Batten down the hatches Melbourne

It's not spring in Melbourne if you don't spend at least one night awake, willing your roof to stay attached to your house. Monday night was particularly nutso. So nutso our garage door was blown off its hinges. It was just as spectacular as it sounds.

Between giant metal doors flying through the air and the finale of Breaking Bad, it's safe to say I was more than a little rattled. Matty and I attempted to fix the door in the howling wind: he, with hammer in hand, me, with a 50kg door held above my head. Use your core, Bennetto! This is what all those hours of pilates has culminated to! And they say the hundreds are useless.

I climbed under the covers well after my usual bed time and closed my eyes. Do you think I could sleep? No. It really felt like they were filming Twister right outside our window. Sleep was not on the agenda. Kitty clawing my toes didn't help much either.

So how does one soothe the soul after a night of such adventure? Probably not by waiting around for a tradie to come and fix said door, but by whipping up a Thai pork salad. That's this weirdo's meaty kinda pacifier.

This salad is a quadruple threat (like if Beyonce could crochet). It's hot, sweet, sour, salty all in one manic mouthful. It's up to your own personal taste to find the balance of those flavours that work for you. I'm big on the salty kick from fish sauce, so I go pretty hard on that. But you might dig the tang a squeeze of lime gives the salad. Whatever floats your long tail boat.

And as always, there's any number of substitutes you could make with this recipe. Snake beans not stocked nearby? Regular old green beans will do. No galangal? Try ginger. Pork can be mixed up with chicken or even sliced beef. In fact, I used the paste the next day with sliced pork cutlet, and I gotta say, it knocked my knee-highs off.

So the wind in Melbourne isn't due to die down any time soon. Expect more broken tree limbs and dilapidated garages in the coming days. And know that somewhere out there in the northern suburbs of Melbourne, there's a terrified young lady fear-gorging on Thai pork salad. It's good for what ails ya.

Ingredients

2 cloves garlic, chopped roughly
4cm piece of galangal, chopped roughly
1/2 piece lemongrass, chopped roughly
1 shallot, chopped roughly
1 chilli, chopped roughly
1 green mango, shredded
6 snake beans, cut into 10cm lengths
10 cherry tomatoes, cut in half
2 spring onion, chopped into 1 cm pieces
1 handful of bean shoots
2 limes
1 1/2 tbsp palm sugar
2 tbsp fish sauce
1 tbsp peanut oil
200g minced pork
1/2 bunch thai basil
1/2 bunch coriander

To make paste, pound the lemongrass, galangal, garlic, shallots and chillies in a mortar and pestle. It helps to pound one ingredient at a time, adding the next once they're properly pastey. 

Add the paste to a hot wok with the peanut oil. Stir fry gently for a few minutes, then add the mince. Cook on high until the meat has browned. Add the beans and cook for a further 2 minutes. Add the tomatoes and cook for 3 minutes. Add the palm sugar and fish sauce and remove from heat.

Add the mango, lime juice, bean shoots, herbs and spring onions and serve.

Broccoli coleslaw

I'm what you would call a spasmodic exerciser. I run like the clappers every morning, inevitably get a killer injury and retire hurt for a good couple of months. Rinse and repeat. Part of my routine involves buying new gear to beat the excuses every morning. Once, I sauntered into Target and moseyed on over to the running skins. I bet you thought I was going to say the fringed jackets or low heeled cowboy boots with all that sauntering and moseying.

I picked up a pair that looked like the right size. Well, maybe an "aspirational" size. OK, a size smaller than I actually fit. The thing I didn't realise is these skins, they're not all that forgiving. It's not just the cankles top you have to hide. There were bulges where bulges are just not polite to be seen. My new motivational pants had all of a sudden become an offensive-to-the-eye reminder of all those months spent lazing on the couch.

Chestnut, pancetta and rocket salad

'Tis the season to eat chestnuts! Fa la la la la, la la la la! Hear ye! Hear ye! Chestnuts are shit hot! Tell your mother! Tell you father! Tell your brother from another mother! Huzzah!

That pretty much sums up how I feel about chestnuts. If you thought my enthusiasm couldn't get any greater, try listening to my hyperbole when I use pre-prepared chestnuts. No peeling! No roasting! All the the flavour with none of the fuss. Embrace your inner lazy git - she'll thank you for it when she wakes from her mid morning nap.

So the pre-cooked chestnuts fit the bill nicely when I decided a quick salad was on the menu one lazy Saturday. Chestnuts are a killer ingredient in stuffings, and the flour makes a particularly good Italian cake. But a nicely baked chestnut goes quite well with a sharp dressing, a meaty piece of cured meat and some peppery greens. Salad it is.

Carrot, capsicum and currant salad

Have I mentioned I love alliteration?

We're in the depth of winter. The solstice is just around the corner and we'll begin to see the other side of the darkness. In these chilly months, it's easy to dig into the stodge until your pants are more than a little snug. Welcome to Muffintoptown: population 2.

After two very long days at work, I sprinted home a little early on my bike. My ride is leisurely. It gives me the chance to process my day, wind down and plan my dinner in my head. Some days I'm thinking of all the things I should have said to that smart-ass over the phone, others I'm laughing at Andrew and Kaye grinding behind a director's back. By the time I jump off the bike, I'm hungry, motivated and giggling about dance moves.

Cauliflower, currant and pistachio salad

Yesterday at work I wore a long sleeved top, a long cowl neck woollen sleeveless top and a jacket: I was cold. On the bottom, I wore a flimsy skirt, bare legs and flat open shoes. Not so cold after all. I couldn't work the weather out and so dressed for all seasons: winter on top, summer on the bottom. I was planning on a gust of icy wind hitting my upper body alone, of course.

It's good in a way: I'm dying to buy a new pair of boots and some new woollen pants for work. But it's meant to be a frugal fortnight in our house and those two items do not make on the list of essential items to be purchased. At least I can hold out until the chill really hits.

Duck salad with plum and ginger dressing

Recently at work, we've been learning how to take a Fail Bow. When something goes wrong (horribly or otherwise) you should stand up, admit it isn't working and high five yourself for having a bash in the first place. The theory is people won't hide their mistakes and learn from them quickly. I have, as you'd expect, taken more than one Fail Bow in my short time in my current role.

My first recollection of a kitchen Fail Bow was cooking at home with my little brother (do you have a younger sibling who is way taller than you now you're both adults, but insist on still calling them your "little brother"? Me too!) We decided we wanted to make cheese and bacon balls. Dough kneaded, bacon fried and oil heated. Oil heated way too hot. Oil heated in a pan far too small. Dough hits oil. Kitchen fire erupts. Thankfully the only fatalities were Mum's old tea towels and, of course, five cheese and bacon balls (may they rest in peace).

Tabouleh, white bean dip and grilled chicken

I feel like a broken record. After a weekend of indulgence, I need clean food. I'm trying my hardest to keep it simple over the weekend, but I normally take simple to mean butter, flour and eggs with some kind of fruity/chocolate/sugary flavour profile. I don't do healthy well.