There’s a WhatsApp group for our street and a few other folk who live nearby. Originally it was set up by a paranoid guy who used to take photos of junkies in the laneways and post them as warnings for us all. I joined and left the group: it had bad ju-ju back then and I wanted no part of that. But that guy moved away and the vibe changed and I rejoined. And then this COVID thing happened and the group took community connection to a whole new level.
I love living in Footscray. When I landed in Melbourne – in Richmond – over twenty years ago I was a drifter wandering through. The size of the city and its relentless vitality captured me. I loved living close to its beating heart but when I got to an age and income that had me trying to buy a property, Richmond was already out of reach. I bought a shitty unit on Ballarat Road behind a bloodbath pub.
I worked at the local TAFE which understood and connected with its community, running a program for disengaged youth. The kids were products of the worst of that time: heroin, fucked up families, and a lack of connection to community. They did drugs, hurt each other and scribbled their monikers on bus stops. But they were also blisteringly honest, screaming to the rest of us about who they were and the pain they felt and then the joy they felt when something was good. Footscray was working its way into my heart.
The Footscray food scene back then was global and literally, awesome. Cheap, amazing dishes served on melamine plates on plastic-wrapped tables. An eclectic mix of diners – delightfully reflective of the community – huddled in to tuck in. At times, I had no idea how to interpret what was on the menu, but staff and fellow diners were kind enough to show me what other people were eating and I followed their lead. I tried meats and vegetables that blew my mind, some in a good way, some not so much. And on the weekend, I would – and still do – buy vegetables, herbs and plants from the local home growers who sell their produce on the street in the heart of Footscray. I now live in a renovated Federation weatherboard typical of the suburb, and join the throng of locals (and ring-ins) who do the weekly shuffle through the street market and then the Footscray Market. The sights, sounds, smells are a visceral immersion and oh so nourishing.
When we went into lockdown last year all that sort of activity stopped. The street markets were banned and in the Footscray Market a lack of social distancing kept people – including me – away. I saw restaurants that were readied for opening, closed indefinitely and culinary stalwarts struggling. We tried to do our bit and buy each week from a range of businesses. But a bit of that part of the soul of our community was injured. We limp back to life when the lockdown lifts, but it hurts when we go down again.
Our street group became kinder, more generous, a forum for giving and exchange. It is a proxy for the street market. Come and pick apricots from my tree @ 67. I have rosemary cuttings @ 23. Limes @ 17. Even toilet paper @ 54. Let me know if you need something from the supermarket. I’m doing a Bunnings run…. need anything? Does anyone have a lawn mower I can borrow? I have given out a bunch of stuff, but also received, including an especially good cup of quince paste….
I walk my dog every day. It’s good for her and for me. Physically, yes, but also socially: I meet other people and we chat, en-masked and socially distanced while our dogs observe no such rules, inhaling all sorts of mischief from their new-found friends. And I discover boxes of goodies next to neighbours’ mailboxes. Right now, lemons and limes are in season, and there are crappy cardboard boxes laden with superb citrus and a texta-scribbled note about helping yourself but not taking the whole box…. It’s awesome.
I like cooking; I can work with these ingredients and make good things. My contribution to the community wellbeing supply chain is to take a bunch of these lemons and limes and return them as lime pickle, preserved lemons or lemon cordial.
The lockdowns have been hard for everyone. Working from home, schooling at home. We all know businesses that have gone under and staff have been laid off. It’s been bloody tough.
For me, the silver lining of these lockdowns is that our community has drawn closer. I love the sweet humble offerings, from neighbour to neighbour. I love that there is no expectation of payment or return. I love being able to stuff a lemon or two in in my pocket as the dog drags me along the footpath. The spirit of community in our neighbourhood is now contained in a WhatsApp group and a network of boxes of lemons, and a bunch of good-minded neighbours who are keen to gently support each other through this horrible time.
When my community offers me lemons, I make lemonade. And I love it.
Best Homemade Lemonade
Load a tall glass with ice and a decent slug of homemade lemon cordial (recipe below).
Squeeze in the juice of ¼ – ½ lemon, to taste (balances out the sweetness of the cordial).
Fill glass with soda water and stir.
Enjoy!
Homemade Lemon Cordial
INGREDIENTS
12 lemons
1 lime
2 kg caster sugar
30g citric acid
30g tartaric acid
1 L water
METHOD
Clean your bottles with hot soapy water, rinse well and then heat to disinfect in a 150C oven for 20 minutes. You want your bottles hot when filling with the cordial.
Thoroughly scrub the fruit clean in a bath of cold water with a dash of vinegar.
Zest half of the lemons and the lime.
Gently heat the sugar and water in a large saucepan, stirring until dissolved. Bring to a slow boil then add the citric and tartaric acids. Simmer gently while you prepare the fruit.
Juice the lemons and lime, and pour through a sieve into the boiling sugar water.
Simmer gently for 10 mins and then add the zest. Turn off the heat.
Everything about the bottling process is hot, so take care! Remove each bottle from the oven as you are going to use it, and pour the cordial through a metal strainer and funnel into the bottle.
Cap while still hot and leave to cool (will take a couple of hours).
Andrew Williamson