Bake in time. Retro-bakeries are ripe for a comeback.

In an era of chandeliered cupcakes and other pornographised pastries (the word of choice being 'artisanal' - which sounds a lot like arse-anal. Just sayin'), it's refreshing to come across two suburban cake shops / bakeries that make the old-school cakes and biscuits of my childhood.Sans pimped-up hipsterised, de-glutenised, veganised twists.

The real deal.

Sargent's Cakes in Reservoir (Melbourne's North) and Trianon Cakes  in Hawthorn (Melbourne's East) are two unassuming, unpretentious and downright daggy bakeries that take you back to the days before multi-tiered cupcakes the size of a human head and bread rolls made with 43 varieties of organic/heirloom/sustainable/single source grains started assaulting our palates - and our wallets.

Sargent's specialises in cream-filled light-as sponges that will take off if you don't hold them tightly, as well as retro staples like Lamingtons and Swiss rolls. They have a simple, easy-to-navigate website (so they’re not entirely behind the times) with heaps of photos and order forms for specialty and novelty cakes. Their savouries are also amazing. (But yes, they too have succumbed to the lure of the outsized cupcake...).

Trianon offers tangy apple slices, Lamingtons, tarts (custard, lemon and jam), cinnamon donuts (and the more elaborate cinnamon twist), chocolate éclairs, fruit buns and disappear-on-your-tongue meringues. Come Christmas, I know where I'll be going for my mince pies.

If you're heading North out of the city or eastwards on the way to the Dandenong ranges and need something to fill the picnic basket, trust me, they're worth the detour. 

No hipsters, no aspiring TV bake-off contestants and none of that vegan crapola.

Attention James Bond fans and all-purpose film geeks: Get to the Museum - Melbourne Museum.

Melbourne Museum is currently exhibiting Designing 007 celebrating 50 years of the design and style of Her Majesty's finest (and sexiest) literary and celluloid secret agent, James Bond.

Created by ex-British Navy Commander-turned-novelist Ian Fleming, James Bond made his literary debut in Casino Royale (1952), but it's the film franchise starting with 1962's Dr No that captured the popular imagination.

Designing 007 celebrates everything that was (and still is) so sexy, so desirable and so much bloody fun about James Bond. It's got all the good stuff - TWO Aston Martins, Oddjob's lethal bowler hat, the prototype for Rosa Klebb's nasty shoe, Jinx's orange bikini and Honey Ryder's white one (Arf! Arf! Arf!), Q's whizzy gadgets (including the flick-knife briefcase of From Russia with Love) and the awesome white pant-suit worn by Tiffany Case in Diamonds Are Forever (I can say without exaggeration actress Jill St John was a pygmy).

The best thing about the exhibition for me is the work of production designer Ken Adam. His beautiful ink, pencil and watercolour concept sketches are shown off to amazing effect (the interior design concept for Goldfinger's Fort Knox is genius). See kiddies, what you can do without a computer?

No other film character has provided such an endless source of aesthetic pleasure in fashion, drink, travel, technology and lifestyle and the best is here to enjoy until 23 February 2014.

Muddy and Dusty say check it out.

Discovering Mark Lanegan

To prevent becoming fixed and fossilized in middle age, I regularly look to my buddies Red, Torn, Pattern and hubby Muddy to supplement my shrinking pop culture diet. In the last year I have inhaled Geoffrey Miller's witty and informative tracts on mammalian mating behaviour, clutched my sides guffawing over shows like Archer, Louie and Portlandia and Rob Delaney's tweets, and been led on a journey through decades of comic book history by Art Speigelman.

Great, but am I growing lazy by having new pop-culture experiences pre-chewed for easier digestion?

Have I left no room for the delightful, serendipitous discovery that worked in my teens and twenties?

Until recently, I might have said 'no', but then I had the pleasure of radio station hopping in the car one Sunday morning, eventually landing on 3RRR in the middle of an amazing song - haunting, elegiac - sung by what sounded suspiciously like Tom Waits with an extra spoonful of hot gravel rolling around in his throat. I knew for certain I hadn't heard the song before, but it was curiously familiar too.

I pulled over to the side of the road in order to listen more closely, muttering "I know this song, I know it, it's a remake" and just when I was thinking, "It sounds like a [James] Bond song", I heard the line "...you…only live twice…or so they say…”

Eureka! It WAS a Bond song. Specifically, the theme song from 1967's You Only Live Twice starring Sean Connery and featuring the BEST BOND CAR EVER - the Toyota 2000GT convertible.

The singer here is Mark Lanegan, and the song is from Imitations, a recently-released collection of covers of some crooner-classics (Autumn Leaves, Solitaire), the Kurt Weill cabaret-standard Mack the Knife and some more recent Indie fare (with a special nod to Nick Cave).

I had never heard of Mark Lanegan until I stumbled across this extraordinary re-working of an otherwise ordinary song. Trawling the interweb like an obsessive stalker reveals a talented singer-songwriter with a career spanning three decades and roots in Seattle’s grunge scene. He has collaborated with Kurt Cobain, Queens of the Stone Age, Belle and Sebastian and Moby and a whole bunch of other artists I’ve never heard of.

The implication from some reviews is that this is not his best, that it is a bit of self-indulgent fun from a talented musician who is capable of much more.

I wouldn’t know, and frankly don’t care.

His version of The Twilight Singers’ (Who?) Deepest Shade, Weill’s Mack the Knife and You Only Live Twice are worth so much more than the $19.95 I paid for the CD. It has not left my car stereo since I bought it and the goose-bumps on my arms have still not gone down. What an extraordinary discovery.

I can’t wait to listen to his other stuff. In the meantime, I will keep listening to Imitations and rubbing my arms while idling at traffic lights.

When I eventually tire of it, I’ll just have to start station-hopping again – who knows what I will discover…

Rainer "Ray" Johannes Edvard Hanson, dear friend and brother-in-law, died on 3rd October aged 63.

The very first time I met Ray was in my then - best friend's kitchen in late 1988. He was giving us a nifty demonstration of how to make the perfect custard for a berry trifle. His trick: whip the leftover egg-whites with a sprinkle of caster sugar until they form a glossy meringue and then fold this mixture through the still-warm custard before pouring it over the sponge and fruit. It's a recipe I have used for my never-fail trifle ever since, and for which my friends and family will remain forever grateful.

Ray was always full of cool, practical advice. He had an engineer's brain, a gift for problem-solving and generations of ingrained Teutonic efficiency that he applied to all kinds of indoor and outdoor projects - he could knock up a kitchen from a few stray bits of wood and a couple of nails and then cook you a three-course meal in it. He could skin a deer and smoke a salmon effortlessly. With that name and those gifts, he should have been an Arctic explorer, traversing the ice on a pair of wooden skis with just a couple of huskies for company, and he might well have been had he been born two centuries ago. Ray had a long and varied career as a soldier, chef, engineer and military instructor instead.

He arrived in Australia as a child migrant from Germany in 1956, accompanied by his parents Karl and Luise. His father Karl took great pains to emphasise the family arrived by plane, not boat and that they were not 'assisted migrants'. The family settled in Wangaratta in regional Victoria. This was where Ray grew up, and it would fuel his passion for self-sufficiency and all things outdoors - hunting, fishing, camping and cooking - before he moved to the city in his late teens. He joined the Australian Air Force in the 1960s and served in the Air Defence Guard during the Vietnam war. His stories of American cluelessness (Hot pizzas delivered to military bases by helicopter? Like, WTF?) versus Australian inventiveness were hysterical.

After leaving the military in the early 1970s, Ray travelled extensively throughout Africa and Australia, and over the next few years worked in mining exploration and then for Victoria's State Electricity Commission.

In 1996, he and my sister (the Other Venetian Girl) moved to the Huon Valley in southern Tasmania and they married in December 2000. They lived the kind of rural life that truly suited them, surrounded by lots of land and water, with their beloved Akitas - Konna, Bear, Ruffy and Koda - for company. They loved each other deeply, passionately and remained inseparable until his death.

Although Ray had been sick in recent years, he approached diabetes and heart failure with the same rugged and indomitable attitude he applied to everything else in his life. The heart attack that killed him was sudden, swift and shocking. But like the man himself, was unforgiving and made no apologies.

I miss him.

Vale Ray.

In honour of Liz Lemon...

Following on from my previous pontification about the perfect slider, I have since discovered (and made) the perfect deli sandwich, thanks to Tina Fey's 30 Rock alter ego "Liz Lemon".

In Season Six, Liz expresses a secret ambition to have a sandwich named after her. The filling?

•     Turkey
•     Pastrami
•     Swiss
•     Russian dressing
•     Coleslaw
•     Potato chips

So feeling inspired, yesterday I made a Liz Lemon on caraway-seed infused light rye bread, with:

• 2 slices turkey breast,
• 1 slice pastrami
• 2 slices 'Swiss' cheese
• Handful of coleslaw (undressed)
• Handful Smith's Light potato chips
• Whole-egg mayonnaise (I have no idea what constitutes "Russian dressing")

The result? Amazing. The fusion of two meats - spicy and dark with lean and white, the healthy hit of fresh coleslaw with the greasy, salty crunch of potato chips all beautifully anchored with creamy mayonnaise is the ultimate posh dinner / deli sandwich.

Muddy Karpitz gave it the thumbs up.  Next time I'm gonna chuck it under the grill and toast it!

Strap yourselves in for a wild slide AKA the joys of a warm, shredded meat sandwich.

Like Tina Fey's Liz Lemon on 30 Rock, I am more than partial to a nice sandwich. Whether for breakfast, lunch or dinner, there is nothing quite like the careful and considered layering of meat (or other protein), sweet 'n' spicy condiments, cheese and assorted salad vegetables between two or more slices of good bread. A well-made sandwich satisfies a basic hunger, but it also provides a sensual and textural pleasure-kick - mouthfeel - when savoured slowly.

Lovers of 'dude food' or American diner food know what I'm talking about. Burgers of any variety, a Philly Cheesesteak, a Maine lobster roll, a club sandwich, a Reuben and even a Po' Boy are the most delicious things to eat with one hand while clutching a beer or napkin in the other. There's an art to eating a hot sandwich, staying well beerdrated and keeping your chin and cheeks grease-free.

Oh yeah.

However, nothing knocks my socks off like a slider. The heady meeting of slow-cooked marinated beef, lamb or pork, carelessly shredded into melt-in-the-mouth strips with anything else that takes your fancy and wedged between a soft and slightly sweet white bread bun is the ultimate sandwich. The sandwich de jour...the sandwich de la creme...you get the idea.

I don't know where the term for this sandwich comes from, and I don't care. I don't know what differentiates this from any other sandwich, but I JUST KNOW what makes a good slider in my own narrow, solipsistic view of the foodiverse.

• The bread bun must be white
• The bun should be small enough to hold comfortably in one hand
• You should be able to eat at least 2-3 in a single sitting. With accompanying fries or onion rings
• The meat should be beef, pork or lamb and well-seasoned and marinated - on the bone is better than fillet
• The meat should be slow cooked for at least 3-4 hours before being shredded - by human fingers
• Condiments must include but not be confined to pickles, chutneys, mayonnaise, mustards, gravy, ketchup, BBQ sauce
• There must be a salad of some description - coleslaw is best - with its own dressing wedged in there.
• Grated cheese is optional
• The filling should spill out of the bread

And let me share this favourite recipe with you - Pulled Pork Sliders - Dusty style

Brown a 1-1/2 kilo piece of pork leg or shoulder in its own fat in a large crock pot, then add:

• 1 cup brown sugar
• 1 375ml bottle brown beer (Porter or stout)
• 2 tsp salt
• Chicken or beef stock to cover meat
• 2 peeled onions whole
• 2 tbsp soy sauce
• 1-2 star anise pods
• 1 chopped de-seeded red chilli

Slow cook for 3-4 hours until soft enough to shred into strips for slider-style sandwiches. This goes particularly well with coleslaw and spicy applesauce.

Enjoy.

Hollywood Costume at the Australian Centre for the Moving Image

If you haven't yet checked it out, I highly recommend the Hollywood Costume exhibition at the Australian Centre for the Moving Image in Federation Square, Melbourne.

As the online catalogue says:

The greatest movie characters of all time.

Direct from the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, Hollywood Costume explores the central role costume design plays in cinema storytelling. Bringing together the most iconic costumes from a century of filmmaking, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see the clothes worn by unforgettable and beloved characters in films from The Wizard of Oz (1939) to Titanic (1997), Ben-Hur (1959) to Casino Royale (2006).

There's something in this exhibition for everyone - film fans, aspiring film makers, amateur seamstresses and budding fashion designers. In addition to the amazing clothes, there's a nice AV installation of recorded interviews with filmmakers and their designers - the highlight for me was the clip of the incomparable Edith Head (the inspiration for The Incredibles'  Edna Mode), talking about designing for Alfred Hitchcock. This is the woman who gave us Kim Novak's extraordinary grey suit in Vertigo and Grace Kelly's negligee in Rear Window. Neither of which, unfortunately are in this exhibition. Nor is Ursula Andress' white bikini from Dr No or James Dean's red jacket from Rebel Without a Cause.

Dang.

Needless to say, it's still pretty amazing and takes no more than an hour to enjoy. There are three days left before it's gone, so Dusty says go go go.

Thank you for smoking...pipes?????!!!! WTF?

Folks, I think I've now seen (and smelled) the latest incarnation of hipster pretentiousness.

Yesterday afternoon, I was walking past the National Australia Bank office in East Melbourne. Diagonally opposite the Greek Orthodox church on Lansdowne Street, what should I see but three twenty-something men sporting beards, neat haircuts, tattoos, skinny chinos and buttoned-up plaid shirts - smoking pipes.

Nope, they weren't boldly passing a bong around. They were smoking professor / old dad traditional pipes. Sherlock Holmes pipes. Hugh Hefner pipes. Your granddad pipes.

Sweet effing Jesus. I thought I'd seen it all.

I suppose it sits nicely alongside the faux-traditional single-origin-coffee-grinding, vinyl-record-playing, olive-pickling and beer-making lifestyle so affected by this particular group, but pipe-smoking?

What next? Tobacco-chewing?

Paging Doctor Capaldi - or consider another Doctor Who

Nerds, geeks and fanboys all across the world should be thrilled by the decision to cast Scottish actor Peter Capaldi as the latest incarnation of the travelling Time Lord. Fans of TV show The Thick of It and the wonderful film In the Loop will no doubt find it difficult to reconcile Capaldi's incendiary performance as the foul-mouthed, rage-oholic spin-doctor Malcolm Tucker in those works with the charismatic Doctor. I know I will be waiting to see my favourite Galifreyan burst into manic, expletive-strewn tirades against assorted space oddities, villains and unsuspecting aliens, the trademark bulging veins pulsating madly in his skinny skinny neck. Excellent choice.

But it got me thinking...

There are DW fans out there more passionate, committed and knowledgable than yours truly who are no doubt blogging furiously about other casting possibilities, including whether we're ready for a black actor to play the good Doctor. I think we were ready a long time ago for that...Richard Ayoade was seriously considered for the twelfth Doctor, but what about the tasty Colin Salmon? He'd give the Doctor some serious sex appeal, no?

But consider this alternative: What if, as part of his regeneration, he became a woman? There's enough material in the DW canon / folklore to suggest Galifreyans can change gender when they regenerate. If that's the case, screw getting a black guy to play the doctor and give us a chick instead. And what about some nice hot boy eye-candy as the Doctor's companion?

Consider a Doctor played by outsized aristo funny-girl Miranda Hart (with the elfin James McAvoy as her platonic boy toy) or one portrayed by serious thespy Emma Thompson. She'd bring her own special mix of whimsy and gravitas to the part, surely? How about Emily Blunt or Kate Winslet in a couple of years? Helena Bonham Carter has some comic chops. I'd even give it to Kristen Wiig if I thought she could pull off a convincing English accent (for we are not yet ready for a female AND American Doctor...).

It'll be a couple of years before we need to consider the 13th Doctor. Until then...

My love affair with Hilary. Mantel, not Clinton...

Last year, Hilary Mantel made English literary history when she became the first woman to win the Man Booker Prize for the second time. She was awarded the prize for her fuck-off brilliant novels about Henry VIII's fixer and all-purpose pit-bull, Thomas Cromwell, (think of him as the Tudor court's Tom Hagen or Al Neri) - Wolf Hall (2009), and Bring Up the Bodies (2012).

Of course, the question on the literatis' lips (and mine), is - can she score a proverbial hat-trick and win a third Booker for the final instalment in the Cromwell trilogy The Mirror and the Light currently in progress?

God, I hope so. 

First published in 1985, Mantel is a freakishly gifted observer of people, culture and society. Her books, which range from claustrophobic and bizarre, piano-wire-tight domestic dramas mired in the everyday and which draw from personal experience (Eight Months on Ghazzah Street, Every Day is Mother's Day, Vacant Possession) to epic historical novels about Europe's best-known powerbrokers and monsters (A Place of Greater Safety, Wolf Hall, Bring Up the Bodies), are extraordinary. 

With a few well-placed words and a handful of sentences (along with some deadly exchanges of pithy dialogue) she puts the reader smack bang in the middle of some truly uncomfortable moments, both real and imagined.  The interrogation scenes between Cromwell and Anne Boleyn’s suitors in Bring Up the Bodies are scary good. The Robespierre of A Place of Greater Safety makes Pol Pot look like a fluffy puppy.

I'm not sure I want her at my next dinner party, casting her eyes over the guests, picking apart every gesture, every nuance, every dirty look, or conversational lapse. Reading about it afterwards would be rather like having your skin removed in one piece, having it cured and then being told to lie down on it.  

Yes, she is THAT GOOD. I am her number one fan, devotee, and acolyte. Call me a 'Mantelyte'.

Moreover, she's a great essayist too. A rare creature is that novelist who can tell killer stories but also provide smart commentary on politics, religion, history and society. Google her journalism if you don't believe me.

The now-infamous speech Ms Mantel gave at the British Museum earlier this year, Royal Bodies, landed her in hot water with the UK's deliberately moronic and mischievous tabloid press because of her allegedly unflattering description of Ms Kate Middleton. I won't deconstruct it for you here, as I expect any intelligent grown-up who reads or listens to it, will understand precisely what the author was saying about the nexus between watchers (us) and the watchees (celebrity royals) and the role of the media as pimps/intermediaries in this creepy relationship. 

Yes, the speech is THAT GOOD. That both David Cameron and Ed Miliband saw fit to strenuously attack Ms Mantel and defend the Duchess of Cambridge, proves beyond doubt neither of these men is fit to run a bath, let alone a country of over 60 million people. 

Dickheads.

I read Wolf Hall for the first time last year and have read it three more times since. I'm waiting for a friend to return Bring Up the Bodies so I can read it for a second time. My shaking fingers will be poised, hovering over the keyboard ready to press 'submit' on my Book Depository order of The Mirror and the Light upon its publication. 

I know how it ends. Anyone with the faintest knowledge of the Tudors (and that includes watching the slap 'n tickle, doggy-style TV version with Jon Rhys-Meyers) knows how it ends. Thomas Cromwell gets it in the neck. He gets it in the neck mostly for setting Henry VIII up with an ugly German and thinking he can get away with it. But only a genius like Hilary Mantel can take a story we already know, breathe bloody, smelly, foul and stinking life into it and have us begging for more.

I can't wait.

It's Linkedin, not on-line dating

Recently, I took to trawling other people's professional profiles on Linkedin in a search for nifty ideas on how to boost my own. What achievements have they highlighted? What extra-curricular activities do they list? Do they tweet and share? And if so, how regularly and frequently? Does tweeting even get you noticed by recruiters?

Despite the institutional (Code: bloody ugly) look and feel of Linkedin, and the emphasis on text-based content, you can see people trying their best to elevate their profiles. They do this with testimonials or endorsements, following groups and professional organisations (as if a million brightly coloured logos and other people's head shots could mitigate the gruesome psychiatric hospital graphic design of the site...) and of course by publishing the least appropriate, and at times very very wrong photos of themselves.

Lest you have forgotten what Linkedin is about, let me remind you: Linkedin is a social networking website designed and used almost exclusively for professional networking.

In short, it's for people looking for work and for recruiters looking for people to do the work.

According to a professional recruiter and resume writer whose services I have engaged, the unspoken (but scientifcally supported) rules for professional photos that garner the most (and the right kind of) notice are:

• Black and white
• Smiling or unsmiling, but always looking directly at the camera
• Face to fill more than 75% of the frame
• Wearing neutral or business attire

That means no poorly cropped photos of yourself at a party in the wee small hours of the morning. We can still see the arms of the people around you, the empty vodka bottles and dirty ashtrays in our collective mind's eye. Sure, the ability to drink the average depressed Russian under the table while singing 'Dancing Queen' with your mates is a good skill to have, and may make you attractive to a certain kind of person, but this is Linkedin.

It's NOT e-harmony, or RSVP.com, or any other on-line dating service.  Got it?

And what about the photos obviously taken from weddings? Where the bride has desperately trawled for the best photo she could find but even her brilliant cropping skillz (using Office, natch) can't hide the exquisite veil and tiara combo. We're happy for her - truly ruly - especially when one in three marriages ends in divorce. That she has embarked on such a lovely journey is truly super, but this is Linkedin.

It's not your Facebook or Google+ page. Got it?

Lastly, to the guys who publish photos of themselves in SCUBA gear, in sunnies holding a beer or snowboarding - are you for real?

I'm all for using erotic capital and am a big fan of it in the workplace (hey, we all need the distractions of eye-candy at work), but a site like Linkedin is crucial for making that first impression with your future employer or their representatives, so keep it neutral, business-like and professional. Look sharp, look smart, look beautiful, yes, but please stay away from photos that make you look like a slapper, a Bear Grylls wannabee, or the sort of person prepared to provide the 'other' kind of 'job'.

It's not OkCupid. Got it?

Smart answers to a dumb question...

We've all been asked stupid questions in job interviews, but one I heard recently via a friend was: “Where do you see yourself in five years?”. To which my friend cheekily replied, “Retired”, so they countered with “No, really?” and to which he could only reply once more, “Retired”.

Needless to say the interview went downhill from there.

What a dumb, dumb question. Who knows where anyone of us will be in five days, let alone five years? So if you ever get asked that question, here are some ready responses: 

• Running a cat-walking business to tap into the growing older single-lady demographic.
• Directing Spanish Civil War re-enactments for elderly English tourists on Ibiza.
• Heading a research space station on Alpha Centauri.
• Competing for the grand prize ($200K and the chance to stalk, shoot and eat my rivals) on ‘The Biggest Loser’.
• Married to Kim Kardashian.
• Married to Michelle Bridges.
• Spearheading a new lifestyle movement a la ‘Tiny House’ – I’m thinking ‘The Tiny Skyscraper’, ‘The Tiny A380’ or ‘The Tiny Drawbridge’.
• President of a newly-created nation in Africa, the Pacific, or a former Soviet republic somewhere in Central Asia.
• Hosting my own dating show on primetime television.
• House-sitting for the Danish royal family.

       Feel free to add any more to the list. To be forewarned is to be forearmed in job interviews.