To those who are new here, welcome and to the returning visitors, I hope you like the new changes.
In keeping with this spring clean of the website, may I present a flashy new portfolio that I will use to share my photography.
Click here to visit Deira’s photography portfolio
Use the contact form here to say hello or tell me what you think of the updates.
Cheers,
Deira
Pavlova. Even the name is beautiful. It is an Australian desert (though New Zealand often tries to steal credit for its invention with ‘facts’ and ‘historical evidence’) consisting of a soft marshmallowy center, crispy meringue shell and all topped with cream and fruit. It tastes like an angel is taking a nap on your tongue.
“But Deira, why is this recipe any better than all the other recipes floating around the internet?”
BECAUSE IT’S FROM MY NANA-IN-LAW WHO IS THE QUEEN OF THE CWA! That’s why!
She once gave me a hand written copy and it is one of my most valued possessions.
For those of you unfortunate enough to have not been born in Australia and experience the overwhelming joy of a slice of celebratory pav after a BBQ on Christmas, this recipe is dedicated to you. Like a piece of charity to your taste buds.
6 egg whites (room temperature)
1/4 tsp cream of tartar
1.5 cups sugar
1.5 level dessert spoons of Cornflour
1.5 tsp vanilla essence
1.5 tsp white vinegar
500ml whipped cream and fresh fruit to decorate
(I like strawberries, kiwi and blueberries best)
Prep 25 min, Cooking time 1.5 hours
Pre-heat oven to 135 Celsius (if possible, lower or turn off the fan)
1. Beat egg whites until foamy, add cream of tartar and beat until very stiff. Gradually add the sugar, beating to thick glossy meringue.
Fold in the cornflour, vinegar and vanilla.
2. On a flat tray lined with greased paper spread the meringue into a 20 cm circle. Lightly indent the center and decorate the sides with the back of a spoon.
3. Bake on 2nd bottom shelf in moderate oven for 5 min then reduce heat to 135 Celsius for 1.5 hours. Pavlova may be left to cool in stored heat.
Note from my nana-in-law: I turn mine over onto a pavlova plate and decorate when chilled with cream and strawberries.
Enjoy the best food in the world my friends!
Since moving to America and starting stand-up comedy I am always faced with these two statements:
1.”Who is your favorite comedian?”
2. “I’ve never heard of Sean Micallef.”
My taste in comedy is very much driven by countless hours watching ‘The Best of the Late Show’ (the Australian one made in 1992) on repeat with my brother, knowing that the library’s only VHS copy was costing my parents a fortune in late fees.
Add in a good dose of Monty Python’s Flying Circus and hero-worship as the Melbourne International Comedy Festival Gala hit TV screens each year and you should have a good picture of why I can’t quote many American comedians with the fluency I can recount ‘Pissweak World’ and ‘Bargearse’
Here beneath is a testament to my favorite comedians; whom I love, wish I was and who may have once called me beautiful:
1. Sean Micallef
Back in the 90’s I was young and not allowed to watch TV past 8pm. Despite my parents setting that rule, they gave me a small black and white TV. I understood this gift as ‘Don’t listen to us, do whatever you like’. Thus I would stay up all night to watch ‘Full Frontal’, a sketch comedy show starring Sean Micallef and other people who weren’t Sean Micallef. I’d watch it with my face so close to the screen that my hair would cling to the glass from the static. Without fail my stealth viewing would be betrayed by the laughter pouring out my face as Sean fumbled incoherently as Milo Karrigan. My parents would barge in and unplug the TV (they never removed the TV, which I interpreted as ‘Please plug this back in when we leave and you should probably take some chocolate from the kitchen too’)
In high school ‘The Micallef Program(me)’ began its run and I was in love. Sean Micallef became my spirit animal, my first crush (second if you include Alex Mallory from Growing Pains) and king of all laugh-makers.
Once I met him and he called me beautiful and he gave me a twix bar. The end.
2. The Late Show
*(Technically not one comedian but a comedy entity unto itself)
Not to be confused with the American more successful version, The Late Show was Australia’s own version of SNL but with a smaller budget and much less success (except in Frankston where it rivaled Best Leg’s chips for popularity). This show, more than anything else, has shaped not only my sense of humor but who I am as a person. I can recount every news worthy event of 1992 thanks to the Newsdesk with Tommy G and get nostalgic driving past the old ‘Stacks of Slax’ building because of Tony Martin and Mick Malloy’s expose on zany business names. Graham and the Colonel quotes comprise the majority of my conversations about sport to hide my complete ignorance. This show owns a large chunk of my brain. It really is “Champagne sketch comedy”.
3. Mitch Hedburg
Thankfully this man is known by most. It was his performance at Montreal Just For Laughs in 2004 that once again had me glued to the TV set (by this stage I had updated to a colour 31 cm screen) but I remember not laughing because the grin on my face was too wide to allow me to make a noise. He had a optimistic take on small things which is a rarity in stand-up. His genuine joy for his craft which countered his anxiety on stage made him intoxicatingly fascinating to watch.
4. Maeve Higgens
I discovered this lady when my friend threw Maeve’s book ‘We Have a Good Time, Don’t We?’ at me with great enthusiasm. It was while reading the first chapter that I saw she too faced the conundrum of having to wash one’s hands after applying good hand cream and I knew she was the voice of my people ( I don’t know who ‘my people’ are, but one day we will accidentally congregate and need a leader).
She may have stolen my hope of making the best comedy cooking show around with her ‘Fancy Vittles’ but heck, with episode themes as adorable as her dog’s birthday party (in which a dog wore a party hat) how I could I possibly compete?
Hello friends!
I am very excited to announce that I am the new photographer on Jason Treagor’s famous ‘Portland Comedy Blog’.
This means that not only will I be telling jokes, I will be taking photos of others telling jokes.
To follow goings on of these funny people, visit the blog Click Here!
I love puns but unfortunately I have no excuse for using them as I am not a dad, but I say to heck with convention, I’ll just embrace my lame-ness, along with my love for this sickeningly sweet, almost not a food, recipe that could have been ripped from the soul of Sandra Lee herself (it was actually ripped from the brain of my mother).
This recipe is very easy and cheap to make. It tastes so good that I could sell it by the gram (one more bad Vanilla Ice reference… I’ll try not to do that again)
Coconut Ice:
1 can (300ml) Sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup Cream
4 cups of Dessicated coconut
3 cups of Icing sugar
Vanilla essence
Pink food dye
1. Line a 30 x 20cm lamington tray with aluminium foil. Sieve icing sugar and mix with the coconut. Add the condensed milk, cream and vanilla and combine until it forms a dough-like consistency. You’ll have more fun if get your hands in and knead the dickens out of the mix!
2. Take half of the mix and knead in the colouring until it is a consistent and bright pink. Press the mix firmly into the tray using your hands or the back of a spoon (if it gets too sticky, dust it with icing sugar). Pack on the next layer with the remaining mixture.
3. Cover with cling wrap and allow it to set in the fridge for a few hours (overnight is best). Flip it onto a chopping board and cut it into cubes.
These make a great little gift when wrapped in cellophane, kind of like the stuff you’d find at a church fate sold by a lady named Maude.
PS: Leave a comment below with your best Vanilla Ice pun, collaborate and I will listen (last one, I promise)
Many years ago I created Mr. Bear from a few pom poms, hot glue and felt. Little did I know that this small act of creation would start an epic adventure spanning just on 20 years.
When Mr. Bear was 9 he faced the life threatening condition of being put through the wash and being mistaken for a piece of fluff, which resulted in his disposal on bin night.
Thankfully Mr Bear was painstakingly located in the trash by my father only minutes before the garbage collectors arrived.
Some say that a brush with death at a young age creates an adventurous spirit and Mr. Bear was no exception to this rule.
In 2004 he starred in his first feature film ‘Mr. Bear Goes to Washington’, a remake of the similarly titled Frank Capra classic. Directed by myself in my bedroom and co-starring a collection of Elvis Presley collector dolls, the film was a smash hit. My mum called it “Not the worst use of your time” (the only known copy, on a VHS with Dad’s impersonation of Napoleon, is lost in my parent’s bungalow). Much like the young River Pheonix, Mr. Bear became obsessed and his artistic process drove him over the edge into obsession for the American capital.
Bored of the film industry and his new found fame, Mr. Bear returned to university and studied international relations, in hope of one day turning his famous role into reality.
Late 2013 Mr. Bear’s dream came true and with his long term business partner (myself) he flew to Washington D.C.
What follows are a collection of snapshots. Please take a moment to indulge in the joy of this little bear’s big spirit and his life ambition coming true.
Mr. Bear bought his Metro card. By buying the Smart Trip pass, he saved a few dollars over the week in transport costs. Ever thrifty is Mr. Bear.
Mr. Bear’s first Metro ride. Though you can’t see it, he is crying a single tear. He is about to see his hero, President Lincoln.
President Lincoln looked down on Mr. Bear and it brought him such joy to see the smallest of his fans.
By the Capitol Dome, Mr. Bear does his best Nixon impersonation.
To the Air and Space museum! It is little known that Mr. Bear has a girlfriend, Amelia Earhart, who lives in this museum. They have been dating online for two years and he is about to see her for the first time.
Amelia is playing it cool, but Mr. Bear’s heart is exploding with joy.
Mr. Bear couldn’t help but chuckle when we found Dupont circle. He has seen ‘The American President’ at least 10 times and always enjoys witty traffic related banter.
Mr. Bear and I pretending to be Jeff Goldblum from ‘Independence Day’ outside the White House. Mr. Bear is always thankful to Jeff for his efforts to save the president
Poor Mr. Bear didn’t realise that President Washington no longer resides at Mt. Vernon.
At least he got to see Washington’s dentures. That’s almost the same as having a conversation.
And just like that, Mr. Bear’s trip of a lifetime had come to a close.
Currently, Mr. Bear is in hibernation, seeping in a rolled up tissue on the window sill. His dream had come true, now it is time to sleep and make more.
Goodnight Mr. Bear, I’ll see you when you wake up for more adventures.
Deira Bowie 