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JUNE 2009 JACKIE FRENCH NEWS

In this month's news:

• What do wombats do in their spare time?
• The Fish with the Grumpy Nose … and how we ate it.
• Baaaa!
• The Magical  Monkey Baa Theatre for Young People
• Schedule
• Recent Awards – and what happened to Rose
• New Books
• The June Garden
• A Few Recipes
  • Berry Slice
  • Nutty Floozies

What do wombats do in their spare time?

Most wombats spend their lives finding food and water to stay alive. But a few of the wild wombats at our place have struck it lucky. They get to eat the leftover rich food – alpaca mix and oats and other goodies from the wombats we care for.

Which means they don't have to spend nearly as much time looking for their own food.

So do wombats develop hobbies? Contemplate the universe?

Actually they seem to sleep a lot. Which makes sense. When you're an Australian marsupial in a land of droughts it makes sense to sleep whenever you don't need to be out looking for food.

They seem to dig a bit more too, though only the young ones, sometimes new holes but mostly renovating old ones, up to two or three wheelbarrow loads of dirt and rocks can be excavated in a night.

But mostly they just become picky eaters. Instead of chomping the grass like lawn mowers they nibble a choice bit here, some tussock over there. And then go back to bed.

PS: In the two days after I wrote this, Bruiser - a hand reared wombat we are still feeding - has taken to sitting in the shade under our bedroom instead of spending the day in his hole, to guard his food dish against invading bower birds, black-tailed wallabies, and other wombats. I've never seen a wombat on guard duty before, that that is definitely what he's doing.

Every time you think you know wombats' behaviour they come up with something new…

The Fish with the Grumpy Nose … and How We Ate It.

We had fish for dinner last night. I don't know what sort of fish it was – I'm not good with fish. It was big and pinkish and had a look that was half surprise and half annoyance, but that's understandable in a fish that's been hooked and hauled into a boat, then carted up a mountain and then down into a valley in a garbage bag.

The fish was a present from a nice young fisherman. He gave us lots of other fish too; big ones, small ones, one that I'm pretty sure was a flathead (ie, its head was pretty flat) and another I think was a snapper. Well, it looked snappish by the time it got to us.
It didn't matter. They were all delicious, eaten one by one. The big angry one was the last to go. I heated olive oil in a vast iron pan. I buy the olive oil in bulk, from a farm in the Mallee, which makes it about a 100th of the price of supermarket extra virgin olive oil, cheap enough to be as lavish as I like, and I do like being lavish with olive oil.

When the oil was not quite smoking hot I added the fish; fried it quickly on both sides till crisp, then add a few chopped cloves of garlic, the juice of an extremely large fat lemon (our lemons are the size of maybe three or four shop-bought ones), turned down the heat and put on the heavy lid. Ten minutes later the fish was cooked, the skin still crisp and the oil and lemon juice had amalgamated to make a sauce. I added chives, a grind of black pepper, a dust of lemon myrtle leaves, some rock salt, and a tomato and grilled capsicum salad.
It was only as we were eating it, with all the due appreciation a grumpy fish deserves, that I realised not that I made it without a recipe – I follow a recipe maybe once a month, when I'm trying to duplicate something I've eaten or read about – but that cooking fish without even knowing what it's called is pretty rare these days.

Most fish is bought over a counter, for a recipe that begin 'Ingredients: 4 fillets of whiting' or at least 'firm white fish'.
But the cooking I've been doing for more years than I want to count right now (or at least not without a cup of tea and a piece of apple cake) isn't based on recipes. Recipes aren't much use when you're cooking whatever is in the garden or the chook shed, or if you're frying up the fish a nice young man has delivered as thanks for babysitting the boots he accidentally left here last Christmas, or the leg of feral goat that needs long slow cooking and something to disguise its goatishness from anyone at the dinner table who prefers not to eat something that says 'baa'.

My cooking is based on techniques, not recipes. The method of cooking fish above works for just about any fish; my way of making soup (gather fresh veg; sauté in olive oil till they change colour; add good stock; simmer) gives 1,000 results depending on what's in season and what the wallabies haven't eaten. 'Grandma's roast' technique works as well for lamb as chicken, salads are an almost instinctive matching of what flavour I think will go with what, and rarely ever quite the same. How can they be, when red chicory leaves change flavour with the season, stronger in summer, sweeter in spring, needing different things each time to balance them?

This isn't to say I don't cook the same things often, such as Bryan's favourite chocolate chip and nut biscuits. Admittedly, the nuts vary with the season too; walnuts, peanuts, macadamias, almonds with maybe a touch of orange zest…

There's the apple cake he loves, too, and eats with homemade vanilla ice cream. We have fresh apples 12 months of the year (just plant 130 varieties of apples and you'll have year-round apples too – though admittedly you can get away with maybe six varieties instead. Just don't tell Bryan).

There are potato cakes, which we both adore … but we're getting into 'variation' territory again, as sometimes they'll be rich with chopped red onions, sautéed with garlic till they're soft and sweet, or have grated carrot added or even parsnip, a touch of pecorino cheese, or chives or parsley… and even more garlic, plus coriander (which Bryan doesn't like) when I'm here alone.

It's a good way of eating. When Bryan says 'what's for dinner?' he really means it. And while he keeps smiling every time he says it, I know it's going right.

Baaaa!

Last Wednesday was National Simultaneous Storytime, and more than 100,000 children around Australia read Pete the Sheep and went 'baaaa!.' So did I… two readings up at our local library in Braidwood.

Especially when you get to go 'baaaa!' too.

The Magic Monkey Baa

A couple of weeks ago Susanne Gervay, Morris Gleitzman and I were made joint patrons of the magical Monkey Baa Theatre for Young People.
It is impossible to say how much of a privilege this is. Monkey Baa's production of Hitler's Daughter (returning to the stage in 2011) won the Helpmann and the Drover's Awards – the pinnacle of theatrical achievement in Australia. But more than that – their interpretation of the book moved tens of thousands of people (including me) and opened the door to the magic of live theatre.

I'm equally proud to be standing next to Suzanne and Morris – see photo. Monkey Baa's stunning one-man performance of Susanne's I am Jack has been given plaudits whenever it's been shown and as for Morris – well, like Susanne, his work is a genuine gift to the children of Australia and the world. I have never seen him give less than all he is able to give to any child, every time we have shared time at a literary festival.

Monkey Baa have just opened the play of Sonya Hartnett's Thursday's Child, one of the greatest books ever written for children in Australia. So much theatre for kids is rehashed Disney, jokes and bright costumes, pat performance without a soul. Monkey Baa have the courage to take Australian literature and turn it into another genre, and each time you think that what they are attempting is impossible.

How can a few props transform a stage from an Australian country school bus stop to Hitler's bunker in Berlin? How can one man become so many people – and so many symbols – as Tim McGarry does in his extraordinary one-man performance of Jack?

But Monkey Baa do it, with joy and with conviction. And I am enormously proud to be one of their patrons alongside Susanne and Morris.

Schedule for 2009

I usually receive at least one invitation to give talks, workshops, visit an inspiring project, meet kids with a problem, or a request to tour a garden each day, often several. Much as I’d love to, I just can’t do them all – or even most of them.

Please forgive me if I can’t come to your town, school or event – it doesn’t mean I don’t want to. I wish I could respond to every request for help or mentoring too and give long answers to every kid who emails for material for projects. But I only have two hands and 24 crammed hours in a day.

Awards

The YABBA (Young Australians Best Book Award) 2009 short-listings are out – both The Shaggy Gully Times and Pharaoh have been short-listed. Many, many thanks to everyone who nominated them … and enormous hugs to all who vote for them. The Kids' Choice awards mean more to me than any other. (Pharaoh was also a Children's Book Council (CBCA) short-listed book last year, and also short-listed for ACT Book of the Year.)

Two recent wonderful short-listings for A Rose for the Anzac Boys: one for the CBCA awards, along with The Camel who Crossed Australia and How High can a Kangaroo Hop? Which have been named as Notable Books for 2009.  And another shortlisting for A Rose for the Anzac Boys for the Australian Book Industry awards.

Which has meant there have been even more letters and emails asking if I'm going to write a sequel.

I don't think I'll write a sequel to A Rose for the Anzac Boys but I have always known what happened to them afterwards.

Midge spent the first few days at the farm crying, finally letting go of all she had seen – which helped her relationship with her mother-in-law to be, who fussed over her so protectively that she didn't mind as Midge slowly took over management of the farm and their lives.

Midge and Harry built the new house up on the hill. The farm became one of the most prosperous in the region. Midge had three daughters, and then one son – he enlisted in World War Two but developed appendicitis so never went overseas. She and her Harry lived a long and happy life together, surrounded by many grandchildren. She died at 89, asleep on the verandah looking out at her farm and upon her family.

Ethel never married, but grew closer to her brother, finally recognising his courage too – how he had supported her and the canteen, organising supplies, refusing to fight for a cause he didn't believe in. Ethel received an offer to be made a Dame of the British Empire for her work organising food supplies in World War Two. She refused, and with her brother's support, entered Parliament. She died relatively young, at 62, still fighting for her causes.

Anne and her Gavin worked in Mesopotamia till the late ‘30s, when political tensions made it too dangerous to work there. Anne's daughters were born in 1937 and 1939.

Anne's scars faded with time, and her consciousness of them faded too. Gavin worked in Intelligence in World War Two; Anne ran the local billetting for refugees.

After the war Gavin was offered a professorship at the University of Queensland. Anne finally took her degree, and eventually became a part-time tutor. Although not wealthy by the standards of the aristocracy, Anne's family money meant they lived comfortably and generously, in a large house on the Brisbane river near the university, filled with students, discussion and laughter.

The three girls met only once more; at the christening of Anne's first daughter, but kept in touch with love and letters throughout their lives.
When Anne moved to Australia one of Midge's granddaughters lived with them while she studied in Brisbane.

New Books

Coming soon (next month, in fact): School for Heroes, Book 1: Lessons for a Werewolf Warrior.
Boojum Bark is a werewolf… and delivery puppy for his mum’s ‘Best Icecream Shop in the Universes’.
But when the Greedle kidnaps Boo’s mum for her recipes the Werewolf General sends Boo to the School for Heroes to learn how to become a hero.
Boo learns why heroes need to wear pants, the secret to opening a wormhole and the best way to deal with a pesky mouse. But despite the friendship of Mug (fellow hero-in-training and zombie) and the mysterious Yesterday, there are problems he just can’t solve.
Exactly where do humans widdle and why not on door posts?
How can he convince Princess Princess Caresse Sunbeam Von Pewke to go out with him?
What’s Yesterday doing with the school’s garbage?
Why is the headmaster a banana-wielding monkey?
And most importantly, how do you defeat Giant Rabbits, Trrrrrrollllls and other bogeys from the Ghastly Otherwhen, armed only with a zombie sausage?
Join Boo, Mug, Yesterday and Princess Princess – and a cast of zany characters as they Wham! Bam! Pow! and Zoom! through the first in this hilarious new series.

And you won't believe how stunning the pictures are. They're by Tasmanian illustrator Andrea Potter.  Her images of the ghastly Greedle, with all his needle fangs, and Mug with all his zombie fuzz, are just magnificent. And as for Princess Princess's costumes....

I haven't actually seen the book yet, as it's still at the printers. But it's been magic waiting for every new image to arrive on my computer from Andrea.

Later this year:

August:       The Night They Stormed Eureka – the 1854 Eureka Stockade from a fresh new angle.
October:     Baby Wombat’s Week (with Bruce Whatley) – Mothball from Diary of a Wombat introduces her baby – let the games begin!

Recently released:
The Donkey Who carried the Wounded
Most Australians know the story of Simpson and his donkey; the courageous digger and his mate who became heroes at Gallipoli for transporting the wounded to safety.

Yet while Simpson has gone down in ANZAC folklore, few people know the story of the donkey. Where did he come from? What happened to him after Gallipoli?

The Donkey Who Carried the Wounded is his story.

Other Recent Books
How High can a Kangaroo Hop? All you never realised you didn’t know about our best-known marsupial.
A Rose for the Anzac Boys: World War I seen through the eyes of three courageous young women.
Emily and the Big Bad Bunyip: another hilarious Shaggy Gully picture book with illustrations by the magic Bruce Whatley.
The Camel who Crossed Australia: The Burke and Wills expedition seen through the eyes of Bell Sing, otherwise known as ‘He who Spits Further Than the Storm’, the young cameleer Dost Mahomet and Englishman John King.

The June Garden

Don’t Bump Your Nose on Lunch

If I were to honestly nominate a hobby – which I admit I never have done in any survey – it would be ‘growing food’. Though, come to think of it, it’s not a hobby, as I make part of our living writing about the things in our garden.

When I look out my study window I see food.

When guests arrive at the moment we have to warn them to watch out for the kiwi fruit – not just the vines, which are easy to avoid if you duck your head going through the front door, but the fruit, which are hard to see at night when dinner guests arrive, and the furry bits get stuck in your hair. I’d hate a guest to think they’ve suddenly developed prickly dandruff.

Here’s how to create The Great Oasis Garden ... one that will feed you and still be still flourishing and feeding you when there's desert all around.
One of the problem with most Australian gardens is that they are still pretty much stocked with European plants ... they've evolved in places where lots of that strange grey, wet stuff falls from the sky.

If you want a garden that feeds you and delights you but doesn't need any watering:

1. Forget about summer planting. The plants shrivel and so do you. Plant in autumn instead – many plants traditionally planted in spring actually do better bunged in now, so they can get themselves settled before the worst of summer.
2. Go for perennials that develop big roots so they can live on their hump, like camels – especially vegies.
3. Add a few annuals that grow fast and give you a whole lot in return. These are usually vegies from places that have stinking hot summers and freeze your toes off in winters too, like most of the Asian greens. All of these look stunning, and even the ornamental ones will help your veg grow better.

The Top Dozen Great Survivors (they all look gorgeous too)
1.      Italian red-stemmed chicory
2.      Jerusalem artichokes
3.      Chives and garlic chives
4.      Agapanthus
5.      Any of the salvias
6.      Big flagrant (or should that be fragrant?) rambling roses
7.      Perennial leeks
8.      Warrigal spinach
9.      A plum tree
10.    Any nut tree... try a self-fertile almond
11.    Pomegranate
12.    Lady Williams apple

Others: figs, pears, crab apple, grevilleas (big ones), medlars, olives, grapes, wild kiwi fruit, asparagus, artichoke, chilacayote.

A Few Recipes

Berry Fruit Slice

Note: This is a classic slice, extraordinarily good – but a lot depends on how well it's made. If you overcook it, you'll have leaden slice, dry and crumbly. Follow the directions exactly and you'll have something superb.
It's a classic, almost fudgy fruit slice filled with whatever fruit you have on hand. I've been using dried blueberries and cranberries lately, but others can be substituted. It is incredibly good – great for lunch boxes, or you can even serve it slightly warmed, with yoghurt or ice cream.

Ease of making:          Medium
Time taken:                10 minutes to mix, 20 minutes to cook
Serves:                        About 25 smallish slices

Ingredients:
125g butter
1 cup brown sugar
3 tsps vanilla paste or essence (the paste has a better flavour)
1 egg
1 1/4 cups (150g) self-raising flour
3 cups dried fruit and nuts: I've recently been using 1 cup dried cranberries, 1 cup dried blueberries, half a cup chopped walnuts, half a cup of sultanas. Other options: half chopped dates and half sultanas; or mixed dried fruit or candied cherries and sultanas and almonds. It's also good with fresh stewed apple, chopped fresh peaches, any nuts in your garden, hunks of plums ... if it's sweet and fruity or nutty, it'll be good.

Method:
1. Turn the oven on to 200Cº before starting to make the recipe.
2. Melt butter in a saucepan over a very low heat with the dried fruit, stirring well. Add the brown sugar and mix till the sugar is dissolved. Take off the heat, stir in the egg quickly, then mix in the flour.
3. Scoop into a baking tray lined with baking paper, or rubbed with butter then dusted with flour so the mixture doesn't stick.
4. Place in oven. Bake for 20 minutes and take out.

Nutty Floozies (or One-Two-Three Biscuits)

Note: I think these may have originally been called 'Nutty Oozies', as they do spread a bit, then become gold and crisp. But they've been floozies in my kitchen for decades. They were the first biscuit I ever made, and are so good that one friend's boyfriend got up and left when he discovered there weren't any in the biscuit jar when they visited. Okay, he was a pig, and she soon got rid of him … but the biscuits were good.

Ease of making:        Very, very easy
Feeds:                        Makes about 40 biscuits
Time taken:               2 minutes to mix

Ingredients:
125g butter
1 cup brown sugar
2 tbsps golden syrup
2 tsps ground ginger
1 cup plain flour
½ cup chopped nuts: peanuts, walnuts, almonds, macadamia...
1 cup SR flour
1 egg

Method:
1.      Put everything except the egg in a saucepan on a low heat. Mix when butter is melted.
2.      Take off the heat and beat in the egg.
3.      Put flattened teaspoons full on a greased tray (or covered with baking paper) and bake at about 150ºC for 15 minutes, or till light gold (not dark brown). Press your finger into the centre. If it seems liquid put it back for 5 minutes. Important: Do NOT OVERCOOK.
4.      Take out… they'll crisp as they cool.
5.      Store in a sealed container for up to a month.

For more information from Jackie, please go to her website: www.jackiefrench.com

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