Strawberry and rhubarb crumble

Strawberries have been super cheap these last few weeks. Anyone know a reason for this? I thought this meant they were currently in season, but a quick google tells me that between Victoria, New South Wales and Queensland there’s pretty much “strawbs” in season somewhere in the eastern states all year round.

From here we could launch into a conversation about buying in season, buying local and ensuring a fair price for the farmer – all of which are important issues, but it’s late on a Friday night and I’m single parenting three under three this weekend so let’s just talk dessert, ok?

For some, cheap strawberries means jam. I don’t have time for jam. Maybe one day, but in the meantime, cheap strawberries mean strawberry and rhubarb crumble.

If I’ve been to your hens party and was asked to provide a recipe, chances are you already have this one. It’s my go-to for bridal shower shares. Everyone loves a crumble (right?) and I like to think the strawberry and rhubarb filling makes this one just a little sexier. What’s more, it’s super easy to make and a lot of the prep can be done in advance. Sound like perfect dinner party material?

I can’t remember when I first started making this dish. It started out as “strawberry, rose geranium and rhubarb crumble” from The Good Weekend’s “Any fool can cook...” section. I think it was written by Matthew Evans but I can’t be sure. I still have the original clipping but my version is now considerably different. The original had very firm views on the crumble:

“This one doesn’t resemble a muesli topping, relying on coconut or rolled oats. It’s simpler, more classical and far better in my view.”

But somewhere along the lines I put the rolled oats back in. Does that make me a radical? I just like a bit more substance in my crumble. If you’re in the traditionalist camp, or any other crumble camp for that matter substitute in your own mix. The crumble here freezes well so you can whip up a dessert in a hurry and works just as well with a traditional apple filling (try 8 sliced red apples, 2 Tbsp sugar and juice of ½ a lemon instead of the fruit mix below).

Strawberry and rhubarb crumble

170 g plain flour
65 g self raising flour
170 g raw sugar
pinch salt
170 g softened butter
1/3 cup rolled oats
1/2 bunch rhubarb, chopped into 2-3 cm pieces
1 punnet strawberries, hulled and halved
2 Tbsp honey, warmed
1/2 tsp vanilla
A splash of rosewater

Combine flours, sugar, salt and 120 g of butter in the food processor until it resembles breadcrumbs. Add oats and pulse briefly to combine.

In a medium casserole dish, toss the rhubarb and strawberries with honey, vanilla and a splash of rosewater then press the mixture down.

Just before baking, sprinkle the crumble mixture over the fruit. Chop the remaining 50 g butter into small cubes and scatter across the crumble.

Bake in a 200 degree C oven for 30-40 minutes or until the top is browned.

Serves 4

Food and flowers for grief and joy

What a fortnight it's been. I have met new babies, sent my own baby to daycare for the first time, celebrated an engagement and farewelled a friend's father, taken before his time.

Over the last three years I have seen life's book ends first hand with the birth of my twins in 2014, the untimely passing of my own father in 2016 and the arrival of our third baby at the beginning of this year.

When Dad died close friends and kind acquaintances alike came forward with baked goods, casseroles and flowers. I couldn't help but think back to when the twins were born and I realised that  life begins and ends with food and flowers. And kindness.

It's easy to extend kindness and joy when life begins. Cute baby presents and cheerful flowers. But when life ends there can be an awkwardness surrounding what to do and say.

Most of my friends are in their mid to late thirties and too many of us have already lost a parent. Some of them have lost siblings and others have seen children, nieces and nephews battle serious illness.

When anyone you know experiences these heartbreaking life events, don't be awkward. Just remember: kindness.

Send flowers if you like. Or a plant if you know it won't burden the recipient. I'm a big fan of plants and take comfort in caring for those I received last year after dad's passing, but not everyone's life's circumstances suit plants. I was immensely touched by those who went to the expense to send flowers or the effort to cook, but a simple phone call is just as powerful. Don't know what to say? Well say that.  "I don't know what to say but I am thinking of you", or "there is nothing I can say to fix this but please know I'm here." It need not be a long conversation and chances are your friend may not pick up the phone. But they will know that you care. And trust me, it means a lot.

Have you experienced loss? What did you find comforting and/or useful?
Do you have a go-to gesture that you call upon when friend's experience heartache?

A Sydney birthday party

This weekend passed we took our three children – two and a half year old twins and a seven month old – to Sydney. A whopping 810 km round trip for a two night stay. I think the time it took me to pack was greater than the time we had on the ground. It’s a far cry from child-free days when we used to jump in the car Friday night after work and whip down for a party or two before making a leisurely (and often hungover) trip back up the highway.

But you know what? It was worth every whingy car trip moment.

We went down for a party, but not the type mentioned above. It was a party to help our nephew Oliver celebrate his first birthday. He won’t remember that we were there, but the fact is, we were there. We had a nice time catching up with Sam’s sister and her husband and their friends, as much as is possible in between keeping tabs on children, and we got to demonstrate to our family that we value them and want to share in their joy as much as they share in ours. 

 The car trips weren’t quite as painful as I would have expected, the twins did well sleeping in big beds (our first trip since we took the sides off their cot four weeks ago) and we had a wonderful morning before the Saturday afternoon party. Sam and I got to enjoy great coffee and Georgina and Thomas got to experience a fun new park, not to mention all the planes flying overhead. PLANE!

Just as Oliver won’t remember our presence, the twins probably won’t remember the trip in years to come (and Audrey certainly won’t) but I hope that if we can make these trips now, when life is seriously hectic, then it will only be easier to continue as our family grows, and we can show these malleable little creatures of ours how important it is to value those who value us.