The world turns gradually towards Winter. I open the shutters in the crisp air and pale light of predawn. Maggie, our girl cat, watches me through the lounge room window with idle curiosity as I carry an armful of wood across the cobblestones to light the stove and cook breakfast.
From the kitchen shelf I take down the little note book which is full of all my personal recipes and open it to first entry. I separate a couple of eggs, add some sugar to each bowl, then whip the whites with a good old fashioned egg beater till they're fluffy. Adding olive oil to the yokes, I whisk them till they emulsify, whisk in some soy milk, then mix in flour with a touch of baking powder until the batter is smooth. I gently fold in the meringue, and spoon the batter into a hot, oiled frying pan on the wood stove. And while they cook, I make the coffee...
The radio is telling us the news and weather, then reporting about the glass ceiling and gender pay gap, and how hard it is for women to find meaningful and secure employment in regional areas. Mika knows first hand. We discuss it over Drop Scones with Greek Yoghurt and Yuzu Marmalade and a nice hot Cappuccino, before I see her off to work.
I wash the dishes, put the plates in the cupboard and hang the mugs up above the kitchen window, and my making cycle is complete. You see, from the moment I start wedging the clay, I'm not just making pots...I'm making breakfast...
...lunch...
...dinner...
