Archives for June 2015

587 – Good Wok – Crawling our way to Old-School Oz-Chinese

June 27, 2015 by Andrew Christie 9 Comments

A Saturday night outing!

Woo hoo.

Friday night was unavailable as my 96 year old father had selfishly booked it for his birthday, so the quest got bumped to Saturday. Which in our little world is grounds for a bit of excitement. To celebrate this innovation and to entertain ourselves on the long walk to almost-St-Peters, we undertook a bit of a pub crawl through the Courty, the old Sando, and the Union. We had to by-pass the Towny as it was being picketed by a mob of transgender protesters and their enthusiastic supporters. “See how much more fun Saturday night is,” I said to Strop, but she wasn’t listening to me, she was busy chatting up one of the cops that were keeping an eye on proceedings.

Even with lots of stops and drinks on the way, it’s a long way and it’s all getting a bit familiar. Strop took particular offence to the sameness of the tile shop’s window display. “They should change the tiles, I’m bored with these ones.” Fair enough, surely considerate shop owners would take our needs into account and change their window displays every week.

By the time we got to Good Wok we were in a very cheerful mood. And quite hungry too, but easily confused by the barrage of menus confronting us: stuck to the counter, up on the wall and in takeaway flyers. Strop decided that a fixed menu was the way to go. There was some complication because the version that caught her eye came with lots of entrees but only one main. It took the efforts of two staff members to convey this subtlety, but eventually we got the message. “That’s alright, we’ll just order another main.” Easy.

Good Wok is not large but we had a choice of tables, as there was only one other patron present when we arrived, although more came during the evening. There was a steady stream of take away customers coming and going all the time we were there, and most seemed to be regulars who joked with the staff, and knew exactly what they wanted.

After we took our seats, we were promptly presented with a large plate of prawn crackers. I was trying to remember the last time we’d had prawn crackers as they rapidly and crunchily, disappeared. I think I might have said, “These are the best prawn crackers ever,” or the closest approximation that a mouthful of prawn crackers will allow.

Soup was next. Corn and chicken soup and it was yum, verging on double yum. Hot, glutinous and filling. The dim sims and spring rolls arrived with little bowls of brightly coloured dipping sauce. Strop muttered something about “If you were tripping, this would be the place to come.” I have no idea what she meant.

The pork ribs in Peking sauce were sweet and spicy with plenty of pineapple chunks. Another double yum contender. The chicken and mushroom hotpot was good too. Tasty, with lots of ginger and plenty of fresh flavoured veges.

Good Wok serves up good, old-fashioned Oz-Chinese, cheap and cheerful, with more flavours than you can poke a stick at. A real find. After we had eaten everything up, we decanted ourselves down the road a bit to the Botany View, just to round out the pub crawl and to fortify ourselves for the long road home.

612 – Molly Coddle – When fritters go feral

June 20, 2015 by Andrew Christie 7 Comments

Well, here we are out of sequence again and I blame Soda Pony. We’ve had a lovely morning walk through Newtown, working up a hunger and sweat of anticipation to try a new cafe. We don’t know what to expect. Soda Pony – what does that even mean. We are full of curiosity, but unfortunately this is what it means:

And by this time we are hungry. And in need of coffee. What’s up next? Good Wok. They’re closed. Of course, it’s Sunday morning. Next? Alberto’s Pizza. What about that place across the road? South End Cafe? Molly Coddle must be the next cafe. Where’s that? Back up the hill. Damn.

So that was how we found ourselves at number 612 – Molly Coddle Cafe. Good name. Makes me think of eggs, which is very appropriate as by now I am a bit hungry.

The cafe is doing a steady trade in take away coffees from the big espresso machine in the doorway right out front. Inside there are a few locals but plenty of room for us to join them. We choose a tiled table tucked away near an enormous and slightly dusty pizza oven. Unfortunately it is not on so we have to keep our coats on.

It is my turn to have the big breakfast, but Strop throws caution to the wind, in typical Strop fashion, ordering the corn and beetroot fritters on the basis that it comes with cauliflower relish. She is a sucker for anything cauliflower. And orange juice for both of us, please. Coffee can wait till later.

While we are waiting, we occupy ourselves listening to the cheesy music, humming along to Let It Go, trying to keep the hand movements restrained enough not to be noticed by the staff who might think we are trying to get their attention. Strop is busy trying to work out if an email from Paypal is legit or some kind of phishing thing. Is phishing still a thing? You don’t hear so much about it these days. Once upon a time it was phishing this and phishing that, everywhere you turned.

The OJ is excellent despite being jammed full of ice, which always seems superfluous. It is frothy, sharp and sweet – new season navels, Strop says knowingly.

My big breakfast lives up to its name, leaving little room on the plate for manoeuvring. The eggs are excellent, there is plenty of bacon, the chorizo is a welcome newcomer, and the tomatoes are tasty. The only player letting down the side are the baked beans which seem to be the same ones I grew up with.

Strops fritters are large and pink and smooth. – they look like a pile of underdone steaks. There is no sign of the cauliflower relish. Strop queries this and is supplied with a little pot of tomato relish. She polished off the salad component but most of her fritters are still sitting on the plate when we order our coffees. The waiter clearing our plates asks How was everything? oblivious to the pile of pink fritters staring up at him accusingly.

The coffee was pretty good though.

581 Tandoori Express – I should know better

June 7, 2015 by Andrew Christie 2 Comments

I wasn’t expecting much from Tandoori Express. Partly, it was the name, but the bain-maries glimpsed through the window didn’t hold out much hope either. On the other hand, Jim and Matt were quite keen to accompany us and I should have known that it wasn’t just the promise of our sparkling company. Those two are fairly discerning diners – they do their research before they commit. There is no way we would have got them along to the unlamented Simply Noodles for instance.

It’s a Friday night outing again, the best kind. The week over and the weekend starting early. A quiet beer in a pub first – bring it on.

Inside, Tandoori Express is surprisingly welcoming. It smells great and there are cushions, and even table cloths. Sure there is a bain-marie, but I was expecting a takeaway joint with a few laminex tables. Now I’m getting my hopes up. Matt and Strop are sent off to fetch beers. More beers, as far as Jim and I are concerned. We have taken the time to give ourselves a head start.

A quick perusal of the menus reveals a tendency towards alliteration. This is something I can relate to, a harmless way to entertain yourself while quietly annoying others. What better fun is there? So we have Chicken Creations, Blissful Beef, Legendary Lamb and Sensational Seafood. For starters we order a mixed entree platter to share. This comes to the table sizzling and requires a little bit of delicate surgery to divide it up evenly. But it is well worth the effort, there are chicken bits, a kebab thing and onion bhajis. Just out of interest, has anyone ever heard of any other type of bhaji? Just curious.

“This is quite good,” is the mildly surprised verdict, as the food rapidly vanishes.

Beers are consumed. Words are discussed. Why is everything curated these days. Or triaged? What did we used to do? Organise things? Prioritise things? Is it a sign of the times or just that there are more thesauruses about? (Thesauri? Fucked if I know.) Can I please have another of those excellent beers.

For mains we have gone with the Bhoona Beef, in deference to the alliterative imperative, Prawn Malabari Jheenga, and Chicken Dopiaza. And naan, lots of naan. And rice. Yum.

Double yum in fact. The food is excellent.

While we are stuffing our faces, Jim informs us that he has successfully persuaded his school to purchase xylophones for his Year One students, so they can all do music together. He is planning to teach them to play Highway to Hell at next month’s assembly – I think that was what he said. Anyway the kids are loving it, and it is great to see our young minds in such enthusiastic hands. And it great to see someone with so much to offer make the transition from a retrenchment-track academic to a primary school teacher. Well done, old son.

When we had eaten just enough so that we could hardly move, we paid up and tottered out into the night, leaving Tandoori Express to a deliver up terrific takeaways to the blokes making their way home from the pubs.

God, it’s getting to be a long way home these days.

576 Union Hotel – More connections than Telstra

June 6, 2015 by Andrew Christie Leave a Comment

Tuesday nights. There is something about them and the renewal of old connections. Last time it was Uncle Carl, this time it’s Lisa from Carwoola, and Greg from Kioloa (this is starting to sound like ABC talkback radio). In the dark distant past when the Stropette was still a poppet, and the Stropolina still far in the future, Strop and I rented an historic (run down) cottage on a farm outside Canberra. There were other cottages and other young couples and a few children, as well as chooks and lambs and tiger snakes. That was the year the drought broke, and Hawkey came to power. I remember watching the election results on the television in the living room of one of our new neighbours. When it became clear that labour had won someone shouted out, “Fantastic, I’m applying for an arts grant on Monday.” Aah, those were the days. Lisa and Andrew, her partner at the time, lived in the cottage near the shearing shed, we had the cottage in the front paddock, Jane and Jim were almost next door and Bill and Janette were in the next paddock. The owners of the property lived in the Big House and didn’t mix with the tenants much. We all drifted away eventually, moving into town or down the coast, lost touch, as you do. Heard sporadic news, as you do. And then some nerd became extremely rich by inventing Facebook. And people started finding each other again.

We haven’t seen Lisa since about 1984. She’s been living down the south coast, while we’ve moved to the smoke. Her current bloke, Greg, grew up at Kioloa, which is by way of being one of our favourite little coastal villages. He works for National Parks. Strop and I used to do consulting work for National Parks. Do you know so and so? Really? How is she/he? What are they up to? I worked with them on Biamanga. Or was it Gulaga? Did you know that thingy had moved to Byron? All that. So many connections. Specific ones as well as the general stage of life ones, involving things children do, grandchildren arrivals, and parental departures. We are now the generation that bonds over the shared experience of spreading our parents ashes upon the waters. “They’ve got these recycled cardboard containers now. You put the ashes in them and float them away. Eventually they sink and the cardboard dissolves.” I want one shaped like a viking long boat.

There was a lot to talk about, but we needed food. And drinks. The Union is one of those trendy pubs (I’m looking at you too, Forest Lodge) that has an awful lot of beer taps for beers you’ve never heard of. All with silly names that aren’t really that funny. Strop likes this sort of thing because she is Open To New Experiences, I don’t because I Can’t Stand The Tension, and all I really want is a nice sessional beer. They have a lot of whiskys too, all with names I’ve heard of, and all of which deserve my attention, but that will have wait for another time.

When the front bar was taken over by the Trivia hooligans, juiced up on the excitement of showing off how smart they are, like a bunch of five-year olds who’ve had too much food colouring, we toddled out the back to The Eatery. Unfortunately the heating system didn’t accompany us, so we had to wear our jackets as we squinted our aged eyes to read the big blackboard menu.

The Burger Wars were then reconvened. It has been a while – the last pub on the Quest was the Newtown Social Club, and I can’t remember a thing about that experience. Lisa and Greg decided that they would go the burger as well. However, when Lisa chose the the chickpea fritter burger I had my doubts about whether she was really entering into the spirit of the Burger Wars. I suppose her claim that the last time she had eaten a burger was in 1973, should have been a clue. Greg and I went the meat route. Beef burger with bacon for me, Chinese style BBQ pork for him. Strop turned her back on the Wars altogether and had the salmon. A very disappointing effort.

My burger came with more bacon than the bun could cope with, and the bits that were sticking out beyond their bready blanket were quite cold by the time my gnashers trimmed them off (just a quick tidying-up skirmish before the main confrontation). Generally, the burger was excellent but there were some structural issues with the bun. Greg found his pork burger “Very tasty.” And Lisa really liked the eggplant (I think there is a hipster gag there somewhere but I just can’t get hold of it). She really liked the chips too, “They’re up there with the ones those two Italian blokes make down on the flat there at Narooma.” I don’t think there can be any higher chip praise.

Did I mention that Strop ordered the salmon?

Afterwards we left Lisa and Greg with icecream cones clasped in their icy hands as they headed for the station, while we toddled down the hill towards home. Strop decided that she had met Greg before, in one of the many, many meetings with stakeholders, that working for a Government agency involves.