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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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Grief clings to smells, even while time trickles o Grief clings to smells, even while time trickles on. It’s the fug of chlorine and musk of talcum powder in a change room. It’s a different pool. It’s a different town, a different child to the pot bellies that duck dived together, but now as I finally (negligently (?)) slink back to children’s swimming lessons I still find myself looking for her blonde head across the lane markers and aching for her to giggle and plot with while we surreptitiously pay bills and reply to emails on the sideline. She should still be with us. God I miss her. 🦋
We made it team. School is back tmrw. To celebrate We made it team. School is back tmrw. To celebrate, blueberry muffins for lunchboxes to accompany the continual ‘but why can’t we have a DOG’ wailing from the youngest. (Because mummy’s care capacity is… tapped out my love. I can’t even keep the kombucha scoby alive anymore 😂). These are my half- half muffins. Half earnest (banana for some of the sugar, oat flour for half the grain etc), half indulgent-ish (sugar and wheat flour both make an appearance). Can be made with half a bar of energy left and squished into a lunchbox tmrw. (Are all burned out mothers congregating for celebratory lattes at 9.15 am tmrw morning? If so please send me a pin. I’ll bring the baked goods). Half Half Blueberry Muffins Makes 12 Ingredients 1 cup self raising flour 1 cup oat flour (blitz oats until they are flour in a food processor) Zest of half a lemon Pinch of salt 1 cup of blueberries, fresh or frozen Wet ingredients 1/4 cup liquid coconut oil or grape seed oil or mild olive oil 1/2 cup Greek yoghurt (or coconut yoghurt) 1/2 cup milk (or oat milk) 1 egg 1/2 cup caster sugar 1 very ripe banana Method Preheat oven to 180c/350 F. Grease silicone muffin tin, or use muffin liners. Mix together the dry ingredients, including the blueberries. Blitz the wet together in a blender until smooth. Fold in the wet to the dry. Use an ice cream scoop to portion into muffin tin. Bake for 25 mins until risen, brown and they vaguely resemble a baffled chihuahua. Exhale.
This koala on Phillip Island is the face of mother This koala on Phillip Island is the face of mothers trying to juggle summer holidays and their work, realising there is still another week before school goes back. Sending strength team ❤️ (Nb Phillip Island may be the perfect weekend jaunt with kids. Penguins! Nature! Good food! Putt Putt golf! But if you go into the large maze, best not put your exit in the hands of a five year old- unless you have had at least one coffee and both of you are wearing hats).
After a couple of brutal days with vestibular migr After a couple of brutal days with vestibular migraines - we get by- and pull off birthday parties for our kids with the help of our friends. Thanks to those who took Evie so I could finish making her triple layer ice cream Ariel cake this morning and others who brought flowers and good cheer this afternoon. She’s a very happy girl tonight ❤️ (cupcakes are using Ava’s funfetti cake recipe at the back of ‘A Recipe for Family’. The icing swirl makes the room spin a bit for me, but it was all as she wanted.)
Big salads and small pleasures. Slow roast salmo Big salads and small pleasures. Slow roast salmon, flaked. Slow roasting will help stop the white albumen leaking out. White bean and artichoke purée - a fridge constant at the moment. Boiled new potatoes. Shaved fennel. Salsa verde. Broccolini. Asparagus, charred in a cast iron pan and dressed with lemon zest and olive oil. Pickled onion. Eating outside and early. Use the good plates. Pick some flowers with a six year old. Find the joy where you can.
Happy sixth birthday Evie G. You are a force of na Happy sixth birthday Evie G. You are a force of nature. You are determined and full of spunk; yet also a natural caretaker of creatures and small people. You still give the best, biggest hugs. Your favourite game remains mock field hospital- with you as the matron in charge. Your favourite foods are ice cream and chicken schnitzel. You live to perform and would happily be the last at every party. You hate tags and seams on socks. Mint anything makes you shudder. Your favourite show is anything where someone is sick and then gets better. This morning; as per your request, we’ll celebrate with pancakes. You came into the world on your terms completely- five days late, after four long nights of stalled labour- only when your brother was finally safely at kindy for a day did you descend- when you knew the stage was completely yours. And then it was like I was thrown off a bridge. You came with the force of a hurricane. Start as we mean to go on. Being your mother has taught me more than anything I could imagine. I can’t wait to see what you become. We love you ❤️ 💨 🦋
Heading home from a week in Victoria today. I have Heading home from a week in Victoria today. I have tried, very hard to be a version of ‘fun mum’ again and give my kids some normalcy, in a way that is as safe as possible for me. Small groups and early catch ups with old friends who are stuffed with empathy and accommodation. Outside eating. I mask inside. Regional airport with outside areas and small planes. Daily sleeps, antihistamines, pain killers. Careful diet. Pacing as much as I can. But there are things I couldn’t predict; how much small plane turbulence, midday heat, halls of mirrors and tilted floor maze displays would impact my LC dysautonomia; with fainting spells and pounding fatigue. But we made shiny memories with the kids- and I hope that when Evie thinks back on the end of her year of being five she will list fairy penguins and hunting sparkly things at the NGV with Uncle Cam and Uncle Oli and wave jumping with Lexi at Ocean Grove Beach rather than it being the year that her mummy got broken. ❤️
A very long covid NYE, on our 1 year anniversary o A very long covid NYE, on our 1 year anniversary of infection. Tonight it is me with my children, playing bananagrams and drinking Chinese herbs, which may or may not help, but at this stage we try anything. I will be asleep not long after my kids as fatigue pulls at my bones, freezing my toes, burning in my joints and makes my muscles feel like overcooked spaghetti. I don’t know how to process the past year. It’s like pressing hard on a wound. It’s a year of twinkling highs- finishing and launching ‘A Recipe For Family’ and moving to this lovely house. But it’s been a year where mortality has made its presence felt starkly. The loss of my darling E still stings and then there’s been the occasional terrifying feeling some days in the grip of it all, that I might not make it through. Losing my ability to think and speak for such extended spells, losing the ease to be the sort of mother, writer, friend that I want to be be cuts deep. There is nothing more bizarre than living in the midst of a ‘post covid world’ when the virus is still with you one year on, causing pain and havoc everyday- and the prospect of reinfection for you and your child is so much more than a week of inconvenience. It is isolating in a way that is much more than just missing parties. It’s like living in a Twilight zone; a foreign country. My covid, is not your covid. I have no map to get me to where you are. Doctors don’t have one yet either. And there is no Google translate for this. So instead of larking and singing in crowds and feasting with friends tonight I will treat this night as any ordinary night. I will play some games with my children and watch an episode of ‘Fleishmann is in Trouble’ and eat a worthy bowl of seared salmon and greens and go to sleep- and hope that when I wake in 2023, one day I can source the spoons and language to bring everything back together. With love to all. (Be safe). X
T’was the morning before Christmas… and mum ma T’was the morning before Christmas… and mum made a list, underlining all the things to remember to make. Sending love to all. May your pink wine be cold and efforts appreciated. ❤️
For the mothers writing in play centres and the si For the mothers writing in play centres and the side of skate parks - just close your eyes and think of Haruki Murakami. ‘When I’m in writing mode for a novel, I get up at four a.m. and work for five to six hours. In the afternoon, I run for ten kilometers or swim for fifteen hundred meters (or do both), then I read a bit and listen to some music. I go to bed at nine p.m. I keep to this routine every day without variation. The repetition itself becomes the important thing; it’s a form of mesmerism. I mesmerize myself to reach a deeper state of mind. But to hold to such repetition for so long — six months to a year — requires a good amount of mental and physical strength. In that sense, writing a long novel is like survival training. Physical strength is as necessary as artistic sensitivity.’ Can you imagine 😂🤪
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