It seemed to come out of nowhere, but I feel the period of transition has come to an end.
The last tears have finally been shed. However, they certainly went out with a bang. I subjected my friends, and my ego, to a couple of public weeping sessions. Not the tears rolling down the cheek, feeling overwhelmed type of crying – more a coiled up in anguish silent sob. Direct from the heart. And it hurt. One was at a concert hall with my best friend on one side, and a new friend that I had just met on the other. I was trying so hard to be discreet. I was quiet, but there was no hiding the tremble. And I remember thinking God, these girls must think I’m completely insane, as they were both consoling me. Earlier that night over dinner, I was hysterically crying of laughter, as I retold the story about calling the Poisons Information Centre after burning my hands from touching chillies. And here I was a few hours later, in complete distress. Like a true lunatic, swinging from one extreme to the next. And in the middle of the Gallery of NSW, just two days later, it happened again. We were discussing the importance of keeping your eyes forward, instead of looking behind, as a metaphor for maintaining emotional health. It really hit a nerve, and there I was, crying in public again. My best friend did a remarkable job of diverting my attention. She made me look at the penises painted on the surrounding artworks. I laughed, of course. How could I not? Penises are pretty funny. The whole situation was.
And just like that, the transition period was over. Was it the cathartic crying sessions that carried me through? Or a sprinkle of magic on the many kebabs eaten on the park benches of Kings Cross? Maybe in my sleep, the old ghosts from the cheap hotel room tied up the last of the emotional loose ends, and with them, my tear ducts too. Or better still, on the flight home, past all the turbulence and above the clouds, the pilot may have flown through a secret portal, leading straight into a new and improved dimension. However it happened, I feel better. All of a sudden I can think about looking ahead, without the fear of leaving the past behind. I’ve finally let go, at last I’m free.
SPINACH, FETA + PINE NUT GOZLEME
This is far less involved than it seems, and I urge you to give it a go!
Enough for 4 people.
for the dough
- 2 cups of plain flour
- 200g of plain yoghurt
- pinch of salt
- 2 Tbsp of olive oil
for the filling
- 75g baby spinach
- 150 feta, crumbled
- 2 spring onions, thinly sliced
- 2 Tbsp pine nuts
to cook and serve
- olive oil
- 1/2 lemon
- To make the dough, place the yoghurt in a mixing bowl of and electric mixer, with a pinch of salt. Using the dough hook, mix while gradually adding the flour with motor running. Keep mixing slowly for a few minutes, until a nice ball of dough comes together. Add the olive oil and mix for a few more minutes, or drop it on the bench and knead by hand. You should have a not too sticky ball of dough. Some flour is thirstier than others, so feel free to adjust as necessary, with an extra spoonful of yoghurt, or flour. Leave to rest covered, for 30 minutes.
- Scatter a tiny handful of flour onto a workbench, divide the dough into 4 separate balls, and shape them into rough rectangles. With a rolling pin, roll these into thin (just a few millimetres) rectangular sheets.
- Scatter the filling ingredients equally over one half of the sheets of dough. Once finished, fold other half of the dough over the filling and seal the edges using your fingers.
- To cook, heat a splash of oil in a large pan, and place your parcels in them. I cooked mine in two batches. Fry the parcels over a gentle heat, until golden, then flip and repeat the process on the other side.
- Once they are all cooked, cut into wedges and serve with a squeeze of lemon.