The Australia Times - Life & Love magazine. Volume 1, issue 1

INDEX

LIFE & LOVE

Independent Media Inspiring Minds

We aim to inform, entertain, teach, encourage, educate and support

the community at large by facilitating communication between

all Australians. By providing the opportunity for all opinions to be

shared on a single website.

Welcome Note .................................................................................... 5

About the Editor ................................................................................ 6

To Sixteen with Love ........................................................................ 7

The F**k It List .................................................................................. 10

So Many Frogs, So Few Princes ................................................. 11

Single and Ready to Mingle ........................................................ 14

Is Baking the New S&M? ............................................................... 17

A Sweet, Sweet Life ....................................................................... 20

Caloric Boredom ........................................................................... 23

Remember Rosemary .................................................................... 24

Contributors:

Katie Woolway

Joanne Whittaker

Amy Conley

Shenel Erkan

Lexie Pryor

Connie Lambeth

Tania Rann

Suzanne Apps

Cover Image

Hannah Lambeth

Editor:

Amy Dorrington

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Welcome Note

hello lovers!

Welcome to the rst issue of TAT’s LIFE & LOVE mag!

After several gruelling months of meetings, a few

bouts of writer’s block and a truck load of coee

(okay, and wine!), I am thrilled to launch our fancy-

fresh, newfangled online magazine that will cover all

things life and love.

To start, a brief history… Kelly (our lovely Chief of

Sta) decided after reading one of my blogs that

I was failing at life and love so brilliantly that I was

the perfect candidate to kick o a mag about those

very topics. And the rest is history, really. We are now

very much alive and kicking and I can’t wait for you

to discover the many magical bits and pieces inside

our rst edition from our bunch of incredibly talent-

ed folk. So what is the mag all about? Reections on

life, love and everything in between. Real life experi-

ences: rants, advice, epiphanies. Mistakes made, les-

sons learnt. This issue, you’ll nd an ode to a humble

herb and a yummo recipe. Confessions of an online-

dating victim. A caloric rant from a soy latte-drink-

ing vegetarian. One woman’s account of her journey

to becoming sugar-free. A brutally honest lesson in

guring out the importance of what you don’t want.

Plus much more.

Thank you to our outstanding team of writers and

crafty creative types for your contributions in this rst

issue.

Want in? We are always looking for new contributors,

and would love to hear your feedback. If you’d like

more info or just want to say hello, please ick me an

email at: amy.dorrington@theaustraliatimes.com.au

Peace & Love,

- Amy xx

Credit: http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1421655

Photographer: Max Wachendörfer

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About

the editor:

Amy Dorrington is an ex-Queenslander, currently residing in sunny

Melbourne and making a living working for a technology company.

When she’s not blatantly attempting to dazzle people with her charm,

wit and incredible modesty, Amy enjoys interpretive dancing, eating

to the point of food-baby and pretending to care about AFL (because

her grandad told her if she doesn’t like AFL she doesn’t have a soul).

Amy has a degree in Media & Sociology, a tendency to overuse the

word ‘magical’ and has just started a blog called ‘Winning at Failing’.

Credit: Wikimedia Commons

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to SixteeN

with Love

by Katie Woolway

Dear 16-

So we meet again.

I am sure you remember me because I am you.

It is because of this familiarity and sameness that I

feel obligated to share with you what I wish I could

have enlightened you with a decade ago.

I have a great view from up here on my mid-twenties

high horse and it is my right to rub it in.

Over the last 10 years since we went our separate

ways, I have acquired wisdom that far exceeds your

angsty, perturbed facade of knowing-it-all and I’m

here to candidly assure you that the world is not end-

ing; being a target for gossip will only make you a

better person and yes, your boobs will come in and

the “surfboard” references will cease.

Now for 500 of the most helpful words you will ever

hear.

Firstly, being self-pitiful is a waste of time and furrow-

ing will give you wrinkles (just ask the soft crease in

my forehead). Learning to laugh at yourself is by far

the most cathartic experience one can; do it often

and always invite others to join you in your humor-

ous reverie. Cracking up loves company.

Do not ever categorise heartbreak as a waste of time

because it teaches you humility in the most profound

sense of the word. Until you have experienced the in-

describable pang of a broken heart, love is remark-

ably trivial and disposable. After suering from the

sickening stomach ache caused by comfort eating a

tub of Ben & Jerry’s combined with the sodium over-

dose from the tears pooling in the corners of your

mouth between bites, you will learn to handle the

emotions of others with much more gentility.

Be sure to forgive quickly, love deeply, speak hon-

estly and be slow to judge. If you look hard enough,

you will more than likely nd redeemable qualities in

pretty much everyone. Sometimes the most beauti-

ful relationships are the ones you have to be the most

patient with and, in the end, they will be the ones

that last the longest.

Never invest your sense of self in what other people’s

pettiness, shallowness or penchant for salacious

gossip says. Being slandered by empty hearsay and

words tainted with jealousy should only reassure you

that you are above them.

Listen to your mother; she is right 99 percent of the

time. However, if you decide not to listen to her, don’t

forget that she will always be there to pick up the

pieces if life shatters into chaos. Let her help x it. It

will make you whole again a lot quicker. This still ap-

plies even when you are 26 and a grown woman. You

never need to go through the darkest nights alone.

Don’t let the fear of the unknown cripple your ability

to take risks. You will be presented with a myriad of

choices; some that will inevitably dene you in the

deepest of ways. The right decisions might not be

found along the smoothest of roads but follow those

paths anyways; they will make you stronger in the

end.

You need to be aware that there will be people who

do not like or understand the choices you make.

These people do not matter. Seek your own counsel

and surround yourself with those who support your

craziest dreams; who won’t say “I told you so” if they

Credit: http://www.sxc.hu/photo/680169

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turn into nightmares.

If you have not realised it already, your impulsive-

ness and ability to embrace love and life with reck-

less abandon will be what spares you from becom-

ing bitter and cynical, no matter how much you want

to. However, you need to accept that not everything

lasts, but that any love you let into your heart will

change you. Every heartfelt experience gives you

greater insight into what you want AND, perhaps

more importantly, what you will never want in a part-

ner. Be grateful for that.

Promise me that you will never forget who you are.

Stay true to yourself and do not ever concede your

beliefs, integrity or opinions for the sake of being ac-

cepted. There will always be people who disagree

with you but it is possible to learn how to compro-

mise in the face of dierence without sacricing your

voice.

Most importantly, be kind to yourself. You are going

to make plenty of mistakes but embrace the lessons

that come from them; they will be essential as you

continue to grow. Do not wallow in your shortcom-

ings; use that energy to nd ways to accentuate all

your strengths and talents. You will discover that you

have much more to oer than you ever thought pos-

sible.

Finally, I am here to tell you that it will all be ok. Ev-

erything will always be ok. Find comfort in the knowl-

edge that you will eventually come out the other side

in one piece. The only constant is change and if you

are not continually changing, you are not living.

So here is to the next chapter and the journeys ahead

of you. Be well, smile often and know that your life is

good; so good.

I’ll be seeing you, 16…

With love,

26.

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The F**k It List

by Joanne Whittaker

Well here I am, a now published blogger!

Me, I am a 40 something mother,

business owner and casual student. I

have recently moved to Melbourne and

am really loving life here.

The decision to pack up and move myself

and my then -16year-old daughter was

not one that was taken lightly, but I

think it was the beginning of the ‘F@#* It

List’. I often hear people talking about a

‘Bucket List’ then recently I came across

– on Facebook of course – a mention

of a ‘F@#* It List’ (although it didn’t use

symbols!). I loved it. We seem to be

a society hell-bent on planning and

saving everything for retirement. Well,

my life has shown me that you don’t

always get there. Yes, you need to plan

ahead but not at the cost of living in the

now.

People are so full of excuses about why

they can’t do this and they can’t do that.

But they are living a life that they are

always wishing was dierent, constantly

saying to themselves and anyone who

will listen, “if only I didn’t have to do this”

or “if only I could do that” or the worst

one: “you are so lucky you get to…” To

them, I say: if you want to do it, nd a

way to do it, otherwise shut up and

accept that you are not going to do it!

Stop complaining about your current

situation and get on with things the way

they are.

Number 1 on the list for my daughter and

I was to travel to New York. Christmas

is a dicult holiday for us as it is a big

reminder about who is not with us so

we tend to try to get away. Last year was

New York City, a dream come true. The

year before was Singapore and this year,

well who knows? Perhaps it’s time to

add something new to the ‘F@#* it List’.

‘Til next time….

Credit: http://www.sxc.hu/browse.phtml?f=download&id=1345452

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So Many

Frogs,

So Few

Princes.

by Amy Conley

Over the coming editions of this magazine, I will be

sharing with you some of my misadventures in the

world of relationships. I recently voyaged out of a

deeply dysfunctional relationship and into enforced

‘single-status’ before meeting someone special. The

story doesn’t end there, mind you. My ability to turn

everyday relationship events into hugely awkward

(and sometimes funny) moments is astounding, and

I’d like to share details of some of my ner moments

with you.

I guess in order to do that; I have to give you a his-

tory lesson. Trust me; it will help you understand my

crazy levels moving forward. By history, I mean my

most recent ex. I’m not sure my high school romanc-

es that lasted for three or so days left any denitive

psychological scarring so I am happy to gloss right

over them and move on to the big nasty.

I met him working at my local discount retail chain

when I was in my late teens; it was the stu 1980s

teen movies are made of. I was going through my re-

bellious phase and he was artistic. Needless to say, I

went after him with headstrong determination and

he didn’t stand a chance. Let me say this, though; the

things you nd attractive at fteen - when you are

disillusioned by your teenage angst - get old pretty

quickly.

We stayed together for over ve years but really

shouldn’t have. His refusal stick with a job at 21

seemed less like sexy anti-authoritarianism and more

like laziness. His utter dependency on me to organise

his life and nances at this later age, lead me to feel

like I had prematurely become mother and caregiver

to an overgrown, belligerent ve year old. This boy

could not take responsibility for his own life and own

decisions; it was always someone else’s fault. In es-

sence, I grew up and wanted to get stu done and

he wanted it all done for him. Because we were so

young when we met, we knew no dierent. So we

stayed together and tortured each other through un-

happiness and mediocrity. He lied, we drifted apart

and it got to the point where we eventually became

so separate and dysfunctional that we nally felt safe

to end it.

That, my friends, was the journey that lead me to dis-

covering single life for the rst time as an adult. I can-

not stress how much I did not know what I was doing.

Credit: http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1429257

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Most of the time, I felt like one of those little girls run-

ning around in her mother’s shoes trying not to fall

over. How did I feel the rest of the time? Well I mostly

spent that time getting drunk and convincing myself

that I was doing great. I learnt a lot, though. I learnt

how to be alone, and actually like it. I looked after

myself and never really regretted making the split.

But dating. Oh my god. Why did nobody tell me it

was so horrible? I don’t know if it was just because I

was clearly a little emotionally unhinged at the time

or if the crazy to normal ratio was slightly unbalanced

in my city, but I met lots of really awful guys. There

was the guy that licked my face in a bar. The guy that

would insist, despite my continual rejection of him

that he’d “get me” in the end. The guy that, one day

after my breakup, decided to message me with “so...

you’re single now xoxo” (yuck). Oh... and the guy who

would irt outrageously with me and take me to ex-

travagant dinners - until I found out about his girl-

friend.

Needless to say, by the time my best friend’s birth-

day celebrations rolled around months and months

later, I was ready to start breeding cats and take up

knitting. I was just tired. It had been such an emo-

tionally draining year that I was legitimately at the

point where I was happy to focus on something -

anything - other than relationships. And, of course,

that’s when I met someone. Sitting at a table, in a bar

while my friend had a ball celebrating her 23rd birth-

day, I played with my phone, until I looked up at the

table opposite me. I saw a tall, thin gure, awkwardly

propped on a stool, glancing around the room; he

looked out of place but not nervous or uncomfort-

able. He was somehow anachronistic in the swarm

of guys in deep v t-shirts and gelled hair. He glanced

around the room, swirling the ice in his glass. He

looked as though he was expecting to see someone

he knew. I remember thinking how calm and singular

he seemed sitting there. He was looking my way and

I laughed to myself that I had been busted checking

him out...but then he got up and started walking to-

wards me.

“Hi. Is it ok if I sit down and have a chat?” he said stand-

ing beside me. No face-licking. No attempts to grope

me, or dance with me without my consent. “Yeah, of

course,” I responded, assuming an air of casual con-

tentment, to mask the genuine surprise I was feeling.

“I thought it would be”, he smiled as he replied, not

with arrogance, but with an air of self-assuredness

that was foreign to me.

The man I met that night is now a year later, my part-

ner, and a very rare specimen. I had to go through

quite a lot of dating and relationship drama to get

to this point. But, the moral of the story? You really

have to know what you don’t want in a relationship,

to discover what you do.

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little wine bar close to home, conversation owed

easily, he was attractive and there was denitely

chemistry between us. Sounds pretty perfect right?

Hmmm, wait for it.

We had our second date the following week. I’d had a

massive day at work and didn’t nish up until about

7.30pm, so John oered to cook me dinner and that

way I could just relax and unwind. What a nice guy.

So considerate! When I arrived at his place, I was still

a bit on edge. I started to notice that John had certain

mannerisms that were quite irritating. In fact, some

of them reminded me of my ex-boyfriend and let’s

face it, that’s never a good thing. Also, I started to be-

come aware of the fact that he was a bit of a wanker.

Constantly taking about all the great wine he buys

for his wine collection… that he keeps under his sink;

and what about the fact that he only eats organic?

But after a couple of glasses of red, I could look past

these minor aws. After all, this guy did seem like a

bit of a catch. And he was a doctor. Sure, maybe he

Single

and

Ready

Mingle?

by Shenel Erkan (online dating victim)

I have been single now for just over a year, had my

fair share of ups and downs in that time but things

are going pretty well overall. I think I can safely say

that I’ve now settled into singledom in a fairly com-

fortable way.

Over the course of the year, I have spent quite a bit

of time on my own and there have been a few occa-

sions when I have shared the company of the oppo-

site sex. Some of these said occasions have been fun

and some have been downright disastrous. Let me

tell you about one such disastrous dating experience.

So I have dabbled in the world of online dating. I’m

not a heavy user, but I have chatted to a few guys and

been on a few dates. One particular guy I met online,

let’s call him John, had been chatting to me for a few

weeks and was keen to go out. I wasn’t that fussed,

but I was enjoying the attention. After a few weeks of

texting each other and getting to know one another

a little better, we made plans to meet. He seemed like

a nice guy; smart, funny, successful; a doctor in psy-

chiatry (… alarm bells???). Our rst date was pretty

good. We had a couple of glasses of wine at this great

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wasn’t the sort of guy I’d usually go for, but where

had that gotten me so far?

We shared a lovely meal together and talked about

anything and everything. I will admit, it started feel-

ing a bit ‘coupley’, which I didn’t entirely hate. The

evening progressed and things got more ‘intimate’.

Let’s just say he made some advances and I didn’t

rebu them. I know, I know, it was only the second

date! That’s not the sort of behaviour becoming of a

lady! I didn’t necessarily think that this was heading in

the direction of relationshipville, but that being said,

I wasn’t ruling it out. Maybe this guy, someone that I

wouldn’t ordinarily see myself with, was just what I

needed in my life.

The next week we went on our third date. Unfortu-

nately, I’d had another challenging day at work and I

wasn’t in a great frame of mind. I had also started to

have some doubts about whether I should even be-

ing going on another date with this guy. There were

those irritating mannerisms, the fact he reminded me

of my ex and he’d also been sending me a number of

unsavoury text messages throughout the week. I be-

lieve the kids on the street refer to it as ‘sexting’. But I

wanted to go on a date. I didn’t really care who it was

with. I like dates and I love good food and wine. So I

went. And the food and wine were very good. But the

company was not. This guy managed to crank up the

wanker status another few notches. I even think the

wait sta noticed it, but fortunately for them, they

didn’t have to sit there and live through it like I did;

lucky bastards.

We nished our meal and headed back to the car. I

had driven as I didn’t want to have a big night and I

also wanted an exit strategy. As we were making a bit

of small talk, I made a point of mentioning that I was

tired and I just wanted to get an early night. In dat-

ing code, that usually means “you’re not getting any

tonight” (God, I hope my Mum isn’t reading this…).

He seemed a little disappointed, but didn’t push it.

On the way home we stopped at a red light and he

lent in for a cheeky pash. But when he ventured in for

the full boob-grope, I shut him down. He wasn’t very

happy about this and tried the whole, “but there’s no

one around” line. Nice one buddy. Hands o the cans!

I pulled up outside his place and the obligatory

goodnight kiss ensued. It was a little longer and more

drawn out than I could really be bothered with, but I

just kept thinking, when it’s over I can nally go home

to bed. Yup, I know exactly what you’re thinking. This

lucky lady cannot wait for the fourth date! But when

the kiss was over, instead of getting to go home, I had

to deal with something I hadn’t quite bargained for.

This guy started questioning me as to why I wouldn’t

sleep with him! For some reason, when I told him

no, he just couldn’t accept that I wouldn’t sleep with

him. Can you believe the utter cheek of it? He actu-

ally said to me he couldn’t understand it! All I could

do at this point was sit back and stare at him. It was

at this moment that I began to think that he must

not be a very good psychiatrist. I was leaning as far

away from him as possible, eyebrows raised, with an

expression somewhere between shock, disdain and

disgust plastered all over my face. A few exasperated

sighs smattered throughout his ridiculous monolog.

But this guy just kept going on and on and on. And

Credit: http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1424613

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on. Without boring you to death with all the details,

the general gist was that he felt hard done by that he

had to take me out on dates and still he wasn’t get-

ting anything.

So I was sitting there, just staring at him and not say-

ing a word. I just let him ramble on and on, digging

himself into a deeper hole of ‘you’re-so-never-get-

ting-any-action-from-me-ever-again-it’s-not-even-

funny-anymore’ as he went. The silence from me was

golden. It was like he felt compelled to ll it with his

stupid reasoning about why I should have sex with

him and his exasperation over why I wouldn’t. Like

a spoilt brat that doesn’t want anyone else to touch

his toys. So after a few solid minutes of him spewing

forth his word vomit (sorry, I know that’s a very vivid

description, but I feel it’s necessary to really convey

what I was dealing with here. I need to share the pain

with you and I thank you for that), I called this wanker

on his BS. I’d heard enough. I was still in a bit of shock

that he seemed to think he could get me to give in to

him if he threw a tantrum, like he could argue his way

into sex (because that’s so appealing to a woman!).

But nally I’d found my voice again. And I had some-

thing to say.

“John, I don’t want to have sex with you tonight (nor

any other night, I was thinking, but I kept this to my

internal monologue) and therefore I will not be hav-

ing sex with you tonight. And on top of that, I feel

like you’re making a judgement on me and how I

choose to live my life. To be completely frank with

you, even if you are judging me, I couldn’t care less. I

don’t know you. I don’t care what you think of me, it

doesn’t bother me in the slightest. What does bother

me is that you’re actually sitting here trying to argue

your way into this. Like if you throw your little ‘adult

tantrum’, (I think I might have actually done the quo-

tation marks gesture at him too) I might give in and

have sex with you. But it’s completely up to me who

I choose to sleep with and I’m cool with saying no.”

There was a certain amount of indignation in his

voice as he defended himself and I think he went on

a bit more, but I was done trying to get him to see

how ridiculous he was being. So I let him keep going

until he ran out of steam. That took approximately 20

minutes. A period of time I will never get back. But,

in hindsight, I did get a rather entertaining disaster-

dating tale… and for that, I can be very grateful.

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At the age of 27, I have started baking. I have never

once before taken the slightest interest in anything

that has come out of the oven in a warm, buttery,

sugary state. I was the kind of girl to order another

glass of pinot rather than endure a dessert after

dinner. I was the kind of girl who would always choose

rst over third course at the express lunch. When

people went for chocolate, I went for cheese. When

friends drowned their sorrows in a tub of ice cream, I

went for the burger. Girlfriends marvelled at the fact

that I could keep a pack of Tim-Tams in my kitchen

cupboard for months, occasionally choosing to dunk

one in my tea every few weeks. I was the girl who

would always volunteer to bring drinks or nibbles to

the party. And when I say nibbles, I’m talking things

you can remove from packets and arrange prettily on

a plate. When it came to dinner, I didn’t bother with

recipes, I threw things together – salads, bolognaise,

curries – splashes, pinches, handfuls, bowlfuls. I didn’t

own measuring cups. I made dinners with some

degree of success, I wasn’t bad in the kitchen, but I

liked to improvise, experiment, do what I could with

whatever was in the fridge. My job was done once

the main meal was on the table.

I had nada interest in neither consuming nor creating

the sweet stu. Until now.

It happened maybe a few months ago. I am writing

about it now because I have only just accepted that

this is not just a passing phase, some odd craving –

and no, I’m not pregnant. Yes, I’ve checked. So with

those possibilities eliminated, I had to face the fact

that I had grown a sweet tooth. And not just that, but

this almost primal desire to bake. I suddenly felt this

great urge to join the ranks of those women (because,

well, they usually are) who gleefully attend the work

bake sale with plastic containers, lined with baking

paper, lled with tiers of sweet home-made goods.

So I went out single-mindedly, a woman on a mission,

and purchased cake tins, mun tins, baking paper,

our, sugar, scales, and a sifter! I trawled the internet

for recipes, eagerly reading blogs and newspaper

articles about baking. I now even owned a rolling pin.

WTF. What was happening to me?

It was a slow start but I was quickly baking more

than once a week. Husband-to-be (HTB) was thrilled

with this revelation (or revolution, I’m not sure?) in

the kitchen. He has been an avid consumer of baked

goods for years but until now has had to nd his hit

elsewhere. I lled the apartment with a heady aroma

of banana, cinnamon and melting butter, clouds of

icing sugar and sometimes burning. Well I was still

learning! I radiated when a neighbour popped over

and commented on the sweet smell emanating from

the kitchen.

“Oh, just baked a batch of muns, take some home

with you...” I said, like it was nothing, like I do this all the

iS baking

the NeW

S&M?

by Lexie Pryor

Credit: http://www.sxc.hu/photo/984375

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time. Inside, my heart was pounding. I had become

one of those women. The women who casually bring

along a platter of delights to a lunch that they’ve ‘just

whipped up’. I smiled to myself and hoped to god,

they were edible as I handed over a cling-wrapped

plate, overowing with carrot and ginger muns.

I enjoyed doing the groceries now, pondering in the

baking aisle, picking up bits and pieces – each trip

would see a small addition to my growing collection,

a packet of almond meal here, a bag of pecans there.

A cake spatula. A friand tray. Each time I ventured

anywhere near a supermarket, I would nd myself in

the baking section. My pantry was literally groaning

under the weight of my baking wares. I was obsessed.

I would get home and peruse my growing collection

of bookmarked recipes, marking out the ingredients

required and the steps I had to perform in order to

deliver that sweet result. Even after a long day at

work, when I would have usually slid onto the couch

after dinner, glass of red in hand, eyes glazed over, I

was baking. It was like I had special reserves of energy

just for baking. I even baked my way through the

season nale of Ospring! HTB didn’t seem to mind

that there may have been half a cup of salty tears in

his banana blueberry loaf.

It was like I was in another world completely when I

was baking. Just following the steps, doing what the

recipe said, nothing else. Sometimes, hours would

disappear and I would emerge from the kitchen

feeling oaty, relaxed, like I had been a tight coil of

wire that had unwound. In order to get that result,

I had to submit to the recipe. Utter and complete

submission...

And that was it. I nally understood. Baking provided

me with a place that I could go and just submit.

No making decisions. Just following steps. I nally

understood that need to just be dominated - whether

it be by a dominatrix in black leather complete with

whip or a recipe for a raspberry friand. I recalled

an episode of Secret Diary of a Call Girl where a

successful businessman only relaxed when he was

being dominated and it all fell into place.

We are faced with so many choices each day.

Beginning when we wake up, hell even before then –

what time do I set my alarm – will I really make it to the

gym at 6.30am or should I just catch up on sleep and

get up at 8am? What to wear? Roll’d or Earl Canteen

for lunch? And they’re the trivial ones... The big

decisions to be made are oating around in the back

of my mind constantly – Am I in the right job? Should

I be looking around to see what’s out there? Do I see

my family enough? Where and when and how to get

married – I get asked this almost every day and I still

don’t have an answer. There are so many questions

going through my head each and every day.

When I bake, all the decisions have been made for

me. Baking is my S&M.

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SWEET,

SWEET

LIFE

by Connie Lambeth

Sugar…that powerfully addictive little white sub-

stance we see certain celebrity chefs smooching over

with uncontrollable fridge lust, in the night shadows

of their much-envied kitchens. With the knowledge

that sugar raises serotonin levels and makes us hap-

pier for a brief time, we often seek a quick sugar hit

in times of stress and work overload, or simply enjoy

the pure pleasure of a sweet treat either on our own

or in the company of others. Studies have shown that

sugar aects natural chemicals in the brain and has

the potential to become addictive, however perhaps

like alcohol, once out of your system it is possible

to live without. Nevertheless, it may be virtually im-

possible to function happily in the absence of some

form of sweet indulgence, as demonstrated by man’s

cravings for sweetness over the centuries. Even as far

back as the 14th century, the Aztecs were creating

chocolate drinks from cacao.

For the past six years a major health issue motivated

me to pursue a sugar free diet, a journey which often

had me salivating as I watched holiday makers slurp-

ing divine Italian gelatos in the summery bliss of our

sub-tropical coastal village. Home Sweet Home was

also far from the sugar free haven required for this

uphill challenge, with family and guests alike sneak-

ing around with delectable pieces of silky smooth

Swiss chocolate at various times of the day or night.

There was certainly no reprieve when out to dinner

either, as I forlornly observed diners scong down

exquisite looking desserts daintily presented on ex-

otic plates screaming delightfully of sugary bliss.

While out with family and friends, this feeling of loss

was magnied and I soon discovered a further reason

to mourn. Apart from the cravings which went on for

weeks, I felt socially bereft as I sat alongside drooling

lips conferring over the dessert menu, promptly fol-

lowed by smug mouths in devouring mode. I shrunk

into miserable oblivion each time a Francois swept in

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Credit: Connie Lambeth

with his raspberry studded chocolate torte swooning

in swirls of crème anglaise, or upon a Giorgio’s sleek

entry with velvety portions of sensational tiramisu

left to swirl around the mouths of grateful diners.

All this while twiddling my thumbs and trying not to

look desperate and sugarless!

When I nally got over myself, I pondered on the pos-

sibility of healthy sweet alternatives. It was relatively

easy to play around with recipes and replace sugar

with other sweet options such as honey, blackstrap

molasses, barley malt, stevia, agave syrup, malitol and

xylitol (though I wouldn’t suggest making a sponge

using molasses!). These days, living in this magni-

cent city of the south, I have noticed the number

and variety of sugar free treats slowly evolving and

growing according to customer demand. As aware-

ness of the link between the foods we eat and certain

diseases such as diabetes, cancer and heart problems

grows, so does the number of health related books

and articles on this topic. Recipe books published

in recent years include a few completely devoid of

sugar, such as I Quit Sugar: 108 Sugar-Free Recipes

Book by Sarah Wilson. Her latest book specialises in

chocolate!

With dessert alternatives sorted, I was still left to pon-

der the dilemma of missing out on the heavenly de-

lights of chocolate…how delectable is it to consume

a couple of innocent squares of this sweet treat with

a hot beverage…unmatched some would say. Some

years ago, there were very few sugar free chocolate

alternatives available to the consumer. Nevertheless,

I vowed to carry on my search, as was resolute in my

quest to collect a supply of tantalising treats of the

healthy variety. After all, we are talking about some-

one who rmly believed that:

“

Coee makes it possible to get out of bed. Choco-

late makes it worthwhile

. ”

(Author Unknown)

I still needed a sweet x just as much as the next per-

son!

It all turned out not to be the ‘mission impossible’ I

had expected. One year later, I have stockpiled an ad-

mirable cache of healthy chocolate type treats and

guard them like a punter clutching a winning lotto

ticket! In my regular treks around city and suburbs in

every direction, I am pleased to report that there are

now quite a few retailers stocking sugar free treats,

including chocolate, cacao and carob. It appears their

popularity is increasing, with people seeking health-

ier alternatives. On a parallel, perhaps unsurprisingly,

I have also observed that the quality of chocolate

containing sugar is far superior to the sugar laden,

throat gulping commercial brand chocolate many of

us grew up on. Fortunately too, the variety and num-

ber of both local and imported products are now far

more extensive and gaining momentum. Thank you

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ne food suppliers and supermarketeers

across the nation for responding to the

changing demands of the consumer!

“

I’d give up chocolate, but I’m no quitter!

”

(Author Unknown)

Better go and check on my secret stash

that everyone seems to know about…

ahhh…life is sweet…

--------------------------------------------------------

-----Raw Cacao/also known as Raw Choco-

late is produced from the seeds of the ca-

cao tree. After fermentation and roasting

process, the shell is removed to produce

cacao nibs, which are then ground to co-

coa mass, the pure form of chocolate. The

Latin name for the cacao tree, Theobrama

cacao, means “food of the gods” and was

popular with the ancient civilisations of

the Americas. The Smithsonian maga-

zine informs us that, “by the 17th cen-

tury, chocolate was a fashionable drink

throughout Europe, believed to have nu-

tritious, medicinal and even aphrodisiac

properties. It’s rumoured that Casanova

was especially fond of the stu”.

Chocolate in the form most of us know is

the processed, sweetened and avoured

product of raw chocolate.

Carob is produced from the Carob tree

where the seedpod is crushed and used

as a substitute for chocolate. The Austra-

lian National University states “Evidence

of the use of carob products by humans

date back to ancient Greece and Egypt

where the plant was used as a source of

food.”

Suppliers of Sugar Free Chocolates and

Carob:

• Haighs Chocolates

www.haighschocolates.com.au

Belgian chocolate with stevia as sweet-

ener

• Ganache Chocolate

www.ganache.com.au

Ganache chocolate with malitol as the

sweetener

• IGA Supermarkets

www.iga.com.au

Francois Pralus Le 100% chocolate with

no sweetener… absolutely wonderful!!

• Great Earth Super Discount Health

Shops

Delicious blocks of plain and nut variety

carob bars are available at the Elizabeth

St. Melbourne store

• Thomas Dux

www.thomasdux.com.au

Did have a ‘kick butt’ 100% pure Columbi-

an cacao with absolutely no sweetener…

bliss if you have true grit…must be ac-

companied with a hot beverage to get it

down your throat! Haven’t seen it around

for a while…hope they read this…love it!

Health Shops in CBD and suburbs usually

have at least one sugar free chocolate. I

checked out shops in in the city and sev-

eral suburbs and most sold Pana Organic

Chocolate sweetened with agave nectar.

***Many more sugar free chocolates can

be found online, including www.pana-

chocolate.com

A SWEET,SWEET LIFE

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CALORIFIC BOREDOM

by Tania Rann

Be who you need to be, but honey, don’t bore us with

the details!

If you choose to go out for dinner with me and we

agree on a venue in advance, I expect you to check

out the menu. Your food choices, allergies or mor-

alistic values are your business, not mine, so for

goodness sake, don’t bore me with the details! Just

because you nd it so fascinating and interesting to

constantly talk about food – what you like, what you

don’t, what you can eat, what you can’t, what you’re

‘allowed’ to eat and what you’re not, what you should

eat and what you shouldn’t, what you already con-

sumed today, so why you shouldn’t tonight – I mean

seriously, do you really think anyone is interested in

your messed up relationship with food? Like um, NO!

Honey, we all have our very own love/hate relation-

ship with food, so here’s another wake up call, you’re

NOT special! I don’t care about your food hang ups,

cos I have them too. I don’t care about your weight,

cos I’ve got my own to worry about, and I don’t care

why you have them, cos it’s your life, so you can

choose to eat or not to eat, but please don’t bore me

with the details! Oh and for the record, I’m a soy latte

vegetarian, but you only know that about me if you

buy me a coee or cook me dinner! Unless of course

you’ve just read my rst blog…

Credit: http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1097199

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REMEMBER ROSEMARY

by Suzanne Apps

Herbal Medicine has an unbroken pedigree dating

as far back as 1500 BC in ancient Egypt, Greece and

Rome.

The basket of vegetables and herbs carried home

from the ancient markets by the cook of the house-

hold would be for medicinal and culinary use, with

little or no division between the two.

Understanding the link between food and medicine

is something I reect on as I embark on my nal year

of study in Western Herbal Medicine.

Culinary herbs can play an important role in contrib-

uting to your general wellbeing. Just add knowledge,

condence and experience.

Let me lead you down the herbal garden path with a

simple experiment. Pick a generous handful of Rose-

mary, crush it and inhale. What do you notice? I nd

the aromatic experience sends ‘energy’ upwards, to

my head I feel refreshed, clearer and a bit happier for

the experience. Information from the Grete Herball

of 1526 tell us that Rosemary is “for weyknesse of ye

brayne”. Yep, that just about says it all.

A little Rosemary oil gently rubbed onto your tem-

ples will reduce a headache due to overstrain. After

a long day in front of the computer and a thumping

head, don’t reach for the paracetamol, reach for the

Rosemary oil.

Future brides might revive a lost tradition by decorat-

ing Rosemary branches with silk ribbon and present-

ing them to wedding guests as a symbol of love and

loyalty. The branches may also help to revive those

guests who have drunk one toast too many!

Incorporating Rosemary into your wellbeing diet is

as easy as making a delicious pasta sauce.

****************************************************

Remembrance Pasta Sauce

****************************************************

4 tablespoons of good olive oil

1 medium sized red onion, nely chopped

1-2 cloves of garlic, crushed

A generous stalk or two of rosemary

(remove leaves from the branches and chop very

nely)

1 stalk of nely chopped celery

2 ripe tomatoes, chopped

4 tablespoons of tomato paste

Grated carrot and zucchini to taste

Gently heat olive oil in a pan, add onion and garlic

and fry until translucent. Add nely chopped Rose-

mary and continue to cook over low heat. Add cel-

ery, carrot, zucchini, tomatoes and tomato paste.

Pour half a cup of water or so into the pan, add salt

and pepper to taste and allow the mixture to simmer

to a thick sauce (about 20 minutes). Add more water

if mixture becomes too dry. Serve on top of wheat or

gluten free pasta.

Have fun incorporating Rosemary into your life. If

you don’t grow it, knock on a neighbours door and

ask if you can cut a few sprigs from their bush. An-

cient rumour has it that Rosemary grows well in the

garden of households where women rule.

Credit: http://www.sxc.hu/browse.phtml?f=download&id=1141069

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