FUNKY FRIDAY

Tomorrow - Saturday Arvo @ Bonsoir time we go to pick up our son Mitchy from Melbourne airport. It's been 3 months of travel for him. Some time in India and then some time in South America. Can you imagine how much he will have to share with us? 

Mitchy has a great sense of humour bordering on the sense of the ridiculous.

 I wonder where he gets it from?

Father and Son

He really does love me

A Family Affair

Rummaging through bits and pieces while finishing off another room in the house - that would be the study, I found some old photos that my father asked me to keep safe. They are of his father, my grandfather and Pa's two brothers.

My grandfather was the caretaker of Studley Park, Kew and lived in the Caretaker's house within the vast parklands overlooking Melbourne city. It was not more than 5 miles away and situated at an elevated part of the inner suburbs.

His brothers, Ernie and Leslie were I guess what you would call Bovver Boys back then. Ernie was a boxer, and not a bad one if old newspaper clippings lead you to believe. He fought under the name of Bullant Sims. Obviously not a big bloke.

As for Leslie, he had other talents with around thirteen offspring, can't really be sure as he had two wives. Not sure if that was at different, or the same time - skeletons in the closet, I'm sure.
Leslie Roy was a nice old chap from memory, bit of a bantam rooster I'm told.

Dapper young lads - Les, John and Ernie.

Jack, my father with Beryl and Les, his siblings.

My Granny, Tilly with yours truly.

As for my grandfather John, he was a really nice old bloke and I spent many weekends at the parklands with him and my grandmother Tilly (Matilda). They were very caring but totally opposite. John was a smoker and a drinker and Tilly was neither. I still remember the smell of nicotine on his clothes. I was only about 12 years old when they passed away, Tilly first and John not long after. I can remember being at my grandfather's funeral and seeing my father shed tears for his father - I'm sure I will be the same if my father Jack (92) doesn't outlive me. He's a stayer!!!

I'm told that as a child, they called me young Winston - where's my cigar.

Roosters and Feather Dusters

It was a bit of a struggle to post this weekend with no inspiration coming to the fore. I started pottering on the Internet, as you do on a lazy Sunday. I found this research website called TROVE over the weekend and started typing in family names - well talk about "Roosters and Feather Dusters" stuff. I found some sporting results and a few skeletons in the closet.

BULLANT SIMS - Great Uncle

I of course knew that my passion for cycling came from my father but I really didn't hear much about his actual racing. I also knew about his uncle, Ernie Sims who was a boxer. He fought under the name of BULLANT SIMS. He was 5'5" tall and was a bantamweight. From all accounts he had some success locally and nationally. Ernie had three brothers, John my grandfather, Leslie and George. Having grown up in the suburbs of Collingwood, Fitzroy and Carlton, they all probably knew how to defend themselves. The area was full of workers cottages and slum accommodation in those days.

Poor quality I know but I like the headline best!
My Father's big success on the bike.

I've posted several times on this blog about my father Jack, I'm extremely proud of him and he's been a good mate as we both have matured, probably at the same rate, truth beknown. Dad's been a very humble man, not the sort to "pump up his own tyres" in cycling talk. I thought I would type in his name and this newspaper article came up with his success in a bike race before the war. In discussion only tonight with my weekly phone call I asked Jack to recall the race. He said he finished the race with grease laden hands because he lost the chain on his 2 speed sprocket and had to stop to put the chain back on. I can actually remember seeing this old two speed sprocket in the tool box as a young child.
The Fastest Time of the day was from the scratch bunch and won by Ken Stewart who over the years was a good friend of Dad's. Ken has passed away like many of the other riders of the day so I guess my Dad is still winning the race of life.

Lionel Davey - my uncle

Then from my mother's side there was Lionel Davey, my Uncle whom I do remember a little. I think he and his wife had thirteen children. Although his parents came from Bendigo before moving to Melbourne, somehow Lionel found his way to Queensland and took up motorcycle speedway racing and actually gained some International fame in Great Britain before returning to Australia. Family folklore says he raced  in Queensland under the name of Percival Davey for some reason. Being so young, naturally I never saw him race but he was a good friend of Fred Tracey, the owner of Tracey's Speedway in Maribynong and we would often be invited to attend the Speedway Meetings.

And finally my maternal Grandfather, Percival Davey.

It seems that my Grandfather on Mum's side was a nice bloke but possibly a bit of a rogue. I found some newspaper cuttings that tell of him being in court on three occasions. One was for selling underweight bread when he was a baker. The second was when he was the proprietor of a hotel in Sydney - the charge was for a member of the public drinking at his hotel after hours. The third cutting I found was the court case of his divorce from his wife. I believe he finished up as a band leader and died at Lorne on the Great Ocean Road.

I never met him.

So much for sporting success and skeleton's in the closet.

FOODIE WEEKEND at HOME

Leon was complaining that he hadn't caught up with my brother and SIL for a while, so we invited them around for dinner. As always when we get together it was a fun night with lots of eating, drinking and laughter.



The wine selected was from South Australia (Adelaide Hills)  - It was a Taylors Pinot Noir was a smooth light red, much in the French Burgundy style and we all agreed that it was an excellent partner to the fish due to the chilli. A white wine may have been better but there were no complaints. The Taylors Cabernet Sauvignon will be tasted with Sunday night's dinner maybe.

I decided to make a main I saw in a magazine I had just bought. Called Delicious, I get it each month as there is always something in it I want to cook. Plus it's Australian so the produce featured suits our seasons. The recipe was from a chef called Ben O'Donoghue.



As if she doesn't have enough cook books and magazines - Oh well, I guess I have to bare the consequences all this experimental cooking!!!!

 I bought Hapuka which is the NZ name for Grouper. A firm, thick, white fish. The marinade was yoghurt, lemon juice and rind, mint and chilli. After a short time in the marinade, it is wrapped in thin slices of zucchini and placed on parchment paper with another healthy dollop of the yoghurt marinade. Wrapped up tight and oven cooked for about 15 minutes. I tried it because it sounded interesting and unlike anything I had cooked before.




Preparation of the fish wrapped in Zucchini slices.



It was the best fish I've ever cooked and will definitely be a regular on the menu. It was moist, citrusy and had a definite hit of chilli (I used the dried flakes), although not enough to distract from the sweetness of the fish. We all really enjoyed it. With the fish we had green beans with roasted cherry tomatoes and chat potatoes rolled in butter and parsley.



Boy, did these go quickly - make these again PLEASE!!!!!!



As a starter I made three types of crostini. A garlic white bean puree with sweet chilli roasted tomatoes, broad bean puree with slices of fried chorizo, and ajvar (which is a roasted red pepper puree) with feta cheese. All very nice, but the white bean was a standout. Who doesn't love lemony garlicy tomatoey sweet chilli stuff? They were all done on slices of sourdough baguette which had been toasted, then rubbed with garlic and drizzled with extra virgin olive oil.

Sue asked, "Are you getting sick of Panna Cotta yet"
I don't think so, not the way she does it.



Dessert was an orange and vanilla scented panna cotta with raspberry coulis and tiny crunchy wafer biscuits.

Followed with a delicious, Leon-made coffee and Leon-washed dishes who could complain? (Not me, specially about the last bit.)



Happy guests for dinner - John and Jan.

Wednesday's in France this week takes us out of the Loire to Normandy - see you then.

Jack, my Dad

It’s been some weeks since I last raced on the velodrome due to six weeks on holiday, followed by a cold. Nevertheless I decided that Thursday night would be a good time to start again.
This blog is not so much about my racing but the friendship I and my track racing mates have with my 88 year old cycling passionate father Jack.
Yes, you heard correctly, he’s 88 years old, sharp as a tack and cheeky as all hell.
Pic 1: Jack showing his elation at reaching his 88th birthday and still being a regular on the bike.
He still rides his bike five days a week, never on the weekend. “After all” he says, “If I rode seven days, how would I know when the weekend started".
Jack first started racing the bike back in 1937 when bikes didn’t have gears and the roads were dirt most of the times. I remember as a child seeing his bikes and trophies hanging about in the garage. His last track bike was my first. The wheels had wooden rims.

He didn’t talk much about his racing career. I learnt that from people of his era when I started racing.
Jack turns up at the indoor velodrome every Thursday night to sit in his “reserved” seat.
Despite the fact that very few spectators attend this club style racing, it’s a brave person that sits in “his” seat.

Everyone knows Jack. Kids of 12 years to an old mate called Ian Browne who turned up last night to watch. Ian was a gold medalist at the 1956 Melbourne Olympics on the Tandem. Jack knows them all.
Pic 2: Jack's Track - The Indoor Velodrome

Anyway that’s the main reason I race Thursday nights – to sit and have a Guinness after racing with my Dad.