The trumpets shan’t sound
Are you suffering from dating exhaustion? Tired of swiping right to disappointment? Kissed too many amphibians in princely clothing?
Well then there was FauxBF.
Yes, FauxBF. I was but 22. I had just made a fresh start with new housemates and a new home, a rustic little settlers cottage with loads of character and a shitty extension constructed of plaster board and corrugated iron. Life was good. An ideal blend of work, friends, and fun. But I was pathetically forever aware of the gaping hole in the almost perfect picture that could only be satisfactorily filled by a suitable boyfriend.
At the end of my first week in my new abode I decided to venture out to see a pianist friend performing in a concert. And therein I spied and was introduced to a rather attractive man. He was tall, thoroughly handsome, was majoring in trumpet, had an adorable left-sided grin, was passionate about music and motorbikes (meaning he was in touch with both his masculine and feminine side), and was a cool blend of charming and laid back flirtatious. Note: he had also just broken up with his once ever only girlfriend, and hadn’t traveled outside of Adelaide his whole life, but other than that he seemed flawless through my rose-coloured fogged up senses. He also happened to be a close friend of my ivory tinkling friend. Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match! And before I knew it the three of us were headed to my rustic little cottage for after concert glasses of wine. To my shock and horror I found the place freshly burgled on our arrival. Suddenly rustic with character was more like squatter with trampy. And as I melted down into varied states of anger, grief, loss, and girlish fear I became even more aware of FauxBF’s manly, protective, comforting, and incredibly sexy presence. Apparently in my heightened emotional state Liberace had left the building. It was just me, FauxBF, and his trumpet.
And so, it was an instant relationship. He moved in that night. The man of the house. No burglar alarm required. I had my very own scarecrow. Only he was a dream. We’d go to work, arrange to be home at the same time for microwave dinners, listen to each other’s music, laugh a lot, have random water fights, and plenty of enthusiastic, youthful love-making. I was in heaven. My housemates were in hell.
It had been two weeks of undeniable bliss and during the morning routine of discussing the day ahead, amidst cuddles and heavy petting, FauxBF mentioned that he had to make a stop by his once only ever ex-girlfriend’s place to collect some of his belongings. As he kissed me tenderly on the tip of my nose goodbye I didn’t for a second imagine that it would be the last touch we shared. But when he failed to return for toasted sandwiches, Villi’s pasties, and Neopolitan ice-cream that evening it became clear that I was just the bridge music before the key change and he only blew his born for once ever only.
FauxBF never apologised or gave an explanation. FauxBF never returned his freshly cut key. FauxBF and his average trumpet were never to be seen again. FauxBF clearly had testicles the size of a grain of sand. But here, within these words, lies my opportunity to cleanse myself of such a smarmy, boyfriend faking, hero feigning, key stealing, hornblowing git. So, in not so loving memory, to the kitchen I go to create a much improved version of a Villi’s pastey whilst listening to the god-like trumpet of Miles Davis, hmmm, a much improved version indeed.
A taste of home
2 cups plain flour
125g butter, cut into pieces
1 egg yolk
1 tablespoon chilled water
Pinch of salt
Mix the flour, salt and butter in a food processor. Whizz until it turns into coarse crumbs and butter has blended through. Add the egg yolk and water and whizz again until it forms a not too sticky dough. Add a little more water if not combining. Turn dough onto a floured surface and knead lightly until smooth. Wrap in cling film and place in fridge to rest for 30 minutes.
1 large sweet potato
2 onions, finely chopped
1-2 sprigs rosemary, chopped
Salt & pepper
Feta or Parmesan cheese (optional)
Egg for basting
Preheat oven to 200 degrees centigrade. Cut vegetables (minus the onion and rosemary) up into small cubes and place in baking tray. Toss through a good slug of olive oil and season well. Roast for approximately 30 minutes, until vegetables soften and crisp at the edges.
Meanwhile sauté the onion and rosemary in a pan with a tablespoon or so of olive oil until translucent. Add to the baked vegetables.
Reset oven to 180 degrees centigrade. Divide pastry into half and roll out first batch on a floured surface. Roll to a thickness of about 3 mm. Divide into squares, as small or large as you would like your pasties. Place a mound of vegetable mixture in the middle and fold over. Press edges together with a fork. Baste with beaten egg and cook until golden.
Note: You could also add zucchini or red capsicum to moisten up the mix. I also added crumbled feta for a bit of sharpness.
Little bundle of goodness in my mouth. Bad taste gone.