I usually go with a
theme for my Sunday Selections and this week I'm continuing with some photos of my walk around North Adelaide.
I rounded a corner and found I'd have to walk up this not-so-steep hill. Looks almost flat doesn't it? Yet I was out of breath when I reached the top.
a lot of the properties are huge blocks of apartments with barely room for a mosquito between them, so there are these narrow access lanes for the people to be able to bring their wheelie bins to the curb from the back of the property. There are no driveways, I have to assume car access is via a common driveway at the rear of the block.
in North Adelaide, all roads lead to park lands (eventually), some like this one are sports ovals...or just flat green grass...
...others have been left with native trees and shrubs. A sound buffer between the main roads and the houses. A slice of Aussie bushland right here in the city.
still others have dog walking tracks, the sign reads dogs must be on a leash I think.
I saw a pink flowering gum tree and heard dozens of bees but couldn't spot any.
and of course the horse agistment paddock with a roll of hay waiting to be spread for the horses.
and there was this! if my memory is correct I think this is a wedding planner-wedding singer business.
Finally, a bold red gate set into a hedged fence. Every other gate in this street was dull, this one makes a statement.
grated carrot and zucchini, finely chopped celery, garlic.....
add some minced beef...
and some sausage mince and mix it all thoroughly with clean hands.
Then add two beaten eggs and again mix thoroughly. With your hands.
add some sauces for flavour and moistness, just a dash of the worcestershire...a bit more of the tomato....the amounts are entirely to your taste. Mix well, it should be fairly sloppy at this point.
Now we firm it up by mixing in some packaged stuffing mix. Many people use breadcrumbs here, but I prefer stuffing mix for a little extra flavour. The amount used variesdepending on how much mince you've used and how sloppy the mix is and how dry or moist you prefer your meatloaf.
Mostly it's a trial and error thing. Mix in a little at a time until it "feels right".
Pack it firmly into a greased loaf tin, lined with greased alfoil...
..fold the sides of the foil over the top,
bake it in a pre-heated oven at 180*C for an hour.
Prepare your other vegetables at this point and start them cooking just before the next step. Which is... .......open the foil to let the top brown.
Once the top is browned, turn it out into a shallow pan, (I do this over the sink because there will be juices that spill out when turning), remove all the foil and if the sides aren't browned enough for you,put the whole thing back in the oven for a few minutes. (Tip out all those excess juices into a bowl). If you have an electric oven, you can turn it off and the residual heat will brown it enough.
Make your gravy if you are having any.
Some people just squirt tomato sauce instead, but I like gravy on my meatloaf.
if you packed it into the loaf pan firmly enough it should slice neatly without crumbling and will slice even better when cold. For sandwiches the next day.
I like mine with mashed potatoes and broccoli.
And the gravy which turned out a little too thick this time.
Which didn't stop me eating it!
She puts up a selection
of six words which we then use in a short story, or a poem.
I’m hopeless at poetry
so I always do a story.
It’s a fun challenge…why
not join in?
This week's words are:
we also have this phrase: "the stars are cold tonight, there is no warmth in their diamond light."
Here is my story:
Last month's visit by Archbishop Frank Blunt had caused a lot of unrest amongst the elders.
They feared with the blessing of the newly built schoolhouse the young people of the tribe were turning ever further away from the old teachings, the old ways.
The elderly shaman in particular was angry and scared.
Too many of the younger women now were taking themselves and their children to the next village where a medical clinic had been set up by the missionaries, to help them with sicknesses and minor injuries.
Things that he would have once treated them for, and been well paid in chickens and grains, new mats and a new hut every year. It didn't matter to him that more children were now surviving infancy, he feared for his livelihood, knowing that already he carried only a tenth of the power a shaman had just a couple of generations ago.
He waited patiently however, he knew an opportunity would soon come, the rumbling gods high in the mountain had spoken to him. Now more storm clouds were gathering and much rain had been falling for more than a week. The river was rising....
The Shaman called for a meeting and warned the gods were getting angry because the old ways were no longer being followed. Children were attending the schoolhouse instead of helping their mothers with the animals and the cooking fires.
Look at the water growing wider and higher, he raved. The gods will sweep away your crops...he shook his fist at the heavens and as if on cue a lightning bolt shot to the ground.
Overnight a minor earthquake shook the ground, cracking the hard packed riverbank, a veritable deluge fell from the skies and in the morning there was mayhem in the tiny village as the levee crumbled under the onslaught and floodwaters rushed through the lower field washing away the chickens and the goat pens, before encroaching upon the huts of the people.
The village people ran around in fear, gathering their children and belongings, rushing to higher ground as the shaman danced around cackling with glee. This would prove to them the gods were angry enough, surely now they would listen to him...