way, and that was better than him getting mad at me for exploding at him. It’s hard enough to be so upset, without that person then turning the tables and telling you that they’re upset you gave them an ear-bashing.

He left the room, and came back when I was washing my face. He said tentatively “are you going to bash me?”

And that was the ticker. It set me right off. From being so damn mad, I could have rivalled a volcanic explosion, to suddenly erupting into uncontrollable giggles – I couldn’t believe it. I had been so tense, that something had to come out. I needed some emotional release – and laughter courtesy of my one and only it was.

I continued laughing into my towel as I dried my face, and being in the other room I knew Hubbie couldn’t tell if I was crying or laughing, as he then asked. Just the thought of unleashing on him was so far removed from reality, so ridiculous, that it was all I needed.

He is all I need. With baby girl, of course.

I told him through tears of laughter that I didn’t want to be mad at him, but just “freaking clean up after yourself, and help me.”

And then all was good, just like that. And we left the house soon after.

It goes both ways though. Hubbie once told me, how amazed he was that someone you could be so unbelievably angry and mad with, could make you happy and smile only hours after a huge argument.

There’s no magic potion to marriage, no secrets to wedded bliss. All it requires is both parties to want to reconcile, no matter what happens.

Even when he’s shitty, I’d rather he be shitty in my company, than shitty alone. But that I don’t have to worry about all too much, because he’s a very happy person, and he makes me, very happy.

Happiness. 🙂

(Note: Domestic violence is no laughing matter, and if you are in a relationship where you are being abused or you are the abuser, you should seek help. The above story is so funny because it is something that could never happen in our relationship, both ways. If you’re reading this and you’re not laughing, then you should seriously consider treatment for an abusive relationship… or you may just think the story utterly boring, either way).

Every dog has their day

June 25, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

Dogs and Days. This idea has been flitting around my mind the last couple of weeks. It provides me with hope for the future, yet reminds me that life has its ups and downs, and to be grateful for the wonderful things that come my way, while they are around.

An old clock my sister used to have said “Good times and bad times have one thing in common. They never last forever.” Quite appropriate being on a clock.

Having to be different, I look at the dog saying in another way – not just in terms of ‘your success will come,’ but the meaning for me personally, has always been ‘every one will get a bad day.’ I know it’s not meant to be interpreted that way, and is probably a rather odd interpretation for a glass half-full gal, but if you just think of the way people say it: it’s always a mellow “every dog has its day,” rather than a chirpy “Every Dog Has Its Day!!!” – complete with cartwheels and a full cheerleading routine.

It depends on which way you look at it. You could be dismayed by the thought of good times ending, or be relieved by the promise of a rainbow at the end of hardship. Having gone through a rather difficult year, which has, as it’s gone on become better and better, especially with the meeting of our baby girl, I have to say that the thought of each dog having their day actually makes me feel ok, and grounded.

As much as I’m loving Motherhood (really, it’s cliché but so true what they say: It’s the best, and you don’t know ’til you’ve done it), I see and hear my friends and family out enjoying their lives, being free from major responsibility, and just generally doing whatever the hell they want to do AT THE MOMENT THEY WANT TO DO IT. And I can’t help myself, but I think: ‘That’s ok. They will have their day.’

I’m not trying to be cruel. I don’t mean it in the way it probably comes out. In fact, I can’t wait for all my family and friends to be in the fortunate position we are in and know what a blessing it is to have a beautiful family you are so, so proud of. I’m so happy, I’m rapt. But I guess sometimes I feel like, ‘they don’t understand,’ and it’s probably what our own family and friends with kids wished for about US, before we had kids, and I see all the childless couples out there living it up, and I remind myself ‘we used to live it up,’ and then I say ‘we’ll live it up again’…

We will get our days too. The good doggy days I mean.

I think what really frustrates me, is that if I’m wanting something else, does that mean I’m not happy now? No. It just means as normal, that we want too much. I want too much. I want what I used to have, while still having what I have now. I don’t think I’m that unique, I think it’s the natural order of things to be thinking like this, especially for us Mums. We don’t get many breaks (every sense of the word) and we just wanna every now and then let our hairs down and out and get smashed on cheap wine because we haven’t had alcohol in over a year but then we still wanna come home and be watching our babies sleep before running off to barf up yellow and green bile in the toilet.

But it’s still annoying. Because, as society tells us, we should be content with what we have, and if we’re not, we’re bad.

You know what other discoveries I’ve made in Mumhood? You really do find out who your friends are. And family. I’ve learnt who really cares, and in the case of my cousins, who would drive across town to come see me and baby girl, time and time again… while that ‘close’ friend I thought I’d reconnect with, because she all loves kids and stuff? Well yeah. Just that.

But you know what I think about her? ‘She will have her day.’

I won’t be a bitch, as somewhat gratifying as it would be. When she has her day, I will be there for her. Not saying “I told you so.” Just being. Because I wouldn’t want anyone to feel the way I’ve felt in the past.

I know that Hubbie and I have had a rather big year. A couple of huge ones in fact. And when you go through heavy shit, people tend to leave you alone, and give you space. But they don’t realise that after a little while, you want someone around, you want someone to reach out, and you want to know that someone cares and is thinking of you.

Same goes for having a baby. Apart from the never-ending 1-2 hour visits to meet baby girl, people then leave you alone. They think you need your space – and too right you do. But then they continue giving you that space, past the 2 month, 3 month, 4 month… 7 month marks. And you’re like ‘really? I do still have a life you know.’

And then you realise they don’t yet know. It still hurts a bit, but you realise they don’t know. And that’s ok, because one day they will. They will have their day too.

Ducks with a side of Dukkah

June 23, 2014July 8, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

Rivers Café and Providore
28 Kurrak Road Yarrambat

The first time Hubbie and I went into Rivers of Yarrambat was because we were looking for plants. Hubbie used to drive by it on his way home from work, and noticed signs alerting to the fact that it was a nursery. Upon going there a couple of times and falling in love with the interesting variety of flora, along with the beautiful homewares shop housed there, we also noticed there was a café on the side of the premises.

Then we started going to Rivers: more for the café, than the nursery.

I have been to Rivers Café and Providore many, many times since. It was the first café/eatery we went to after having our daughter, in those early days where I was scared to leave the house in fear she would cause a scene and in embarrassment I wouldn’t know how in the world to settle her, while simultaneously feeling like if I didn’t leave the house I might die of cabin fever. I now know that’s a thing, a REAL thing.

I’ve been there for coffee, I’ve been there for scones. I’ve been there for brekkie, brunch, lunch, dessert and everything in between. I would have been there for dinner if they catered for it, and the only thing I haven’t had there is the high tea: that I WILL most definitely do sometime in the near future.

So I guess this is a bit of a prelude to this review: in writing of my most recent visit there I feel it would be slightly unfair to solely score it on this one experience, being that during this one my brunch friend was not too enthusiastic about her meal, yet every other time and with every other person, it’s been fairly consistently fantastic.

Being early Winter, it was actually fairly lovely weather as we arrived, and upon waiting to be seated were offered either to eat outside in the covered dining area overlooking the nursery grounds and ducks swimming about in the pond, or inside. I wanted to sit outside for my friend to get a better experience of her visit, but she was cold, so that kind of made up our minds fairly quickly.

Something I have to mention here is that most times when I’ve gone there to eat, when a waiter has gone to sit us they’ve usually asked if we have a booking. Every time, we reply “no,” however every time they still manage to sit us, no matter how busy they are.

On this day, they were very quiet. You’d probably think that going on a weekday would usually present you with a fairly deserted restaurant. When we went, although quiet, there were a few large groups of ‘Mums with Bubs,’ prams everywhere, to the point that you wouldn’t be mistaken to wonder if Wednesday’s were a special day for those maternally inclined to step out and get a free babycino for their littlies or something.

On other days, you’d think it was a special Pensioners day. This place attracts all kinds of people, but generally more of the nicer-dressed, upper-class variety, if you know what I mean. The kind that are more inclined to tip.

I ordered The Moroccan – poached eggs on grilled flatbread with feta and dukkah

while my friend ordered the Rivers Berry Crepes

I really enjoyed my meal: it was to the same standard of every meal I’ve had there. The produce is fresh, and you get excited just looking at the adjoining garden to the café, wondering how much of it gets into the kitchen. Some part of the menu is seasonal, so there are always a few new additions and interesting combos popping up to make the dining experience lovely. My eggs were poached perfectly, the warm flatbread was beautiful, while the lemon and pepper gave a zest and flavour exactly as it stated it would in the menu, so what I ordered was exactly what I got. The dukkah gave a lovely crunch, however though I love sesame seeds it got a bit much to me towards the end and I shoved the remainder to the side to keep them from getting stuck in my teeth. All in all, really yummy, and very presentable.

My friend wasn’t a fan of hers. I think I would have liked it, in defence of Rivers; she’s recently back home from the States, and said her berries were too sour – she’s used to her berries “sherbet.” LOL. Enough said.

The waitress who picked up our plates on completion did ask if anything had been wrong with my friend’s meal, and it proved again to me how polite and keen the staff there are to right any wrongs and make sure the customers always leave happy.

As usual I ordered my coffee as our meals arrived, and it was great. They use Dukes there, which I love, and although when I first sipped it there was a bit of a different taste to it, it faded away quickly and I enjoyed the rest of my lukewarm coffee (I’d been busy scoffing my eggs on flatbread).

I’m going to try and generalise my scores based on all my visits there, so here goes.

Food: 9.5/10. Fantastic, as usual. Fresh, seasonal, and appearance-wise, very attractive as far as food goes.

Coffee: 9/10. Dukes, what else is there to say?

Ambience: Generally, fairly mellow, even when it’s busy it doesn’t get very loud or raucous; the only ones making the noise there are the kids getting hyper on their babycinos, and that’s if you get a massive group of pram-pushers like we did. Normal café noise I guess.

Staff: Always aiming to please, very smiley. On a previous occasion I ordered a very weak flat white for my Mum; the waitress came to check if the strength was appropriate, adding that she could bring extra milk if required. Tick and Tick.

People: Of the ‘nice’ variety. You won’t catch a horde of uni students here, unless they’re dining with their parents. There’s still a very relaxed vibe. Laid-back country style mixed with $$$.

Price: Speaking of the dosh. It’s a few dollars more than some other places you may go to grab brekkie, or lunch, or dessert. Having said that, with the presentation, quality of food on offer, surroundings and the service, it’s definitely worth it.

Advice: If it’s a lovely day and you want to eat with a view or you wish to dine there on a public holiday, maybe best to phone ahead. Yes, they are open on public holidays. Funnily enough, it appears they’re open bar a few select days a year, which makes it so much more hilarious that they don’t do dinner. I guess they need a break somewhere, right?

Oh yeah, and you berry eaters? They’re sour, because they’re fresh. On a previous visit Hubbie had the same crepes as my friend did and also didn’t like the sourness. Fuss pots ;P

In a nutshell: I’ve been going back for years now, so there really isn’t any question, sour berries or not.

Whatever will be… will be?

June 13, 2014June 23, 2014 / smikg / Leave a comment

Every so often I find myself getting deep on the same question: how much of our lives are pre-destined, and how much of our lives are, well, in our hands?

It’s usually some hard decision I find myself having to make, or something rather huge happens, and I’m there thinking ‘did I attract this? Or was this fate?’

It’s a really hard topic I find myself thinking about, and the thoughts and possibilities go around and around in my head until I come to the same conclusion every single time: that I don’t know anything, other than what it is I believe in, and that is –

-that there is a portion of our lives that we can’t escape from, and

-there is a portion of our lives that we can choose to do what we like.

It’s a bit of me, doing what my Mum says I can’t do, and that is sit on both chairs at once. You might too think I’m sitting on the fence with my viewpoint, but it’s the only way I find it to be true. In my life I have felt times where something happened out of the blue, completely out of my control… and then there have been other times where something has eventuated from my hard work, determination and focus.

I haven’t always had the ‘destined-determined’ outlook though. In my earlier years I naievely believed that everything that happened was meant to happen, and even if you didn’t try, if that tree was meant to fall down, it would split in half without you even bringing an axe to it.

There is a sense of relief in the belief that we are not accountable, and that no matter what we do, it won’t make a difference. However as freeing as it may sound, being removed from any responsibility, we have no freedom in this scenario, and is this really a way we want to be living?

I confuse myself at times. I remember when I chased down a part time job back in my uni days, and wonder if I had still gotten it if I hadn’t called the area manager several times, showing him how keen I was. Then another voice in my head said ‘maybe that was meant to happen.’

I remember the hours-long debate I had with then my pre-Hubbie, about the philosophy subject driving me bonkers – that we had no free will, and that all of our present actions were a result of our past deeds, therefore eliminating freedom of choice. I remember the night clearly, because we went round in circles for hours in his lounge room, and even physically went round, as I have a clear recollection of sitting on the top of their couch, and I have no idea why.

At the end of the day I believe a larger part of our lives, are left in our hands. Working out what part that is though, as you’re living it, is a whole other series of questions.

I’d love to know other people’s thoughts…

My whole life I’ve been living a Season’d Lie

June 9, 2014June 23, 2014 / smikg / 8 Comments

A few weeks ago while taking a leisurely Autumn walk around my neighbourhood, paper cup harbouring warm coffee firmly in my hand as I pushed the pram with the other, it suddenly hit me:
It was all a lie.

I don’t think I fall into the unusual category when I say that the weather impacts majorly on my moods. I live for warm days spent outside in the sunshine, doing absolutely anything at all, as long as it leads to sun blindness to the point that re-entering any interior results in having green vision for about 30 seconds. And on the flipside, I once worked with a guy who expressed that his hatred for Winter led to him wanting to hibernate throughout the entire season. I could certainly feel for him. In my opinion the only time cold weather is good, is when you don’t have to leave the house, with your only job to stay cuddled on the couch drinking warm teas. In that world where time stands still and your life waits for you to get ready – yeah right.

So I was there, walking with coffee as I often do, when I realised just how much I was loving Autumn. It had started out as the kind of sunny day that still made you reach for your jacket with the freshness of a Winter’s chill soon approaching, however as the midday sun beat down on me I was able to remove my jacket, and really enjoy the sensations, sights and sounds that this season had to offer.

Yes, we were having an unseasonably warm Autumn. Weather reports constantly declared new records being broken, and the fact that Winter was so near and yet the weather was pretty damn acceptable, was further proof of that.

But no, it wasn’t just that this Autumn was better than previous ones. I thought of Spring, and then ‘Summer,’ and thought ‘lies, lies, lies.’

Look, this is how it goes: (in case this is the first thing you’ve ever read and you have no idea about climate)

Winter: June, July, August
Spring: September, October, November
Summer: December, January, February
Autumn: March, April, May

Right? Wrong.

I guess this June it’s a bit of an exception, with El Nino or whatever warm spell it is that’s going to be passing over Melbourne making it a warmer than normal Winter, but then again I think ‘ever year it’s a freaking exception!’ With Melbourne weather, biggest joke ever. We’ve had a warm Autumn, and now we’re expecting a warm-er than normal Winter.

This is how it should really go:

Winter: the very end of June, July, first half of August
Little Winter (aka Winter but with more sun): second half of August, September, October, start of November
Spring: end of November, December up to Christmas time
Summer: New Years (it’s always 30 degrees+ at clock striking twelve point), January
Big Summer (aka mother-f!*king scorching Summer): February, start of March
Autumn: end of March, April, May
Win-tumn (aka false pretences Winter that makes you think ‘this Winter won’t be so bad, it’s so sunny…’ then BAM!): start of June

I’m just hoping that this El Nino dude sticks around for a while so this Winter is much more bearable than others. Having said that, being on maternity leave and all, and not having to get up for work like poor Hubbie, I can’t whinge too much. Winter is so freaking bad when you’re getting up five in the morning, and shivering in the car waiting for it to warm up 20 minutes later in the darkness, then walking to work, in the cold, and darkness…

How I miss that, NOT.

I look forward to the warmer months so much, I find I end up starting to dread Winter as early as January, while we’re still in the midst of actual Summer (according to my new climate guide) to the point where sometimes, I can’t even enjoy Summer. Horrific I know. And then at other times, I’m often so peaking in fantastic stinking heat, I have to think hard to remember how it feels like to be cold, and shivering, and even ask myself the stupid, stupid question: “is Winter really that cold?”

Fast forward to today and putting on the heater 6 times during the day. Yes, yes it is.

I hate knowing Winter is just around the corner, knowing it’s ‘coming for me;’ yet when it’s here, there’s almost a sense of relief, like ‘ok, let’s get this over with.’

I’ve survived the first 9 days of Winter, so I should be ok. Sorry, I mean Win-tumn.