Newsletter
August 2012
How to Sing to a Wombat | Recent Awards
Books News | Schedule for 2012/13
Celebrate Reading National Conference
The August Garden … plus growing your own coffee, and some undiscovered fruit tree stars.
A Few Recipes:
Thai-style barbecue chicken
Honeyed chicken wings (or any other part of the chook)
Chicken with tomatoes, almonds, orange and basil
Baked coconut custard
Almost Instant Lime or Lemon Tarts
Baked orange custards
Infallible and incredibly simple Rich and Moist Sticky Fruit Cake – no added sugar or butter
How to Sing to a Wombat
It’s every person’s dream to have wildlife come up to you, like Snow White with bluebirds sitting on her hands, or even have wild animals just ignore you, grazing while you garden or have a picnic. (Okay, it’s every nice person’s dream. Nasty people please stop reading.)
Years ago I mentioned singing to wombats, as a way of getting close enough to observe their lives. Somehow, ever since then, I seem to have been answering questions about how exactly do you sing to wombats, and get them to trust you enough to watch them closely. Trust me: I am no Snow White, nor does my singing voice have anything magical about it.
Wild animals do get used to humans. Down on the south coast of NSW the roos graze on the green lawns and in the picnic places, and visitors are asked not to feed them in case they get mugged by a determined male roo or cause the kangaroos genuine health problems by encouraging them to fill up on junk food like slices of bread.
Some animals are more timid than others. Wombats usually aren’t timid at all (though wombats’ temperaments vary as much as humans, and I’ve met a few wombat wimps, as well as others who will bite your ankle then give the wombat equivalent of a snigger).
Wombats aren’t scared of much, but they are very easily startled. Wombats can’t see very well or, rather, they can see dirt and grass extremely well but don’t have good ‘long sight’. They can hear well, but rely more on their extraordinary sense of smell to tell them what’s happening nearby.
Tragically, this is why so many wombats are run over when they graze on the side of the road. They hear a car coming, think about it, then dash to safety just as the car is on them.
So how do you tell a wombat, ‘I am your friend, or at least a neighbour who isn’t going to interfere with you or your baby or your favourite patch of tussock?’
This is what I needed to do three weeks ago when a new wombat arrived in one of the holes by our house. She has a baby in her pouch, so was extra cautious and, possibly, extra aggressive if she suddenly decided I was a threat.
Step 1. Stand still, as soon as you see the new wombat. Don’t yell, ‘Hey, there's a wombat!' Don’t take another step forwards or even back, as both might startle her. Just stand there.
Step 2. Make a soft but boring noise, so she knows exactly where you are. Singing works well for this, unless you are given to soaring operatic arias. Arias are okay though if you can sing them softly, without the soaring bit. Saying, ‘Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb … ’ 10,000 times also works.
Step 3. Keep standing there, making the same repetitive noise. The wombat will probably dart away a few steps; stop; think about it; dart away again for another three steps. Stop. Think. Scratch. Think again.
She may then take a mouthful of grass or tussock, still thinking, noting that the noise and scent don’t change even when she’s eating and more vulnerable.
This is the time to leave, walking away quietly and steadily, singing, singing, with no pause in your steps so she doesn’t think you might head back suddenly. You’ve laid the foundation of familiarity and can now come back the next night and the next.
Step 4. If you want to get closer that first meeting, you’ll need to spend at least an hour, or maybe two, standing in that one place mumbling or singing, unless you were lucky enough to be seated when you first saw her, in which case you’ll be a lot more comfortable. But if you sit after she has become aware of you she’ll probably run for her hole.
Or stand. Sing or mutter, with a few breaks to rest your voice. She’ll come closer and closer, munching, but alert. She will be curious, possibly wanting to evaluate you in case you’re dangerous, but also maybe just plain curious.
Step 5. Either your legs will ache or your tummy rumble and you’ll head back home; or else she’ll come close to you and really sniff you, taking about half an hour to sniff from different locations.
Step 6. Once she’s well and truly learned all about you from your scent, she’ll recognise both your scent and your voice next time. She’ll still be cautious, but is more likely to just go about her business of eating, scratching and smelling the world, ignoring you. You’ll be able to get close enough to observe her and every day she’ll be more relaxed in your company.
Warning signs:
If she growls at you, back off, fast – she may bite. She may also decide to bite you anyway, after you’ve spent two hours dutifully singing to her and trying to imitate a statue, or one of those people who imitate statues and want you to pay them for it.
Wombats may decide to bite you because a.) they don’t like your smell; b.) something suddenly frightened them – perhaps a pigeon flying by or; c.) they’re grumpy – in which case they’ll probably bite a passing wallaby too. And there is always d.) a wombat who bites just to say, ‘Hi, how are you going?’ These are usually young wombats being playful. Older ones, with arthritis and aching bones, are grumpiest; females with babies the most easily scared.
Always wear thick jeans or gumboots or other protective gear on your lower legs when wombat watching.
And when it works …
It’s probably not worth getting to know a wombat you’ll never meet again. But if they have just moved in to your place – or you have just moved into their place – or you plan to track wombats and other animals in this area again, the few hours spent letting a wombat get to know you is worth more than rubies.
Wombats play, grin, use sticks or even boxes as tools, chase each other, slide down muddy banks or snow-covered hills then climb back up to do it all again. They’ll swim across a flood, or try to walk across a creek under water, or ... insert ten thousand wombat wonders here. 98% of a wombat’s day is eating, scratching and sleeping. But the other 2% is fascinating – and you never quite know what or when it will be.
Recent Awards
The CBC Awards will be announced on August 17. (I know the results already). Two of my books are shortlisted, Nanberry: Black Brother White, and Flood, created with Bruce Whatley.
Book News
Dingo: the dog who conquered a continent.
I fell in love with a dingo when I was seven years old. I had been sent to recuperate on an island off the Queensland coast, after complications with a bad case of measles.
The dingo had adopted the two kids I made friends with. He wasn’t a pet – we certainly never touched him or fed him or even tried to get closer to him. I vaguely remember Mum asking a bit anxiously if the dingo would bite and being told laconically, ‘Not if you don’t go near him.’
But he looked after us, alert if an adult came by, only relaxing when we showed that we weren’t scared.
I suspect he was an ‘uncle’ dingo. In dingo packs only the dominant female and male breed, with the others helping to rear the young. Perhaps ‘our’ dingo had decided that these particular human children needed a watchful eye, too.
Could he have hurt someone? Yes, of course – if he hadn’t been treated with respect and caution. But just as back then we kids were told never to go in swimming after a storm, or at dawn or dusk or on cloudy days, as the sharks might be close to shore, we were also taught never to feed or even approach a wild dingo too closely, nor did Mum allow my baby brother to toddle about with us, when the dingo might be around. And that, of course, was part of the magic too. He was ‘our’ dingo, not other kids’.
Dingo is about the first dingo to reach Australia – possibly a ‘rubbish dog’, taken in a canoe as potential food, or to throw to threatening sharks, not as a companion. According to DNA evidence, it’s possible that all dingos are descended from one dog and her puppies.
This is also the story of Loa, lost in a storm after the girl he loves marries another, who finds himself alone and injured in a new land. He and the dog face crocodiles, bushfire, cyclone and flood learning that two working together can survive – and be happy – better than one alone.
Probably dogs have become domesticated many thousands of different times and at different places. This book is what one of those times might have been like.
It was also a fascinating challenge to try to recreate the times and way of life of 6,000 years ago. So often people assume that indigenous culture was the same for hundreds or thousands of years, or that all indigenous cultures were pretty much alike. Neither is true.
There are no written records from 6,000 years ago. I studied archaeological reports, looked at the tools used, the residues of human faeces that showed what people had been eating, the fish hook that showed not just the massive fish they could catch but how they were probably fishing from canoes too, and what those canoes might have been like. Pollen residues show what plants were available 6,000 years ago, and other evidence proves that coconuts, for example, and wild millet, almost certainly weren’t being eaten in Australia’s near north in those says either.
It was a gloriously adventurous time to write about. But at its heart is that skinny wild dog, from all those years ago, the first dingo that I loved.
Pennies for Hitler
This book is about a boy called Georg, who lives in Germany in 1939 and idolises Hitler. But when a graduation ceremony he is attending with his parents is interrupted by a gang of Brownshirts he must be smuggled out of Germany to England to survive. In England, however, he is German and an enemy, and must become George, not Georg. When he is evacuated to Australia during the Blitz he must still pretend. He is the boy who isn’t there.
But in Australia he is adopted by the Peaslakes and the girl next door, Mud. He even finds an enemy that isn’t him, with the threat of Japanese invasion. He also discovers that while hatred is contagious, love and kindness can be too.
The first two reviews have been wonderful and the book has already been reprinted, but there are always those few months of terror waiting to see how a book will be received, especially one like this, where so much of my heart is in it.
Pennies for Hitler is the companion book to Hitler’s Daughter, now in more translations than I have tried to count, and with awards both in Australia and from overseas. Usually when I write a book I put aside those themes and that time, and go on to a new subject. But watching the brilliant team at Monkey Baa rework and rethink the book in their two productions of the play, as well as the powerful and extraordinary workshops they did with students, discussing and working through the themes, meant that the themes of Hitler’s Daughter stayed with me.
I wrote Pennies for Hitler last year, when much that I love was threatened and in the weeks following my father’s death – and I think that somehow both of those have come to be in the book too. But the book also follows up the themes of Hitler’s Daughter.
Sometimes many stories come together and become a book. More than ten years ago a story told in my childhood by a man – a kind man – who had once been a guard in a concentration camp, became the book Hitler’s Daughter.
But there were more stories of that time – the whispered memory of a friend’s father, who had watched his fellow students thrown out of a high window at a graduation day by a band of Nazis; the oral history of a Jewish boy who was told he had the ‘most Aryan head’ in the whole class; a neighbour who had escaped Nazi persecution in Germany as a small child, but had then become a German enemy in England, before finally – unexpectedly – discovering love and happiness in Australia.
They are all in Pennies for Hitler, though all changed too. But mostly, Pennies for Hitler came from a letter by a fourteen-year-old boy.
He was in a special needs class. Hitler’s Daughter was the first book he and his friends had ever read, maybe because they’d seen Monkey Baa’s Hitler’s Daughter: the play, and so found the book easy to follow.
His letter said:
Dear Jackie French,
What I have learned from your book is to be very wary of anyone who tries to make you angry.
Yours,
James.
I had never realised that message was in Hitler’s Daughter, but perhaps it’s the most important one there is.
So this book is for James. It is about a boy who isn’t there, who can’t be anywhere, because wherever he goes he is the enemy. It is about how hatred is contagious, but it is also about how kindness and love and compassion are contagious too. In a world where there are still destroyers, like the Nazis, there are also loving people like the Peaslake family of Pennies for Hitler, and indomitable friends like Mud.
You never know quite what you create when you let stories loose. Pennies for Hitler is an adventure and a love story in a strange way too. But I suspect that readers will find more in it than I knew I’d written, just as with Hitler’s Daughter.
A Day to Remember, created with Mark Wilson
This tells the history of Anzac Day decade by decade, which in a way is the history of Australia too.
Mark’s work is always extraordinary. This time it was so powerful that when I received his first thoughts I was unable to work on the book for three days, till my eye and heart was used to them. The faces of the children as they look at the Memorial, of the old man and his grandson, the despair and memory on the face of the woman in 1930 so that you just know she has lost lover, brother, father perhaps, the image of the man in body armour cradling the body of a child.
Nanberry: Black Brother White (see the 2012 CBC awards, released 17 August)
Every time I look at Nanberry: Black Brother White I think, ’How on earth did this happen?’
Once there were two brothers, one black, one white, in a colony at the end of the world. The two brothers witness the struggles of the colonists to keep their precarious grip on a hostile wilderness, the black brother haunted by the memories of the Cadigal warriors who will one day claim him as one of their own.
But that wasn’t the book I intended to write.
I wanted to write a short, mostly funny book, about Australia’s first doctor, so lonely that he tried to tame a possum. It was to be called The Possum Who Kissed a Convict.
I thought I knew the story, from Surgeon White’s diaries and letters of the time. The Aboriginal boy Surgeon White adopted when he was orphaned in the smallpox epidemic would be part of the background. ‘Native’ children back then were adopted as servants, and I’d found fewer than a dozen references to the boy. There was a convict housekeeper, too, who bore Surgeon White a child just before he left for England, maybe worth a page or three.
So much of what we think we know about those first years of the early colony is either myth or cliché. But my mother had read me Tench’s diaries from that time as bed-time stories. I thought I knew every primary source that could be used. Yet as I began to write ‘The Possum Who Kissed a Convict’ more information almost landed on my lap.
The transcripts of the Old Bailey trials came on line. Suddenly I discovered that Surgeon White had true companionship in Rachel Turner, possibly the first woman who was defended in an English court of law, almost certainly innocent. She would become the wealthiest, most loved woman in the colony. Nor did Surgeon White forget her when he sailed away. He supported her, wrote to her, insisted that his convict-born son come to him in England, to be educated as a gentleman. Draft two of the book changed completely. Now Rachel had an equal role with Surgeon White.
Andrew, their son, the illegitimate convict brat, became an officer. He fought at Waterloo, as a sapper. His life was to be a footnote in the book, which would end when Surgeon White was recalled to England, attempting to take his possum with him.
I contacted the Australian sappers simply to see what role the sappers played at Waterloo. Instead I found Steve Sheehan, who had been researching Andrew Douglass Keble White for over 20 years. Surgeon White’s son is celebrated not just as a Waterloo hero, but also as Australia’s first returned serviceman. There is a dinner in his honour every year.
By now The Possum Who Kissed a Convict was draft three. It was twice as long as draft one, with Andrew as one of the main characters, the book extended to take in his life, too. The book was almost ready for the printer.
Then at a history conference morning tea I mentioned I was writing a book about Surgeon White, who had adopted a boy called ‘Nanberry’. The woman behind me turned and said, ‘Nanberry is my ancestor.’ A few weeks later the letters of sailor Dawes were published – and there was a reference to Nanberry, giving him one of his other names as well. Suddenly, with the extra name, far more information was within reach. I stayed at my computer till 2 am, emailed friends who could help research.
I had it wrong, every bit of it. Nanberry was no servant. Surgeon White adopted him as his son, giving him the name he’d eventually give his own son when Nanberry insisted on keeping his own name. At eight years old this boy, with a genius for languages, became the colony’s translator.
Eventually Nanberry would become a Cadigal warrior and a sailor, balancing both cultures to achieve, I think, a life of great fulfilment. We hear so much of the tragedy of lives like Bennelong, but little of those like Nanberry, who found a respected life in both white and black society.
I rewrote the book again. And again. And again.
It was fascinating material, about extraordinary people: battles, lives sacrificed to codes of duty and survival against crippling odds of starvation, disease and isolation. It was a story of one man’s abiding love for his children and a woman he could never marry, and of two brothers, separated by race and all the prejudices of the time, who loved each other too. It is a story about how both of them triumphed over the circumstances of their birth.
Parts are almost unbelievable — and yet they happened. Above all, this book is as close to the primary sources as I could make it. Even much of the dialogue is words quoted from more than 200 years ago.
By the time I had completed draft fourteen, the book was Nanberry: Black Brother White, with the two brothers, not their father, at the centre. (The possum, however, stayed. It is difficult to get rid of possums, whether in your roof or writing.)
Could bringing together so much research make a compelling book? As with Flood, my other shortlisted book, I waited, scared, for the first readers’ reactions. Usually you know if a book works. (If you want to read the book you are writing instead of the book you pick up at bedtime, you can be pretty sure you’re on the right track.) I wondered if I had managed to make Flood accurate. With Nanberry: Black Brother White, I didn’t know if so much data could be condensed into a story. You can change fiction to make it more exciting. You can’t change the past.
Now, each time I read a review, open a letter or email about the book, I feel like crying. Nanberry: Black Brother White is so much their story – Nanberry’s, Andrew's, Rachel’s and Surgeon White’s. I desperately didn’t want to let them down.
But it was also a joy and a privilege to write this book, all fourteen versions of it, to track down their stories, from old letters and court transcripts to White’s own words, a compelling a window into that strange world of two hundred years ago.
Sometimes it’s almost as though there is a whisper through time: ‘Remember me.’ Most of all, I hope I have done those whispers justice.
A Waltz for Matilda
This (perhaps my favourite book) came out about eighteen months ago. I’ve just finished writing the sequel: sorry, correct that, I’ve just done version #2 of the sequel, with more work needed before its final editing. It will be out on December 1st, in time for Christmas. I’ll write more about it closer to the release date.
It is, I think, the best book I have written, just as Pennies for Hitler manages to go beyond the books of mine published earlier. It is as though in the last eighteen months I have finally learned enough craft to (almost) create the stories that almost seem to have created themselves, waiting to be told. There will be another two books in the series in the next two years.
Schedule for the Year to Come
It’s unlikely that any more talks can be fitted into 2012, unless they are next to somewhere I’ll be already, and a large part of next year has been pencilled in too. It may look like there are gaps where I can give more talks, but there are other commitments not listed, like writing books, sleeping, birthday parties, weddings, watching wombats and having lunch with friends – though not much of any of those till the end of November.
August 20-24 (Book Week): Talks in Brisbane. Contact Helen Bain at Speaker’s Ink.
August 25-30: Melbourne Literary Festival, including two family days on the 25th and 26th, and then talks to Melbourne schools.
31 August-1 September: Talks at Bairnsdale, Victoria.
September 3, 4 and 5: Three days’ talks in Melbourne. For details or bookings contact Simon O'Carrigan at Booked Out simon@bookedout.com.au.
September 15, 16: Talks at Floriade, Canberra.
September 22, 23: Talks at Floriade, Canberra.
October 13, 14: Talks at Floriade, Canberra.
October 2-4: History Teacher’s conference in Perth.
October 20: In Sydney to see Hitler’s Daughter: the play, before the company heads off to tour the USA and Canada next year. There may be a companion workshop on the 19th or 20th, too.
October 24: Children’s Day, ACT, and a literacy workshop at Marymead, ACT.
October 25-27: Fremantle, WA for the Fremantle Literature Centre’s Celebrate Reading Conference.
November 17 and 18: Four Open Garden workshops here, on the Saturday and Sunday morning and afternoons. Bookings are essential and bookings and details need to be arranged through the Open Garden Scheme. (We leave it all to them – I’m not even sure how much they charge. Participants are brought here by bus as there isn’t room to park here.)
November 21 and 22 talks in Lithgow, NSW. Contact the Lithgow Library if you or your school would like to be part of the visit.
2013
February 20: Literary lunch Narooma, NSW.
February 21: Talks at Moruya High School.
March 12- 16: Somerset Literary Festival, Queensland.
Late March onwards: Hitler’s Daughter: the play, by the wonderful Monkey Baa Theatre for Young People tours the USA and Canada. At this stage I don’t know which openings we may go to.
July 23-25: Talks in Brisbane. Contact Helen at Speaker’s Ink for booking and details.
Celebrate Reading National Conference
Insights into Quality Australian Literature for Young Adults
26-27 October, 2012 Fremantle, WA
Fremantle Children’s Literature Centre, Old Fremantle Prison Hospital
Cnr Hampton Rd and Knutsford St, Fremantle WA 6160
Tel: 08 9430 6869 Fax: 08 9430 5279 Web: www.fclc.com.au <http://www.fclc.com.au/><http://www.fclc.com.au/>
Facebook: Fremantle Children's Literature Centre
This should be wonderful. Mostly writers at literary festivals only meet the audiences- there are concurrent sessions so you aren’t able to listen to other writers or artists. This time I will finally be able to listen to Shaun Tan live, not on the small screen, as well as Isobel Carmody and Gary Crew among others, though by miracles of programming I actually have managed to listen to Gary several times in the past decade, and each time it has been fascinating. There are no concurrent sessions. It will be small, with solo as well as panels, and hopefully generate the kind of discussions that will meander over days, from morning tea till dinner. Each delegate has a reputation for giving insights, often passionate and controversial ones, not just a pr mutter about their latest book.
The August Garden … plus growing your own coffee, and some undiscovered fruit tree stars.
August is sunlight and promise, tempting you out to plant in cold soil. Warning: if you’re still wearing a cardigan – not to mention the thermals, alpaca jumper, jeans, ugg boots and thick socks that I’m wearing as I type this – don’t be tempted to plant any spring or summer veg yet. They’ll either burn off in the next frost, or decide they have gone through spring and winter and go to seed. See the list below for planting lists.
For those who are longing to plant something, anything, just to get out into the scent of growing grass and budding trees, consider a few of the more unusual trees. They may not be as delicious as cherries, but they are fun. Most are also good ‘footpath’ trees – so uncommon that no one else will bother to harvest them, even though they are on public land. On the other hand, if someone does take fancy to your carob or your , you can feel warm and fuzzy and generous, knowing that you’ve given someone the equivalent of winning a small fruit type lottery.
Carob
Carob doesn't have chocolate's caffeine, theobromine (the stuff that makes you feed WONDERFULLLLL ... ) or its taste. It's also much higher in fat. On the other hand, it's brown, can be made sweet and has roughly the same texture.
Carob 'Cocoa' Powder
This is made by grinding the carob pods in a coffee grinder or blender (but don't blame me if the blender breaks) till they are powdery (not the seeds - they are too tough).
Carob cocoa
Pour a little water over 2-4 teaspoons of carob powder, 1 teaspoon sugar (sort of optional) and a few drops of vanilla (also sort of optional). Mix till smooth. Add one cup of milk, heat slowly, stirring all the time. Drink hot and pretend it's cocoa.
Carob 'chocolate'
1 cup carob powder
2 cups caster sugar
half a cup milk
quarter of a cup butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
Mix sugar and carob in a saucepan with a little of the milk till smooth. Add the rest of the milk then the butter. Heat slowly, stirring all the time, till it's thick enough to coat the spoon, then a bit more. Take off the heat, add vanilla, beat for about five minutes (you need to do this for a smooth texture). Pour onto a greased oven dish or into patty cases or drip drops for 'buttons' onto a greased tray etc. Cut if needed when cold.
Carob molasses
Cover the powder with water, leave it overnight, then pour it off, then pour that over new powder. Repeat about six times, then simmer the liquid until it's reduced by two thirds. Keep in a cold place like the fridge in a sealed bottle. It is much sweeter than carob and gives a better flavour in cakes, biscuits and sauces ...
Coffee
While most Australian gardens can’t reproduce commercial coffee growing conditions (wet and mountainous), any area that has no more than light frosts (or a sheltered spot against a white, north-facing wall, say, in colder areas) can grow a couple of coffee bushes. Seed is available sporadically from several suppliers and bushes can also be bought occasionally from specialist nurseries.
Growing coffee
The coffee bush can grow to an enormous size. They are usually kept pruned, though, to about two to three metres, and can even be kept smaller if space is limited. The bushes have shiny leaves, dark and leathery, with clusters of highly scented white flowers.
Coffee bushes need moist but well-drained soil, with plenty of organic matter, and a good nitrogen/phosphorous balance to keep the bush producing heavily. A spot with broken light, say under taller trees, is excellent to start off your coffee bushes: they will be protected from both frost and strong light.
Although the bushes may survive heavy frost, the flowers may be burnt off. Try sheltering them with hessian sacking overnight, or keep them watered with micro-jets on clear starry nights when you can smell a frost.
Producing coffee
Each coffee flower produces a two-lobed fruit, the coffee berry. This is green at first, then red, then bright scarlet. At that stage they should be picked.
Each lobe of the fruit contains a seed: the coffee bean. These need to be separated from the berry, which is usually done by a process of fermentation. But for home use it is enough to soak the berry in water until the outside can be removed easily. This should take three to four days.
Dry the beans thoroughly in the sun for a week or two till the beans turn bluey green. Now spread the beans on trays and turn them once or twice a day, bringing them inside if necessary, away from rain and dew. When they are dried, rub them vigorously together to take off the outer skins.
The beans are then roasted at about 200° C till they have caramelised slightly, turning yellow then brown. Don’t overcook them. You will know when your coffee is roasted sufficiently by the smell as well as the colour: take your coffee from the oven when the fragrance fills the kitchen.
The beans should now be brittle and incredibly fragrant. By this time they will have lost about one-fifth of their weight. Grind them in a coffee grinder or in a blender, preferably just before you are going to use them. If you prefer to grind a lot at once, keep it in a sealed jar or, better still, keep it sealed and frozen until needed. Whole beans should also be kept in a sealed jar in a cool, dry place.
You will vary the flavour of your coffee by the amount of time you take to dry it, roast it and ferment it. The flavour also changes with the type of beans and with the growing conditions.
Finely ground coffee can be used by simply placing a dessertspoon in a saucepan, pouring over two cups of boiling water, leaving it for a minute, then straining the liquid back into the cups leaving the grounds behind. This is how I’ve been having my coffee lately – no pressurised espresso drawing out every skerrick of flavour and bitterness, or percolators that cook the coffee all over again. The result is a mellow, less bitter brew, with no ‘crema’ on the top, but a lot more of the flavour of the beans. I started by accident when our coffee plunger turned into eight discrete pieces when I tried to make my morning coffee a fortnight ago. Now the new plunger sits unused while I make the coffee in a blue and white jug; let it sit for three minutes then pour it through a tea strainer into my mug.
The coffee grounds go in the hanging baskets – a useful mulch, as long as you don’t let it get thicker than about six centimetres.
Brazilian cherry
Stunning autumn leaves, quite good berries, which means use them for jam or chutney or stewed with sugar – they are not quite up to ‘eat me fresh’ standard. Incredibly hardy.
Capulin cherry
An incredibly hardy, heat- and frost-tolerant cherry. Fruits December-February over a long period. Large stone and very slightly bitter – but still delicious.
Citron
The Citron is one of the earliest cultivated fruits, and is mentioned in the Bible. Its peel, exquisitely fragrant, was once used extensively for candied peel. The dried peel can also be used as a moth repellent to protect both clothes and food.
The citron looks like a bulbous, rough-skinned lemon – not to be confused with the bush lemon, which is rounder and squatter. They have thick pith and a slightly sweeter flesh than a lemon. Although it is said not to be quite as frost resistant as a lemon, I have found our specimen to be much hardier. It is a small tree that grows to about four metres high and, with frequent picking, seems constantly in fruit.
Feijoa
Hardy, edible fresh but delicious stewed with apple. Harvest March- June.
Grumichama (Eugenia dombeyi)
Clusters of cherry-like fruit. Delicious. Good in hot climates where cherries won’t fruit. Harvest December- Feb
Icecream bean tree (Inga edulis)
Hardy, fast growing, eat the marshmallow-like pulp inside the seed pod; suits either cold or tropical climates and survives both flood and drought.
Bunya nuts
The Bunya pine is a tall, wide, native tree, extremely imposing but not suited to small gardens. It grows slowly, fruiting only after ten to twenty years and may not fruit every year. It can be grown wherever you can grow a lemon tree.
The Bunya pine produces enormous pine cones, weighing up to 12 kg, with the nuts, up to thumb size, contained in the cone. You’ll need a hammer to husk them, and probably gloves too, as the cones are sticky inside.
An easier but dangerous way to remove the nuts is to drop them in a hot fire (the way we did as kids) and wait for the first seeds to start shooting out. Pull the cone from the fire and rescue the rest of the fruit. Alternatively, you can try the same process in the oven, set at about 200° C for about ten minutes. Slit the skin so they don’t explode in the oven. Boiling for twenty minutes is much safer and just as good. Peel once the nuts are cooked. I have tried them fried in a little oil with garlic – very good – or with ground black pepper.
Using Bunya nuts
Bunya flour is made by boiling the nuts in their husks for twenty minutes, then hulling them, drying them and grinding them. Use the meal for cakes and pastry, like almond meal.
To store Bunya nuts husk them, dry them in the sun for a day, then place in sealed, dry jars until you need them. Alternatively, simply store the cones in a dry place where the rats can’t get at them.
Growing Bunyas
Bunya trees are either male or female. Ostensibly you need both to produce nuts, though I have known females to bear when there is no male in the vicinity.
Grow the trees from seed – patiently, as they take about a year to germinate. The seed should be planted point down in moist soil and kept warm. The trees quickly develop a long tap root. Allow for this when you are planting them out, and transplant them carefully.
The young trees are prickly and stock usually leave them alone. But they can be knocked back by frost and some protection is needed for the first few years in frosty areas. Make sure the young trees are kept moist and free of weeds and grass: in the wild they grow in bare ground under a parent tree and you should try to duplicate this.
Dates
First find your date trees. This may mean quite a bit of asking at nurseries, till you find one prepared to find a male and female date palm for you. Hopefully, these will be suckers from good bearing trees, and you'll be able to choose which variety of date you want too.
Alternatively you can plant date seeds, though you won't know if the seedlings are male or female till the females fruit, and seedling fruit can be small or the trees may not bear for decades. Even two year old date seeds may germinate. Plant seedlings out when they are about 100 cms high, very carefully so you don't disturb the remnant of the seed.
Put your date palms in the sunniest, hottest, most well drained, least humid spot you have. (I grow ours on a sunny north-east facing slope, in sand and gravelly soil.) I meant to slip water-filled 'frost bags' over our young date palms to protect them from frost, but didn't get around to it. The trees survived anyway, but to be safe do protect your trees from frost for the first two or three winters.
Water well till the trees are established. Dates are very, very drought tolerant, but while they won't die in dry soil they won't do much growing or fruiting either.
Date palms grow MUCH faster in hot climates. You'll have a nice looking tree within about six years up north; down in our cold hollow I suspect I'll be a great grandma before my date palms even think of bearing. In dry climates the fruit will ripen on the tree, but date farmers usually cover the ripening bunches of fruit with paper sleeves to protect them from rain and, after picking, the fruit is heated to 45º C with high humidity for a couple of days to remove any astringency. The fruit is then either packed fresh or dried further to become the hard brown lumps you buy in packets.
Or forget about harvesting your own dates and grow some of the ornamental date palms – like the Canary Island date palm (Phoenix canariensis) which grows happily even in frigid Canberra winters or the Senegal date palm (P. reclinata) or the pygmy or dwarf date palm (P. roebelinii).
Eating: Fresh dates are much better than dried ones. Try fresh dates with a platter of cheeses. Dates are particularly wonderful with White Castello on good quality crackers.
Japanese raisin tree (Hovea dulcis)
The fruit from this tree is not edible – it is the raisin-shaped bulbous twists in the stems that are sweet, often delicious, and tasting very like raisins.
The raisin tree will tolerate moderate though not heavy frost as well as hot conditions. It grows slowly to 18 metres, with deeply fissured bark and small white flowers. Propagate it by seed or cuttings from young branches.
White mulberry
Unlike the black mulberry, white mulberries are sweet even when immature, slightly honey tasting and don’t stain paving and clothes. The leaves are the traditional food for silkworms. White mulberry grows from cold to tropical conditions, is drought tolerant once established, eventually incredibly long and deep rooted. Will grow slowly to about 18 metres but can be kept pruned.
A Few Recipes
Thai-style barbecue chicken
This is hot, and wonderful when the air smells like spring but bites like winter.
Ingredients:
12 chicken pieces
for paste:
6 cloves garlic
2 teaspoons brown sugar
2 teaspoons fresh turmeric
2 teaspoons paprika
3 teaspoons chopped fresh coriander
1/2 teaspoon cardamom
2 small red chillies, very finely chopped
1 tablespoon oil
1/2 cup coconut milk
for chilli sauce:
2 small red chillies, very finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, very finely chopped
2 tablespoons palm sugar
1/2 cup lime juice
Method:
Mix the paste ingredients. I use a small, wooden spoon handle, but a blender or a mortar and pestle may be used. Spread the paste over the chicken and leave to marinate at least overnight, or even for a couple of days in the fridge. Grill the chicken over an open fire, under a griller or lay the chicken pieces on a well-oiled baking tray and bake at 200° C for between thirty minutes and an hour, until well browned and just starting to blacken on the edges. Simmer the ingredients for the chilli sauce for three minutes. Cool. Serve with the chicken.
Honeyed chicken wings (or any other part of the chook)
This is one of those keep adding until it looks right recipes. It is a hit with kids. They will end up with sticky fingers, sticky mouths and piles of bones.
Ingredients:
1 kilo chicken pieces (a whole small chopped up chook can be used)
1/2 cup honey
1 tablespoon five spice powder
1/2 cup water or, half water half sherry (if serving to adults)
1/2 cup soy sauce
2 teaspoons cornflour mixed with a little water
Method:
A little grated ginger root and garlic can be substituted for the five spice powder and a little chilli sauce (see above) can be added to give bite to the recipe. Place the chicken pieces in a baking pan. Pour all other ingredients over them. Bake in a moderate oven until cooked. The time will depend on the size of the chicken pieces and the age of the chook from which they come. Baste every ten minutes or so, turning the chicken pieces at least once during cooking.
Chicken with tomatoes, almonds, orange and basil
This is incredibly delicious. The almonds thicken the sauce.
Ingredients:
8 chicken pieces or 1 whole chicken
6 peeled chopped red tomatoes – or a can of pieces if the only tomatoes around are pink and globulous
finely grated zest of 1 orange
1 cup fresh orange juice, not navel as it turns bitter soon after it’s squeezed
½ cup ground almonds
3 cups chicken stock
4 cloves garlic
6 dessertspoons olive oil
1 teaspoon chopped basil
Method:
Bake the chicken in the oil till brown and almost cooked. This should take about an hour at 350º C. Add the garlic after about half an hour. Take the pan out of the oven. Pour off excess fat. Add other ingredients except for the basil. Bubble for twenty minutes or till it begins to thicken.
Garnish with basil and serve hot, with cous cous, or on fresh, soft white home-made bread; or a rich potato dish (not with rice: the textures aren’t compatible).
Baked coconut custard
Ingredients:
5 eggs, beaten
2 cups coconut cream
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 tablespoon rose water
finely grated lime rind and coconut to garnish
Method:
Mix all ingredients except the garnish. Place in a shallow baking dish in a pan of hot water in the oven. Bake at 200° C for about thorty minutes until the centre of the custard is firm when you press it. Don’t overcook. This custard is served cold. Cut into slices and garnish with the rind and extra coconut.
Almost Instant Lime and Lemon Tarts
(and the best ones I know too)
Ingredients:
4 eggs
¾ cup caster sugar
½ cup lime/lemon juice
1 carton cream
pastry
Method:
Line a shallow pie dish, large baking tray or little muffin pans with the pastry. Should make one generous tart or twelve little tarts.
Beat eggs and sugar till sugar dissolves. Beat in cream and juice, pour into pastry, bake at 200º C till firm – about twenty minutes for a large tart or twelve minutes for small ones, but this will depend how thick your dishes are and how deep the filling is. If the pastry is going dark brown before the filling is set cover with a sheet of alfoil to stop it browning even more and going rock hard.
Baked orange custards
500 mls cream
200 g caster sugar
3 eggs
4 egg yolks
grated zest of three oranges (no white, and as fine as possible)
250 mls freshly squeezed orange juice
1 tablespoon Grand Marnier; or the zest of two more oranges in a tablespoon of brandy; or just the extra orange zest if necessary
Method:
Place sugar, orange zest and cream in a saucepan and heat slowly till it is just too hot to stick your finger in. Don’t boil. Take off the heat. Beat eggs, egg yolks, Grand Marnier and orange juice for three minutes. Pour in the hot cream slowly whisking all the time so it doesn’t separate. Pour the mixture into small pots, and sit them in a baking dish of hot water in the oven. Bake for one hour at 150° C, or till the custards are set.
Serve either hot or cold.
Infallible and incredibly simple Rich and Moist Sticky Fruit Cake – no added sugar or butter
I’m asked for this recipe at least once a month, so here it is again.
Ingredients:
1 cup dried pitted prunes
1 cup dried pitted dates
2 cups sultanas
½ cup marmalade OR 1 cup candied cumquats or cumquats in syrup
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
1 can condensed milk
about 300 gms plain flour
3 eggs
water
Method:
Cover dried fruit with water. Boil till soft. This may take about half an hour, and you may need to add more water. Mix in other ingredients, adding the flour last. You may need a bit more or less flour – depends how liquid your fruit mix is.
Pour into a pan lined with two layers of baking paper. The cake should only come halfway up the tin, or less if you want a ‘slice’ rather than a deep cake.
Cover pan with another sheet of baking paper. This cake can scorch on top if not covered.
Bake at 150º C for about 2½ hours or till firm and smelling divine.
Keep in a sealed container for weeks, or even months.
Note: To turn this into a Christmas cake, add 2 cups of crystallised cherries to the mix, or cherries and crystallised pineapple, place almonds or walnuts or macadamias in a pattern on the top before you bake it, and use half water and half whisky or brandy or sherry to stew the dried fruit. Whisky is best.
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