Prawn and Mango Curry

I promised the girls I would share this quick and easy curry recipe. 

So here it is! 

Definitely a comfort food with lots of yummy broth.

 Ingredients

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

2 white globe onions finely sliced

3 tablespoons Valcom Authentic Thai Red Curry Paste

400ml can TCC Premium Coconut Milk

750ml Campbell’s chicken stock

4 teaspoons fish sauce

850gms butternut pumpkin and sweet potato peeled and cut into cubes

750gms large green banana prawns peeled and deveined (prepared weight is about 400gms)  If you are in a hurry you could opt for 400gms frozen prepared prawns.  I have done both.

300gms mango cut into cubes (One medium sized mango should do, not too ripe)

2 teaspoons lime juice or squeeze juice from ½ a lime

A good handful of fresh coriander leaves

 

Reunion dinner

Heat oil in a large, heavy-based pan and fry the sliced onion for a minute, then add the curry paste. Let this heat through for another minute.

Whisk in the coconut milk, chicken stock and fish sauce and bring to the boil.

Add butternut pumpkin and sweet potato cubes and simmer, covered, for about 15 minutes or until tender.

Add prepared prawns and gentle mix through sauce. Turn off heat and put the lid back on to cook through.  If using frozen prawns, drain the prawns under running water to remove excess ice and add to pan, let the sauce return to the boil before turning off heat and replacing lid.

Once prawns are cooked, gently fold through the mango cubes and lime juice.

Sprinkle with coriander as you serve over basmati rice.

A reunion

Recently I had a reunion.

It was the first time in a very, very long time we were all together – just as we were, just as it should be.

In volleyball line-up order: Meredith, Debbie, Virginia, Danielle, Tanya, Leearne and Vanessa.

This snap shot in our satin uniforms (not looking so cute in satin these days) is like Dumbledore’s pensive for me. A window in my mind is flung open, warm beams of sunlight stretch across the room, memories strung out like brightly coloured bras and knickers on a clothes line dance before me.

Sutherland Ward Young Women's volleyball team

  

These young women were my youth. They knew me when I was trying to work out who I was and who I wanted to be. We played volleyball together – well, to be really honest, and my memory DOES serve me correctly, we dressed-up in our uniforms and giggled a lot. We swam and ran in carnivals, we danced in festivals, we performed on stage, but what truly bound us in our years of becoming, was our faith. No matter where we are today in our lives, it is still these ribbons and threads softly spun about us that bind us together.

Dressed up for Church on Sunday

What would a reunion be without pouring over old photos? While most of us needed to grab our spectacles to do so, I did recognise the ability each one of us has developed to ‘see’ more clearly. To observe in ourselves and others things that perfect vision, laser surgery or a pair of glasses is not able to detect or rectify - vision that comes with age and experience.

 If there was a winner for the night from our photos, I think it might have to go to Debbie dressed in her sailor suit top with matching hat, or perhaps seeing a snap of Virginia wearing her adored rabbit skirt… only in the eighties! 

   

 

A night at the movies - note Virginia's rabbit skirt

We shared stories and relived adventures. We giggled and laughed like we were 14 again. We felt safe divulging the secrets of our heart and our vulnerabilities - that’s another gift that comes with age that I would not exchange for youth.   

 How innocent and naive were the day dreams and imaginings of the girls dressed-up in satin. I’m glad we dreamed, but I am also glad for the realities of the lives we’ve lived and the women we have become because of them.

Just one question ladies, when can we do it again?  

A season of change

There is a large maple in my front garden.  It’s a beautiful tree with branches like thick powerful arms.   It stands taut like a statue as its leaves now the colours of a glorious sunset escape with the gentlest breeze.  Ever so softly they flutter like tiny flags on a string of autumnal bunting.  

I close my eyes and I can hear the tree as it pops and crackles, seed pods flinging themselves to the ground, leaves lost in their final dance. The sun is warm on my back, the sky cerulean blue.

My inner child is awakened (I do like waking her) as I walk through the fallen leaves. Who doesn’t remember doing that? What’s a walk in autumn without experiencing the pleasure of swishing through puddles of abandoned leaves? Somehow, in this place I hear the rustle of silk taffeta at my feet.

I have two special women in my life moving away soon - a precious sister and a very dear friend.  How can it be that I too am deciduous?

Of all the seasons, autumn is the one that counsels me to accept change and see beauty in it. I wish I could be like this maple with my arms held out about me, strong yet flexible, comfortable moving with the wind even when sometimes the things I treasure most are fluttering. I see their changing hue, I prepare for their departure.

A walk on the beach

Early last December I went back to a place I hadn’t been for a long time. It was like walking through a kaleidoscope of happy memories filled with colour and light. I felt like a pirate returning to familiar shores to retrieve my treasure. Dr Seuss said it this way, ‘Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.’ My treasure chest was full. Everywhere I looked memories sparkled like precious gems.

 

My brother, John and I on Huskisson beach

All my childhood holidays were spent at Huskisson with my family. It was here we swam in the sea, built sand castles, collected shells and explored rock pools. My father taught me how to fish at the wharf. I remember the bucket with our cork hand reels, the fishing knife, the small plastic box with compartments that held hooks and sinkers and the bait wrapped in old newspaper. What I especially remember are my father’s hands, the way his finger listened for a bite. 

My grandparents, Mumma and Jack had a house right on the beach and from their large front window we looked out over Jervis Bay. There is a particular weight and rhythm to the sea on this beach. I remember being lulled to sleep at night listening to the waves slapping the shore.

 

Huskisson beach 2013

I walked on the beach and I walked back in time. As the water gently lapped and foamed around my feet all the memories came, they rolled in and out like the sea. It is the sixties again and I can see and hear and feel all the energy of that time and season of my life. The beach is just as I remembered it, the sand soft and white, freckled with shells.

 Something magical and healing happens to me when I am near the sea.  I’m not sure how or why, but I feel it. All my senses come alive.  I breathe deeply and not only are my lungs filled but I feel my heart expand too.

There is such a strong sense of family in this place, I am connected to my past here.  The young girl I was then is still who I am today. The things I loved are part of me, they still hold the same wonder and awe and sooth my soul. 

Huskisson beach 1930   Jack left with his sister, 'Trig' playing the fool, far right his other sister, 'Cook'

Huskisson was Jack’s paradise. He brought us here and gave each one of us this heritage.  What made this December ‘walk on the beach’ so special was having my family there. I watched my Dad teach his grandchildren how to fish. I felt the excitement and wonder of an evening walk on the beach watching my little nieces and remembering when I ran with the wind in my hair.  My brother and I danced to Christmas music in the kitchen with Mum and Dad. I swam in the sea and I don’t really know that I can find the words to describe how this made me feel - I didn’t want the moment to end.  I gathered more happy memories than sea shells! 

Dad in the green hat teaching his grandchildren how to fish

Knowing what I know now I recognise the gift I can give my children. I can teach them how to be happy, how to fill their own treasure chests by being happy myself.  I am not the source of their happiness but I can be an example of it by the way I live, full of life and energy and gratitude.