it's the time, and it's slow

String out your hammock, wax up your quiver, the season is well underway. We have been back on our island home for almost three months, arriving in mid March after two months of summer in Western Australia and one month travelling in Sri Lanka (you may have seen the photos on my other blog). Nothing happens fast on island time; our days are a gentle wash of tides, watching the breath, watching the mind, watching the waves.

It is officially winter in the southern hemisphere, and while the temperature barely dips below 26 degrees, the signs of the changing season are evident. The occasional black cloud dissipates without a drop and the green tinge of the wet season has already withered to brown. Trade winds blow with persistence, and the cold fronts pushing through WA are bringing us consistent swell. It’s been a solid start to the surf year, and Aquaman has notched his share of barrels on the bedhead. 

If the exasperating internet service will allow, I will begin to fill in the past and keep up with the present.  I am actively posting photos on Instagram @sallymaymills, and my Facebook page , but blogging is difficult given a connection that gets slower every year. 

a cake for aquaman

I was under strict instructions not to make a fuss for Aquaman's 40th birthday, and I tried, really I did, but the opportunity to bake a cake and get out the teaspoon collection was too much to bare. It was just a little afternoon tea, with no candles or hoo-ha, and only one painfully sung line of happy birthday. The invited guests were instructed to drop in casually between 3pm and 4.30pm, so as to divert attention away from the notion that I had indeed orchestrated a forbidden event. 

The birthday cake was the first one I have baked this season as I don't have an oven, and the idea of attempting a chocolate cake in the camp oven under a midday sun was ludicrous. Instead, I was able to borrow Hildi's oven space. I sifted the dry ingredients into a large bowl, and packaged it up with the wet ingredients and cake tin into my bike basket and carefully cycled into town. Talk about the slow food movement. I had a minor mishap when the almost cooked cake slipped out of my hand and upturned into the oven, losing its tender middle.  Hildi reported the next time she lit the oven it caught fire and smelt suspiciously like burning chocolate. 

Once cooked, the cake was couriered by another friend on her motorbike back to the house. All this time, Tom was meant to be surfing macking six foot waves that I had especially dialled up for his birthday. Unfortunately for him, his nose and that of the board met on his first wave, and Tom came off a bloody second best.  He was quick to suspect a gathering of some ilk when I arranged more than two cups and plates on the table. It is impossible to hide party preparations in a one room shack. I think I was forgiven after the birthday boy polished of his second slab of cake and third donut. 

Happy birthday dear Tom, you are a inspiration and I am honoured to be sharing my days with you. xx 

One Bowl Wonder Chocolate Cake

2 cups plain flour

1 tsp bi-carb soda

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp cinnamon

1 - 1 1/2 cups raw sugar (depending on how sweet you like your cake)

1 cup cocoa powder

1 1/2 cup milk (non-dairy or cow)

2/3 cup canola or coconut oil

1 tsp vanilla

2 mashed bananas plus juice one small lemon (or 2 eggs)

(optional: add half cup of almond meal for a denser cake)

Sift together flour, bi-carb, baking powder, cinnamon and cocoa. Add sugar and salt.

Combine milk, oil and vanilla.

Add bananas and lemon juice (or eggs if non-vegan)

Combine well.

Bake in 20cm round tin for 35-45 mins at 180 degrees until a skewer comes out clean.  

Cool, then turn out onto cake rack and decorate. 

I frosted the cake with a ganache made from coconut cream and melted 70% Lindt dark chocolate, then sprinkled on grated chocolate and smashed up Beng Beng bars (an Indo classic). 

burger queen

If you follow my instagram feed @sallymaymills you will have seen a version of these photos already. For those of you who don't 'gram it, and I know there are many, I didn't want you to miss out on my last camp oven beach bake. Bread is a real rarity for us; six foot swell is more commonplace. There are no bakeries around the corner turning out warm baguettes or organic sourdough, and the Indonesian excuse for sliced bread, only available from the shop one hour away, is like sweet white cardboard. A total waste of resources. 

Using the basic loaf recipe I made pull apart rolls, served with grilled tempeh, eggplant, hummus and salad. Behold the first island vegan burger. Take that evil Maccas, you wouldn't even come close. 

And for my southern friends feeling the chills of winter, a bit of sunshine and sand for you to gaze into and think warm thoughts. 

thirty something

It's my birthday week. Hip hip hooray. I am very partial to a bit of birthday action, and refuse to accept that it can't be as exciting as it was when I was seven - perhaps not seven, as that day ended in tears because everyone else got a party hat and I didn't. Mum had to swiftly cut out a crown with a big number 7 stapled on the front to save the day.  

I have but a few humble requests : a cake with a candle, a rendition of happy birthday, no dishes, and at least one opportunity to do something new (yes, my semi-enlightened husband has reminded me that every moment is a new experience...) This year, to ease my childlike expectations, I steamed a vegan chocolate and cranberry cake the day before, and tried not to watch when Aquaman cut it up before presenting it to me with a tea-light candle on top. Ever the practical thinker is my Tom.  We shared it with the boys next door for breakfast. 

The remainder of the day was a beautiful combination of solitude, peace, adventure, and socialising. A quiet moment with a magazine and coffee in my birthday cup (handmade porcelain by Samantha Robinson), an empty lagoon to swim in, a late morning smoothie, an all afternoon outing, and burritos for dinner with friends at the hotel. 

I was blessed with unexpected presents (including the necklace I am wearing above, made by fellow islander, Hildi), a bounty of kisses and a second cake decorated with plastic palm trees. 

Thank you.

Photos from our picnic to the south coast of the island coming up next. 

palm sugar

Lontar palms provide a staple fuel for the villager,s and August is peak flow of the sweet sap.  It is drunk fresh by humans and pigs every morning and afternoon, and the remainder is boiled down to a thick syrup for storage over the wet season. The gula air is the consistency of honey and is mixed with water to make a natural cordial, free from artificial colourings and flavourings. We recommend it drizzled over vegan pancakes or spooned into ginger and lemongrass tea.  If the syrup is boiled for a further hour it hardens to toffee, and the molten goodness is poured into circular moulds made from strips of lontar leaf.  The cooled "biscuits" are called gula lemping and can be crushed to a delicious dark palm sugar, far superior to processed white death. I have an intimate knowledge of the tapping process - as good as one can while remaining safely on the ground - but had not seen a gula lemping pour until our recent outing to the interior.  Simple, sustainable & organic. Long may it last. 

island outings

While the McParents were here we took the opportunity to team up with our friends, Colin and Linda, and scout the back roads to the bays and beaches beyond our own.  The mid morning point of each outing was marked with a thermos of tea and a vegan treat beneath a shady tree. One can not explore new frontiers and gather priceless driftwood treasures on water alone. 

Vehicles are a novelty in these parts, and the roads are a killer on a scooter, so the offer of a bounce around in the back of Colin and Linda's ute is always welcome.  Plenty of fresh air, free solarium and unimpaired views. However a 4WD she isn't, and the wheels aren't much bigger than a lawnmower.  Despite our best efforts at road maintenance, three failed attempts to mount the final hill saw us backtrack home. 

camp oven bread

I never thought I would see the day when a camp oven arrived in our midst - I certainly wasn't going to haul a cast iron beast over in my luggage - but our neighbour Gerry had a spare ten kilograms in his allocation and visions of roast chicken in the coals.  I come from a long lineage of bush cooks, able to turn out a three course gastronomic event in the desert; and while I have witnessed, sampled and assisted many camp oven cook ups, until now, I was never alone with the coals. The in-laws were missing their daily slice of Yallingup woodfired sourdough, and I thought I might win friends and influence people with a hot loaf of olive and basil focaccia to accompany the daily salad. It had been over a month since my last intoxicating dough moment in Italy, and boy, was this good.  

getting younger every year

Another year younger, spent again in the beauty of our island home with my hunk of a husband and dear friends.  The day began with a motorbike trip south to swim at one of my favourite lagoons and explore the mangroves; a burst of beachcombing and coffee at a friends bungalow, then back to our village for a little party.

John and Hildi have recently returned after a few months in Europe and we were reunited  over almond milk chocolate shakes and cake in Tinggi's pondok.  I have strict regulations regarding birthdays, including: there must be cake, a rendition of "Happy Birthday" and no doing dishes.  Tinggi's maids baked me the the trusty one bowl wonder chocolate cake and while I got my hands sticky making smoothies, I didn't have to wash up.

Full of excito-toxins and stimulants, we rode to Baylo's house on the cliff for a sunset picnic and candlelit sleepover with views fit for a birthday princess.  Totally unexpected, Greg and Anita arrived on dusk with another cake that Anita had decorated in fine Indonesian style. A great day, a charmed life. Thanks to everyone that makes it possible.

know when to hold 'em

On a warm dry season afternoon, on an island bound for nowhere

We met up with our neighbours, who were both too tired to sleep

We took turns at staring, across the fence out to the oval

Then hunger overtook us, and we began to eat.

John said, Tom I've made a life

Out of making key investments

 Knowing when to buy up big

Knowing when to sell

But in the end it means sweet f@#k all

If you're not getting any barrels

There'll be time enough for working

When the surfing's done

My apologies to Kenny.

Hotly contested games of "500" and fresh vegan cinnamon raisin scrolls with marmalade. 

Just another great day basking in the glow of un-productivity.