Ruminations and recipes from a small kitchen in a big city.



450 million years ago, a volcano blew up and left a large hill, not quite a mountain, sitting in the middle of Victoria, and a large, deep lake next to it.

449,999,849 years later, a bunch of gold diggers decided to build a town on the hill overlooking the lake. They called it Daylesford. They built churches towards the top of the hill, a main street level across its brow and a spa centre over the mineral springs bubbling away deep beneath its surface.

Despite its elevation, Daylesford was baking in the heat when the Volvo purred to a stop under the canopy of a large tree right outside the Harvest Cafe, just off the main street.

We went into the cafe and the screen door banged behind us and we found a table near the window. The Harvest is your alternative cafe with organic and vegan meals and fair trade coffee and a toy corner for the children of the local hippies. Now it has added an organic store, stocking fresh fruits and vegetables, packaged food products and organic wines and beers. (By 'now', I mean within the last seven years, as it is that length of time since I last visited Daylesford.) We ordered coffee and William played in the toy corner. Out of a tinny speaker came some music that sounded like a cross betwen Ravi Shankar and Neil Young. The Harvest is like something out of 1972, except that no-one in there looked like they were born before 1982. Except me. The coffee was excellent.

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