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). 

a moveable feast

   

After the indulgences of Bali, I was happy to return to the raw vegan sensibility - fresh, ripe, organic fruit and vegies, sprouts, seeds and occasional nuts. Simple, grain free, unprocessed, with nil by mouth other than herbal tea after sunset (which is 5.45pm here at 11 degrees south). The exceptions to our raw diet are a small amount of tempeh (an Indonesian delicacy made by fermenting soya beans), steamed sweet potato and dry grilled eggplant. 

Aquaman strung together an impressive 25 days caffeine free, whereas I crumbled after nine - my longest stint totally caffeine free (with not even green tea) for at least ten years. I was shocked by the mental space hijacked with thoughts of coffee, the internal struggle to stay away from the bean and leaf, and the feelings of deprivation as I drank another rooibos. Giving up yoghurt and cheese was much easier. It was pathetic, annoying and I was napping like a wombat. Behold the power of a single shot.  Lord knows how I’d react to anything stronger, or if I had a three-cups-a-day habit. 

We are fortunate to have some foodie friends that aren’t afraid to have vegans at the table, and this week has been a culinary sensation of epic proportions.  Firstly, a lunch next door with our newest neighbours, a Moroccan/Israeli living in Bali and his Italian friend. Cue falafel with tahini dressing, the most hummus ever to be served on the island, mixed salads, toasted rye bread, grilled eggplant with chilli, and floods of olive oil.  All served beneath a shady coconut leaf cabana with a white sand floor. 

  

After 24 hours to recover from the surfeit of garlic, we attended the annual Lodge afternoon tea, with its much anticipated menu of Balinese black rice pudding with coconut milk and banana, hot donuts and tea. Yes I said donuts. As in “I want to wash myself with a sponge on a stick” kind of calories. It is my one deliberate fried food item of the year, and I ate it with as much mindfulness as I could muster among the animated conversation. 

We had a 48 hour sabbatical after the donuts and before the third invitation; a glorious raw meal with our friends Colin and Linda. Despite an unexpected break in power supply, Linda came through with her promise of banana and pistachio “semi-freddo”; the exclamation mark to a poetic stanza of ingredients.

Back in the days of no refrigeration and smoky pots of rice cooked over an open fire, I couldn’t imagine ever seeing a pinenut or mizuna leaf in this environment. A splash of balsamic vinegar at someone’s house was a luxury to be savored for weeks. Now we have rocket and fancy lettuce, miso, walnuts, dates and Lindt chocolate. They are all still carefully rationed, but I am grateful for their mere existence and the generosity of friends who share their supplies.

captain's breakfast

Each year when the Sama Sama sails into its channel anchorage, a flutter of excitement rises with the anticipation of our annual breakfast outing. The graceful teak boat is owned by an Austrian couple, and in between charters they slot in a ten day holiday, before the boat heads to the Mentawai for the remainder of the surf season. 

With their Balinese cook they laid on a buffet breakfast that lasted all morning. Two loaves of bread -warm from the oven - fruit platter, toasted muesli, eggs, salami, banana and chocolate cake, a selection of jams and spreads, juice, tea and a bottomless plunger of coffee. Oh how variety can cause one to overeat. Sweet to savoury, back to sweet...another coffee? more bread? 

In between courses we dived off the deck, did laps around the boat, the girls played cards while the boys battled it out in chess. Tom found a spot on the daybed with 360 degree ocean views, and slowly slipped from the position you see above to a more horizontal one. 

Thank you Susannah and Gerfried for generously sharing your supplies and space. Your visit is always a highlight of the year. Until next time, may the wind fill your sails. 

first rain

It is a long torrid season far east of the Wallace Line. The last rain was on the 21st May, and six months later the land is harsh, thirsty and exposed.  The humidity soared through November, but the wet season is rudely lagging behind schedule. There was little of the dramatic cloud build up we have seen in other years, nor the usual respite offered by the onshore breeze. All we wanted was one downpour before we left.  Visiting friends ten k's south we got our first taste of the wet, a glorious ten minute dumping, but in the true nature of isolated showers, our village didn't get a drop. 

lontar spa part 2

Sascha, the Lontar spa founder, with Hildi

The day spa experience isn't only for women, as these photos illustrate. After a long session in the surf, the boys are partial to a massage, especially when it can be combined with a cold beer.  The beachfront wing of the Lontar Spa is a more public affair, suitable for manicures, pedicures and seated massage. The open bamboo bale has unhindered views to the wave, the sunset and the bar; all essential elements of the island dream.

We have known Bingin Mick (seated right) for many years, and never seen an alcoholic beverage in his hand.  He was about to leave on a boys only boat trip to Sumatra for his 50th birthday, and felt sure there would be a few beers involved, so prior to this massage he announced that he better go into training. He claims it  did in fact enhance the experience.  

lontar spa part 1

A tickle of luxury has arrived on the island this season, with the opening of the Lontar Spa at the resort.  The building was designed by Tom McArchitect and the interiors styled by the spa's founder and manager Sascha; the beauty and brains behind the successful cliff-top spa at Mick's Place in Bingin (also Mick's better half and my neighbour).  I was delighted to be asked to photograph the spa, and try out the signature treatments over the course of a girl's afternoon.  The two therapists are local girls, trained by the experienced spa staff at Mick's Place. 

The main building has a curved stone entrance, spiralling inwards to a concealed door that welcomes clients into the secluded, calm interior.  The nautilus inspired design features an open air shower and vanity in the centre and classic grass roof.  On the beach, with a front row view of the wave, is a small bale for manicures, pedicures and seated massage. See the boys blissed-out smiles as they combine beer-o-clock with a treatment in the next post.  

Riding home along the beach front at sunset, after a swim, full body massage and fresh shower, I experienced one of those peak moments that etch into your memory. Thanks Sascha, and congratulations. 

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. 

office hours

It isn't easy getting work done in a surf camp. There is a continuous stream of "interruptions", starting at 6am with the walking veggie pedlars, then a banana delivery, the building team, and neighbours keen for a cuppa. The kettle is always on and the bamboo blinds open, as every hour is ripe for a casual drop-in.  The idea of work interrupting social interaction or surf is ludicrous. Tides, wind and waves are what matters; just ahead of cold beer (or frozen fruit in our case). The other expats are retired or on short stay holidays, and we wouldn't dare ask "do you mind coming back later, we're working."  It just wouldn't be cricket. Or surf.  

Not that we like to take the whole work thing too seriously. There aren't many offices in the world where you can conduct a meeting where both the architect and client are shirtless, and seated under a coconut palm with an ocean view. The overheads are very low, and the secretary doubles as the tea lady. 

Tom's latest project is a two bedroom, two bathroom villa on an epic headland location. The owner is a young guy of Indonesian/Euro descent, who has freed himself early from the jaws of a mercantile world and joined our evolving community of surf bums. The site is 10 kilometres south of our village, and has a private beach with all day swimming pool. The landscape is wild and rough, with native scrub and sharp limestone rock instead of ordered coconuts and white sand. I love visiting, just to kick around in the leaf litter and pretend it is autumn. Sometimes I even get to hold the smart end of the tape.