A Life On Pittwater

by Susan Duncan

  We bring picnic baskets, thermoses of coffee and ice-boxes filled with beer and wine. At the end of the day, the barge ties up at the Lovett Bay boatshed and if there’s not a total fire ban, Toby barbecues sausages on an open fire in the hollow of two boulders for his helpers before he returns to his mooring off The Island.

  Picnics & Cooks

  Picnics – at the water’s edge, high on the escarpments, in a quiet sandy corner or even in a rowboat bobbing on the water – are a way of life and bring people together for fun, to raise money or mark a special event.

  Living with a bay at the foot of the garden felt like being on permanent holiday. This is the stuff of dreams, I thought, when I first found my Tin Shed. I still feel the same way. In the winter, we watch the sun sink behind the hills, turning the trees high on the escarpment into lacy silhouettes. In the final moments of daylight, the water glistens darkly like black marble. Still. Mysterious. Achingly beautiful. Frigid air races down the escarpment to unfurl like a heavy blanket on the bay.

  When the weather warms a little and the fish come back, it is lovely to light a fire at the edge of the shore in an old washing machine drum set on a few bricks.

  It became a habit to invite friends from other bays. They chugged into the mouth of Lovett Bay with engine noises that became so familiar I could tell, without looking, who was about to arrive. Caro and David’s hollow cough. Nick and Ann’s high-pitched grunt. Stewart and Fleury’s growl. Each with a dish in hand until our little picnic turned into a feast.

  It is always oddly quiet around the campfire. Perhaps the beauty of a rising yellow moon, or ghostly mangroves hovering on the far shore, make words inadequate. Voices stay muted until a story, well told, sets off deep laughter. Which sparks another story until we all kick in with a tale of our own. There is such pleasure in the gentle stories of community.

  Sometimes we take our fishing rods and throw lines into the bay. If we’re lucky and catch a bream or flathead, it is quickly cleaned on the pontoon and thrown in a pan of sizzling butter. We each fork a bite until there is none left and the head and carcass is then used to bait crab pots.

  Picnics are the soul of community get-togethers.

  Whenever there’s any event, it takes only a moment or two to pack a basket full of delicious goodies to take along on an adventure.

  The joy of picnics, though, is not only the food, which is rarely fancy unless it’s a special occasion – just a couple of sandwiches, a piece of fruit and a bottle of water for a walk through the national park. If there are two of you to share the load, perhaps cake and a thermos of coffee as well. For the boat, perhaps fresh prawns or a cooked chicken – finger food, so there’s no washing up.

  The pleasure, really, comes from pushing yourself physically. Walking or sailing, then stopping to rest on a rock, or throwing out the anchor. Hot. Sweaty. Breathless.

  When you are still, there’s time to carefully look at what’s around you; to notice colours and textures you’ve never seen before. The vastness of Pittwater and Ku-ring-gai reinforces the smallness of each of us.

  How rare and extraordinary it is to have this kind of wildness on the edge of Australia’s largest city. And it is wild! I will never forget the day I heard strange, scratchy but heavy-footed steps in the hallway. I turned just in time to see a five-foot-long goanna rush past me into the study, so close I could smell his rancid breath. He climbed onto the day bed and flung himself at a closed window. I screamed and jumped up from the computer where I was working, grabbed my still (unbelievably!) sleeping dog from under the desk and ran down the hallway yelling for Bob.

  ‘Didn’t you hear me screaming?’ I asked when he finally sauntered in from the chook shed.

  ‘Yeah, but you stopped.’

  ‘It usually goes silent when you’re dead. Or something,’ I grumped.

  ‘Too late to make a difference then,’ he said, grinning and picking up a broom to chase the goanna back into the bush.

  The Cooks & Bay Recipes

  Nearly everyone living offshore is a good cook. For two main reasons. The first and probably most important is that there aren’t any restaurants that will deliver takeaway across the water. If you don’t cook, you don’t eat. The second is that once you plunge through the front door at the end of a long day, there’s no way you want to desert the peace and beauty of home for noisy crowds and grimy pavements. And anyway, what could be better than a simple meal made from good ingredients, eaten at a table on a deck, watching yachts under sail race in the twilight series? Or listening to a cheeky penguin quacking and diving in the bay. Or watching the sun set or a moon rise. Even the swankiest five-star establishments cannot match it.

  Like country people, our isolation forces us to be creative, adventurous and adept at conjuring delicious food out of pantry and freezer staples. We cannot dash around the corner to the butcher or supermarket if we all suddenly decide to have a neighbourhood barbecue – not without losing our parking space in the car park, anyway, and that’s unthinkable.

  Some cooks, though, are not just good, they’re spectacular. Such as Tim from Towlers Bay, Lisa from Elvina Bay and Cher from Scotland Island. There are many more, of course, with specialties that range from Persian omelettes to whole roast pig, from hot and spicy curries to sublime middle-Eastern vegetarian dishes. But these three are long-standing stalwarts at fundraisers and community events. They may be self-taught but they can whip up an exotic menu for more than one hundred people, stay within a tight budget and make it all look deceptively easy.

  The most regular cook-a-thon is the once-a-month fundraiser for the Elvina Bay fire shed. Lisa and her husband, Roy, an electrician, who is also chief of the Elvina Bay Volunteer Fire Brigade, are the guiding forces behind the hugely popular dinners. Over the years Lisa’s cooking has become so legendary that when a back-burn is organised to thin vegetation before the bushfire season, Elvina Bay never has any trouble finding helpers. They line up for her wicked chocolate brownies and moist sour cream cakes; for her baguettes filled with chicken, roasted capsicum and rocket; or rare roast beef with bitey tamarind chutney, cucumber and lettuce; or char-grilled vegetables with a homemade pesto.

  On the first Saturday of each month (although sometimes the dinners are suspended during winter) people drift towards the fire shed from about six o’clock onwards. Kids swing on ropes hanging from trees. If the tide is out, they bolt through the mud flats until they flake (rarely) or get called to dinner. Then they rush up to the fire shed kitchen table, worn out, happy, dirty and barefoot despite the rough ground, to pounce on whatever the chef du jour has prepared for them. Everyone lends a hand to set up trestle tables, folding chairs and coloured lights until the waterfront looks like a seaside restaurant in a small village on the Mediterranean. The bay turns black, the sky glitters with stars and the casuarinas begin to sing in a light breeze. Food is served by whoever is closest, everyone takes a turn washing up the mismatched plates and cutlery, and the low mumble of the community hums along with the night bush song.

  The annual AGM for the local Woody Point Yacht Club, which is named after a scrubby finger of land covered with spindly, ill-nourished spotted gums on the southern side of Towlers Bay, also depends on volunteers to cook the dinner. Traditionally held at the Lovett Bay boatshed, there have been many chefs and many memorable meals, but the time Tim grilled lamb cutlets with a lemon, thyme, butter and olive sauce and served it with fried polenta and a salad of bitter greens was one of the best. Cher, who once owned the Caotic Chook chicken shop in Mona Vale, is famous for her harissa and golden roasted lemon and rosemary spatchcocks; her garlic, white balsamic and rosemary quail legs and her heady coq au vin. Her butter chicken is a smooth symphony of spices and she can put a cheese plate together so that it looks like a work of art. For a while, she and Lisa put on dinners at the Scotland Island Community Hall, cooking amazing dishes in a very basic kitchen. Together, they have cooked to raise money for the local preschool, high school, for kids needing money to
compete overseas, for anyone suddenly in need of a few extra dollars.

  They are people with big hearts and generous spirits – people who work hard but are always prepared to work even harder for a good cause.

  Any person or group who wants to, has a chance to be a chef for the day at the Elvina Bay fire shed. Food is generally prepared and cooked at home, then lugged to a tinny to be transported across the water. There is an efficient old oven in the shed but it’s not big enough to cater for around one hundred people.

  The Elvina Bay Book Club women recently decided to host a Greek night for the first dinner of 2009. Moussaka, we all happily agreed, until someone mentioned it was going to be 42 degrees on the day and we all wilted at the prospect of browning 30 kilos of lamb mince. ‘Lamb shoulders,’ we decided, ‘slow roasted so there’s no fiddling around with grilling eggplant and making gallons of béchamel sauce.’ Unfortunately, the price of lamb had just escalated due to extended heatwaves in the country. A quick internet search revealed Greeks also ate pork. Marilyn, it turned out, had a particularly delicious recipe for pork shoulders, and called the local supermarket to get a deal on the meat.

  Joy took on the hefty job of buying tomatoes, cucumbers, red onions, fetta, olives, watermelon and all the ingredients for a delicious bean cassoulet.

  Meanwhile, Michelle volunteered to make vegetarian moussaka; Lisa said she’d cook baklava for dessert; Margie, a woman who is both creative and efficient, borrowed CDs of Greek music from the library; Jackie brought old jam jars to put tea light candles in; and we ransacked our cupboards to find gingham tablecloths. Jackie volunteered to make chicken souvlaki for the kids, and Judy and Marilyn said they’d do the shopping for the ingredients for the pork dish. We divided ten large shoulders to cook between us, and the feast was on!

  I must confess, I undercooked my pork shoulders to the point that they were inedible. Everyone laughed and said, ‘We’ll recook them on Monday for the fireys’ meeting.’

  Throughout the day as temperatures soared, smoke filled the sky from bushfires north and south of us, hazing the landscape like sooty grey fur. The smell of burning bush made us edgy even though the sea breeze was in and predicted to get stronger in the early afternoon. It would force back any flames that might try to rampage towards us. But it was a reminder that although our fire shed dinners are great community fun, the underlying reason for them is to raise money so that when fires hit, we have the right equipment to fight hard, efficiently, effectively and as safely as possible.

  Later that night, as the last tables and chairs were packed away, Brigitte’s dinner ticket sales were notched at one hundred and nine. A good turnout.

  The next morning Australia woke to news of death and destruction in Victoria’s worst bushfires in history. They seem to have become a part of life in these times of record heat and endless dry. We listened to the radio and heard stories of tragedy and heroism. Then fell silent as the death toll rose to horrific numbers.

  When the final costs of the dinner were tallied, we’d raised $2500 on the night. It was donated to the bushfire fund in Victoria. Food brings us together in celebration or crisis. It sustains, is understood, appreciated and even – occasionally – applauded.

  BAY RECIPES

  Lisa’s chocolate chip biscuits

  125 g unsalted butter, softened

  1¼ cups packed brown sugar

  1 tsp vanilla essence

  1 egg, lightly beaten

  1½ cups plain flour

  ½ tsp baking powder

  pinch of salt

  250 g block of dairy milk chocolate, roughly chopped

  Preheat oven to 180°C. Cream butter and sugar until light. Add vanilla and egg and beat to combine. Stir in sifted flour, baking powder and salt until just combined. Gently stir through chocolate pieces. Spoon cooking mixture onto greased and lined trays to allow for spreading. Cook 15–20 minutes until they turn pale gold.

  Ann’s secret garden marmalade

  3 seville oranges for bitterness, or 3 sweet oranges

  1 kg cumquats

  1½ kg sugar

  2 litres of water

  Wash the fruit. Simmer the whole oranges for an hour. Half an hour before the end, add whole cumquats. Allow fruit to coo l. Remove fruit and chop, reserving pips, and return fruit to water. Boil pips separately in a very small amount of water (or you can tie pips in a muslin cloth) for a few minutes. Strain water into the general fruit mix (or add parcel of pips). Boil rapidly for 15 minutes, then add sugar and boil until mixture sets – about 40 minutes.

  ‘When my mother was old, she found chopping the fruit quite difficult so she softened it first using this method,’ Ann said.

  Chicken and seafood paella

  Extra virgin olive oil for cooking

  1½ Spanish onions, finely chopped

  5 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

  ½ tsp sea salt, to taste

  freshly ground black pepper

  ½ tsp chilli flakes

  saffron powder

  18 green prawns, shelled, deveined, tails on

  2 chorizo sausages, diced large

  100 g smoked bacon, lardons

  2 tomatoes, peeled and chopped

  1 yellow pepper, deseeded and chopped

  1 red pepper, deseeded and chopped

  ½ tsp ‘La Chinata’ smoked paprika

  5 tsp chopped flat leaf parsley

  2 tsp tomato paste

  375 g ‘Calasparra’ paella rice

  1 litre fresh chicken stock

  1 lemon, cut into wedges

  Heat a paella pan with a splash of olive oil. Add the finely chopped onion, garlic and chicken and cook gently for a couple of minutes to seal the chicken. Add peppers, tomatoes, bacon and sausage and coo k for a further few minutes. Add chilli flakes, paprika, saffron, half the parsley and tomato paste, then add in the rice and chicken stock all at the same time. Season.

  Stir through and leave for 20 minutes, on a simmer, to absorb. Give the pan a gentle shake every five minutes but do not stir the rice. Lastly, add the prawns and coo k through. Turn off heat and let rest for five minutes to allow the rice to absorb the last of the moisture.

  Add extra parsley to pan and place in centre of table ‘share style’ and add wedges of lemon. Serve with aioli. Serves six.

  This is Mark Holland’s (from Food Stuff in Mona Vale) famous Northern Beaches paella. It can be increased to cater for 150 people if you have a big enough pan.

  Tim’s lamb

  backstraps

  4 lamb backstraps

  2 tsp cumin seeds

  zest of one lemon

  olive oil

  SAUCE

  Greek yoghurt

  crushed garlic

  chopped coriander leaves

  SALAD

  mixed greens, red capsicum

  cooked chickpeas

  olive oil

  lemon juice

  1 cup cooked couscous

  Rub lamb with cumin seeds, lemon rind and salt. Allow to sit for a few minutes. Heat olive oil in a frying pan and sear meat on both sides for 2–3 minutes. Remove from pan and allow to rest for five minutes. The lamb should be pink when sliced.

  Stir Greek yoghurt, crushed garlic and chopped coriander leaves together. Allow enough time for the flavours to combine. Season to taste.

  Toss salad ingredients in a very small amount of olive oil and squeeze over lemon juice, season with salt and pepper.

  To serve, slice lamb and arrange on a bed of couscous. Add yoghurt mixture on the side and pour a little more over the salad.

  Brandy cream for Christmas pudding

  1 egg, separated

  ½ cup of icing sugar

  1 cup cream

  2 tbs (or more) brandy

  Beat egg white until stiff. Gradually add ¼ cup of icing sugar. Fold in lightly whisked egg yolk. In a separate bowl, whip cream until stiff. Add ¼ cup of icing sugar. Fold in as much brandy as you like but a minimum of two tablespoons. Fold the two
mixtures together.

  This came off a tag on a Christmas pudding made by Lyn Reid from Monroe West Station, via Deniliquin, NSW. In Lovett Bay, Andrew and Matt make a wish as they stir the pudding.

  Jeanne’s lemon thins

  260 g plain flour

  250 g unsalted butter

  180 g caster sugar

  1 large fresh egg

  1 tsp vanilla essence

  zest of 1 lemon

  1 tsp salt

  These are wonderful biscuits to serve warm from the oven. Keep the mixture frozen in rolls, and cut and cook when friends arrive for a cuppa.

  Whizz sugar with the zest in a food processor. Add butter and whizz until combined. Add egg and vanilla essence. Add salt and flour until just combined – a really quick whizz.

  Divide dough in half, roll into a 4 cm log and wrap in plastic cling wrap. Refrigerate at least two hours.

  Heat oven to 180°C. Cut logs into 1 cm thick slices and bake on a baking sheet for 10– 12 minutes or until golden brown. Cool on a wire rack.

  Cher’s rosy

  spatchcocks

  4 spatchcocks

  10 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed

  bunch of fresh rosemary, leaves removed from stems and crushed

  ½ cup white balsamic vinegar

  1 tbs lemon juice

  ½ cup olive oil

  salt and pepper

  Halve spatchcocks, cutting out the thick ridge of backbone.

  Whisk olive oil, lemon juice and vinegar together until thick and creamy. Add other ingredients, whisk. Put poultry in shallow dish, pour over marinade. Place in the fridge and marinate overnight, turning occasionally.