Whilst breaking from the rigors of renovations to the café where I am working as a first commis labourer we assembled in the bombsite that was once the kitchen for tea & coffee.
Several tins of instant coffee were prized open, a packet of tea bags released from their plastic sheath & some home brand assorted biccys were presented.
‘No not for me thanks’, came my reply to the affable offer of a cuppa coffee.
‘You don’t like coffee?’ was the response
‘Yea I do, I just don’t like instant coffee’ I offered.
Well if we were in a scene from a Western movie, the piano player would have stopped dead, the barman would have frozen polished tankard in hand & poker players would all have swung their gaze toward me in unison.
‘You know’ I start with a smile, ‘They say life’s too short to drink instant!’ my voice trailing off, my audience unmoved & unconvinced
No one replies & I uneasily go into the reasons why I haven’t drunk instant for as long as I can remember & feeling myself being painted into a corner & just change the subject back to the quality of the Rio & the sturdy footings we had just placed. It doesn’t help; I’ve ‘outed’ myself & feel like a fraud in my new King Gee work boots.
‘What do you mean you don’t drink instant?’ says a biscuit dunking instant drinker curiously. Again if I were in Ferris Beullers Day off I would turn & address the camera directly, shrug my shoulders & say something smart alicky like ‘See whad I mean?’ which the audience would ‘get’, understanding my predicament.
However I am not in a movie, this is real life & it illustrates the divide that I have inflicted on myself by the food choices I make. I belong to a tribe & as much as this doesn’t sit well with my Gen X sensibilities, it’s an inescapable truth. This tribe has over time been labelled as: foodies, food wankers, elitists & passionistas (thanks to Dr James C for that one!)
It’s like having a bit of a stigma attached though, a Mill stone or even an Albatross round ones neck to be labeled a foodie. It can get quite tiresome having to explain why I won’t drink instant, hate tasteless bread or Kraft singles. Kinda like how I imagine those Sth African expats had to patiently explain that not ALL Afrikaners agreed with Apartheid, or that all Muslims are extremists or that all Irish are somehow connected to the IRA.
It could explain though my aversion to eggs that are not free range, to commercial bacon, to my tastes in olive oil, or freshly dug spuds or just shucked oysters. It might unravel the reasons why I won’t order a hamburger from a joint that just nukes a pre-frozen, industrial 100 animal pattie before grill marking it for my consumption. It could underpin my squeamishness in ordering a pie that could contain less that 25% of the meat of its namesake.
You also might be able to empathize with the joy that I feel when eating some local goats’ cheese on my own toasted sourdough. Then again you may not, just equating it with cheese on toast, which it is of course, but if you cannot see the difference between the two then we might not ever see eye to eye, your tribe & mine.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Saturday, June 06, 2009
Celebrity diners say NO to chicken Caesar!
Just in.
Huon Sur la Mer, Southern Tasmania:
A local footballing hero from the district club & dozens of other celebrities from the area have boycotted the local pub in the tiny coastal hamlet of Huon Sur la Mer to protest against the inclusion of Chicken Caesar salad on the menu.
‘We are more sophisticated than this, surely they can make the effort to do more to entice us,’ said the full forward for the Huon Sur la Mer, ‘Les Merdes’ football club, Shane O’Dwayne. ‘Many of us have been to Hobart you know & we know what good food is all about’.
‘It’s silly really’, said Mrs Shirley Burley nee Waldstrupp, a one time local ABC radio quiz winner, ‘If they want us celebs to come in, then they had better lift their game, tout sweet’
It seems that the pub in order to arrest flagging customer numbers employed the services of a Food Consultant who promptly rearranged the menu with the chicken Caesar the main bone of contention. Some argue that he’s gone too far, that it has been dumbed down too much & the local celebrities are annoyed.
‘I mean what’s wrong with doing some spherifications, some foams or even a friggin gel for crissakes’ questioned the regions wizened tribal elder, Mr Bluey Swearengine & he went on to add, ‘This supposed consultant will have us endure a parmigiana next, when will it stop?’
Mr Kyle Van Shakley, the consultant in question would not return my calls for this article & a spokesperson for his food consultancy business, ‘Feed-Em-N-Bleed-Em’ declined to comment on Mr Shakleys whereabouts, saying he was unavailable for comment.
Perhaps though, the last word should go to Mayor Lester St Hubbins, arguably the most famous person from Huon sur la Mer who once held the title of Southern Tasmania’s Most Dapper man.
‘Look, I know a thing or two about restaurants & if these jokers want to get more bums on seats, they need the support of us celebrities & to do that, they must get that Caesar off the bloody menu, its that simple’.
It seems the Pub at Huon Sur la Mer & the districts celebrities are in for a long stoush.
S. Cumper, Huon Sur la Mer.
Huon Sur la Mer, Southern Tasmania:
A local footballing hero from the district club & dozens of other celebrities from the area have boycotted the local pub in the tiny coastal hamlet of Huon Sur la Mer to protest against the inclusion of Chicken Caesar salad on the menu.
‘We are more sophisticated than this, surely they can make the effort to do more to entice us,’ said the full forward for the Huon Sur la Mer, ‘Les Merdes’ football club, Shane O’Dwayne. ‘Many of us have been to Hobart you know & we know what good food is all about’.
‘It’s silly really’, said Mrs Shirley Burley nee Waldstrupp, a one time local ABC radio quiz winner, ‘If they want us celebs to come in, then they had better lift their game, tout sweet’
It seems that the pub in order to arrest flagging customer numbers employed the services of a Food Consultant who promptly rearranged the menu with the chicken Caesar the main bone of contention. Some argue that he’s gone too far, that it has been dumbed down too much & the local celebrities are annoyed.
‘I mean what’s wrong with doing some spherifications, some foams or even a friggin gel for crissakes’ questioned the regions wizened tribal elder, Mr Bluey Swearengine & he went on to add, ‘This supposed consultant will have us endure a parmigiana next, when will it stop?’
Mr Kyle Van Shakley, the consultant in question would not return my calls for this article & a spokesperson for his food consultancy business, ‘Feed-Em-N-Bleed-Em’ declined to comment on Mr Shakleys whereabouts, saying he was unavailable for comment.
Perhaps though, the last word should go to Mayor Lester St Hubbins, arguably the most famous person from Huon sur la Mer who once held the title of Southern Tasmania’s Most Dapper man.
‘Look, I know a thing or two about restaurants & if these jokers want to get more bums on seats, they need the support of us celebrities & to do that, they must get that Caesar off the bloody menu, its that simple’.
It seems the Pub at Huon Sur la Mer & the districts celebrities are in for a long stoush.
S. Cumper, Huon Sur la Mer.
The White House garden comes under fire!
Funny thing, in the States the White house is coming under attack from the conventional farming lobby for their decision to plant an organic garden. Seems that big agribusiness is a little squeamish at the message coming from the house on the hill & the wider implications that more public scrutiny may yield.
It seems obvious that those with special interests will always do a bit of mud slinging in order to discredit an opponent, nothing new there but how could you really find fault with this initiative & the broader message that it conveys? I heard that Stephanie Alexander & others have called on the Rudds to do the same thing here & why not?
To take it a step further, perhaps local councils should consider spending rate payers money on community gardens rather than the upkeep of the very out of step with the times, large expanses of green lawns.
I mean why not lobby local councils to mull over this idea? At Ceres in Melbourne’s East Brunswick & at the old St Kilda bowling club, community gardens have flourished over the last 15 or so years. I’m not sure how much more room they have anymore but one used to be able to ‘hire’ a plot in which to grow whatever you wanted, what a great idea!
I’m not saying that this might ever replace the foods that many farmers produce & make a living from, but it might make people more engaged in the whole culture of how food gets to our tables & perhaps make us a little more subjective in our future choices.
It seems obvious that those with special interests will always do a bit of mud slinging in order to discredit an opponent, nothing new there but how could you really find fault with this initiative & the broader message that it conveys? I heard that Stephanie Alexander & others have called on the Rudds to do the same thing here & why not?
To take it a step further, perhaps local councils should consider spending rate payers money on community gardens rather than the upkeep of the very out of step with the times, large expanses of green lawns.
I mean why not lobby local councils to mull over this idea? At Ceres in Melbourne’s East Brunswick & at the old St Kilda bowling club, community gardens have flourished over the last 15 or so years. I’m not sure how much more room they have anymore but one used to be able to ‘hire’ a plot in which to grow whatever you wanted, what a great idea!
I’m not saying that this might ever replace the foods that many farmers produce & make a living from, but it might make people more engaged in the whole culture of how food gets to our tables & perhaps make us a little more subjective in our future choices.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
This land is your land, this land is my land.
As you come into town you’ll appreciate the rows of orchards dedicated to all manner of fruits, from apples of course to bright yellow stone fruit, depending on the season. These orchards are cheek by jowl with small parcels of land dedicated to vines, sprouting cool climate varieties, best suited to the region. You might have noticed the Jersey cows & Toggenberg goats grazing, milkers for the local cheesery, who even make fresh butter! Closer to the town many small holders tend their market gardens, readying for the monthly market or for the local green grocer.
The first thing you’ll notice here is that the only way to buy meat is from the butcher, who is lucky to be able to source everything from farms nearby. The smallgoods are the envy of the district & the smoked bacon is worth the wait in the queue.
Fresh fruit & vege are sold next door at the fruiterer who proudly stocks everything that is grown locally. You can watch the seasons change in their window display.
Fish & seafood are always available every second day at the pier direct from the boats, except Sundays. If you are at the pub on sat nights, you might be able to score the odd rabbit or duck straight from the fields for a few bucks & or tinnies. Speaking of the pub, they make a few of their own traditional styled beers from hops just grown up the road & a version of cider. The locals are divided between the Porter & the Sparkling Ale but many favour the Scrumpy during their dart games & music nights.
Many people kick on to the chippie for afters, he who still doggedly chips his own spuds. Whatever fish is dipped in the yeasty batter, be satisfied that it has all been caught that morning.
If the chippie doesn’t hook you, then you’d be hard pressed to ignore the smoky wafts coming from the wood fired bakery up the road, whose early morning bakes tantalise the nostrils. Here you’ll find simple sourdough breads, chunky pies & sticky buns being baked daily.
The town’s only cafe has got a big reputation for excellent coffee & cakes but that’s not all they do well. Their all day brekkies are legendary.
However, if it’s top notch tucker you crave & perhaps a unique taste of the area, look no further than the Towns only restaurant. A woman & her hubby run the best place in the town, she in the kitchen & he on the floor. If ever the district could be captured in a dish, then she could do it better than anyone.
Every third Sunday, weather permitting, there is a farmers market & everyone goes so it’s best to get there early. Every food comestible imaginable seems to be crammed onto the trestle tables, snags sizzle & there are even live ducks, chooks & rabbits for sale. Local musicians sing shanties & festivities often go on long into the evening, especially over the summer months when the air is sweet with the smell of hay.
It is indeed a very special place to live.
The first thing you’ll notice here is that the only way to buy meat is from the butcher, who is lucky to be able to source everything from farms nearby. The smallgoods are the envy of the district & the smoked bacon is worth the wait in the queue.
Fresh fruit & vege are sold next door at the fruiterer who proudly stocks everything that is grown locally. You can watch the seasons change in their window display.
Fish & seafood are always available every second day at the pier direct from the boats, except Sundays. If you are at the pub on sat nights, you might be able to score the odd rabbit or duck straight from the fields for a few bucks & or tinnies. Speaking of the pub, they make a few of their own traditional styled beers from hops just grown up the road & a version of cider. The locals are divided between the Porter & the Sparkling Ale but many favour the Scrumpy during their dart games & music nights.
Many people kick on to the chippie for afters, he who still doggedly chips his own spuds. Whatever fish is dipped in the yeasty batter, be satisfied that it has all been caught that morning.
If the chippie doesn’t hook you, then you’d be hard pressed to ignore the smoky wafts coming from the wood fired bakery up the road, whose early morning bakes tantalise the nostrils. Here you’ll find simple sourdough breads, chunky pies & sticky buns being baked daily.
The town’s only cafe has got a big reputation for excellent coffee & cakes but that’s not all they do well. Their all day brekkies are legendary.
However, if it’s top notch tucker you crave & perhaps a unique taste of the area, look no further than the Towns only restaurant. A woman & her hubby run the best place in the town, she in the kitchen & he on the floor. If ever the district could be captured in a dish, then she could do it better than anyone.
Every third Sunday, weather permitting, there is a farmers market & everyone goes so it’s best to get there early. Every food comestible imaginable seems to be crammed onto the trestle tables, snags sizzle & there are even live ducks, chooks & rabbits for sale. Local musicians sing shanties & festivities often go on long into the evening, especially over the summer months when the air is sweet with the smell of hay.
It is indeed a very special place to live.
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