Am I overstating the devastating, insulting sarcasm in the front page headline in today’s Sydney Daily Telegraph? I don’t think so:

Our message to the hypocritical, sanctimonious, whinging Poms

who can’t accept that they were beaten fair and square:

WE’RE 2 UP, BABY

Jamie and I find ourselves sitting in front of our television transfixed at 5:00 a.m. every morning these days as we watch the Aussie cricket team playing against the English. This year the five game series is being played in England. The two bitter rivals have been playing each other for The Ashes trophy for 150 years or so. Unfortunately, the sport has become particularly painful for the British recently because the Aussie team is the best in the world.

Let me explain what happened in the last game using comparable baseball terminology so that the headline and the game make sense for American readers:

At a key moment late in the game, just when it looked like England was mounting a heroic comeback and might win its first game in the series, an English batter absentmindedly wandered off base and got picked off. The umpire correctly called him out. Nevertheless, the English team and 50,000 fans were outraged and accused the Aussies of cheating.

Hence, this hilarious headline and subhead in today’s Sydney Daily Telegraph.

But let’s explain a bit of Aussie slang in that headline:

“Whinging” is an Aussie word that means “complaining” or “whining.”

“Pom” is a derogatory term Aussies use to refer to an Englishman. The etymology of the word is in a bit of dispute. One theory says it’s a reference to the sun turning an Englishman’s skin pomegranate red. Another theory says it came from the French (“pomme” means apple) and is a reference to an English accent sounding like the speaker is eating an apple.

Either way, “whinging bloody Pom” are three words that are almost always heard together in Australia. And the English didn’t do much to disprove the validity of that insult in yesterday’s game.

By the way, our friend Tim Blair is the editor of the Daily Telegraph. I don’t know if this headline and subhead are his work, but it certainly sounds as if it could be.

It was a Saturday pizza night out at Greg and Sheralee’s farm, a few miles west of Lyndoch. Of course, it wouldn’t be a farm without farm animals.

Here’s Jamie with Rosie and Red Dog. If you ever want to rinse out your tear ducts, watch a great Aussie movie called “Red Dog.” Look it up on Netflix. I guarantee that you’ll be sobbing like a baby by the time it’s over.

And this is Ophelia, the newest member of the family. Every Aussie farm has a bunch of dogs, but how many of them have a pet lamb? When we drove up to Greg and Sheralee’s front gate, Ophelia greeted us with a loud, “Baaaaa!” and then trotted right up onto the porch with us. She was searching for head scratches. She thinks she’s one of the dogs, and Rosie and Red Dog seem to accept her as part of the pack.

Life isn’t always bucolic on the farm. Ophelia was rejected by her mother and would have died if drastic measures had not been taken. She looks to be healthy now, but we were warned that’s she’s not out of danger yet.

In other words, Ophelia’s a pet today, but Greg and Sheralee may be serving lamb pizza next week.

Jamie, the winner of the Barossa Farmers Market 20th Anniversary Cake Baking Contest, was not quite as lucky at the annual Angaston Show.

Every town in Australia, from the biggest cities down to the dinkiest one-horse village, has a “show,” which is roughly equivalent to what we would call an old-fashioned county fair.

The Angaston Show takes place each year on the last Saturday in February.

Jamie had been making practice cakes for weeks, honing her baking technique, adjusting her recipes by adding a pinch of this here, a smidgen of that there. She was having so much fun that she decided to enter in two categories — banana cakes and carrot cakes.

On the morning of the Show we got up early and delivered her entries to the Show Hall. It was buzzing because so many competitions were being judged — flowers, wool, sheep, goats, knitting, flowers, flower arranging, vegetables, fruits, grapes, photography, potted plants, preserves, kids’ art, etc — in addition to the cakes.

Jamie took a class to learn how to preserve fruits and vegetables and then we wandered the show grounds checking out the sheep and the goats and all the other livestock exhibits.

We had fun at the Show even if no blue ribbons were brought back to the deYong home that afternoon. But wait ‘til next year.

Here’s Jamie in the Angaston Show Exhibit Hall with her absolutely delicious carrot cake. The judges said, “Too much baking soda.” Hummmmmph! I thought it was delicious.

An old goat and her award-winning baby goat. She was very clearly very proud of the beast.

“Let’s twist again like we did last summer, let’s twist again like we did last century.”

“You know I’m baaaad, I’m baaaad, you know it (baaaad, baaaad, really, really baaaad)”

Barossans seem to be exceptionally interested in eighteen wheeler cabs. Not the trailers, just the cabs.

Dressage. A sport for horse lovers. Really, really wealthy horse lovers.

Jame took a preserving class from Those Barossa Girls and came home with her own jar of delicious locally-grown tomatoes.

These little beauties are the daughters of our friends John and Hannah. I honestly believe they are the sweetest, best-behaved gaggle of little girls in the history of the world.

As I said in the previous post about the farmers market, their mom and dad are in the chicken business. I call mom The Chicken Chick, dad The Chick Magnet, and since I didn’t want to leave out the girls, I’ve dubbed them The Chicklettes.

Mom and Dad call them “Jo-Lou-Phil-Nic” when they’re referring to them as a group. I can never remember which of them is which, so I just call them Number One, Number Two, Number Three, and Number Four.

So there I was at the Barossa Farmers Market a few weeks ago when I found myself standing in line behind the girls at Eleni’s bakery stall. Mom had given Joanna some money to pay for her sisters’ pastries and she was clutching it tightly.

“Keep your money, girls,” I said. “I’m buying. Just tell Eleni what you want.”

They used to visit Eleni’s stall very early, but now I seem to have motivated them to wait until we arrive.

“Go find your sisters,” I told Joanna the next week. “It’s cinnamon bun time.”

How long does it take to establish a tradition? Is four weeks long enough? If so, this is now a tradition.

One funny story before I wrap this up. Apparently mom and dad refer to us as “The Texans.” The girls misinterpreted that and thought our names were Jim and Jamie Texan.

Here’s a photo of Jim and Jamie Texan with the whole chicken clan.

Bright and early every Saturday morning Jamie and I drive down to the Barossa Valley Farmers Market. Please allow us to introduce you to some of our favorite farmers.

Kaysim and Reyhan grow their fresh, tasty vegetables on their family farm in Murray Bridge, and sell them from a huge stall that sits just outside the main building. Their premium quality seasonal vegetables, herbs and spices can also be found at many Barossa Valley restaurants.

Jamie always begins outside at the vegetable stand, but I have different priorities. While she’s poking and prodding and squeezing the veggies, I scurry inside to Eleni’s bakery stall in the rear corner of the building. Most weeks I purchase one of her delicious chocolate croissants, but sometimes I get really adventurous and go for a cinnamon bun.

In recent weeks I’ve begun a new tradition of purchasing croissants and cinnamon buns for the Chicklettes (more about them a little later).

My second stop is the stall where Robin Day sells his eponymous brands of balsamic and olive oil. Robin spent many decades traveling the world as a vintner-for-hire and itinerant wine merchant. Each week he tells me a dirty joke and hands me another chapter of his yet-to-be-published autobiography. The man has lived an incredibly interesting life and his writing brings all those remarkable stories to life.

After saying goodbye to Robin, I stroll over to the Trevallie Orchard stall, where I can usually find Jamie yukking it up with her good friend Sheralee. Trevallie is the only remaining commercial orchard in the Barossa Valley, which is quite sad really because it was once as famous for its fruit as it is now for its grapes.

Trevallie specializes in handpicked fresh and dried fruit —fresh, crispy apples, juicy pears, apricots and peaches. Each week we buy a bag of delicious dried apricots, which I munch on for the next seven days. Soooo good.

Sheralee is another one of those Barossans who has been kind enough to adopt the two wayward Americans. The highlight of our week is driving out to Sheralee’s farm for pizza baked in her own outdoor pizza oven. Partner Greg, perhaps the Barossa’s finest pizza chef, is funnier than hell and their son, Eamon, and daughter, Callie, are my favorite teenagers.

UPDATE: Greg, a delicate snowflake if there ever was one, informs me that he feels shortchanged because I referred to him only as “perhaps the Barossa’s finest pizza chef.” He feels he deserves far broader recognition. Something like “South Australia’s finest pizza chef” or maybe even “Australia’s finest pizza chef.” You just can’t satisfy some people.

Directly across the aisle from Sheralee lies the Jersey Fresh Dairy stall. Operated by sisters Amy McDonald, Lisa Werner and Paula Menzel, Jersey Fresh is perched on the west end of the Barossa Valley, where it produces award-winning pouring cream, dollop cream, full and skim milk. But I visit to stock up on one of their newer products, a delicious iced coffee brand named Moo Broo, which I mix into my daily protein shakes.

That’s Lisa in the photo. Oddly enough, she gets more than just a little titillated by the American pronunciation of the word “orange.” Being the giver I am, I say it for her every week.

Jersey Fresh reminds me of life growing up on a dairy. Their milk isn’t homogenized, so a thick layer of cream always rises to the top of the bottle, and it has to be shaken before being poured. Mmmmmmmm.

John and Hannah run 1,200 head of chickens on their Abelsway Farm in the Hallelujah Hills. Clearly, I know nothing about chickens and I doubt if they are “run” like cattle, but so be it. Jamie and I agree that they produce the freshest, juiciest, tastiest chicken we’ve ever eaten. Apparently others agree, because business is so good that they are currently gearing up to double their production.

I’m not allowed to do any advertising work while we’re here on tourist visas, but I have a rough idea for a future ad campaign for Abelsway Farm. It all revolves around Hannah, who I have dubbed the “Chicken Chick;” John, the “Chick Magnet;” and their four beautiful daughters, the “Chicklettes.” Jamie tells me I can never present it to them because it is mildly offensive, and they aren’t.

John and Hannah have also taken us under their wings (chicken wings, perhaps) and occasionally invite us out to Abelsway Farm for delicious dinners. Yes, chicken may possibly show up on the menu.

These are just a few of our favorite farmers. Other stalls feature other farmers selling a wide assortment of tasty products — Barossa Kilkea Garlic, Birdwood Venison, Gumshire Pork, McLachan’s Smokery, Zimmerman’s Fishery, Barossa Bagels, Barossa Valley Ice Cream, Mehl Sourdough, German Cakes, The Barossa Patissier, Barossa Nourish Muesli, Jay’s Chilli Bar, Jo’s Jams & Treats, Wiech’s Barossa Valley Egg Noodles, Barossa Distilling Company, and many more.

We usually arrive at the market very early in the morning. By the time we leave, one musical group or another is entertaining the crowd right outside the front door. This week it was a ukulele band.

The Barossa Valley Farmers Market. What’s not to love?

My friend Rich loves to torment me. Every article he finds filled with tales of deadly Australian insects, reptiles and sea creatures will eventually end up in my inbox. Or maybe I’ve misjudged him and he is really just concerned about our welfare while we’re here in the Land Down Under.

I always reassure him that we’ve never seen any of the deadly creatures this continent is known for.

That being said, what the hell kind of country has so many snakes — venomous snakes — that snake relocation is a viable business. Well, welcome to Australia.

Jamie found this odd business card posted on a bulletin board next to the check out line in our local grocery store.

Since we have never seen any of the legendary Australian killers, I wondered how many of them can actually be found here in the Barossa Valley. I Googled it. Based on what I found, Dan, the snake wrangler who owns this business, probably stays pretty damn busy.

Southern Death Adder – The name alone should scare the hell out of you. These ambush predators sits motionless, conceal themselves in leafy litter, sand or gravel. Instead of fleeing from approaching humans, they sit tight and risk being stepped on, making them far more dangerous to unprepared bushwalkers. Nearly half of those bitten will die without rapid antivenom intervention. The venom causes loss of motor and sensory function, including respiration, resulting in paralysis and death.

Pygmy Copperhead – Say goodbye to your loved ones if you get bitten and can’t get antivenom quickly. The venom can destroy both blood and muscle tissue. And just when it sounds as if it can’t get worse, the antivenom isn’t 100% effective and can’t completely neutralize the venom’s toxicity.

Yellow-faced Whipsnake – Although its venom isn’t generally considered dangerous to adults, a bite is still pretty damn unpleasant. It hurts like hell and causes localized pain and swelling ranging from moderate to severe, and sometimes causes paralysis and bleeding. Nice, huh?

Tiger Snake – Its bites are fatal if untreated, cause pain in the feet and neck, tingling, numbness and sweating, followed by breathing difficulties and paralysis. The venom also damages the blood and muscles, and can lead to renal failure.

Mulga Snake – Get ready for a frightening description: This, the largest venomous snake in Australia, also has the largest venom output of any snake in the world – up to 150mg in one bite. Mulgas bite savagely, even hanging on and chewing as they inject massive amounts of highly toxic venom into your bloodstream, destroying blood cells, muscles and nerves.

Red-bellied Black Snake – The good news? The red-bellied black snake is a bit less venomous than other Australian snakes on this list. The bad news? Its bite causes significant illness and requires medical attention. Its venom causes blood-clotting disorder plus muscle and nerve damage.

Dugite – Potentially the most lethal snake in the world, its venom causes coagulopathic and procoagulant effects. The last death attributed to a dugite was in a suburb of Perth in August 2015. A woman was bitten on her heel mid-afternoon while walking alone. She made it home, but collapsed while her husband was taking her to the hospital. Although an ambulance arrived within five minutes, it was too late. Medics were unable to revive her.

Eastern Brown Snake – This is one scary description: Fast-moving, aggressive and known for its bad temper, eastern brown snakes are responsible for more deaths every year in Australia than any other group of snakes. Its venom is thought to be the second most toxic in the world and causes paralysis and stops a victim’s the blood from clotting. So toxic is the venom that it may take many doses of antivenom to reverse. Victims may collapse within a few minutes. Say good night, Gracie.

Peninsula Brown Snake – Pray that you do not get bitten by one. Its venom is composed of neurotoxins that immobilize its prey, cardiotoxins that cause heart dysfunction, cytotoxins that cause cellular damage, and hemotoxins that solidify blood. The peninsula brown’s bite is intensely painful and it’s known for injecting high quantities of venom in a single strike.

Western Brown Snake – On one hand, herpatoligists say the western brown snake’s venom is not as toxic as its eastern brown cousin’s. On the other hand, they deliver three times as much of it. Get bitten and you will experience headache, nausea, abdominal pain, severe coagulopathy (blood clotting disorder) and possible kidney failure. You probably won’t die, but you may wish you did.

Strap-Snouted Brown Snake – Among the most potent venoms of any snakes in the world. The bigger they are and the older they are, the more venomous they are. One of the most alarming consequences of a strap-shouted brown snake bite is “early collapse.” In other words, if you get bitten, you’ll likely collapse within 30-60 minutes due to cardiovascular collapse syndrome.

Now that I’ve scared the hell out of you (and myself if we’re being completely honest here), let’s remember that Jamie and I have only seen one snake during all our Australian travels. It turned out to be a completely harmless garden snake, but considering the unsavory reputations of Australia’s snakes, that was enough to give us chills.

If this blog item hasn’t frightened you, remember that deadly snakes are just the beginning of the problematic critters here in Australia. We haven’t even mentioned sharks, jellyfish, and a long list of insects that can put an early end to your Aussie holiday.

We kept Dan’s business card and we have it posted on our refrigerator.

Just in case.

Remember a couple months back when Jamie won the Barossa Valley Farmers Market cake baking contest?

“Maggie Beer is here,” Jamie said excitedly as we walked around the Farmers Market prior to the judging. “Do you want to take a photo for the blog?”

“Not really,” I responded. “I don’t have much in common with her.”

It was literally a month later when reality unexpectedly slapped me up the side of the head. Jamie wasn’t asking if I wanted a photo of myself with Maggie Beer, I realized. She was asking if I wanted to take a photo of her with Maggie Beer.

I was so embarrassed. I felt terrible that I had denied her a chance to have her photo taken with this Australian icon so I immediately found her out in the garden and apologized for my stupidity. (Probably not the first nor the last time I do something stupid that requires an apology.)

Who, you may ask, is Maggie Beer?

The best way I can describe her is to say that she is Australia’s answer to Martha Stewart.

Maggie is an Australian and Barossa Valley legend — a chef, food author, restaurateur, entrepreneur, and television celebrity. She produces a range of gourmet foods, including Pheasant Farm Pate, quince paste, verjuice, and gourmet ice creams. She is one of the judges on The Great Australian Bake-Off and is a regular guest on MasterChef Australia. And twenty years ago she was one of the driving forces behind the creation of the weekly Barossa Valley Farmers Market.

You know, the one where Jamie won the cake baking contest.

Three and a half months have passed since Jamie’s win. Last Friday night we attended the opening of a new exhibition at Wonderground, a terrific art gallery located in a beautifully-refurbished stone cottage sitting atop a hill in the middle of a vineyard about a mile down a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. It’s owned by our friends Renee and Kirsty.

So there we were, sipping fine wine and nibbling delicious hors d’oeuvres with the Barossa Valley’s movers and shakers when Maggie Beer suddenly swept into the room.

I looked at Jamie.

She looked back at me.

She reached into her purse, pulled out her cell phone, switched it to camera mode, and handed it to me.

I walked over to the esteemed Ms Beer and introduced myself, explained my extreme stupidity at the Farmers Market, and told her that the winner of her cake baking contest would love nothing more than finally having a photo of the two of them together.

Maggie was gracious indeed. “I need to have my photo taken with someone else in the next room right now,” she replied. “But please come with us and I’d be happy to do a photo with your wife.”

So that’s exactly what we did.

In case the significance of this photo has escaped you, please allow me to review: This is a photo of Jamie, the winner of the Barossa Valley Farmers Market 20th anniversary cake baking contest, with Maggie Beer, one of the founders of the Farmers Market, and one of the judges of The Great Australian Bake-Off.

If you’re a baker, it just doesn’t get any better than that.

I’m so relieved that Jamie got her photo with this Barossa Valley icon. I’m just embarrassed that it didn’t happen back when it should have.

Blanchetown, South Australia usually nuzzles up alongside the River Murray about 45 minutes from the Barossa Valley. But thanks to the mind-boggling Flood of ‘23, Blanchetown now sits under the River Murray. In other words, to mix natural disaster metaphors, it is at the epicenter of the flooding.

Blanchetown is usually a Mecca for river-loving tourists, but the flooding is so extensive that almost everything has been shut down. No boating is allowed. No jet skiing. No water skiing. No fishing. And most of the vacation homes and hotels that line the river are under water, too. Under these extreme conditions, you might expect the town to be deserted, but just the opposite it true. This is a once in a lifetime event and people are pouring in from all over the country just to see the historic flooding for themselves.

Like us.

We drove over on Thursday afternoon, took a few photos, had dinner at the Blanchetown Hotel (which sits on a promontory above the river), and then headed home.

You might look at this photo and think, “That’s a decent-sized river, but nothing worth writing about.” Well, my friends, that is not the River Murray. That is just a small portion of the flood waters that have overflowed its bank until they butted up against the cliffs to the east. To the west, the water has slowly spread across hundreds of square miles of low-lying plains.

In the photo above, look closely enough and you’ll see a small sliver of water about two-thirds of the way up the photo (above). That’s the River Murray way over there. And in the foreground, those are two story homes with their first floors completely under water.

Here is a shot of the western side of the river. Again, those are two-story houses, but the water has risen so high that only their top stories are visible. And these houses normally sit nowhere near the river bed.

Look at the grey tin shed right in the middle of the photo (above). Residue left on the side of the shed indicate that the water has already receded about three feet. They estimate that as many as 4,000 homes have been flooded.

The water is dropping quickly now, but it’s leaving behind some remarkable damage. The day will come when old timers bore their younger friends with tales of The Flood of ‘23. And we’ll be able to say, “We were there.”

Our friend Mandy just participated in the 10th Annual Brighton Beach Marilyn Jetty Swim. She and 512 other local dames donned blonde wigs, bright red lipstick, oversized sunglasses and white swimwear prior to jumping into the water.

Mandy had good reason to participate. In 2020, her 27-year old daughter was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer. The spunky young woman named her cancer Gary. Mandy’s friends came together to swim for Imogene in 2021 and named themselves Team FOG (short for “Fuck off, Gary.”) The good news? Two years later it looks like Gary has taken the hint and has, indeed, fucked off, but Mandy and her friends continue to participate in the Marilyn Jetty Swim to raise money for cancer research.

Here’s how the Australian Broadcasting Corporation described it:

The event has raised $1 million for Cancer Council SA since its inception, including more than $220,000 this year alone.

Founding Marilyn, Sarah Tinney, started the event after losing her mother to cancer in 2007.

She believed dressing up as the iconic Marilyn Monroe was an empowering and fun way to raise money for cancer research.

“Every year when I see new Marilyns come, and they have their stories and I can see where they are at, they’re at day one of losing somebody they love,” Ms Tinney said.

“I go back there, and I know exactly how they’re feeling.

“And I love that there’s something that we can all do together, even if it’s kind of wild and not what you expect … because grief isn’t orderly, grief isn’t predictable.

“Grief’s a little bit weird as well.” 

Reaching the $1 million fundraising milestone was “very surreal” for Ms Tinney.

“Nobody could have anticipated this kind of growth,” she said.

The event attracted people of all ages from across the country to support the cause, most donning blonde curls and wearing Monroe’s trademark sunglasses and white swimsuit.

One woman travelled from Cairns to take part.

“I had breast cancer five years ago, so I know it’s a worthy cause,” she said.

“I’m right behind everyone and these gorgeous, blonde bombshells.”

Surf Living SA kept a watchful eye on those who swam or paddled around the jetty as part of the annual 400 metre swim, turning the ocean into a sea of smiling faces and inflatable swim rings.

In order to lend an air of historical authenticity and sophistication to the event, I’m thinking of starting a John F. Kennedy Jetty Swim immediately following the Marilyn Jetty Swim. Everyone who enters will be required to wear a bushy brown wig and swim with a cigar in his mouth. Each Kennedy impersonator will then be required to perform mouth to mouth resuscitation on one of the Marilyn impersonators.

This is going to be an event you don’t want to miss, Mandy.