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ABOUT EATORI

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This blog is home to the stories of a Sydney born food writer, Victoria (Tori) Haschka. It’s the story of The Hungry One (the husband) and our mutual search for the best ways to eat, drink and be merry.

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I think there have been about five cups of tea in I think there have been about five cups of tea in my life that have made me weepy. One was in the grey light of a police station. Some were in hospitals, straight after babies were born. One was in a paediatric ward after they tried to intubate one of my toddlers, and a nurse thought they’d accidentally punctured her lung (they didn’t, and she was fine). And today this one made me a bit weepy. Why? Because I can taste it again. After eleven mornings of sipping hot, wet nothing in a Twilight zone of twinning the non sympathetic roles of both Covid patient and carer, where I couldn’t tell you what day of the week it was, but marked hours by a percussion of hacking, worrying, wiping, dosing out medications, monitoring sats levels and devising activities I can do with the children while semi horizontal, I can feel the fog starting to lift. I am still breathless and exhausted. My head has a dull ache and thoughts are still marshmallow muffled. It’s best that someone checks I’ve turned off the the stove. But I think we are through the eye of the storm. And a cup of tea has rarely tasted so good.
It takes a village my friends and the cruellest th It takes a village my friends and the cruellest thing of Covid isolation is having it taken away from you. Last night at midnight I woke up to take more nurofen and saw the message that my sister had dropped bolognaise and avocados for the kids at the front door. I tongue in cheek called these acts ‘pity bolognaise’ in ‘Grace Under Pressure’, but it’s these small kindnesses that help keep society and mothers rolling when the powers that be have left parents with unvaccinated kids vulnerable and untethered. It’s that and the friend of my father’s who volunteered extra RATs so we could know for sure what we were facing (nine days in and we still have no PCR results). It’s the daily check ins and FaceTime colouring dates for your lonely and miserable four year old. Friends, make the extra bolognaise. It’s not personal responsibility that will help us weather this, it’s the village from behind a glass door; when the government abandoned ship.
I can’t really taste this, or many other things. I can’t really taste this, or many other things. Friends, stock your freezers. Put a stash of new and novel toys in the cupboard. Make sure you have Panadol and nurofen and a heat pack and clean sheets in easy reach. A pulse oximeter is a good idea- monitoring mine from home and sitting on an 02 machine/nebuliser the spouse impulse bought last year was what kept me out of hospital on Saturday when my sats got quite wobbly. If your kids are croupy, put some redipred in the fridge; we definitely needed it for Will. The kids only wanted fake ice cream from frozen bananas and berries for the first few days. I should have had more of those stocked up. Now things I can make quickly are good: soba noodles and fried rice; they are nearly back to form - nay- nearly bouncing off the walls (see above about steroids) we are still confined and I am dragging myself around. My chest burns. My head pounds. The tiredness is like I could sleep for two days and it wouldn’t be enough. For all our efforts to keep one parent standing; the spouse got it too. We were both boosted- I can’t imagine how hard this would have hit me if I was not. The kids were a week away from their vax appointments and picked it up at a park. Having to be carers for very unwell children when you need one yourself and not being able to call in any help is a very special circle of 2020s parenting hell. For those who it is just a cold; hurrah. But for many of us it isn’t. And this government left us as sitting ducks. (Nb, 8 days on we still don’t have results from our PCRs). Hoping we return to form (tastebuds and smell included) soon. 🤞 (thanks so much for the kind words and deeds. It has been beyond awful, but they have all helped).
RATs. Still waiting on PCRs from Sunday but turns RATs. Still waiting on PCRs from Sunday but turns out you can’t have kids just one week shy of being eligible for the vax, with 40 degree temperatures who sook and cough on your face all night because you are their source of comfort and they can’t know how worried you are about long Covid, after having lost years of your life to CFS and still having an autoimmune disease that is temperamental as heck. So… we say, this is what it is. We did everything and more and yet, here we are. I am beyond grateful that Will and his croupy lungs have done well and we seem to be out of the woods. I am amazed that the spouse is unscathed. I have an enormous hacking cough I could do without. But I am so far relieved I can still taste. A little pink wine is quite good for morale. Stay safe friends. X
#thingsthataregoodformorale . I wish I could wash #thingsthataregoodformorale . I wish I could wash this year off in the brine. I’m about to try. But there are things I still want to keep. This year showed the real magic of friends; old and new. 💜 It reinforced the importance of family. It was a year of putting one book into the world and toiling on another. Hospitalisations and tree changes and ponies, long walks and probably more crying in the shower than we’ll admit publicly. The parents I know are all quite broken, but god we are stronger than we ever thought. Wishing you a salty swim and some quiet time with a book in the next few days. You/we deserve it.
No matter how bonkers everything else is, some tra No matter how bonkers everything else is, some traditions are worth keeping. Fresh pasta made with the kids (chickpea flour this year) Christmas ham carbonara with a cheeky bottle of Pol Roger (my Christmas present) for Christmas Eve. It’s wild times out there. Find the joy where you can and stay safe friends.
Hi friends. So, this is a pretty wild time to be a Hi friends. So, this is a pretty wild time to be a human, isn’t it? I’ve been chewing over this for a few days. Me and a lot of other people I know (hi Spoonies) are doing a lot of mental work at the moment trying to come to peace with the risk of Covid and particularly long Covid as Omicron rips through in a third act surprise. ‘It’s milder!’ you say. ‘We have to learn to live with it!’ But the worry for what it could mean for those who know what a long term, post viral illness is, is still real. So please be kind. We are all carrying different luggage into this. I lost some of the best years of my twenties to Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I would not wish it on anyone- not even the handsome dude who kissed me then told me straight after that he also had glandular fever. (Oops he said.) He was better in a few weeks. My life and prospects changed in a night. I never went back to my law degree. I had to rely on my mother as a carer in the years when I should have been out travelling the world and starting a career. The immune failings were bad. The pain, exhaustion, ulcers and a litany of other symptoms were miserable. The brain fog was the worst. Those who know, know. It takes the best part of you and smothers it. It was like trying to form clear thoughts beneath a cloud of marshmallow for years. But at least now enough people have a greater appreciation for the complications of long haul illnesses. In the past two years doctors have seen some of their brightest colleagues felled as they work on the frontlines. But the fact that people- some close to you and even doctors back then assumed if you were still sick months or years on was because you were malingering or not tough enough was the cruellest part of it all. The moral of the story? I certainly didn’t think I would end up with a post viral illness that would take years to recover from (and these days, my health is still not great). He didn’t either. We don’t know who will. So be safe and be kind friends. Wear a mask if you can. Be sensible. It’s the same storm but we are all travelling it in different boats. 🚤
It’s a wild and woolly time out there. Hope ever It’s a wild and woolly time out there. Hope everyone is ok. I don’t have many Christmas hacks, but here are the only ones I know. Christmas Eve Carbonara is an excellent tradition; carve off a little bit from the underside of Christmas ham, dice it, fry it and have it in proper carbonara with Champagne while watching ‘Elf’. Pavlova Magics make excellent inserts for the tip of a stocking. So do beetroots, but Pavlova Magics will probably get a better response. Think about what wrapping paper Santa uses. Communicate that choice to your spouse. When you go shopping, take a photo of where you park the car. Bircher muesli is an excellent make ahead, no fuss Christmas breakfast option with drained morello cherries and yoghurt. At 4 pm on any of the days in the following week it is perfectly acceptable to take yourself outside with a wedge of cheese and insist on 20 minutes of pure silence. If anyone questions refer them to the ‘Bluey’ episode where Mum nearly loses it. When in doubt, be kind to each other, particularly in this Omicron madness. Sending love and strength.
A delicious blast from the last- tonight the glori A delicious blast from the last- tonight the glorious @yasmin_newman and me are up on @sbsfood ‘s #thecookupsbs with @adamliaw seeing what we can make with cream cheese. The desserts (Adam and Yasmin’s) were off the chain. I drew the savoury straw and went with old faithfuls of caramelised onion and speck to make things taste good for a take on flammkuchen. Watch to see if they edited out the bit where when trying to mix the cream cheese I splatter it all over myself. 👌 (all class).
PSA; the Black Forest granola from ‘Cut the Carb PSA; the Black Forest granola from ‘Cut the Carbs’ makes an excellent home made gift for the 17 teachers your children collectively come in contact with. In previous years I would make a day of it and make enormous batches. But you know what else does? A nice card with a voucher for a local cafe so they can get coffee. For all the twinkle lights and magic this time of year seems to be custom-designed to break mothers of small children. Some of my favourite memories; the year when I had my first proper breakdown and my toilet cistern started crying hysterically too (non sleeping sick children, bad back, car bingle yada yada). The year when my three year old shop-lifted two dresses she Russian Dolled in a change room on over each other (we agreed she could get one for a Santa photo) and then when I called her on it sprinted to the other side of the crowded mall away from me. I had to leave a six year old with a kindly shop attendant and after panic tears and yelling her name found her hiding in the back of another store under a clothes rack and then carry her fireman style back 200 m while I saw 6 mothers from school en route. Bless them they all laughed and agreed life was mad. The year when I worked like a dog to finish a draft by the time school broke up so we could all have a nice holiday, then the northern beaches went into lockdown the very next day. This year we are not doing Santa photos, we are keeping still and quiet, looking forward to boosters and we are focusing on finishing books and getting through. And maybe eating quite a bit of cake. Sending love to all in the mayhem.
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