I bet you thought this post would be about wedding cakes. Nope. Not this time. It turns out that after living and breathing and, of course, baking wedding cakes for most of the last week, I am really, really over baking right now. Indeed, I even went so far as to make a raw vegetable korma with cauliflower rice for dinner tonight (from Amber Shea’s book Practically Raw, which I’ve just got my hands on, and on the basis of two recipes, am already willing to recommend. Though I should probably make a few more recipes before reviewing it…).
Anyway. Since I am currently all about the Raw Vegetables Dear God No Don’t Make Me Bake Anything, and since I had a whole bunch of farmers’ market photos from last weekend waiting to be annotated, you are getting the belated farmers’ market post instead. But never fear – there will be cake recipes aplenty in the next week or two.
Also, this particular farmers’ market post is going to be quite whimsical, as I am more than usually tired and keep going off on tangents. Can you tell? (NB: I could actually have made more puns than that, but I restrained myself. Actually, that is totally untrue, what actually happened was that WordPress wouldn’t let me add any more silliness to that caption. Even WordPress, apparently, has its limits.)
Anyway, back to the point of this post. (It has a point? I hear you ask? Why yes, yes it does… Sadly, I’ve now forgotten what that point is…)
You know I love your eccentric weather and your tendency to treat climate as an option rather than a directive. And I think your six seasons are pretty cool. And your short attention span and ability to randomly produce snow in the Dandenongs on Christmas Day is possibly the best thing any city has ever done, ever.
But I must admit to some confusion. You see, this is August. In theory, at least, we should be getting ready for Spring. You know, the season with all the bright green leafy things, peas, asparagus, all that stuff. And, actually, around about now, I wouldn’t be expecting a huge range of vegetables at all.
So, my beloved city, why are we having pumpkins? And mushrooms? And venison? And so many different kinds of nuts? Is this a new era in seasonal iconoclasm, or were you just feeling bored? And – dare I ask – what may we expect from September?
Yours with all affection,
PS – Thanks for the blood oranges! I can never have too many of those.
PPS – Of course, I liked all the green leafy vegetables too, though they were very much in the wintry vein. Not a complaint, just puzzled.
Yeah, I really don’t know what Melbourne is doing this year. Though one thing Farmers’ Markets have taught me is that we don’t, actually, have the reversed Northern Hemisphere / Mediterranean climate they taught us about in primary school, at least as far as growing seasons are concerned. (Exhibit A: jonquils and daffodils in May and June) We don’t have the same ones, either (which makes eating seasonally something that really has to be done by observation, as books tend to be a bit useless for this).
A pagan friend once told me that, while some pagans reverse their festivals so that the summer festivals match our summer, others keep the northern hemisphere festivals, because summer for us is as deadly as winter is in the north… except, we still do get all the summer fruits and vegetables on schedule. Sort of. Right now, it seems to be strawberry season *somewhere*, if supermarket prices are anything to go by.
This seems to be turning into a rambling peroration on Melbourne’s climate (not to mention more than usually weird photo captions. I have no idea where this is even coming from.). Not exactly food blog material. Except that, really, climate does form our food choices on a fairly basic level. And, also, it’s my blog and I really do love Melbourne’s weather (custom not yet having staled her infinite variety, I doubt that it is likely to do so).
There was, in fact, beautiful food at the farmers’ market this week, despite swapping over to the fortnight where hardly of my favourite vegetable people are around. And despite the fact that it was all autumn food.
Oh, what the hell – this post is all about Melbourne’s climate anyway. I might as well close with a sonnet I wrote a few years ago in honour of Melbourne’s weather. After all, it isn’t as though Melbourne’s weather has changed – or rather, it has, but the constancy of change is Melbourne’s great charm.
City of many seasons, many moods
Of winter heatwaves and of summer floods
Who would change dull, fixed, seasonality
For your infinite, sweet, inconstancy?
No human art can ever guess your will
Nor nights nor dawns predict the day ahead
It tells us nothing if your skies are red
You are too whimsical for all our skill.
So, lovingly, your livery I don:
Sunscreen, umbrella, T-shirt, gumboots, coat –
And smile at forecasts, taking little note
As gaily you send hail… or wind… or sun.
Let others sigh for Climate’s ordered laws:
I’ll live my life under no skies but yours.
That hasn’t changed, either.
This time last year…