Dairy-Free Peanut Butter Bubble Slice with Jackson Pollock Chocolate Icing

Posted on February 11, 2012 by Hannah

Hello new readers who’ve popped over from my SBS Featured Foodie interview! I do hope you find something to tickle your fancy here. For my regular readers, I’m absolutely honoured to announce that SBS has chosen me to be their Featured Foodie for the next few weeks. (There may or may not have been dancing in the office when SBS first contacted me.) My interview is available here, if you’d like to read it. Heel-click!

There are things in this world that aren’t entirely fantastic.

Like when your legs decide they’ve walked up enough stairs, and you spend three minutes struggling to unlock your front door (even stamping your foot in frustration at one point), before realising that you’re trying to break into the apartment below yours.

Like turning and fleeing up the stairwell whilst hearing the real owners open their door from inside, clearly wondering what in crikey is going on.

Like the cold feeling of doom that hits because you’re wearing heels and making loud clip-clop noises all the way up the stairs, and your victims will definitely know that it was you trying to break in because the only other person on your floor is Mr Stinky Never Washes, and he never wears high heels. (At least not in public.)

Luckily, there are also things in this world that are unequivocally brilliant.

Like going to see the devastatingly-talented Andy’s final concert for his Honours examinations, and swooning over the music he creates at the piano.

Like cheering and whooping when he receives First Class Honours, and deciding to make him a (dairy-free and gluten-free) Peanut Butter Bubble Slice in the shape of a number one to celebrate his incredible achievement.

Like trying to decorate prettily the edible peanut buttery number one with melted dark chocolate, but instead creating something that looks like it was iced by Jackson Pollock being attacked by a swarm of bees.

Like sneaking two “A”s for Andy into the dark chocolate squiggles so that you can pretend the chocolate mess was your intention all along.

Like eating enough of the leftover slice to know it was darn-tootin’-tasty regardless of its appearance, and hearing later from Andy that he absolutely loved it too.

Like friendship and deliciousness and music and happiness all rolled into One.

You’re Number One! Dairy-Free Peanut Butter Bubble Slice with Jackson Pollock Chocolate Icing

Adapted from Karina’s Kitchen
(Measurements are a bit funny because I halved Karina’s recipe; this made roughly enough to fill a 20cm [8 inch] square tin.)

1/2 cup plus 2 tb (155g) honey (for a vegan version, use brown rice syrup)
1/3 cup plus 2 tsp (95g) peanut butter
1 tb coconut oil
1 tsp vanilla extract
3 cups (90g) Gluten-Free Rice Bubbles
dark chocolate, melted, to drizzle (optional) (not really) (since when is chocolate optional?) (exactly) (I win)

Line a 20cm (8 inch) square tin with baking paper, extending the paper over two sides. Or, if you’re planning to sculpt the peanut buttery goodness into a You’re Number One-style creation, prepare two tins. One for the sculpting, one for the leftovers. But I digress.
Place the honey, peanut butter, coconut oil and vanilla extract in a large microwave-safe bowl and cook for 2 minutes on medium, stir, then cook for another 2 minutes until the mixture is starting to bubble. If needed, do another 30 seconds. Remove the bowl from the oven and then stir for another 30 seconds or so until the mixture is smooth and thick (trust me, it will thicken).
Stir in the Rice Bubbles and then pour and pat into your prepared tin, before storing in the fridge or freezer. Cut before serving.
If you want to shape half of the mixture into a symbol representative of the awesomeness of the person for whom you’re make the deliciousness, then I say forward ho, lasses and laddies! Forward ho!
Melt chocolate and drizzle over the finished product for additional happiness. Bonus points if you follow in my five-year-old Jackson Pollock-esque footsteps.

I’m submitting this to Ricki’s Wellness Weekend and Allergy-Friendly Lunchbox Love.

Moruya Part Four: Solos, Concerts, and Smoke Alarms

Posted on November 7, 2011 by Hannah

And so, after tales of tears, trampolines, toys, ice cream, singing, SeaChange, and whales, we come to the last installment of my weekend at Moruya with the Strange Weather Gospel Choir. Warning, folks: this is a long’un, as I’ve decided I need to tie this escapade up for all our sakes. I recommend you grab a cuppa and a bikkie and settle in.

Resident Motel Puppy!

After our unexpected whale-watching adventure, Fi and I ate a quick dinner before speed-walking to the venue of our second – and principle – concert of the weekend. Fi and I made it in time not only for the warm-up, but for one of us to thrill passing strangers by first pulling on, and then shimmying out of, her tights in broad daylight on the side of the road. I shan’t name names, but I think you can see for yourself which one of us wore pants that night.

(I’m definitely going to get smacked upside the head for that paragraph at some point.)

Anyhoodle… behold! The Strange Weather Gospel Choir in all its glossy singing purple-accessorised glory!

We performed two sets on Saturday night, and despite a slightly unexpected start were soon singing with a hefty amount of vim, pop, pizzazz, and jingle-jangle.

(How does one sing with jingle-jangle, you might ask? It’s something you have to see for yourself, I think. And I do have a few video clips…)

My favourites from our first set were our African pieces (N’kosi Sikelele, Vuma, and Siyahamba/Ipharadis), predominately because we tend to get rather into them and I’m not immune to the comic aspect of 50 (predominantly) white people exuberantly singing in multiple African languages. I must also give shout-outs to our fabulous first set soloists: Mike and Emily in Soon I Will Be Done, Deb for an emotive performance of Up To The Mountain, and Tom, whose smoky, soulful voice during Go Down Moses never fails to make me think I’ve been transported to a thrillingly shadowy 1920s speakeasy.

Squished choir. Yes, Dad, I decided to use this photo anyway.

Our second set began with Shenandoah, and then it was time for my solo. I was, I believe the word is, terrified. I remember walking up to the microphone, looking briefly at Mum and Dad for support, pretending I didn’t know Dad was filming, breathing through the choir’s intro, getting my first high line out, and then thinking “Okay. Okay. I can do this.”

I’d like to quickly thank the choir for their amazing support both before and after my solo. I know that I tend to bounce around at rehearsals like a child who’s just downed several litres of something fizzy, but I’d really like to take this moment to express my gratitude for your wonderful kindness.

However, to get away from gushiness and back to the let’s-have-a-giggle-at-Hannah norm of this blog, the below photo is apparently what my face does when I’m both stunned and relieved that I’ve survived a solo:

If eyes are the windows to the soul, I think my soul was saying imadeitimadeitwhere’sthechocolateandthesugarandthechocolateandthesugarandthe-oopsherewegonextsong! All sugar cravings were forgotten as Chris took to the stage with the most incredible and hilarious rendition of his preacher-man act for In That Great Getting Up Morning. I’ll miss you, Chris!

We finished our concert with a sparkly version of Where Shall I Be, and then it was out into the warm, star-filled, crisp-aired night. I hugged my parents and thanked them for coming, made my way to the pub for brief celebratory drinks with the choir, and then snuck back to the hotel with Fi for chocolate, lollies, and How I Met Your Mother (thanks free hotel wifi!). It was a lovely end to the night.

The next morning, Fi and I woke up bright and early because the splendiferous Andy had invited us to have breakfast with him in his hotel room. We were offered either banana bread, which Fi gladly partook in (above), or Andy’s crazy-insane breakfast speciality that, once I heard existed, I couldn’t not try.

Vegemite Raisin Toast.

Andy, I have one word to say to you: FANTASTICAMICAL. I’m in awe. You took something that I’ve never liked (raisin toast), and turned it into something that I now crave. Thus is the magic of The Andy and The Vegemite.

Unfortunately, there is no magic of The Hannah and The Vegemite, because this is what happens when I try to do something normal and simple like make toast:

Dear fellow hotel patrons: I’m sorry for setting off the smoke alarm at 8:40am on a Sunday morning and then making it worse by taking the still-shrieking alarm outside our room and therefore closer to yours.

I knew not what I did, I promise.

Once we were appropriately fuelled, Fi, Andy, and I made our way to our last performance of the weekend, where the SWGC sang Down In The River To Pray, They Crucified My Lord, Holy Holy Holy, and I Want To Be Ready. We danced our way out of the hall singing When The Saints Go Marching In, then realised it was, sadly, time to go home.

And that, my friends, is the story of how Fi and I left Canberra on a Friday afternoon, full of enthusiasm for the weekend ahead, and returned exactly 48 hours later with memories more wonderful that we’d ever hoped to catch and keep in our hearts.

Thank you, Fi.

Moruya Part Three: Unexpected Magic at the Beach

Posted on October 31, 2011 by Hannah

I believe we last left Moruya when Fi, Dan, Andy and I were celebrating our choir’s first performance by indulging in glorious ice cream (no matter what was said in the comments, I still maintain that rainbow paddlepops beat chocolate paddlepops forever).

As we meandered back to our hotel, we decided that it was imperative to go to the beach that afternoon. However, Fi and Andy decided to swim in the pool first, and they totally, like, totally peer-pressured me into swimming too.

At least there weren’t any Blue Bottles at the pool.

This may not sound like a big deal, but a) I haven’t gone swimming in at least five years, and b) I don’t own swimmers. The first issue was solved by me getting over myself, and the second by me wearing my pyjamas. Which weren’t actually pyjamas but shorts and a singlet top, because I had forgotten to bring real pyjamas. The whole clothes -> pyjamas -> swimmers was a brilliant plan right up until midnight that night when I realised I had no pyjamas, but that’s not the point of this story.

The point is that I survived my first swim in years and years, even if by “swim” I mean “bobbing around in the water trying to avoid the dead spiders”.

There was, however, a friendly duck nearby.

Eventually, though, Dan, Fi, and I jumped in the car to go to Moruya Heads (Andy, sadly, has thesising to do). As we stepped out onto the sand and breathed in the salt-tinged air, I made an offhand comment about SeaChange and Barwon Heads.

And then we were off.

Turns out that Fi, Dan, and I are all devoted-die-hard-heart-soaring SeaChange soulmates, and have each rarely come across anyone else who’ll happily spend hours discussing favourite episodes, scenes, moments, quotes, and more. Oh, it would have been a beautiful, happy, wonderful afternoon for that reason alone, but all of sudden Fi cried out in delight:

“Dolphins!”

Sure enough, multiple fins could be seen cresting the waves before us in smooth arcs, incredibly close to the shore. Oh, it would have been a beautiful, happy, wonderful afternoon for that reason alone, but all of a sudden Dan shouted in delight:

“Can you see that? Out in the distance?”

Look closer, my dears…

Whales. Two whales breaching, bursting out of the water, up, up, up, cavorting in the water just like we were on the sand, watching them.

We were speechless, then very much not-speechless as we pointed and laughed and squealed (okay, okay, I was probably the only one who squealed). I held up my camera and clicked away, hoping to catch at least a glimpse for you of what we were seeing.

Look closer, my dears…

And happily, thankfully, I did.

After walking for close to an hour we turned back, and several minutes later saw what, judging by the colour and shape, was another whale breaching. Our third whale. Ten minutes later, another appeared with its tail flipping to greet us, although it’s likely this was one of the first three.

But, truly, exactly how many whales we saw that day doesn’t matter. All that matters is that on a beautiful sunny afternoon, a group of three friends went for a walk along the beach expecting nothing but the gentle crash of waves, the enveloping scent of the sea, laughter, and an escape from real/city life. Instead, we were given the gift of leaping dolphins and whales, which lifted our spirits immeasurably and surely gave us an extra oomph for our performance later that night.

And it was all thanks to the power of SeaChange.

P.S. Stay tuned for Part Four, starring the Strange Weather Gospel Choir (again), my solo, and maybe even the Saga of the Smoke Alarm. It’ll be a ripper, folks.

Moruya Part Two: Markets, Hugs, and Paddlepops

Posted on October 28, 2011 by Hannah

I woke up on Saturday morning to find a note on the table from Fi (“Gone swimming!”) and a shaky feeling of surrealism as I relived, in my mind, the events of the day before. Before I could get too caught up in trembling thoughts, though, the day was off and running and I was off and running with it. Off and running and skipping and twirling and singing and dazzling and gallivanting… only partly metaphorically.

After collecting Fi from the swimming pool, the two of us met up with another SWGC alto (I’m a soprano, by the by. In case anyone is interested. Which, most likely, you aren’t. The end.) and headed to Moruya’s Saturday markets.

At the Moruya markets, we found donuts…

… the photos of which were taken by a camera that decided to suddenly bathe all and sundry in an incredibly blinding white glow.

At the Moruya markets, we also spied a dog trapped in a terrifying Leg Prison…

…but before I could pull out my Superhero Cape to save the pup, I found myself distracted by the flavoured nuts stand. Wasabi macadamias, caramelised macadamias, Vienna almonds, honey cashews, honey peanuts, tamari almonds, and honey sesame cashews, I tried them all. And then didn’t actually buy any because I suddenly realised that we were going to be late for our first concert if we didn’t skedaddle immediately. Sorry, Nut Stand Man. I totally ate all your samples and then disappeared in the rudest possible way. Please forgive me.

After a quick change of clothing, Fi, J.Alto and I arrived just in time for our first Moruya Jazz Festival gig, the Festival of Voices.

This first performance went not only smoothly but sparklingly, and it made me happy to see my parents, who had driven up that morning, smiling at me from the audience. Well, Mum was smiling. Dad’s face was hidden behind his enormous camera. Thanks, Dad, for the concert photos in these Moruya posts! Your camera is scarily huge and intimidating but altogether welcome in my life.

My dad actually video-recorded several parts of our performances. I love seeing how intently we singers watched and followed the guidance of Dan, our fantasticamical (for today, that’s a real word, okay?) musical director. I was also super delighted with how well our first public attempt at Holy, Holy, Holy turned out, as the jazzy-magical piano improvisations of Andy (whom you met at Jindera) got us in a vibrant and enthusiastically-clappy-clappy singing mood.

With our first performance under our [purple] belts and six hours to go before the next, Fi and I once again proved how intertwined our thoughts are. We each had only one thing on our minds: Paddlepops. Or maybe Golden Gaytimes. To me, there is nothing more quintessential, more necessary, more inevitable when at the coast than the thrill of trying to eat a Paddlepop (or Golden Gaytime) before it melts all over your fingers.

However, knowing that you don’t have to be female to enjoy ice cream, I quickly darted over to Andy and Dan in the hopes of convincing them to join our ice cream adventure. Before I could get them to say yes, however, I found myself enveloped in words of condolence for my grandma’s passing and the kind of squeezy-wonderful hugs that (for as long as they last and a little bit after) make all your sadness fade away.

And then we went for ice cream.

(There seemed to be some sort of gendered ice cream behaviour going on that day, because both boys went for Magnums whereas Fi and I selected Paddlepops. Surely there’s a PhD in that?)

I’m a fan of this photo; it’s like “Where’s Wally?” but with ice cream instead of Wally. “Where’s Hannah’s Paddlepop?”

Can you find it? A hint: look for the pink that appears to be a tail-light.

But just in case you need proof…

Rainbow: it’s the most delicious of all the flavours.

P.S. The second half of this day was perhaps even more magical than the first, if you can believe it. (And more scary too. Because, well, my solo.) But we’ll get to that in good time.

Moruya Part One: Toys in Trees, Trampolines, and Accepting Happiness

Posted on October 26, 2011 by Hannah

Before I say anything else, I have to thank you from the bottom of my heart for your kindness and support in response to my grandmother passing away. I had no idea, when I wrote that post, how quickly I would find myself enveloped in words of support and sympathy, through your comments, texts, calls, and emails. Both I and my family are truly grateful to know there are such wonderful and caring people as you in this world. Thank you.

As I mentioned in my last post, this past weekend my Strange Weather Gospel Choir was performing at the Moruya Jazz Festival. In the minutes following my grandmother’s passing, I felt sure I couldn’t go. However, my parents were adamant that I should head to Moruya, and that Grandma would have wanted me to enjoy it.

I thought about how Grandma Mickey loved to sing and belonged to choirs herself, how she loved to walk along the beach, and how she almost always found something to giggle about in any circumstance. I thought about all of this, and I decided to go.

I had the most wonderful weekend. I had it for her, and the life I know she wants me to live.

At this point, I must give a shout-out to my beloved Fi, who spent the greater part of an hour on Friday calling members of our choir to see if someone could give us a lift to the coast, as my parents could no longer take us. Ultimately, I decided that I felt okay to drive. So began my first ever road trip as the driver, with one of my best friends by my side.

Thank heavens for Fi and her navigational skills, because I was not in a state to deal with maps at this point (“Which way is the coast? I don’t know where the coast is!”). And thank heavens for Fi and how perfectly in sync we are, because we were both equally delighted and prepared to stop the car when we caught glimpse of Elmo in a tree in the middle of nowhere.

Don’t believe me?

But it wasn’t just Elmo.

There were toys in trees everywhere.

We eventually returned to the car, immediately restarting Avenue Q in the CD player. As we wound our way down Clyde Mountain, we found ourselves once more squealing with delight and braking. After all, you can’t not stop at Pooh’s Corner.

I couldn’t help wondering whether Piglet truly should be drinking a Bundy and Coke, but gave up on this ethical conundrum in order to concentrate on the final leg of the drive to Moruya. Happy to have arrived before 7pm, Fi and I became even happier to find that our hotel room was enormous (made for four people; inhabited only by us) and that the hotel had horse stables, a cubby house, a swimming pool, and a trampoline.

A. Trampoline. Of. Amazing. Ness. (And a swimming pool of amazingness, in Fi’s view.)

Despite both being hungry, we decided to delay dinner so that Fi could go for a swim and I could jump on the trampoline. Blurrily.

After our swimming and jumping efforts, Fi and I went for a wander in search of dinner. However, the plethora of men ogling us at every nearby pub, combined with my wobbly emotional state, led us to make the executive decision to create a picnic from Woolworths and have a quiet night back at our hotel room instead.

Quiet, however, may be a relative term. Because after sharing Indian food, sour cherry gummies, cherry date truffles (recipe to come),and either Lindt 85% or Cadbury chocolate (no prizes for guessing whose was whose), I found myself feeling a little upset again and suggested we go back on the trampoline. At 10pm. After lots and lots of dinner and candy.

It was both the best and least appropriate decision I’ve ever made.

The next twenty minutes were a blur of breathless laughter as Fi and I jumped higher and higher together on the trampoline, feeling steadily queasier yet unable to stop the momentum of movement and giggles.

Until, of course, we really, really had to. And even then, the night wasn’t over, for we stayed up into the wee hours talkingtalkingtalking, until I was tired enough that I could fall asleep without crying.

And that, my dears, was how my trip to the Moruya Jazz Festival became about friends, music, and laughter helping me through. Even better, I was lucky enough to have another two days of the weekend to go when I woke up.

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