Broken knee

It's happened.

I was fearful that this was what had happened and I have been justified in my fears.

I have ruptured the anterior cruciate ligament in my left knee.

The initial denial stopped me from seeing a doctor as soon as I should. I tried to persevere and I even managed to go back to training a few times.

Alas, it was for nothing. Collapsing in a heap in agony should have notified me of this earlier.

Instead, I now find myself facing a full knee reconstruction.

So I have a painful surgery and a huge amount of rehabilitation in front of me.

Talking to my doctor (who it turns out is one of the top knee orthos in Australia), I have been advised to use the patella tendon graft as opposed to the hamstring graft. It's going to hurt more, but it seems like it's going to give me the strongest knee ligament and the smaller chance of the graft not taking.

The extra pain isn't welcome, but short term pain for longer term gain seems like the best option to take.

Not having the surgery isn't really an option.

I want my active life back. I want to ski again and I want the thrill of taking a mark back.

It's just another challenge to overcome.

Just one more game

Damn Hawks.

I've never quite known why the fortunes of the Hawks impacts my mood so much, but it does.

The Hawks had somehow managed to lose their finals game and so I was guaranteed a week with a foul mood.

I had to console myself with attending the game between the Sydney Swans and the Carlton Blues instead.

The Hawks may have been knocked out, but there were plenty of teams I hated who I could cheer against. The Blues would be a good team to start cheering against.

One enormous downside was that I would need to go to ANZ Stadium out at Homebush.

I hate this stadium.

It's cold and unfeeling. There's a disconnect between the seats and the action on the field.

My boss refuses to even go to it.

And that's before you even start thinking about the annoying trip required to reach it.

However, that wasn't going to stop me enjoying the game.

And what a game it was! A tight and close encounter that lasted until the very last moment of the game. The Blues lost, which was fantastic. The Hawks may be out of the finals, but that doesn't mean there aren't plenty of teams for me to barrack against.
I love being at the footy.

There isn't anything that compares to the roar of the crowd at an AFL game. The Sydney supporters were out in force for once and provided one of the few occassions where the atmosphere at an AFL game in Sydney was actually a positive.

But, for every winner, there must be a loser.

Watching the Blues drop their heads into their hands, I almost felt sorry for them.

.... until I remembered who they were, at which point I burst into hysterical laughter.

Classy seats

I went to a Aussie Rules football match a few weeks ago.

My beloved Hawthorn Hawks were playing up in Sydney, so as a Hawks member, I was able to get my fix of football for the year.

Sadly the result didn't go as I had hoped.

So I won't be discussing it.

In fact, as far as I'm concerned, the result never happened (and I didn't spend the end of the game screaming abuse the players as the ran off the field).

A few days ago, I was given the opportunity to watch a game minus the personal interests affecting my mental state and judgement.

The added incentive was that I was being offered SCG members' tickets.

The seats were fantastic, with the added bonus of a conveniently placed bar that served a far wider range of beers than in the general admission areas.

They also had a lovely selection of cakes.

I found myself in a strange situation I had never been in before.

Sitting at the football, drinking beer that wasn't awful and eating a slice of cake.

It seemed a world away from my usual cup of tea, meat pie and obstructed view.

The game was also significant because it was the last time that the Swans captain, Brett Kirk, would ever play at the SCG as he was headed towards retirement.
It was a fantastic way to watch a game.

From outside, we always used to yell at the Members... but it's hard not to be happy once your in the comfortable confines this section.

Like a sponge

Josh decided to look back to his childhood for the first thing he would make with his new toy.

Instead of making something exotic or that he had seen being made by one of the dozens of celebrity chefs (and there really do seem to be a lot of celebrity chefs these days... many of whom don't even appear to be celebrities), Josh decided he wanted to make a nice sponge cake.

And really, who could blame him?

Growing up in Australia, this was a staple of our childhood diets. This was what you would have packed into your lunch box for recess. This was what the old ladies at the church picnics would bake for everyone.

I was happy to help.

As Josh began to prepare the sponges and the creams, I gave him a hand making the chocolate icing.
It's such a relatively straight forward cake compared to what people seem to demand these days, but that did not impact our anticipation of it.
As Josh began spreading the icing with the palette knife, what was before us was like a vision from our childhood days.
And in all honesty, who can say no to a nice slice of sponge cake?

It's time to kick it up a notch!

Cooking as something enjoyable started for me during my university days.

Unable to afford food cooked in restaurants and sick of eating meals out of cans, I was forced to learn how to cater for myself (it also didn't help that I had accidentally signed up for a self-catered college instead of the fully catered college I originally wanted to go to).

As time progressed, cooking moved from being purely for the purposes of sustenance to being an enjoyable challenge.

And like any challenge, as I became better at it, the difficulty of the tasks I gave myself increased as well.

However, none of this changed the fact that I was still a poor student....

I could learn all manner of skills, but that wouldn't change the fact that I was still working with relatively basic tools and ingredients.

Things were now changing though. Full time jobs and the associated funds have that effect.

Josh was the one who fired the first shot in our escalation of seriousness towards cooking and food.

He bought a KitchenAid for the apartment!!!

It looks amazing doesn't it? And it's completely worth it. Tasks which used to take an age, now get finished in seconds. It reduces so many tasks that were previously time consuming to being mere formalities.

Meandering through life

Before heading back to Sydney, I thought it would be nice to have a quick look at the local towns of Katoomba and Leura.

They were nice places and it was impossible not to use the word "quaint" to describe them (even though it's difficult to describe what the word really means).

However, there was definitely something amiss.

At first I couldn't work out what it was.

But it came to me quickly.

I didn't really fit into the "Blue Mountains crowd".

There seemed to be two types of people who travelled to the Blue Mountains. There were those who were part of the organised tour groups and then there were the couples on romantic get aways.

I didn't fit into these two groups.

Wandering on the streets between these two groups made me feel strangely out of place. It was like being a child again, being dragged to an event by your parents.

Or maybe the better way to describe it would be the other way around. Being a parent, dragged to something your children wanted to go to.

With all of the boutiques, expensive furniture stores and high end chocolate makers, this certainly felt like some sort of bizarro Disneyland for pensioners and couples.

Still, I made the best of it.

I wandered around like a tourist. I browsed a CWA market. I bought some pancake syrup.

I gawked at the Christmas store.....

A positive attitude is usually all you need to enjoy yourself.

Relaxing in the mountains

Walking around a huge amount wasn't on my agenda with a very sore knee.

Instead, I was hoping for a quiet break where I could have some respite from work and the city.

The place I found myself seemed fairly sufficient for that purpose.

The birthday bash was being held in this house with its own large garden and we were all staying overnight.
There were no complaints from me at all.

Getting out of the apartment and to somewhere more spacious was welcome.
I had become accustomed to constant noise and activity of working in the city and living in a full apartment.

The peace and quiet of these surrounds stood in sharp contrast. It was nice to be able to walk through the gardens by myself and to smell the scent of eucalyptus in the air.
As night arrived and the temperatures dropped, we were all able to gather next to the fire.
All of these things were very simple pleasures, but I had clearly forgotten about them until now.

The Blue Mountains

It feels like it's been a long time since I've been travelling anywhere. I don't like the static feeling of being stuck in one place for so long. Living in Sydney, while generally enjoyable, is beginning to make me feel a bit trapped.

The opportunity to get out of the city was very welcome, even if it was a short trip somewhere close.

My good friend Rachel was being given a surprise birthday party and we were all invited up to the Blue Mountains.

I had amazingly never been the Blue Mountains.

Well, that wasn't exactly true.

I "had" been to the Blue Mountains when I was younger. However, this was back in high school days, when we were driven into the middle of the bush and left to fend for ourselves. Struggling through the bush with backpacks, freeze dried food and tarps for shelter was not the most relaxing way to experience the place.

I now found myself enjoying this place at a far more than my previous experience.

Being able to walk at my own pace rather than being forced on a death march seems to have that effect.I was also able to see the famous "Three Sisters".

It was OK I guess.

I didn't understand what all the commotion was about though.
The scenery was admittedly very nice. But I wasn't blown away and I didn't feel the shiver in my spine that I get when I see something truly spectacular.
I wonder whether it's because I am comparing it to other places? Am I being unfair and comparing it to places that are simply too much more impressive? Or maybe it is that I now look through eyes filled with too much cynicism.

Regardless, what I should do, is ignore these thoughts in the back of my mind, and just enjoy the moments immediately before me.

Cooking a cloud

In the last two years, Australia has been taken over by the craze of "Masterchef".

This show was originally from the UK, but it has been reformatted for Australian audiences.

The results have been pretty spectacular. The show has taken over popular culture. It's on 6 times a week and regularly tops the ratings. Who would have thought that a cooking show would have become this popular?

Something that people have become fond of doing is attempting the numerous recipes that are used in the show for themselves.

I was keen to try this myself!

And the recipe I wanted to try was a rhubarb and blackberry soufflé with a crumble topping.

Sounds good doesn't it?

Andy was keen to try the recipe as well. Sadly for Josh, he found himself called away at the last moment. As he grabbed his keys and walked out the door, Andy and I could see him staring hungrily at our preparations.

That wasn't going to stop Andy and I with our attempt at the soufflé though.

I was a touch nervous. I had never made a souffle before (of any kind) and I knew of how temperamental they could be. The last thing I wanted was another macaron debacle that would leave me tired, cranky and with little to show for it.

First thing to do was to prepare the stewed fruit. Lots of chopping and a disturbing amount of sugar later and the stewing of the rhubarb and blackberries was under way.

As Andy continued to stir the stewed fruit, I began to prepare the crumble to top it off with by chopping the hazelnuts.
I chopped the hazelnuts finely and combined them with the sugar, butter, flower and oats. I then spread the mixture out evenly on some baking paper to be placed in the oven.
Things seemed to be going well enough as I put the crumble mixture into the
oven to brown. Nothing disastrous had happened and all our work appeared to be going smoothly.With the crumble nicely browned, and the fruit having been stewed to a point that it now held its shape, we now needed to prepare the ramekins.

A souffle is a delicate thing. Even the most minor of interferences can stop it from rising properly. To prevent this from happening, the ramekins need to be well buttered and sugared. This creates a lubricant that allows the soufflé mixture to rise as it expands.
One layer of butter is brushed on, then another, then sugar is laid over the top of this.
With the ramekins ready and sitting in the fridge. We turned out attention back to the soufflé mixture.

The fruit stew needed to be combined with the egg whites after we had beaten them to soft peaks. These beaten egg whites have a huge amount of sugar added to them.

Once beaten, we take turns slowly folding the mixture together. Carefully, we move the spatula through the mixture, ensuring we don't knock the air out of the soufflé. After all of this work, the last thing we want if for a mixture that fails to rise.
Then, we gently spoon the mixtures in the ramekins we prepared earlier, taking particular care to not disturb the butter and sugar coating on the side. We cleaned off the tops with a palette knife and using the tips of our thumbs, we carved sharp edges into the mixture to create a lip on each soufflé.
The soufflé were now ready to be placed into the oven.
I sat in front of the over, waiting patiently. Hoping that they would rise.
Thankfully, all my worries were unfounded.

After they had risen about a centimetre, we took the soufflés out of the oven and added the crumble on top.
A few more minutes and they were done!
It was hard not to feel pleased.

After the difficulties I had faced in making the macarons, I was taking this as a win.

Our soufflés had risen more than I could have imagined, with the crumble perched precariously on top.
It was now time to determine whether our best efforts had been successful and whether the flavour matched the appearance.
Thankfully, the recipe and our best efforts had been a success.
The soufflé's flavour was sweet and fresh, matching well to the lightness of the texture.

I wonder what I should try to make next.

How the professionals do it

My best efforts to make French macarons came up painfully short (on the whole).

The success I had with a few couldn't disguise the failure I had with most of the others.

This reality presented itself again when my housemate Josh brought home a box of macarons made by a professional.

I may have a bit more to do before I reach that level.

Macarons are hard to make

I enjoy baking.

I think it comes from my days back at uni. Living in a self-catered dorm, and rushing between study, work, classes and socialising, there was a need to become efficient with cooking.

It was around this time I discovered the oven. The long forgotten cooking implement in a college full of students.

Baking seemed to provide with the ability to prepare, then walk away.

I would do the prep, shove it in the oven, wander off to do my study and come back to find a hot meal that didn't come out of a packet or a can.

Over time, as my abilities grew, so did my ambitions. I would start baking more complicated dishes and start challenging myself with more difficult recipes. It wasn't too long, before baking became more than merely a convenience, I actually began to enjoy it.

However, there was one thing I never tried to make.

French macarons.

I had always been told about how difficult these were too make. So now that I had a bit of time, why not? How difficult could it really be? Surely this would only take a couple of hours or so and then I would have some fresh macarons to eat.

The first mistake I made was not adjusting the volume in the recipe.

The next mistake I made was thinking that this was going to be easy.

Every single step of the way, I seemed to run into difficulty.

Forcing the almond meal through the sieve, getting enough egg whites, having large enough bowls for the mixtures, getting the egg whites to stiffen....

Two hours in, and there still didn't seem to be anything remotely close to a finished product.

I kept working, and eventually I managed to combine the mixtures and get everything in the oven.

Thankfully "some" of the macaron shells came out looking like I had hoped.
As I left them to cool, I started to make the ganache. I didn't want to make a simple ganache, so I had chosen a more complex recipe that was supposed to give a smoother and more velvety texture.

By the third attempt and two discarded disasters, I managed (with the help of Andy who had grown tired of hearing me screaming in the kitchen) to achieve what appeared to be a semblance of what I had hoped to make.

Time was ticking on past three hours since I had started now.

I slowly began filling the macaron shells with the ganache, boxed them up and put them into the freezer to set.

It had been almost four hours since I had started.

The simple job was clearly not so simple.

What I had was a small batch of macarons that I thought looked the part!
Crispy shells, nicely developed feet, chewy textures and silky smooth ganache.

I'm still undecided as to whether it was worth the trouble though!

A different view (part III)

I need to start carrying my camera with me again.

Part of the fun of taking photos is the spontaneity of finding the shot you like when you least expect it.

Unfortunately, the camera in my phone really doesn't suffice. The grainy photos it takes doesn't do justice to the images I am trying to capture.

One cold and wet night in Sydney, I was wandering out of the public swimming pool having completed some laps as instructed by the physio (Aussie rules football has wrecked my knee) when I noticed another of Sydney's landmarks being illuminated as part of the Vivid Festival.

Seeing St Mary's Cathedral glowing an eerie blue, with strange writing slowly scrolling across the front isn't something you see everyday.

Even though I was standing shivering in the rain, I couldn't help but think that the foul weather we had been having somehow added to this show, with the rain capturing more of the light and adding a glistening shine to everything.

Creating atmosphere

I used to hate buskers.

I found them annoying and generally a bit sad, garnering most of their money from pity rather than actual talent.

However, my attitudes began to change as I started to see that buskers were not merely school children and professional annoyers.

I started seeing genuinely talented performers, people who were dedicated to the craft of performing. Working at Cirque du Soleil also gave me a far better insight into the world of performers, with many of the top Cirque artists having honed their craft as street performers.

Then, my first trip to Europe truly opened my eyes. I was given a glimpse of a world where even the average street performers seemed plucked from concert halls. Walking through the train stations, I would be confronted by violinists and pianists who played with such emotion that I felt compelled to reach into my pocket for any loose change. I found myself in Bonn, standing in the town square once mesmerised by the Roma performers in their brightly coloured clothes and almost hypnotic music.

And now I find myself with a changed perspective towards the craft of the street performer.
.... even those who are clearly seeking to achieve more through novelty value rather than through skill in their craft.