Baked eggs with pumpkin, cauliflower and kale

My Saturday morning normally starts something like this: I wake up at 6am to Kitty mewing at the window. I’ll stumble out of bed, panda-eyed and stinky-breathed, let her in and climb back under the covers to return to a peaceful slumber. That slumber never eventuates because I’m too busy deciding which café to visit for breakfast.

Matty’s Saturday morning? Sleep. When it’s a reasonable time to wake up, sleep some more. Ignore your girlfriend’s subtle elbows in the side. Instead, continue sleeping your mouth open and breathe all over her face until she’s forced to roll over. Once it hits 12pm, start reading the news online in bed. Reject any suggestions for breakfast at a local café.

Pork, pistachio and sage sausage rolls

When we were growing up, no matter the occasion, birthdays, weddings, picnics, the kids always enjoyed Mum's homemade sausage rolls. It was our parents' default defence to the skirt-pulling, whingey-whiney, fusspot-extraordinaire children they had produced. A smear of tomato sauce and we were away.

Mum's recipe was simple: a healthy line of sausage mince over a square of puff pastry, finely chopped onions, some curly parsley and a little S&P. I must admit to this day I can't resist sneaking a few when Mum pulls them from the oven. But this woman is the high priestess of pastry so I'm bound to be powerless to her little savoury charms. As well as sausage rolls, she made family sized pies, pasties and all manner of sweet treats. It's any wonder I'm considering forming a support group for pastry addicts.

Fennel, sausage and borlotti bean soup

It's officially autumn in Melbourne. My tootsies are getting colder and colder every day. I'm adapting to the weather: the ugg boots are out of storage, black stockings have been dusted off and my beanie is due for an appearance any day now. But the thing that makes the weather so distinctly Melbourne is the forecast this week: a 4 day stretch above 20ºC.

So it's not cold enough to turn on the heater (Matt assures me), but it's not hot enough for cocktails in the sun (but fear not: there's always indoors!). It's light pinot weather - that in between stage where you can't handle a bold red but a white is too fresh for when the mercury drops after sundown. Oh, who am I kidding? If it's open and not vinegar, I'll drink it.