Stone the crows Curtis!

Apparently when your're preggo you get all nesty.  Apparently that means you clean everything in sight.
I hate cleaning.  I'd even go as far as to say that I love germs.  And if you clean you don't have germs.  And if you don't have germs how do you have an amazing immune system?  So I clean only when necessary and revel in the knowledge that my immune system kicks arse.  (Let's ignore the fact I've had two colds this year - better yet, let's blame it on having a lowered immune system which apparently happens when you're pregnant - ACTUALLY imagine how many more colds I'd have had if I DIDN'T have an aversion to cleaning away germs?!?!!?)

Yeah, there's probably some scientist out there who'd tell me I'm wrong about my cleaning theory, but let's ignore them for the purpose of this blog post.

ANYWAY ... so whilst there's been no nesting of the cleaning variety I have suddenly kicked into high gear with my baking.  Which was handy as I had a baby shower the other day and held a high tea - lots of cooking went on.  I probably should have taken pictures.  Ah well.  It was good though.  I ate my baby's weight in food.  In fact double that.

Today I baked a recipe by the rather dishy Curtis Stone - corn and bacon muffins.  What I love most about this recipe is that it uses bacon fat.  BACON FAT!!

Here's a picture of how they turned out ... (I really need to get a new camera, my one never does the food pictures justice - imagine them looking more goldeny)

Curtis suggests teaming the muffin with herb butter, but I kept it real slathering it in good old fashioned plain butter - and it was special (light and fluffy, super flavoursome, with a slight shock of heat from the cayene, yum scrum!).

I'm meant to be freezing these for post-baby-i'm-too-exhausted-to-cook-food - but I don't think they're going to last that long.

Oh - here's the recipe if you fancy making some bacony fatty goodness muffins yourself ... http://www.curtisstone.com/Recipes/Snacks/Corn-and-Bacon-Muffins-with-Herb-Butter.aspx

A stunning mistake.

The other night I could see a beautiful sunset was afoot.

Grabbing my camera I quickly rushed outside to take some snaps only to find two big fir tree thingies were in my way of the sun.  Grrrr!  They're coming down I tell you!  This summer!  Sorry birdies. 

Anyway I was going through the pictures I took and I came across this one ... and you know, I think it's beautiful.  I love the colour and the cabbage tree (well, it might not be a cabbage tree but I don't know what else it could be as I'm no garden whizz) ... it all just feels so Kiwi.  

Macarons are not Macaroons.

I love macaroons.
All that chocolaty biscuity coconuty goodness.
Yum.
They were such a treat when you were a kid.  A change from chocolate chippies or krispie biscuits.  Up there with Mallowpuffs.

Even as an adult I still find myself feeling decadent when buying them.

Then, along came macarons!  Pretty dainty pastel coloured things filled with exotic flavourings.  Fancy!!

And even more expensive than macaroons!

I had to try them.  And try them I did.

While holidaying in Australia my sister and I lost our macaron virginity with a macaron tasting!  A degustation if you will ... look!!!

There was also a pistachio flavoured macaron, that was eaten first.

I ate all 6 flavours, she conquered 4.

They were fab!  All crunchy and chewy and creamy.  My favourite was the chocolate.  Least favourite was raspberry, it was too raspberry jammish.

I'm so glad that they don't have boxes of these (made in France!) boxes of macarons in NZ.  At least not that I've seen.  If they did I would end up living on them, which probably wouldn't be too healthy.

Next step, making my own macarons!  I'll continue to buy macaroons.

Show us ya growler!

I'm not going to show you my growler.
I value her privacy too much.
But let's just say she's about 5"3.
Has beautiful big brown eyes.
Cheekbones I'd kill for.
And we once shared the same last name.

Yep, I'm talking about my sister - and she is my growler.

Recently I visited her in Oz and she gave me a wee telling off for not updating my blog more regularly.

What can I say ... she's right.  I've been slack.  But I've been baby-obsessed and I didn't want to bore anyone with baby blather.

Since my visit to Oz stuff has happened.
Actually stuff happened in Oz.  My sister and I ate macarons for the first time.  I'll blog about that when I find my camera which has a picture of the macarons.

Yes, I've lost my camera - it'll be around somewhere.  But one of the other things to happen is that I've moved further out of Auckland to a beautiful area with a view of the sea and of sunsets.  In the process I put my camera somewhere so special that I can't find it.  Oh well, it'll turn up and when it does I'll take pictures of said sunsets and seaviews and blog about those.

Yep, no baby blather here ... just boring old sunsets, food and plenty of waffle.

Hope this post makes you happy sis xoxo

Darling Dahlias, You Do Delight Me

The other day my lovely mother-in-law came for a visit and brought me a bunch of dahlias from her garden.

I don't have much else to say other than I love dahlias, they're so cheery and beautiful.

If you're feeling blue they have a magical way of brightening your day.  (Oh goodness, that's on the verge of sounding like a Hallmark card - perhaps I've found my calling?!)

Oh Baby!

I just bought the most beautiful dress from Trade Me.

I could try and describe it but I'd only embarrass myself with my lack of fashion knowledge, so here's the picture of it ...

(I hope the trader doesn't mind me using it!)

I love how it's so subtly sexy.  It covers everything, but it emphasises the curves (and apparently has a slit up the back, vavavooom!)

The only thing wrong with this dress?  I won't be able to wear it for months, because I'm pregnant.

Unfortunately pregnancy hasn't cured me of my desire to buy vintage frocks.  So now they arrive all packaged up, they're unwrapped and lovingly placed in my wardrobe.  Where I admire them from time to time.

I like to think of them as post-baby-body inspiration.  

Get Off My Arse!

Today the almost unbelievable happened.

After 10 years of being a dedicated biped I put my hands on the wheel of a car and drove.

Not just a practice tootle down the quiet backstreets of my suburb.  A real life drive.  On the open road.  Going 100 kilometres an hour, whizzing past paddocks and cows, before slowing down to 50 k's as we moseyed through small country towns, then increasing speed as we hit the Auckland motorway.

I feel like I should have italicised 'the'.

With leather encasing my butt, the smell of hot tarmac in the air and sweaty palms greasing the wheel I felt the magnificent freedom of the keen motorist.

I also discovered what I'd long suspected.  People are mental on the roads.  Young people and grown ups alike tailgated the living daylights out of me.  Apparently doing the speed limit is optional to those driving Holdens or Fords or clapped out Toyotas from the early 90's.  Who knew?

So I was thinking I should get a bumper sticker made.

Please back off.
My tail is for my husband alone.
Or maybe ...
If you can see me giving you the finger you're too close.