RACHEL'S COLUMNS

These articles appeared in Rachel's column every Friday in the A3 section of The Age

The juicy, ad-hoc way to imperfect festive bliss
17th December 2004

Only seven more sleeps before too many mince tarts and wrongly chosen gifts come together in a risotto of tears, turkey meat and alcohol. A new consumer universe is dawning. For the next seven days we cease to be human beings with brains and hopes and ingrown toenails and transform into recurring decimal points on thousands of cash registers across hundreds of shopping malls throughout the land. We get our first peep of the Myer windows at around the same time we start restricting our diets and expanding our wallets for the weeks ahead. Today, with only seven shopping days to go we double our cocktail of medications in preparation for the final curtain on Xmas 2004.

I gave up hope of ever finding a vacant car space in a shopping centre in mid November. Any compassionate sentiments of goodwill towards my fellow men and women turn to soggy muesli when some one else commandeers a parking space that clearly is sitting there with my name on it. I know this car space is an illusion. It's just a gap between two other cars, a nothingness defined by four or often, just two lonely white lines. But we claim it and own it and at this time particularly, we celebrate the find, as if we deserve it. It's a victory. A victory over nothing. A car space is not real, it's a distortion, a David Copperfield illusion and we've been selected from the audience to participate in it.

We have become addicted to wanting and winning. Advertising tells us we're perfect and deserve the best, "because I'm worth it", boasts Sarah Jessica Parker in an ad for hair products. And of course she is - as her fees are electronically transferred to her account. The gurus of success and well-being- encourage us to get control of our lives. We're told to get out more, expand our minds, try new things and relax. We need to give up cigarettes, alcohol, red meat, dairy, wheat and the promise of undying love. I'd prefer to give up the experts and remain imperfect.

And so dear reader here's my gift to you –a couple of special Berger recipes for the festive season, inspired by a friend's early gift of a Nigella Lawson recipe book.

Nude by the pool fettuccine with ham hocks, broad beans and a good book.

Ingredients:
2 ham hocks
1 manly handful of broad beans
1 good book.
Oh, and fettuccine.
I like to place the ham hocks on my buttocks for an hour or so while I'm in the sun to release the fat - the ham hocks' not mine. Cook the broad beans and when they're not too steamy use a slow rubbing motion to gently remove their skins to reveal the bright green virgin flesh. Toss the broad beans with the fettuccine and arrange all over your body using your bare hands. Should any one approach you while you're by the pool, throw the ham hocks at them – aim for their head or groin whichever is closer.

Tamarillo Tango Jelly
Ingredients:
4 tamarillos
2 sachets gelatin
I litre blood orange juice
1 reliable friend's phone number

Tamarillos are a tart fruit so don't get too close when you're peeling them. Cook them in hot water, peel and mix with orange juice, honey and gelatin. Leave them alone for between three days and three years. Try it, you'll feel empowered, finally you can walk away from something you want but you know is bad for you. Ring a friend and learn to Tango.

As I shove chocolates laughingly into my mouth unconcerned with the outcome, I know I'm less than perfect. I swear too much, eat too much, tell people what I think too much and covet my neighbor's car space. I am neither perfect nor whole – I'm partial. In fact the truth is, I'm in arrears, so why increase the debt on my Stupidcard? Nevertheless, I will plan for the future with optimism, as I hope you will. December 25th and 31st will arrive and disappear like the fly that keeps circling the plum pudding but we will continue to be imperfect-as we should. We're human. Unplug the phone; kiss the people you love and if you're drunk enough the people you don't. Merry everything.