Let me preface this post by admitting that I've never really been very good with vegetables.

I have vivid memories of dramatically dry retching when my parents would insist that a hideous and slimy piece of mushroom be ingested. A charming habit which I have now apparently passed down to my eldest son, who is equally theatrical with his reactions to vegetables.

And then there was the forced stint in Veganism during my teen years which well and truly cured me of any lingering attachment to a plant-based diet (as well as instilling an utter distaste of Nutmeat, tofu... and let's just say 'falsified' food of any kind!)

Then I had kids.

Homemade baby food became a bit of a thing for me, and I relished in boiling, steaming and mashing fruits and vegetables of every colour... filling an entire freezer drawer with options for Eli's dining pleasure.

All of my kids loved vegetables... until they tasted the rest of the food spectrum, and it became all but impossible for anything green or leafy to pass 'Go'.

Case in point: Last night at the Open House BBQ I put on each of the boy's plates one sausage, one lone cherry tomato and a side of potato chips. Because I'm realistic like that.

Nevertheless, I still have one super meal left in the arsenal that I silently giggle with glee when serving, because it contains no less than NINE different vegetables... and they have absolutely no idea. The boys even list it as one of their favourite meals.

Spaghetti Bolognese.

It isn't your most traditional recipe, but I've found it to be the most versatile meal in my repertoire.

Once every so often, I cook up a hearty batch of the meat sauce, serve it for that evening's meal as Bolognese, and then divide up the rest of the contents of the pot into ziplock bags to be frozen.  The sauce is so versatile, it can be re-imagined as Chili Con Carne (just add a can each of tomatoes and white beans, cumin, paprika and chili flakes), Shepherd's Pie (add some red wine, worsterchire sauce, peas and corn and top with potato), filling for Meat Pie, Lasagna, Burritos... The list can be as long as your imagination.

The thrift angle of the meal thrills me as well. For a 2kg package of minced beef (for around $16.00 at Aldi), whatever seasonal vegetables you have growing or taking up fridge space you can churn out around six meals for a family of five. I'm no expert at maths, but that's a damn good deal.

The only catch is, you need a food processor of some kind, unless you want to drive yourself to insanity by chopping up all the vegetables into miniscule pieces. And then the thrill of the meal will have well and truly worn off.

It's a good one to get the kids involved in making too, as mine are always more than eager to push the button and watch the vegetables become obliterated. Or just get one to peel an onion. It will take them twenty minutes of intense concentration. I tried it on Hudson today.

You can also do it in a slow cooker, which is a double win for crazy hour!

I present:

Bolognese Sauce
Ingredients
2 Tbsp olive oil
3 onions
5 cloves of garlic
2 leeks*
4 peeled carrots
3 sticks of celery
4 rashers of bacon (rind removed)
3 capsicums
2 zucchinis*
3 eggplants*
Handful of mushrooms*
2kg beef mince
3 Tbsp tomato paste
1 Tbsp sweet paprika
1 Tsp hot paprika
3 Tsp stock powder
1 Tsp chili flakes
2 bay leaves
2 cups water (1/2 cup ONLY if using slow cooker)
Salt and pepper to taste

*Feel free to substitute whatever vegetables you have on hand instead of these, and as many as you wish to add. The sauce reduces substantially even if it initially feels as if it is three quarters filled with veggies.

Method
1. Process onions and leeks to tiny pieces and toss into pot with oil. Cook on low heat until soft.
2. Process bacon, celery and carrot. Add to pot. Cook on medium-high heat until browning.
3. Mince garlic and add to pot. Cook for one minute.
4. Process remaining vegetables and add to pot. Ensure excess water from vegetables is cooked out.
5. Add the meat to the mix and stir in well. Cook until brown.
6. Add spices, salt and pepper, bay leaves and tomato paste. Stir well
7. Allow to bubble away on stove on low heat for at least an hour or more, stirring occasionally (or in slow cooker until dinner time). You will need to skim the surface of oil during the cooking period.
8. If using slow cooker, return pot to stove top prior to serving to reduce the sauce.
9. After serving, divide up remainder into ziplock bags to be frozen. I find the gallon ones from Costco are the best because they can be frozen flat in the freezer and stacked high to take up less room. 

Happy cooking!

(Sorry about my poor photographic skills with the recipe. I'm far too lazy to rearrange things when taking photos, so this is an 'as is' shoot of the meal in all its messy glory!)

We've been eating eggplant in everything this week.

It still amazes me that our garden is actually yielding edible, beautiful fresh produce. At twilight, when the house is quiet and still, children all tucked snugly under covers, I wander through the abundance and marvel at the magnificence of life. Lifting leaves, discovering smooth aubergine balls emerging as if by magic from the slender stems.

I wonder if I would be able to witness the cucumbers expanding before my eyes if I had either the patience or inclination, as each night yields a bounty that was seemingly invisible the evening before.

And then there are the failures. The snow peas that were carefully tended and bursting forth with tender pockets of bright green crunch... until brown began creeping up from the roots, gradually strangling life and leaving hollow husks that crackle in the wind.

Eli has begun 'big boy' Kinder. At first eagerly, rushing out of his bedroom in the morning, fully-dressed (including shoes!) and raring to go. For a kid who insists on living solely in undies no matter what the temperature, that is no small feat. It almost felt as if I were the child, as Eli confidently dragged me by the hand, looking for his name on the lockers, and then suggesting we just talk to the teacher when it failed to materialise.

As the parents were kindly ushered out by the teachers, all the while being reassured that our little ones would be well taken care of, I was reminded of the moment I left Hudson on the operating table out cold. Staring forlornly through the glass separating me from my boy, the one who has seldom left my side these four and a half years since making his entrance... it felt as if I'd left a piece of me beyond those doors.

He came home bursting with stories, beaming with pride and excitement. Which made the next session's hysterical drop off all the more unsettling. Nevertheless, he recovered quickly and found his niche as the Teacher's helper, and had the good fortune of making a friend that day. 'We had good chats about life and people and food, Mum'.

Sometimes I find parenting as elusive as tending a garden.

Feeding, watering, plucking weeds, nurturing, waiting, discovering, protecting. Sometimes to great success, as the fruit bursts forth unexpectedly. Sudden first steps, seemingly out of nowhere from our cheeky, blossoming girl. Snatches of wisdom internalised: 'Dress ups go in the toy room', Eli says in a singsong voice to himself as he picks up the offending items and drops them off in the right zone. 'No, Ivy, those toys don't go outside!' Hudson declares passionately to his wayward sister. 'I found my friend because she was playing by herself and had no one to play with', Eli confides as we lay in the dark sharing stories together. Sentiments I have declared repeatedly to the boys, often feeling as if the words would vanish into the air....water evaporating into mist even before it hits the scorched earth.

And then are the moments which are inexplicable. Textbook adherence to the 'right' things, and yet.... Outbursts that appear out of nowhere, right hooks to a brother's face, heavy wooden doll houses carelessly yanked off shelves to plummet to a destructive death below.

The flame of anger blossoms quickly. Clenched fists, wave of heat, rigid stance. Perspective vanishes and I burst forth in fiery words. Though recently I have actually found an antidote to this landslide. I grit my teeth, pull out a pen and claw open the Gratitude Journal. The first entry is the hardest. '#168: For oxygen"... or on another occasion, unable to even get to that point: '#172: F%&^ING HELL'. I continue to scrawl until the writhing ball in my gut is a whisper.

I made the mistake of telling Eli my new practice. 'You need to go and write in your book, Mum', he tells me... often.

Gratitude. It's the only thing left in my arsenal to deal with those moments, but it is surprisingly powerful.

My little plot reveals how little control I hold over the bounty that can blossom. And perhaps it is best that way. In hindsight I realise how little I do grasp- of the incredible lives forming before my eyes and what they truly need to flourish. It's my job to keep lovingly tending them. And I'm learning to be OK with that.