How Much Do You Love Your Watermelons?

Food simply put, is an adored institution within our household. Something to be cherished and respected beyond simple fodder for hunger satiation. Between hubby and I, we do try to be creative and vow many a time, to use each page of the thick volumes of cook books that we have adorning our shelves, once in order to properly be worthy of their purchase.

A simple glance at our book shelves in the precariously hidden corner that we think visitors will barely notice given they aren't "eye-level" will dispose the truth of our staying true to the practice that the intention is always stronger than the actual action. It's true but a sad one. We both love to cook but it's usually grand castles foaming in wonderful airs of imagination that our fingers magically whip up sensational delicacies to tempt the Zen of the Soul. Salads are tossed up high flowering in mid air akin to leafy fireworks, roasts permeate the daily lives of our happy bellies and puffy little maids of souffle greet us every weekend loyally.

Was quite a nice dream while we are at it, wasn't it?

Anyway, we do cook with lots of love at that and somehow, much to our surprise, we have not poison each other nor anyone else that we consciously know of to date, and do manage to cook quite creatively out of the freshest ingredients that we get our hands on every day. One thing I love about my hubby is his tenacity to dig in his sturdy heels and make his way up in the brittle cold of winter to the farmers' market grocer (note: uphill walk) to procure something nourishing and varied to feed his wife and child at home. A twist to the cave man existence and a lot less hairy and lot more sexy!

Our little girl has develop an acute taste for adventure. Most days she would be the one hurrying my hand holding the magic spoon but you do get an off day such as today that has many album-worthy pursed lips and crinkled face looks that spell out "are you kidding me MOTHER?!"... oh well, pureed pear and banana porridge can only tempt so many percentage of the nation.

But one thing we do know, the taste of the forbidden fruit is always sweeter. Have a look...

My First Melbourne Cup

The traditional day of excess and decadence in which the controversial use of animals for the love of human spectatorial love of sport merge in one solid moment on the gladiatorial grounds of 3200m.

My first Melbourne Cup 2011 and mama dressed me up in a lovely frock before we joined other mummies and babies at Auntie Geetha's MIL's gorgeous home to sip champagne and nibbles as well as partaking in a sweepstake that mama almost won to only see her horse (or was it mine?) to drop from a heady second place start storming off to an abysmal third and by the time the last curve turned, it was time to do the TAB common sight of raising your arm with the losing horse's ticket in hand and crushing it into a crinkled ball before tossing it out into oblivion. Of course mama was much classier than that... she kept that in my baby's book to remind me possibly some time in the future of my first foray into gambling... ah, the thought that counts!

But it was all about gathering in the spirit of fun and laughter and we bubs did a roar of a cry when made to pose in the beautiful house's drawing room. I mean, check the facts right? This wasn't just any beautiful homes in Mosman. It's the so-beautiful-that-it-does-a-triple-turn-taekwondo-flying-kick-bust-your-face-silly-knock-your-wits-scary beautiful with its plush green surrounding and glorious sun-filled room, we could not have had a more spectacular marquee to stand under on our heels (yes, we wore our heels, vain mummies that we were!).

It's a great Australian institution and I'm just thrilled that I got to spend it with my lovely mama (she looked gorgeous in her fascinator, I want to grow up fast just to be able to wear it like her, I want, I want!) and other mummies and baby friends of mine.

All images courtesy of Nele Verboven