marsupial

I don’t want to perpetuate any stereotypes about Taswegians, but…
Yesterday we were walking down Collins Street (a main street in Hobart Town) when we saw a man walking along with a small wombat over his arm. He had his hand palm up, supporting the sleepy-looking thing under its chest and belly. It’s little legs were dangling, giant claws displayed to advantage. It wasn’t a very big wombat, and it looked a little like we felt – in need of a serious nap.
The Squeeze told me to “Pat the wombat! Pat the wombat!” but i was too shy.
I don’t know where he was going with the wombat, nor what he’d do with it once he got there*, but it’s not everyday you see a wombat being taken to the shops. But I guess it is Christmas time…
*The Squeeze did say he saw it coralled in a sort of ‘suitcase enclosure’ (to use his words) in the mall later on.

wash your hair, roady

DJing at the Spiegeltent has ruined me for the shitty sound system at CBD.
To begin my evening (I did a set there… um… a week ago yesterday?), the little sound guy (who can never ever be found when you do actually need him, and if you can find him, can’t do anything without a ladder in the middle of the (crowded) dance floor) told me off for blowing the phono channels on the piece of shit sound desk in the main room. I interrupted mid-rant with “sorry, man, I haven’t DJed here in about 8 weeks, and I always use the line out. Because that’s the rule” and pointed out that I was actually using the line out at that very moment. He tut tutted a bit and I kind of did the glib hail-fellow-well-met bullshit where it sounds like I actually really care what he thinks.
I would care, if it weren’t for the fact that that sound system is set up for the doof doods on the weekend, always frighteningly heavy on the bass, so all our music sounds ridiculous.
I wanted to raise the issue of how we’re not allowed to change the settings to suit dancers who can actually a) find the beat without having it hammered into their bones with the force of a thousand decibels, and b) actually listen to – and dance to – the whole range of instruments present in a recording. I also wanted to have a little chat with him about how it’s not actually useful to have a bunch of spotlights shining into the eyes of the DJ when your DJ is actually more interested in working the crowd than preening for the crowd. I did think about suggesting a more sensible set up for the desk than one where you have to physically lift the console thingy out of the wooden frame to insert your RCA cables, feeling all the hairs on your arms stand up in response to the stray volts floating around in there. I considered raising the issue of booth monitors and using whole, complete cables that worked and weren’t jerry-rigged into the system. And I had one, final thought about pointing out to him the fact that we were actually holding that conversation without shouting, suggesting that perhaps we swing DJs (or least I) don’t really pound the volume too greatly.
But I didn’t.
I simply took pleasure in sneering (silently) at his ill-fitting black tshirt and daggy-bum (in a pre-2005 mode) jeans.
And then I dropped way too many lo-fi tracks on a crowd who could hear everything I couldn’t at the DJ console, and consequently could only hear a sort of muddy slurry in the mids. I took a series of walks around the room to see how things sounded, and decided nothing could be done. So I had to pump it nu skewl at regular intervals.
In retrospect, it’s breaking my heart.
I used exactly the same type (and age) desk at the speegs as I do at CBD, but it all works nicely and is well cared for there. I could play what I liked and it sounded great. There’s no lifting consoles out of the frame and then trying to reinsert them without pinching wires at the speegs. There’s (one of many available) sound dood(s) who’ll cheerfully help me set up and offered useful advice (I learnt more DJing there than in any other session anywhere with anyone else), one who smiled, reciprocated cheerfully when I introduced myself and extended my hand for a shake (mateship in DJing – he is the G-O) and who was, generally, so sweet I thought about buying him a beer for his efforts (but didn’t because they were $10 a pop and I was only paid $40 for 2 hours work).
But CBD is a scarily skanky mid-80s type nightclub. The sort of place you went to when you were 16 because you could get in without an ID. The sort of place where you could score any type of drug you liked, provided it was cut with… well, you really didn’t want to know. The place where young women met men in their 40s who had interesting opportunities in the film industry available for lovely young ladies like yourself.
I shouldn’t bitch, really – it’s the longest running swing dance venue in our town. It has 3 floors which we’ve used for a range of events. And while the management aren’t nice at all, they do let us continue to dance there. Though drinking there is a challenging proposition – $5 for a bottle of Gatorade? I don’t think so.
I know I need to learn more about levels and things (and to get a decent sound card), but still. This is a blog, and if there’s one thing a blog is for, it’s misinformed, self-righteous rants. I mean, the tag is always implied, right?
But I’d at least appreciate it if the sound dood was civil. And washed his hair more frequently.

yay! pears

yapears.jpg There’s something about the smell of ya pears that drives me wild. There are a couple in the kitchen right now, and I can smell then whenever I go in there (which is quite frequently). I love the smell – it’s a perfume.
I love them. I love ya pears. I do. Unfortunately, I can only find them in the supermarkets and I’m sure they’re full of chemicals and are a scary hybrid thingy. But I just imagine what they’re like if they’re organic. Mmmm…

tokyo drift

We do actually intend to do something besides eat this week.
Perhaps.
So far I’ve had a couple of naps, eaten way too much, sat on the couch and ‘watched’ The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift, a film which, strangely, has caught my interest.
I am fascinated by the way each of these films seems to be using the same story line, but with different male protagonists, and a host of equally interchangeable booby girls of indeterminate ethnic origins. I’d like to say that my interest was caught by these sorts of things. But I was actually fascinated by the cars and the driving – the way these were ‘superlight’ cars with ‘powerful engines’. Basically, the ‘Tokyo drift’ involves taking corners really quickly in these light cars. You kind of ‘drift’ around the corners. Especially if you’re in a parking lot or driving down Mt Fuji (I think it was meant to be Mt Fuji – I wasn’t really paying much attention, and it seemed the obvious choice). There was a series of scenes very much like the ‘learning to dance’ bits of Footloose. And of course, a car-makeover.
In addition, there were a number of thinly veiled ‘American = best’ bits, including the necessity of fitting out an American Metal car with a full-on Japanese engine for the Big Race sequence, the protagonist making friends with an African American kid at school, lots of full on Japanese teen fashionistas buying ‘American’ sports shoes, a kind of narrative reworking of the term ‘gai jin’ by the protagonist and so on.
I think I want to see what dogpossumPosted infillums, tasmania

more fewd

Last night we went to Fish in North Hobart. The father had the stripey. The mother had flounder. The Squeeze and I said ‘no thankyou’ to interesting fish dishes, opting instead for the glutton option. I love seafood more than anything and simply can’t pass up the opportunity to stuff myself on it when we’re down here. So we ordered a platter thing. It had giant fresh prawns (of course) half a dozen oysters (of course – huge and awesome and fresh, though a bit gritty for my liking. I take that as a sign they didn’t do an excellent job shucking them), some calamari in an interesting batter, some giant, lovely white fish in a light batter, some interesting fish cakes (sort of shaped like fat little sausages and very tasty), some awesome smoked salmon and… it all came with their house salad – rocket + pear + parmesan.
All extremely awesome.
Tonight we had some family friends around for dinner, and because The Squeeze loves ham, we baked one for him. The mother and I had had a minor miscommunication and she’d ended up scoring a raw ham. From a butcher in the glorious Eastlands shopping center. Now, a raw ham is a rare beast (ahahhaha… sigh), and I had to ask for advice from the butcher about what to do with it. He suggested simmering it (ie boiling it) for 2 – 3 hours, then roasting it. So I did. In fact, we over cooked it a bit, so it was kind of falling off the bone when we took it out of the pot. I can assure you, there is nothing so unappealing… no, so utterly gross as a giant, boiled ham joint with the fat still with a few bristles in it and kind of slobbering away from the meat. And the smell…
So the father and I quickly peeled away the fat (though, in retrospect, we should have left it on to keep it moister… but I don’t like to cook ham with the fat on), poked in a few dozen cloves, and popped it in the oven with the glaze. The glaze is an orange and mustard one from Gourmet Traveller 2004 and is very very lovely. It cooked longer than it should have, looked a bit dry to me, but tasted quite spectacular.
We really like that glaze – it’s very tasty. And while the boiling was a pain in the arse, it sure added to the depth of taste (like I know what that means).
We had it with a nice big green salad (our standard – baby spinach, rocket, tomatoes, red capsicum, a few boiled eggs, some pieces of cheese, fresh mushrooms and with a dressing of olive oil + red wine vinegar + garlic + honey + seeded mustard) and the potato salad with the red onions, capers etc (though not the chilli – :( ). It was all very lovely. After that we had some blueberries, raspberries, assorted other fruit and some King Island Dairy yoghurt (insanely expensive but very lovely) and/or mascarpone. It was quite lovely.
We also put together the mincemeat for the pies yesterday, so had some contreau left.
I don’t drink, ordinarily, but the father has such good taste in wine, I’m always tempted to a half glass of something. This time it’s been a few nice New Zealand wines – Vavasour savignon blanc last night at Fish. And tonight a guest brought another nice New Zealander. Then we had a spot of contreau.
The food has been really bloody ace so far. And I haven’t even mentioned the pies we had at Jackman and McRoss yesterday lunchtime.
But here’s the ham glaze recipe. I thoroughly recommend it if you’re doing a ham this festivus.
Cider-mustard glazed ham (serves 15-20 as part of a buffet)
560ml dry apple cider
100g firmly packed dark brown sugar
1/2 cup dijon mustard
2tbsp cider vinegar
40ml port
finely grated rind of 1 orange
1/4 tsp each ground allspice, ground mace, ground cloves
5kg leg of cooked ham rind removed and fat scored in a criss-cross pattern
cloves to decorate
1. Combine 1 cup cider, sugar, mustard, vinegar, port, rindand spcies in a small saucepan and stir over medium heat until sugar dissolves, then simmer for 2 minutes.
2. Stud ham with cloves, then place on a rack in a roasting pan, brush with cider mixture, then pour remaining cider and cider mixture into base of pan and bake at 180 degrees celcius for 1 hour or until glazed and golden, brushing frequently with pan juices. Remove from oven and stand for 10 minutes before serving warm or at room temperature.
I often cut off as much as the fat as I can and it’s plenty moist enough. The layer of fat can be really quite revolting, and I say this as the sort of person who quite likes a bit of fat on meat. As I said, the boiled ham was far tastier than the usual supermarket one we cook (we prefer a ‘boneless ham’… though it disturbs us to think of the boneless piggies on the farm – all that fat comes from an (understandable) lack of exercise on their part), but it was a pain in the arse. If you’re up for that action, just boil it on a low heat for 2 – 3 hours.
We also find that there’s a lot of the sauce left (make sure you baste regularly, btw), so we pop it in a little jug on the table, just in case people are after a little sauce. The Squeeze prefers to add his own mustard, though.
And, of course, this ham action is perfect for sandwiches the next day.

some more salad recipes

Here is a ‘salad’ I’ve been making a lot lately. It’s one I ripped off Maria in Brisvegas taught me and it’s very nice.
Basically, you make some couscous (I just rinse it under warm water, then sit it in a bowl with some warm water til it gets fluffy. I usually have to nuke it to make the consistency right as I’m crap at making couscous).
While that’s sorting itself out, you chop up some tomatoes (I’ve found just slicing cherry tomatoes in half is good enough), chop up some fresh coriander and fresh basil and put it all in a bowl. Add a can of rinsed chickpeas (of course, avoid brands like master food – use a decent brand). Make a dressing of vinegar, olive oil and crushed garlic. Mix everything together.
I like to make enough dressing to make everything taste nice.
I’ve made this a few times lately, serving it with barbequed sword fish (my most recent passion) and another salad:
dice one green apple
dice a small cucumber (you know the type – not the giant ones, but the small ones)
slice some mint finely (not too much, but not too little)
add a generous handful of bean sprouts (the usual type – mung bean sprouts I guess)
and mix in a bit of white vinegar to give it all bite
This is an awesome salad to have with fish. I often make it with pineapple instead of apple, though I simpy can’t bring myself to pay more than a dollar for a pineapple… and when they never seem to get below $3 in Melbourne… It sucks, because I have a few really good recipes which use pineapples, but they were so cheap in Queensland, I just can’t bring myself to spend up big on them.
Anyway, these two salads go awesomely with fish. Especially big, fat swordfish steaks.

I am in TASMANIA

And it’s very nice, thanks.
The temperatures will apparently get up to 28 degrees tomorrow, so the Taswegians are all at the supermarket buying bottled water and sunhats.
Right now I’m sitting at the kitchen table looking out at Mt Wellington under a perfect blue sky, with the Derwent all twinkly and blue. Later on I might wander down to the Cascade brewery to drink beer (well, softdrinks and juices, actually), utilising their ‘taster’ pass, and later on we’re going to have people around for dinner.
Tomorrow we’re going to go for a big long walk (along the water at Salamanca) until we get to the shops, then we are going to have a sit and eat some restorative fish and chips on the pier.
On Tuesday, sitting about at gate 6 at Tullamarine, waiting to board the plane, we watched at least 2 dozen strangers discover they weren’t, and we were reminded of the (slightly disoncerting) friendliness of Taswegians. Yesterday at a cafe I nearly made a nice waitress at Jackman and McRoss cry because I was using my Melbourne manners*. Tomorrow I will take her some flowers and shower her with anecdotes about my family (most of whom she will already know), invite her to a barbeque (at which she will run into her brother and at least 2 ex-boyfriends) and then go hiking with her on the weekend.
*Dave told me to stop being a bitch. I agreed that not asking her about her plans for christmas was perhaps going too far.

more mosaic

Browsing the Mosaic site (always a dangerous enterprise), I’ve decided I want these lovely things:

These sets are really amazing shit – they’re remastered by people who know what they’re doing, so the quality is fabulous. The selection of tracks is sensible and/or creative. And there are just so many CDs! Those prices look expensive, but when you work it out, you’re still paying less than $30 a CD (mostly), for what are limited edition and wonderful collections.
For DJs, this shit is gold because the quality is good enough to hack our amplified sound systems and dodgy set ups. While you may be able to find lots of these songs on other albums, they’re quite often crappy quality – lots of snap crackle and pop, and more horribly, lots of really nasty ‘remastering’ by people who didn’t have a clue. I have a couple of CDs I picked up recently which have the scariest ‘stereo’ sound ever – they’ve made mono recordings stereo and managed to remove all the dynamics, and energy of each recording. Which sucks, as these are actually pretty neat collections.
So I’m pining for the Mosaic stuff. Still. Is it worth cracking open my DJing money fund (I’ve saved every pay so far – and have less than $500 to show for it. Hardly a fast track to fortune (or fame, for that matter) for some of this goodness?

minor/majorkeys

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