Sorry about that

HouseGoesHome fell off the radar over the last few days, as life has been a bit full on.

I worked in the city on Monday and Tuesday, which is always a scramble due to the dogs and their bladders. Charlie’s other two orifices can also cause concern, which was the case this week.

On Tuesday night I raced home from work for my body corporate AGM. The strata manager got the time wrong and turned up 30 minutes early at 6pm. At that point I hadn’t even arrived at my front door, let alone taken the dogs for a wee or eaten dinner.

I stuck my flustered head into the parking area where the meeting was being held and startled some people who were inspecting the garage of a unit up for rent by shouting “they got the time wrong” at them, thinking they were new owners.

Then I hustled off to eat some leftovers, which ended up being a very good tactic, as the body corporate meeting didn’t finish until about 9.15pm. Blimey!

There were a few heated moments, plus a few exciting bits, and I was bullied into being secretary again. Sigh.

When I got back upstairs it was time to walk the dogs again, then I crashed in bed. I slept fitfully as I obsessed over all the dramas that unfolded during the meeting. I finally got back to sleep and woke up with a start at 7am. Unprecedented! There was no time to blog, as I had to walk the dogs again before work.

I am a bit sick of walking the dogs … and cleaning up after them … it’s relentless.

On Wednesday, I took Charlie to be groomed in my lunch break, finished work and visited a wondrous culinary world filled with playful spins on forgotten recipes, signature martinis, an underground wine cellar and improvised French omakase dining.

Otherwise known as the opening of a restaurant called Darling Glebe.

Glebe may be close to the city but it’s a bitch to get to – it took me over an hour on public transport.

The restaurant has taken over the former Darling Mills site, do you remember it?

It’s a glorious venue with five character-filled rooms carved from convict-chipped sandstone, reclaimed heritage brick and vaulted ceilings from Edmund Blackett’s original St John’s Church. Each space is magical. Think velvet-wrapped colonnades, vintage cut crystal, vintage china and hand-etched glass.

Chef and restaurateur Jeff Schroeter is such a lovely bloke (why do I expect chefs to be scary like Gordon Ramsay?). And he’s very talented. He’s worked across four continents in Michelin-starred kitchens and world-class dining rooms, including London’s The Savoy, The Royalton Hotel in New York and Sydney institutions Bistro Moncur and Bayswater Brasserie.

He’s also cooked privately for everyone from the late Queen Elizabeth II to Anna Wintour and Madonna!

I took my friend Sue and started the evening with a mini “Chef’s Martini” from the venue’s Ferrari Martini Lounge, named in honour of Roman-born master stonemason Sergio Ferrari, who spent more than 12 years excavating and hand-building the unique site.

Sadly, Sue couldn’t have a Martini because she’s doing Feb Fast. She showed increased restraint in the face of the wine pairings that followed.

I hooked in.

We settled into chairs around white-clothed wooden tables commissioned by Darling Mills’ owners more than three decades ago, and crafted from a single, 13-metre coachwood tree.

We tried the most remarkable dishes including Darling Glebe’s revived 130-year-old oyster Rockefeller recipe as well as some of Schroeter’s beloved signatures, including escargot en cocotte with a puff pastry lid (affectionately known as snail pie), strawberry foie gras (a happy kitchen accident turned classic) and duck à l’orange enhanced with orange kumquat glaze and Archie Rose Sunrise Lime Gin. 

Strawberry foie gras sounds a little weird, but it was absolutely delicious – seared foie gras with poached strawberries and barrel-aged balsamic. Nom, nom.

There was also extensive verbal therapy throughout the night as we bonded over the trevails of being in your 50s with exhausting jobs, semi-dependent children and ailing parents.

Again, by the time I got home it was late, there were dogs to walk, then I crashed in bed. No time to blog.

I had a much quieter time yesterday. My sister was in town for some dental work, so we walked the dogs together before she faced the needles. Then I tapped away on the computer before heading to the supermarket after work to grab the ingredients for making mapo dofu.

I am very glad the weekend is here, although it will involve two polar opposite days. I will have a relaxed Valentine’s Day with DD on Saturday, followed by a flying visit to Newcastle to see my declining father on Sunday.

I got him some Lindt Pistachio balls last night, just in case he fancies a treat.

OK, it’s time for me to scramble out of bed, walk the dogs and head to the office.

Have a good weekend. Catch you on Monday.

Song of the day: Art vs Science // PARLEZ-VOUS FRANCAIS?