It’s high summer, and we’re on our annual trip to see Sabrina’s family in Sydney and for the very first time since our daughter was born four years ago, we have left her in the care of her aunt and uncle and escaped for a few days together.
Time feels like it’s almost suspended in the Queensland heat and with our initial feelings of guilt disappearing we are taking baby steps away from auto-pilot parental impulses and re-discovering each other as a couple.
We’ve chosen this tiny beach-side hamlet a half hour north of Cairns precisely because there is nothing much to do but walk around barefoot (well in my case anyway), eat seafood, drink cocktails and lounge languorously under palms. We settle into an easy rhythm at our beachside hotel, re-discovering the lost art of sleeping late and best of all talking, really talking as we splash together in the pool and spa and crack a bottle of champagne in the afternoon on a beach blanket. I suppose you can get out of practice, particularly with a little girl who so beautifully fills the air with her chatter. More than ever I am realising that this break is a precious gift that I wish was beginning today, and that I could bottle this feeling.
We’ve been here for three days now and though neither of us has said as much, we’re both thinking of that little person we left behind more and more, so after yet another phone call to Sydney where of course she was taking a nap, we decide to try to distract ourselves by venturing out of our sybaritic bubble for a day. Honouring my promise to take Sabrina to Cairns, we find the town full of Japanese tourists, and can’t resist joining the throng for superlative sushi at both lunch and dinner. We motor in between through the Atherton Tablelands to Kuranda, tracing the same route that my brother and I had taken on our way north to Cooktown in Far North Queensland, nearly 10 years earlier. I realised this by degrees as we climbed the winding road to Atherton, as familiar vistas revealed themselves and then definitively when we visited the incredible Curtain Fig Tree Park, for what I’d thought was the first time.
Our last evening is especially beautiful and as the sun sets behind the forest of Melaluca paper bark Eucalyptus trees, which form the backdrop to the beach, we enjoy a final dinner. Fittingly on this evening’s menu is a dish that Sabrina first loved when she was about our daughter’s age, growing up in Sydney.
Crab in Black Bean Sauce: Serves Four
This dish was always the centrepiece of our family ‘Seafood Nights’. My mother would also serve freshly boiled prawns with a soy and chilli dipping sauce as a starter, spreading newspapers all over the dining table to try to contain the mess that we five famished, boisterous kids could make.
4 uncooked crabs
2 tbsp garlic black bean sauce
4 cloves garlic, minced
2” ginger root, julienned
1 tsp sugar
2 green onions sliced diagonally
2 tbsp olive oil
To prepare the crab:
Take off the claws and clean under running water. Pull the body and shell apart (using a knife to slice between the body and shell if necessary); clean under running water. Remove the membrane by pulling it away from the shell; then remove the gills and chop in half.
In a large wok or fry pan, heat the olive oil, add the black bean sauce and garlic and ginger, stirring for a minute, then add the crab and sugar. Toss to coat the crab, then cover it and reduce the heat to medium and cook for 15 minutes. Toss occasionally to make sure it does not dry out, (if so add some water.
When the crab is done serve with the green onions sprinkled on top.
The next morning, we can hardly wait to board our flight back to Sydney where our daughter will be waiting for us at the airport. This being real life once again, our dream of a rapturous reunion didn’t work out, as she was asleep in the back of her uncle’s car. Soon though, she was chatting away about missing the sharks at the Darling Harbour Aquarium and I vowed then and there to make our final week together something special. Buenos Aires and a challenging new role await, just over the horizon.
Another beautifully written piece. For us the joy of precious time away together amid a hectic schedule usually trumped our (genuine) guilt at leaving our children behind. But, as Marco writes, we couldn't wait to see our little ones again at the end of our holiday. Also, if I could cook, I would try out this delicious sounding recipe.
I was a brave mother who left my babies with a fantastic nanny and their father for 4 weeks.