Country Women’s Association

All posts tagged Country Women’s Association

Today’s Lunch – 21st August, 2019

Published August 21, 2019 by helentastic67

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

A few weeks ago my Girl Friday and I made a batch of rum balls. A great Aussie classic from the CWA-Lady era. (Country Women’s Association) My food prep carer is much younger, often being mistaken as my daughter. I taught her the only way to measure the rum for the recipe. Follow the recipe, then Oops! My hand slipped and if you recall I’m not really a drinker. I’ve since given away more rum balls than I’ve actually eaten and I’ve got a 500mL bottle now to use, so more rum balls to make.

Here’s a nice recipe to try…

https://www.womensweeklyfood.com.au/recipes/classic-rum-balls-1632

My recommendation is keep them small, about 2 bites each, best with coffee.

Also, an apology, I’ve had 400 emails I’ve just found in an inbox I didn’t know I had. I normally visit the blog of every new follower or at least any new Like I see and hit them with a Like or comment to let you know I’ve seen you. So, apologies, I’m catching up.

Was at my favourite cafe in Clifton Hill yesterday as I was in the hood seeing my GP.I had the bolognaise arancini with a side salad. Latte (My medicine!) with an escargot and more medicine!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m busy at a meeting today and have my lovely Girl-Friday doing some admin for me while I’m at it. Hump day is not close enough for me to the weekend. Seriously, are we there yet? Friday is going to be painful.

Cheers,

H

 

Cute

Published June 18, 2018 by helentastic67

Cute

Cute

I’ve been called many things in my life. Many, many things and on a rare occasion I get called ‘cute’ or more that I have done something ‘cute’.

Being cute

Last week upon arriving at my favourite café, I don’t speak ‘hospitability’ so it’s got the system where you arrive, walk past all the beautifully made and displayed “sweet things”, then the savoury. You are often prompted by a friendly face behind the counter who takes your order, you pay, shuffle along, receive a number on a small metal stand. Then you take a seat and your purchase arrives with a cheery smile. To be clear, I don’t need a number. The staff know my by name and where I sit.

Walk into a cafe

Occasionally, someone doesn’t seem to know the ‘system’ and I don’t want to push in, if they are ahead of me in the queue, so I offer a prompt, if they are undecided about what to get.

Make a decision

Two slim gentlemen were away from the counter, so I kindly asked if they needed help to decide. They very shyly motioned they were waiting for their order to take with them.

My name was said and I looked behind the counter (on my blind side) Robert the owner was there. I thought to mention to the waiting me, this was Robert the owner when he handed out a packet of “Goodness” to them and I read the situation correctly to move on.

Move on

I politely smiled, inclined my head and moved to order, pay and find my seat.

Let me premise this next bit by saying, to the common foodie, like me, famous chefs host Masterchef and go by the names, George (Calembasis), Gary (who my chiro states, is seen out in her neighbourhood walking his dog) and Matt (Preston). The cravat king of Australia.

Masterchef

Once in my seat in the room before the kitchen, he stopped at my table to ask me what I had said out the front, I explained and he told me it was really cute because…

Oh? Why?

Keeping in mind, a woman once asked if the carrot cake was good. Said customer was like me, we do not eat a packet mix carrot cake. It must be moist and have cream cheese frosting with just the right amount of sugar. Just like a CWA (Country Women’s Association) would make.

Carrot cake

Like I make or my mother. The staff member she asked at the time was new and hadn’t tried the carrot cake, so I offered my tick of approval. I didn’t just tell her it was good, because I thought it would sound trite, so I did it creatively. She seemed to appreciate my efforts, I’m certain she bought it.

So, I digress. My offer to advise was cute, because he was a famous chef.

Famous chef

What! Was he? He wasn’t George, Gary or Matt Preston and I don’t do ex-foodie adventures, so I didn’t know, I had to ask.

Robert mentioned several restaurants around Melbourne, he owns all of which meant little to me. I asked him to write down his name for me, he obliged.

I have some “Foodie” friends and my older sister and partner, do the “Foodie” scene in Melbourne.

Foodie Friend

Mentioning him to my Boo, my friend who once worked for Gordon Ramsay, gave me a bit of a “meh” OK? Which I took to be akin to a “whatever”, so I mentioned to another of my gay “Foodie” friends, who very promptly responded with a big smile.

Gordon Ramsay

Have I mentioned yet, I’m really “chill” around famous people?

Famous people

Being Italian

Published November 27, 2015 by helentastic67

Being italian

I should also mention, I will use the term “Wog”, from time to time and to those who are unaware.

Wog.

Now, I tried to do a Google search and after an attack of OCD and being distracted by rubbish for 20 minutes, the basic definition of Wog is ‘a foreigner’.

I learned from an early age , it actually meant “Western Oriental Gentleman”, but in Australian culture we really save it for Italians and Greeks that immigrated to Australia back in the late 1940’s and after. The immigrants also came from other European places too, however w!!hen Aussies use that term, we generally mean Italians/Greeks!

I went to a Private Catholic School where even the kids with 2 Italian parents would yell out and call me a wog! And I only have one Italian parent. I don’t consider myself a ‘wog’ per say, but I think I’ve .”

Great Italian food culture and that ‘feed an Army mentality’ and all the other good stuff from my mum. The great CWA –cooking/baking.

CWA being Country Women’s Association of which she does not belong and does not need to. Anyway, occasionally I’m going to drop the ‘Wog-bomb’ and I feel I’m allowed as I’m a little Italian as I like to say…

I speak a few words of Italian and even less Greek, but when I walk into my GP’s office, the 2 Greek ladies start speaking briskly in their native tongue and you can pick up a lot from their hand gestures and tone!

I have often discussed this with my GP who is Greek!

They’re tone says “Oh, that’s a pity, but she’s so pretty! Hopefully she has a husband!”

WTF?!

I usually get asked by the Greek ladies on my tram in guttural/broken English “you Greek?!”

I return in the same tone “no Greek, a little Italian.” I tell them from my father and they often ask from what part of Italy?

After the last 10 years or so living in an area with plenty of ‘wogs’ that can put my finger tips together and tap my forehead and reply “Calabeze!” Given up years ago saying “Calabrias” The hard movement is to symbolize “stubborn!”

The Italian from that area are known to be stubborn. Sounds about right!

Years ago, I worked across town in a Supermarket and a guy asked where the Tzatziki was? I confess I was younger and didn’t know what that was. I tried a cheeky question to ascertain what it was. FYI: If you aren’t sure, it’s a dip! It’s kept in the Supermarket in a fridge.

He looked at me rather disgustedly and asked how I would not know what this ‘thing’ was.

I asked “why?’, this wog motioned to my name badge and said ‘you’re Greek!”

Why do you say that?

“Your name is Helen!”

FUCK OFF! (Obviously not what I said, but I then explained I was not.)

So many times I’ve had to respond to the query “You Greek?” Always asked or as a statement and I always respond with “No! No, Greek!” Greek ladies always look so disappointed. I am surrounded by Greeks these days. The good ones luckily. My GP! My Chiropractor! My taxi driver, young John! So lucky!!!

I have a mobility scooter, which I like to call Hell on Wheels!

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