As usual, when I think of baking, I think of Joy the Baker. Joy is my go-to when it comes to all things sweet. She’s prolific and adventurous in the kitchen, and also happens to be smart and kind and one hell of a writer. I stalk her blog, her Instagram and giggle along with her brilliant podcasts when I’m walking home. She’s totes maj (totally major).

I’d fallen a bit in love with her cranberry, orange and pecan cake a while back and had grand plans for it this week. Sadly, I couldn’t find fresh or even frozen cranberries at my local so ended up with blueberries. And since I didn’t think the orange juice / zest would quite have them singing the same way as cranberries, I opted for lemon. Blueberry, lemon and pecan cake and a delight at that. My batter was a little dry, so I added some sour cream I had on hand and was pleased I did.

The cake was dense, soft, had a nice tang and a lot of bite. I brewed myself a pot of coffee and had two crumbly pieces, just because I could.

INGREDIENTS
* 2 cups of flour
* 1 cup of sugar (I used white)
* 1 1/2 teaspoons of baking powder
* 1/2 teaspoon of baking soda
* pinch of salt
* 50 grams of butter
* 2 eggs
* juice and zest of one lemon
* 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla
* 2 tablespoons of sour cream
* 1/2 cup of roughly chopped pecans
* 1 cup of blueberries (I used frozen)
And for the topping…
* 4 tablespoons of butter
* 1/2 cup of flour
* 3 tablespoons of sugar
* pinch of salt
* 1/4 cup of pecans

METHOD
Grease and line a loaf tin and preheat the oven to 180 celcius. In a bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder and baking soda and work in the cold butter with your hands. The mix should be coarse, like breadcrumbs. In another bowl, mix together the eggs, vanilla and lemon juice and zest. Fold into the dry ingredients along with the sour cream and the pecans. Add the blueberries last and fold through lightly so they don’t bruise or burst. To make the topping, combine all the ingredients, rubbing the butter together till you get a rough, crumbly, sugary mess. Sprinkle over the batter in the loaf tin and bake for between 40 and 50 minutes, until golden and firm. I let mine cool on a rack and added an easy milk and icing-sugar glaze to sweeten it up just a little bit more.

Adapted from the lovely Joy the Baker.

I’ve long been inspired by everything the girls at 3191 do, from photography and print to their recent homewares and textiles. Their work is classic, refined, full of clean lines and beautiful detail. In this case, my soon to be beloved tea towel is a hand-dyed linen with a sweet leather tab.

I’m very taken with the idea of one of their beauty&use smocks too, in lovely Nepalese cotton. Not quite in my current budget, but something to keep an eye on (if they don’t sell out in five minutes, of course).

* All pictures by Stephanie Congdon Barnes and Maria Alexandra Vettese at 3191 Miles Apart.

One of my favourite blogs, however, is Simply Breakfast – a lovely bit of writing and pictures about that one special, all-important meal. I love the stunning photography, but I especially the idea of pausing for a moment, before the day gets away with you, and appreciating the beauty in the detail. Simple pleasures like a pot of coffee, or a perfectly ripe bit of fruit in season or some toast with just the right amount of crumble and lots of runny honey.

* All images from Simply Breakfast, by Jennifer Causey

Without seeming trivial or anything less that a serious lady, I have to tell you how much I absolutely love and adore this shirt. It is without question the best thing I own, my all-time fave. It’s partly the ever wondrous dusty rose / peach colour, the bold polka dots, the floaty-but-not-too-floaty sleeves, the neat cuff, the tie at the neck that I love to wear in a long, loose bow and of course the perfect fall of the silk.

I bought it from Gorman some seasons ago and have hardly stopped loving it since. I’ve worn it on hot dates, to fancy dinners, to birthdays, to work presentations where I’ve had to keep 150 people interested in policy advice for a good hour, not to mention a few big nights at the pub with friends.

I once wore this shirt in Paris with a green utility jacket, short black shorts and bold red lipstick and a tradesman stopped me in the street  and said ‘excuse-moi Madamoiselle, vous etes tres chouette’. And you really can’t argue with a man in the street.

A dining table, to be exact.

I am a person who loves cooking, and especially loves cooking for others. I am a person who likes to lay the table with placemats and small pots of sea salt, with flowers and wide salad bowls and on the weekend I like to spread the newspaper out and read it two days running, with my large French press and vintage sugar jar. For all this I need a table, and I’d like it to be a proper one.

I’m at an age, at a stage, where I want to nest and spend large sums of money on things. I want to invest in nice stuff, not settle for my in-between stuff, the stuff I inherited from past housemates or late-night hard rubbish finds. Less unstained pine and mdf, more hardwood and fittings, please.

Seeing as I’m saving, however, hoping to move to the States and settle there for a bit, a new dining table seems far fetched. Plain ridiculous, actually. So instead of buying one, of putting money aside for the breakfasts and dinners of my life, I’ll just be here, pining over these Pinterest finds instead. Don’t mind me, eh?

PS For the record, this Freedom one is a damn good find at $700.

I’ve been busy of late. Busier than I’d like – too much stress and change and not enough quiet.

I’m trying to make time to slow down. Some small measures that are making my day a little nicer include:

- Egon Schiele sketches
- singing the Family Ties theme song in my head
- rereading Ted Hughes’ beautiful (if heartbreaking) Birthday Letters
- making cauliflower soup
- browsing Madewell for clothes I have no intention of buying
- walking home from work instead of taking the bus
- watching BBC dramas in bed
- drinking pots of chai

I’d already taken the Friday off to celebrate the marriage of some very dear friends at their old homestead in Mudgee, five hours out of Sydney. Two nights in the wide, dry countryside and road tripping giggles with a friend were lovely enough, but I felt blessed to celebrate Oliver and Marni. Their vows were sweet and heartfelt, and afterwards we all shared in a spectacular sit-down lunch of local fare. Among the seven or so cakes on the dessert table was my gift, a simple orange cake with passion fruit icing that I was very happy with. And in case things couldn’t get any better, we all watched the sunset over the back paddock and oohed and ahed as the moon rose just moments later. We warmed ourselves by an almighty bonfire and drank red wine and hot tea into the night. It was one of the most special days I’ve known.

By Sunday, with the long drive back to Sydney and an afternoon at Clovelly beach – probably the last of the season – I was exhausted. I spent the last hour of the day watching the light change over the city from my friend Luke’s studio. Luke Crouch is a painter and charmer and before he packed up his studio for travels in Europe and Japan, he invited us for beer and a tour of the space. His studio is in an old warehouse in the industrial part of St Peters. From the third floor we watched planes taking off over pink skies and sat by the old loading doors, open wide onto the night as it faded gold to dusky black.

Her exhibition is showing at Taylor De Cordoba, a California gallery I’ve been following but missed visiting when I was last in LA. It’s called Do You Like Old Things or New Things That Look Old? which I think in itself is wonderful.

I drank Shaw and Smith with my mama, wandered the halls of the Adelaide Art Gallery with one of my oldest friends, lay out on the grass in the late afternoon sun with my two nieces, laughed and ate pizza with my sister and sister-girls, made eggs for brekky with my old dad, and got cuddles from three beautiful babies – little Coco, almost six months and a doll, and twinsies Henry and Rupert, the handsome boys that make me marvel at their mother‘s grace and fortitude.

My Sunday evening flight back to Sydney was quiet and partly empty. It made for some nice down time after all my socialising and I loved having a moment, before the busy of my week ahead, to just sit and write. For an hour and fifty minutes in grainy light over the south eastern skies I wrote lists, thought out ideas, dreamed small dreams, got distracted by favourite songs and made up stories.

You know, on a late summer afternoon at some friend or other’s backyard drinks, when someone happened to bring decent champagne, and my hair is in a top knot, and it looks so effortless and casual (even if it probably did take me a good seven minutes) and I found that bright pink lipstick I bought in Chicago last year and loved so much.

And everything is just so.

It’s a pretty fine dress that can set a scene in this stressed-out head of mine, I tell you. Nice work Steven Alan.