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.

little tom turns one

Aquaman has more than one namesake in the village, and yesterday was the first birthday celebration  of the most recent Tom. We thought it was going to be a small family gathering, perhaps with a cup of sickly sweet tea and little else, so we took a pack of biscuits to contribute. How wrong we were. The birthday was secondary to the baptism, and half of the village had turned up to welcome little Tom into the flock. Kids and dogs were tumbling out of the doors, lining up for their free feed in a takeaway box. The fattened pig was chopped up and boiled, a flock of chickens deep fried and more rice boiled than we would consume in a year. What a shame we had just eaten...couldn't possibly, so full. I accepted a tiny square of cake presented on a fork, then almost gagged when Tom said the very same utensil had gone into every child's mouth as the plate went around. That's the community spirit. 

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. 

pig for the priest

The staccato rhythm of the gongs usually indicates a funeral in the village, and being so near to our house we thought we better wander up for a look.  The din was coming from the church, and we soon established that the jovial celebration wasn't for death, but for marriage. Our priest had gone off to the mainland city to wed his sweetheart and a feast was in preparation for their return. Though shall not kill obviously doesn't extend to our four legged free range friends. We politely declined lunch, and the kind offer of take-away.

getting younger

Aquaman has chalked up another year of waves and commitment to the simple life. We celebrated with a divine breakfast at Colin & Linda's, after the weekly market run.  With an ocean view from the dining pavilion, we dined on frozen banana, date and cacao "mousse" with coconut cream and almonds,  papaya smoothie and a strong coffee that had us buzzing for hours. The perfect fuel for a surf; and being the good wife I had arranged for clean, head high sets all afternoon. 

Happy birthday dear Tommy, selamat hari ulang tahun. x

wedding feast

Preparing a wedding feast is a mammoth task, involving women from all branches of the extended family. As with an Aussie event, the men tend to do the heavy lifting; erecting tarps, unloading plastic chairs and building a temporary fence around the venue with coconut leaves and sticks. Then they squat under the shade for the rest of the day while the women chop and stir and stoke and wash.  The average wedding has around 300 plus guests - that is, most of the village - and the food preparation begins at dawn on the big day.  Rice, pig, goat and noodles are standard, with additional dishes added relative to the wealth of the family.  I have a morbid fascination with the massive vestibules of boiled meat, and emit involuntary shrieks of horror when my lens hovers too close. 

The groom's parents foot the bill for all food and water (the reception is alcohol free aside from the odd nip of sopi out the back), and family members are asked to make a donation toward the catering and "hire" of equipment.  The pots, woks, plates and serving bowls are community owned and are stored at the chief's house in between events. 

Hanging out the back with the ladies around an oversized pot of boiling rice is always a valued experience. I feel a sense of kinship that is absent in my Australian life where I don't even know the name of my neighbours.  Over the years I have learned more insider snippets of custom, gossip and tradition, and my roving camera and meat avoidance is always welcome entertainment.

playing with the boys

At the end of the season, when the guests have gone home and the days heat up, we spend more time at the hotel, hanging out by the pool with the manager Greg (far right) and  his painfully cute son RJ.  As a small token of celebration I stepped behind the bar to make a choc-banana smoothie for Johnny Bay's (far left) birthday. RJ thought is was heaven; hanging out with Dad and the big boys while scoffing his own glass of smoothie.  Every day he gets more cheeky and adorable, and doesn't he know it.  Before long he'll have a man sized Bintang singlet and be chugging back beers with his mates, while Dad and the Aquamen relive their days of glory.

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.