Lovely Lismore. It never fails to impress me. Nestled around the banks of Wilson's River and surrounded by the incredibly lush, northern New South Wales hinterland, this regional city has a whole lot of heart.
Lismore boasts a beautiful, tree-lined streetscape with heritage buildings intact, cared for and respectfully repurposed - and a CBD that's humming with energy. A university can make a town. And Lismore, home to Southern Cross University, and a centre for the creative and performing arts, is a-buzz with music shops, bookshops, craft shops, galleries, cafes ... Not to mention enough vintage outlets to clothe the entire student population in funky, sartorial splendour.
Yes, Lismore offers a photo opportunity on almost every corner. But from my last visit I bring you neither classic architecture, nor hip urban culture. I bring you something rather more prosaic: the iconic, and deservedly famous, Lismore Pie Cart:
Take a look at that bad boy. There he sits, smack bang in the middle of town, with his glossy, bottle green duco, big muscly mudguards and toothsome grill. And every day the locals flock in like hungry gulls, to have their rumbling bellies soothed by his trailer load of freshly-baked, sweet and savoury pies. Some swoop past for a quick takeaway. Others dine al fresco under the dappled shade of Lismore's leafy canopy of street trees.
What a scrummy selection! You know you're on to a winner when you see a mushy peas and gravy option on the menu. And while I'm not about to vouch for the absence of cholesterol in the pastry, I'm more than happy to vouch for the freshness and flavour. These top quality pies - together with the retro ambience, and super-efficient-yet-friendly service - turn a fast food fix into one first class dining experience.
I had to wait until well after the lunch rush hour to get this shot. Apart from one last peckish tradie, the crowds had finally parted, but those wonder women behind the counter were still hard at it: serving, prepping, cleaning up. They run a tight ship.
Bye-bye Lismore Pie Cart. See you next time, cause: "Nothing is finer than eating in your diner" - isn't that right Seinfeld?

Bad case of alliteration there I'm afraid. Hopefully I'll make a full recovery. Trust me, there is a thread to this post, which will soon become clear. But first of all, may I present Le Tarte, in all its finger-sticky, rustic glory:


And how well did a slice of that go down with a steaming espresso coffee and a slurp of Eumundi cream. Mercy!
I don't know what's come over me lately, but foodwise I've gone all-Frenchy-all-chic. I find myself yearning to master (mistress?) the classics: coq au vin, (real) quiche lorraine, cassoulet ... Perhaps it was Julie and Julia (those French kitchens - oh my!). Perhaps it was French Women Don't Get Fat (No eye-rolling please. Really, it was such a good read. Nothing about diets. All about joie de vivre, quality over quantity - and lashings of common sense.) Or perhaps it was moving into the Dream Kitchen, which of course involved the dusting off, leafing through, and rearranging of the cookbook collection.
Whatever it was, it's left me all inspired to whip up simple, unpretentious, delicious and classy food. And I'm learning that's what real French cooking - real home cooking - is all about.
So far, on my "to cook" list, I've ticked off five triumphs - and one straight-into-Hamlet's-swill-bucket disaster. Not bad odds, really.

Things I've learnt about apple tarts (some from books, some from my dear departed mum):

1. Make 'em upside down in a cast-iron frying pan: foolproof, looks sensational, and saves washing up. Melt 40g butter and 100g raw caster sugar in pan until thick and syrupy. Add apples (peeled and cut into chunky quarters). Simmer gently for 15 mins until glossy and golden. Quick as lightning, cover with a thick circle of pastry. Tuck edges in between pan and apple. (Be brave. Cast iron fingers help.) Then straight into a hot oven. 20 minutes at 200C, 20 mins at 160. Once cooked, cover with a plate and flip the whole thing over. Lift off pan and - ta da! - you'll feel like Houdini. (Have audience gathered pre-flipping.)
2. Pastry needs lots of pure butter and good flour (100g butter to 150g flour), and some sugar (20-25g). Once butter's rubbed through with your fingertips, add two egg yolks to bind together.
3. Cut the egg yolks in with a knife. Cut rather than mix. Comes together brilliantly if there's enough butter.
4. Don't add water to pastry. Well, just a sprinkle if it's really dry. Or dampen your hands when you knead it.
5. Don't knead it! Well only for 2 seconds to pull it together.
6. Wrap in plastic or greaseproof paper and rest in fridge for 30 minutes before rolling out.

And that pretty-as-pie vintage 70s tablecloth? Yet another bargain from the fabulous Yandina Markets. Never used, still with its package creases and original label. And I ask you, when was the last time you saw "Made in Ireland" on a label?


Yeh, I know, it's hardly Irish linen. As my chum Leigh noted: "And when was the last time you saw 'terylene' on a label?"
To which I replied: "On a pair of men's slacks, circa 1969."