Marbled Chocolate Cheesecake Slice and Memories {Recipe}

I have a customer whose prescriptions smell like my Nana's handbag. Whenever she drops off her scripts I secretly inhale them and I am transported back to the Wednesday afternoons of my childhood. My grandparents would collect me from school and my Nana's handbag would produce sweeties and a small bag of crisps for my afternoon tea. We would watch cartoons while we ate, jump on the trampoline for a while and then as the sun set I would sit on my Nana's lap and tell her about my day. Life was pretty good.

Hang on, I've just admitted to the internet that I sniff somebody's scripts. Hmmm, maybe I am a bit comfy comfy with this tell-all business I have got myself into. For the record, the smell, as best as I can work out, is Max Factor pressed powder, hairspray and a hint of napthalene. The smell of Nana.

Every Saturday we would go to my grandparents house for lunch then afterwards Poppa would entertain us for a couple of hours while mum went shopping. Or at least, that is what I thought happened. One day for whatever reason we returned early and I caught my nana and my mum having afternoon tea together! Without me! The nerve!

Seeking's Adventures in Wine-derland

I remember my first wine tasting very well.

I was terrified.

I can't remember how we decided on the first cellar door, possibly someone had suggested they had good wines, it may have been on a tourist brochure; I don't know, but within minutes I knew I wanted to leave and never taste wine again.

You see up until that point I knew I really liked wine but I didn't know anything about it. I was brave though- my selections were based on the label, it had to be a 'cool bottle' and usually my budget was anywhere up to $20, but outside of these criteria I did not discriminate. While most of my mates were drinking premixes, I had found wine and I bloody well liked it. I drank sparkling in abundance. Red wine, especially shiraz, was tasty-good (and it looked grown-up and classy). I also stumbled my way through a bunch of cheap and nasty whites but every so often a colourful label choice would turn out to be drinkable, so I didn't write them off entirely.

My First Blogday

Exactly one year ago today I started this little blog. You can read my very first post here. It was a little scary to put my writing out there in cyberspace when, for the longest time, my 'writing' had been confined to Facebook statuses (read more about why here).

I am very proud of my blog and the fact that I have stuck with it for a whole year. I did wonder at the beginning if it would end up just another 3-post-blog adding to the detritus of the world wide web. So far so good, 81 posts and going strong.

South of the border {La Tortilleria review}

"OK this stop is in the middle of nowhere. Is there somewhere I should go? Or just wait?" said the text message from the tram stop on Racecourse Road.

I knew then that she had got off at the correct tram stop. I called back "I'll be there in a minute, you can probably see me power-striding towards you."

La Tortilleria really is in the middle of nowhere. You turn South off Racecourse road just near the Citylink overpass and head down Stubbs St, filled with offices and industrial buildings.

Just when you think you may have taken the wrong street you come upon the bright mural that graces the side of La Tortilleria- a little oasis in the middle of an urban desert