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Stir Crazy Lady

Stir Crazy Lady for Artisans Bend

This business venture has culminated from stored up ideas and energy, and was sparked through working within the Victorian Farmer’s Market arena. I was taken with the wonderful range of Victorian produce, and drawn to the energetic vibe of its dedicated producers and patrons.

From this backdrop, and drawing on recipes from the people and places I’ve known, I have created a unique range of handmade produce. I hope you enjoy sharing in the spoils of this experience, and taste the difference of food prepared by hand and with care. For lovers of the fabulous Mexican film “Like water for Chocolate ”, revel in the pleasures of food and partake if you dare!

The realm of food was opened early in my childhood, being raised in a family with rich food and bountiful gardening traditions. I have memories of pleading with my Mum to let me into the kitchen, which was always met with the response “when you are old enough to clean up after yourself!”.
My first official lesson was at the YMCA on a holiday program when I was seven or eight years old, where I was taught to make scones! Simple yet skilful and a great template for what was to follow.

I had the pleasure of having wonderful grandparents who provided me with a plethora of food experiences.  There was the Ballarat back garden that evokes memories of the sweetest ripe white nectarines, or the trips to collect blackberries in a billy can, or collecting field mushrooms. The making of blackberry and apple jelly, the delight of golden syrup dumplings….
I had a Jewish grandmother who took the time to show me the painstaking task of boning garfish, and who treated me to the sour and salty experiences of pickled herrings.  And I certainly credit her for my intrinsic love of onion rolls or bagels, smoked salmon and chopped chicken liver pate!

I recall decadent dinner parties in the seventies where my parents prepared elegant affairs, and the sneaking downstairs in the mornings for slim pickings of leftovers. Lobster Mornay prepared in clam shells, beef wellington, chocolate truffles and after dinner mints!

I was led through countless wine and cheese regions, and fondly recall the musty smells of maturing oak barrels.  From the greatest Saturday lunches with the footy blaring, crunchy breadsticks and smoked ham with green tomato pickle, to the heights of velvet gnocchi and truffles in a Rome Tratteria.
It was no surprise that my destiny was “all things food” and the pleasure of sharing it.

I'M HELEN

The realm of food was opened early in my childhood, being raised in a family with rich food and bountiful gardening traditions. I have memories of pleading with my Mum to let me into the kitchen, which was always met with the response “when you are old enough to clean up after yourself!”.
My first official lesson was at the YMCA on a holiday program when I was seven or eight years old, where I was taught to make scones! Simple yet skilful and a great template for what was to follow.

I had the pleasure of having wonderful grandparents who provided me with a plethora of food experiences.  There was the Ballarat back garden that evokes memories of the sweetest ripe white nectarines, or the trips to collect blackberries in a billy can, or collecting field mushrooms. The making of blackberry and apple jelly, the delight of golden syrup dumplings….
I had a Jewish grandmother who took the time to show me the painstaking task of boning garfish, and who treated me to the sour and salty experiences of pickled herrings.  And I certainly credit her for my intrinsic love of onion rolls or bagels, smoked salmon and chopped chicken liver pate!

I recall decadent dinner parties in the seventies where my parents prepared elegant affairs, and the sneaking downstairs in the mornings for slim pickings of leftovers. Lobster Mornay prepared in clam shells, beef wellington, chocolate truffles and after dinner mints!

I was led through countless wine and cheese regions, and fondly recall the musty smells of maturing oak barrels.  From the greatest Saturday lunches with the footy blaring, crunchy breadsticks and smoked ham with green tomato pickle, to the heights of velvet gnocchi and truffles in a Rome Tratteria.
It was no surprise that my destiny was “all things food” and the pleasure of sharing it.

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