Ginger and Passionfruit Slice

When opposites attract.

She sat in the armchair to your right as you entered the lounge room. Close to the front door and her own bedroom door, formerly that of my parents, sacrificed for her stay with us. Morning sun glinted through the curls of her fine grey hair, often times lulling her to sleep, it’s glow wrapping her in a blanket of warmth. She’d spend her days there mostly, sometimes receiving visits from her friends accompanied by their family members or of course from her own extended family. She came to live with us for what was to be the last weeks of her life. Decades of a life lived punctuated by disease, diabetes, asthma and emphysema in consort tolling the bell of time ever more loudly.

She was a quiet matriarch in her time, not one who ruled with the proverbial iron fist but rather the carer, nurturer and rule maker. The love for her family and care she provided ran deep her love a restorative salve. She raised my mother for the most part and like the shelter and love her home proved when my mum needed, our home too was the restorative convalescence my great-grandmother needed. On her arrival we imagined ourselves offering palliative support and love to my Nan as she was known. Her frailty signalled her life drawing to a close. My parents opened their home to her as much out of love as gratitude for all shed done for mum and with great care Mum nursed her in those early weeks. As time went on glimmers of hope emerged. More and more she’d slowly emerge from her room shuffling tentatively out to share time with the family and take her meals in her special chair lap warmed by her crocheted knee rug made when her fingers were more nimble.  With regular meals and human interaction her condition improved and her days in our family grew longer.

The initial period of convalescence freezing time to support her faded as it became clear our efforts had succeeded and Nan had found her second wind so to speak. We needed a new plan and routine so Mum could return to work and resume her normal life. I was a teenager at the time so absent from home for at least six hours a day and Dad still a shift worker. Mum’s job was not far from home but still this left a frail lady home alone for great swathes of time. As family’s often do the relatives rallied. Everyone taking a day to visit where possible offer company for Nan and reassurance for mum. One such visitor was my Nana, Dad’s mum. She was of a similar ilk herself, the quiet no nonsense nurturer. Every Wednesday, after leaving a cut lunch in the fridge for my Papa, she’d walk the 4 kms to our house, a baked treat stashed in her roomy handbag slung in the crook of her elbow. Having survived polio as a child her gait was slow but strong the site of our home after that last bend in the road a welcome site. Her visits were as much an act of love for Nan as it was to Mum and Dad. Her cheery voice would ‘sing out’ a greeting as she arrived, her bag carried through to the kitchen where she’d ‘pop the kettle on’ and prepare morning tea. They’d natter away catching up on their weeks and news of the day while they sipped steaming amber coloured tea, two cups frugally made from one tea bag, while they nibbled on whatever sweet treat was on offer. After lunch, also often an offering of love and nurture from Nana, Nan would nod off in the last of the eastern sunshine before the sun arced over our roof. To fill time during this restorative nap, Nana took to the duster and broom helping mum with some housework to ease her load and perhaps make a start on dinner too. Sometimes they’d take to their needles, one knitting the other crocheting comparing their progress and differing skills each wishing they could do what the other could. They’d reflect on times gone, laughing and shedding a tear here and there at shared recollections and memories. Marjorie and May forged a firm friendship during their Wednesdays spent together, Marj finding purpose in supporting mum, May looking forward to the company of a woman her own age, the two together finding previously untapped common ground and friendship in each other’s company. Opposites in many ways, from each side of our family, Dad’s mum and Mum’s Nan, found friendship in later life.

One thing they had always had in common was a love of baking. Nan loved a ginger laced bake Nana a more classic airy sponge often topped with passionfruit icing. Nan, no longer being fleet of foot, was unable to cook and so would ask Mum to purchase Gingernut Biscuits as an offering during these visits. Nana, still reigning at her oven, would still whip up a light airy sponge cake sandwiching fluffy whipped Chantilly cream, crowned with passionfruit icing.

The notion of opposites attracting was one often on our minds watching two women who’d known each other for decades in late life finding a deep nourishing friendship in each other’s companionship. Likewise, opposites attract in flavours sometimes too. Marriages in ingredients you may not always think of initially but when experimented with inspire equally revelatory relationships as that enjoyed by two women thrown together and sipping tea with ginger and passionfruit in all its guises.

Ingredients:

½ c sweetened condensed milk

50 gm butter

1 Tb golden syrup

40 gm chopped naked or glace ginger

320 gm Gingernut biscuits or similar ginger flavoured cookies/biscuits with a crisp dry texture

Icing:

1 ¾ C icing sugar

Pulp of 2 passionfruit served and 1 tsp of seeds reserved

2 tsp boiling water

2 tsp lemon juice

20 gm butter melted

Method:

Line a 16cm x 25cm slice tin and set aside.

In a small saucepan combine condensed milk, butter, ginger and golden syrup over a medium low heat. Warm until just combined thoroughly and remove from heat.

Crush biscuits/cookies in a food processor or blender using the pulse setting crushing until a mixture of course and fine crumbs. It’s nice to maintain some texture in the crushing so there’s a variation when eating and for the mixture to absorb the wet mixture.

In a large bowl combine crumbs and warm melted liquids until thoroughly combine like thick wet sand. It should be quite thick and stiff. Spread evenly in the prepared tray and refrigerate for at least 2 hours and firm. The longer it’s refrigerated the better allowing for the most moisture absorption.

When completely cooled and firm it’s ready to ice. Combine all icing ingredients until smooth. Spread evenly over slice with an offset spatula or similar if you have one. A little tip: heat the blade briefly over a stove flame so it spreads smoothly over the icing leaving an even finish. Allow to set and cut into suitable sized pieces.

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Do you pre-order books? Doing so is a great way to support your favourite authors creating demand before a book is even published and almost more importantly a nifty way of creating a little surprise for yourself. More often than not I forget I’ve placed an order and wind up like a kid on Christmas morning when the postie drops me a little ‘pressie’ at the front door. This week’s one was an absolute cracker. I first met its author in 2019 at a workshop in Orange. I’ve followed her career and growth on instagram enjoying her articles in national magazines and now her stunning book. Rarely does a cook book land in my hands from whose pages I want to cook everything. It’s a rare feet for an author to create a book with tantalising recipes on every page but The Plain Cake Appreciation Society is that and a whole lot more with exquisite photography and some of the most delectable flavour combination and recipes I’ve seen in a long time.

I love the short form of newsletter and the little window into peoples lives they share. I stumbled on a new (to me) one this week that transported me. Em is a rural media professional whose name was familiar but i couldn’t quite place it until I realised I’d listened to a podcast she hosts. Her writing is transportive, evocative and captivating so if you have room for another newsy hers is well worth the few minutes read when it pops up in your inbox.

‘There are hundreds of gypsies in the woods today. That's what my mother-in-law, Rosie calls low-lying mist; as if the wreathed clouds clinging to the treetops drifts from the smoke of those huddled around their campfires below, horses stamping their feet against the cold. Our neighbouring mountains, blue in the drizzle, hula-hoop the achromatic cloud so it looks alive in the wind, tendrilled and sinuous.”

Shared from today’s ‘While he Sleeps’ with Em’s kind permission.

I hope your weekend is filled with delicious food and good things to read.

Thanks as always for reading my ponderings and cooking my recipes. Please feel free to use the button above the image to share with a pal if you think they might enjoy it too.

S x