A missive from the mountains

And some thoughts on ageing.

I’m writing this fortnight’s newsletter from Australia’s alpine mountains. Where it has been very, very hot and then very, very wet.

It’s been a weird summer, as perhaps all summers will be from now on, which felt particularly reflected this last weekend. Saturday and Sunday hit the mid-to-high thirties; the first truly hot days we’ve had in Victoria this year. We drove for hours in our ageing car with its questionable air conditioning, deep into the alpine region, where the air was mercifully a few degrees cooler than in the city. Into a beautiful tourist town that’s locally famous for its autumn foliage, but pleasant to visit year-round.

On Sunday, we drove up the nearest mountain and hiked to a waterfall, where snow melt falls into a natural swimming hole. Diving in was like entering a plunge pool; achingly cold at first, until a numbness descends over your body, a sensation that mixes deliciously with the relentless heat streaming down from the sun, enveloping any part of the self that rests above the water.

As I write this, it is raining, as it has been for most of the day. I’m done with my month of no drinking, so I’ve been enjoying a glass of locally made Pinot rosé, while thunderstorms sweep over the mountains.

We have plans for a pub meal tonight and then, to fall asleep to the sound of the rain and thread our way back to the city in the morning.

A lovely way to see out the last few days of being thirty-four.

Driving into Victoria’s High Country.

Birthdays bring up a lot of emotions

So yes, I’ve turned thirty-five this last week. Up into the next age bracket we go. And it’s always nice, no matter how old you are, to take some time for reflection. No life lessons to impart here or anything naff like that, just plain old rumination on what can perhaps be considered a milestone birthday.

Thirty-five is a bit of a weird age. I know a lot of people flip out slightly when they turn thirty… truth be told I felt nothing, apart from annoyance that I no longer qualified for 29-and-under half-price theatre tickets. (I also remember a friend from university crying the day she turned twenty as she ‘was no longer a teenager’ – a cause for celebration in my personal opinion, but then a new decade hits differently for everyone).

I’ve been verbally lamenting that I’m no longer young, something I acutely started feeling with the death of the last family dog. Yet, thanks to the fact that we as a society are living longer, you’re not quite middle-aged at thirty-five (apparently middle age officially starts at forty-five these days! I randomly read this somewhere and have no scientific fact to back it up). I also read somewhere that at thirty-five and a day old, you’re closer to fifty than twenty, which does seem alarming, but again, I refuse to maths my way towards the truth.

Dolly Alderton, who is around six months older than me, wrote something in her latest book, Good Material, that struck a chord:

‘Thirty-five is the youth of middle age,' I say. 'We're at the first stage of something new rather than being at the last stage of being young. I felt relieved when I turned thirty-five. It was like turning eighteen again.’

And this is pretty much exactly how I’d describe it. Thirty-five does feel like the beginning of something new. Akin to that of being a newly minted adult, done with school and feeling the whole world open up to you. You have to be a bit more considered in your thirties, for sure – you can’t really treat them like the throwaway decade our twenties have become (which isn’t a great thing in and of itself). But it certainly feels like new opportunities are just around the corner.

Society doesn’t like us to say so, but I enjoy getting older. There are certain frustrations that come with age for sure – needing more sleep, muscles getting achy, weight creeping on in a way it never used to. Skin wrinkles and freckles. Grey hairs grow in.

But the main take away really, is that ageing is a privilege, not a right. Not everyone reaches the age of thirty-five; not everyone makes it past the age of thirty-five. It’s an honour to arrive here, and every other age – not something we should just take for granted. The wrinkles on your skin mark the timeline of your existence. Those grey hairs tell a story of a life well-lived.

I’m interested in this new beginning, a fresh age bracket. This first stage of something new. Where will it lead? Who will I be at the end of it? Where will the world be? Questions that will be answered within the passage of time, one way or another.

If you’ve turned thirty-five and aged beyond, I’d love to hear how you felt at the time. Anything in particular? Nothing at all? If your mid-thirties are looming, how do you feel about them? Any ages that hit you hard, like my university pal? Holla at me in the comments.

Friday night thrillers: a new ritual

Do you feel like you get enough rest? I’m willing to bet most of us don’t. And it’s on my hit list of things to address in my thirty-sixth year of living (that’s how it works numbers-wise, right? I feel like I’ve revealed multiple times in this one newsletter that maths in not my strong suit…).

One thing that I reckon is worth unashamedly embracing as you age, is the right to do nothing on a Friday. Unless there’s an event on that looks intriguing, or a need to catch up with a person/people that can’t be moved to any other day, I ferociously guard my Fridays. It’s the end of the week, it’s usual to feel pretty knackered and it’s plain lovely to have an evening to unwind before the weekend. Friday nights, like Sunday mornings, feel special and sacred and both are my fave times of the week.

One of the reasons for extreme exhaustion at the end of the week, other than catalysts such as household chores and work, is reading. Although this is ostensibly a food newsletter, books get mentioned a fair bit, and these books must in turn get read, to get mentioned. And while I generally have an ongoing fantasy where I get into bed at 10pm, read for half an hour and then switch the lights off every other day of the week, this isn’t always what ends up happening. Or more rightly… never ends up happening.

So, it seemed ripe to switch things up. There’s a new, hard rule where through the week, it’s best to stay away from books that are too engaging. No horror stories, no millennial literary novels featuring sad girls riding their bikes through the streets of Melbourne’s northern suburbs and definitely no twisty-thrillers. So, mostly non-fiction is allowed; anything that’s easy to put down and immediately disengage from.

And I save the juiciest book in my to-be-read pile for Friday. For when I finish work, make a truly basic and easy dinner and select the book that’s been screaming at me to open it all week. (The choice tomorrow will fall between Sarah J Maas’s newest romantasy House of Flame and Shadow which may be upsetting in its sexiness but engaging nonetheless, and Jessica Knoll’s Bright Young Women, which just looks damn good).

And I call the read, no matter what the genre, the Friday Night Thriller.

Below is my favourite nacho recipe, the perfect accompaniment to the FNT.

A foolproof nacho recipe

We haven't done recipes in awhile (in once again, what is supposed to be a food-related newsletter) and this one is pretty basic, but I stand by it.

This takes about ten minutes to assemble and 10-12 minutes to cook in the oven.

What you will need

• chips - I like Mission’s ‘Extra Cheesy’ corn chips

• one small red onion (diced)

• one can kidney beans (wash before use), or alternatively soak one cup of dry beans overnight

• splash apple cider vinegar (you can make your own)

• jar of salsa (optional)

• chilli flakes (optional)

• grated cheese - can be mozzarella or vegan or vegan mozzarella

• chicken (optional)

• salt and pepper to taste

• avocado

• sour cream

What you will need to do

1. Preheat the oven to 180°C/356°F.

2. Mix diced onion, beans, apple cider vinegar, salt and pepper in a bowl. Add salsa and chilli flakes if you like, but you can roll without them.

3. Grab an oven tray and roll out some baking paper. Add one layer of chips, then the bean/onion/salsa mixture. If using chicken, tear into strips and add on top of the mix.

4. Layer with chips and grated cheese.

5. Pop into oven and cook for 10-12 mins, depending on how crispy you like your chips and how gooey you like your cheese.

6. Serve immediately with avocado and sour cream. Alternatively, you can turn your avo into guac – mash together a tablespoon of lime juice, salt, pepper, splash of ACV and some chilli flakes, if you wish.

Reads of the month.

Some recommendations

Read: I’ve read a few books these last couple of weeks, but there are two in particular I must bring to your attention. Absolutely loved and devoured Eliza Clark’s debut Boy Parts and as such, was eager to get my mits on her follow-up Penance. And I must say, I’ve never read anything like it. It’s written in the style of a true crime book, where a disgraced author covers a horrific murder that took place in a dying resort town in England’s north, on the night of the Brexit referendum (24 June 2016, for those of you playing at home). Three high schoolers brutally murder a fellow classmate, but it hardly makes the news, which is dominated by the surprise referendum results. The disgraced author commits some questionable acts while writing their book; buying their way into private documents, fabricating the answers of interviewees and taking, let’s say, some general literary liberties along the way. How much is real and how much is made up… in this entirely fictionally book, which sucks you right into its core? Lazy City by Rachel Connolly is set in Belfast, with protagonist Erin returning to her home city, after a terrible event upends her life in London. This is a book where not much happens, but you’re rooting enough for the character, that you’re there for the ride – and Belfast as a setting is a particular delight to revel in.

Listen: Live in Australia, New Zealand, the UK, Canada and find yourself somewhat depressed about the housing market? I can’t speak to spectacular policy failures in any other Commonwealth countries, but Alan Kohler takes a deep dive into decades of mismanagement here in Oz, in the Quarterly Essay: The Great Divide, Australia’s Housing Mess and How to Fix It. All QE’s are available via an Audible membership upon release and make great listening for long road trips.

Watch: I was somewhat captivated by a newish Netflix doco: You Are What You Eat: A Twin Experiment, which aims to discover how certain foods affect the body. Four sets of twins are required to change their lifestyle for two months; following specific diets and exercise routines. Only – one twin is put on an omnivore diet, the other on a completely plant-based eating plan. Threaded in between are interviews with vegan chefs, farmers, medical experts, psychologists and more. It’s a quick and easy watch, at only four episodes long and ultimately, quite fascinating to consume.

Eat: You know what I’ve long been wishing would come back into fashion? Prawn cocktails. You know what I spotted on the menu of a restaurant I ate at on the weekend? Yup, a delicious mango-spiced prawn cocktail. IT’S HAPPENING. I think I’m going to have to have a stab at recreating this recipe at home. As per the recent special edition of this newsletter about mocktail mixing, I find myself lamenting again the fact that I don’t own margarita glasses, or any kind of cocktail glasses, really. Time to start scouring the dusty shelves of local op shops (charity stores)…

Just delicious.

Thanks for reading. Keep your eyes peeled for the next bumper edition, landing in your inbox at the end of the month.

‘Til then, stay well and well-fed.

-Celine

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