Quest

Cultural events and picking up threads

April 30, 2016 by Andrew Christie 2 Comments

We had a big week last week. A packed program, as they say. Cultural events and a bit of getting out amongst the nature. It wasn’t planned that way just a series of fortuitous coincidences.

It started out on Tuesday night with Opera on the Harbour, then on Thursday we went to the Museum of Contemporary Art, and finished up on Saturday with a visit to Royal National Park. The thing that tied all these activities together was friendship.

This is a much busier program than we normally attempt in a week, and it got me to thinking about our wide group of friends, and the nature of friendship. Each of these outings came about because we needed an excuse to hang out with our friends. Not that you should need an excuse to hang out with your friends, but having an event, or an outing provides an excuse, and a framework. Even though all you’re doing really is feeding and watering your relationships. But it’s an important thing to do.

The Opera on the Harbour outing came out of the blue. Mark – the dog park friend who has become a real friend – works with them as a volunteer each year, and he had a couple of complimentary tickets, that he gave to us. What a treat. Turandot. We’re not really opera fans as such, but we are always up for a spectacle. And that’s what we got, along with a backstage tour guided by Mark, a lovely meal watching the sun set behind the city, and then some great music, a flaming dragon, and even some fireworks. What more could you ask of a Tuesday night?

The Thursday night outing was with Roy and Jill. A renewal of our lapsed cultural program, this time in the form of a visit to the Grayson Perry exhibition at the MCA, followed by a fair old natter, and a bit of eating and drinking.

I didn’t know anything about Grayson Perry, so wasn’t sure what Strop was so excited about. In fact I thought he was a woman, even before I saw photos of him dressed as one. His art is clever and funny and engaging, but I found it oddly unmoving. Certainly the craft of it is wonderful, particularly the pottery and the tapestry. His work reminded me of the Gilbert and George, and also of Reg Mombasa and the Mambo artists. But it left me a little bit cold. I’m not sure what it is, but it seems to me that Reg Mombasa and Gilbert and George have more poetry, or warmth, in their work. It was certainly worth the visit though, a large and varied exhibition.

Afterwards we went upstairs to the restaurant and were able to sit outside after Strop and Jill had wrangled a table for us. The food was good and there was plenty of wine, but I can’t really remember much about it as we were too busy catching up. That’s what you do with friends I guess, fill in the blanks, add to the ongoing story that friendship creates. Twining the threads together, our lives, our families, other friends.

Our visit to Bundeena in the Royal National Park was another chance to catch up with an old friend. We have known Wendy longer than the others, and we see her less frequently, but it’s amazing how you slot back into the old rhythms. I think we all tend to imagine ourselves as we used to be in our 20s, especially when we’re with the friends that we met during those times. It’s good to be reminded that we are all ageing together, our threads fraying and fading. We had a lovely walk through the bush with Wendy, ate chicken rolls overlooking the ocean and the rocks, then got naked at a beach we used to haunt. It was good to strip off and get in the water again, even if there is a lot more of us now. Paler and more wobbly, but still us. The swell and the rocks threatened to be unkind to our soft, old bodies, so we didn’t stay in very long. Retreating to the beach, we dug in the sand and talked and remembered.

I was struck by how each of these outings were based on unrelated friendships from different parts of our lives. Friendships that only intersect with me and Strop. At first I thought it was a fragmented bunch of relationships but now I think of it as a fabric, or a web, each of us a focal point through which other people’s threads pass. For someone like me who needs time alone, it’s good to be reminded how important maintaining those threads is.

Ballers – an evening with Great Balls of Fire

April 10, 2016 by Andrew Christie Leave a Comment

I’m not really sure what to make of Ballers. It presents as a takeaway joint, with lots of red, white and blue on the menu, and tables that don’t invite you to linger. American colours, American-style menu. Meatballs is the name of the game. One of those menus where you combine ingredients from a series of lists. In this case choose your meatballs, your sauce, and your side. Then there’s a column called balls and buns, full of slider and sub options. it’s all very American in an ironic hipster kind of way. And there are lots of balls jokes. Especially in the loo. But the food is good and fundamentally Italian – apart from the slider business.

We arrived at Ballers after a long walk from the Belvoir Theatre, where he had just been to see The Great Fire, which was a great disappointment. Supposedly, a great new Australian play, it was yet another exploration of middle-class angst. Lots of talking and very little drama – the worst kind of theatre. So by the time we got to Ballers we were both thirsty and hungry.

Our first impression was not good. The place was empty and austere, with hard surfaces and high tables. Not exactly fine dining. We ummed and ahhed outside on the footpath, attracting the attention of the woman who was working at the counter. She scurried outside to entice us in while we were still trying to read the menu, saying “It’s all fresh, only fresh ingredients, all made on the premises, today.” Strop gave her the cold shoulder, turning instead towards the traffic on Enmore Road, but I tried a smile. “Thanks,” I said, “we’re just looking.”

We had a quick look down the road to see what was next if we decided to give Ballers a miss. Another Indian joint. This one also empty. We looked back at the menu again. Maybe it will be okay.

There is something appealing about the idea of a meatball eatery. It even has a special Italian name, a polpetteria. I was keen but Stop took a bit of persuading. In the end, despite the woman’s persistent blather we decided to give it a try. A decision that paid off.

The woman turned out to be the owner’s mother, called in to help out because he was short-staffed. She was very keen. Very. At least knowing why made it easier to accept her enthusiasm.

Strop went first and made the fatal error of choosing a vegetarian option in a place that has meat, if not in their name, in their reason for being. Meatballs. It’s all about the meat. Anyway, Strop has been a long-time ignorer of conventions, so she chose vegetarian meatballs, spicy tomato sauce and mash. I went the traditional route of spicy pork meatballs, tomato sauce and spaghetti. We also got a side of green veggies, a real Italian Peroni and a tumbler of rosé.

The food came quickly. It seemed as if we had only just settled down at the cable-drum tables on the street, when two steaming, enamelled bowls of meatballs were placed in front of us. My spicy pork meatballs were delicious with just the right amount of chilli, a rich tomato sauce and perfect spaghetti. Strop’s vegetarian aberration was okay, as good as might be expected, but the spicy tomato sauce was a bit too hot for comfort. It wasn’t just a bit spicy, it was very hot. The mash was excellent though, rich and creamy and smooth. The green veges were excellent, perfectly cooked, beans, kale, and broccoli, with a light, lemony dressing.

While we were there one other couple came in and sat inside and a couple of delivery orders went out, but overall it looked like a very slow night. I couldn’t help thinking that they might do better if they dropped the American/ironic-hipster imagery, and switched to Italian red checked tablecloths. There is a market for it, the Italian Bowl on King Street has been proving that for years. What’s not to love about delicious meatballs?

The pedestrian traffic on Enmore Road lived up to its eclectic tradition. Tonight there was a lot of brightly coloured hair on the young women, and a lot of black-clad young men carrying pieces of drum kit back and forth. Something for everyone.

On the way home we stopped at Gelato Blue, where I had the best passionfruit gelato I have ever had. Excellent work.

So go to Ballers. Ignore the imagery, go for the food, it’s great.

Sultan’s Table – When in doubt proceed straight to the oasis

April 2, 2016 by Andrew Christie 1 Comment

As I suspected, Olé, the Portuguese chicken place on the corner was next. However we are getting old and cranky and it didn’t take much to persuade us that this was more of a takeaway joint than we were in the mood for. They sell burgers and chicken, and we have already decided that when we get to the end of Enmore Road, Oporto is not on the Encore menu, It was hard to argue any real difference between Olé and Oporto.

“So, what’s next?”

“The New India Times?” Strop ventured.

“Okay, let’s check it out.”

“Finest Indian Restaurant?” I said, more of a comment than a question. “Next?”

“Sultan’s Table?”

“Oh, yeah.”

We crossed the road, weaving our way through a friday-night gridlock of Mazdas and Hyundais, approaching the fabled Sultan’s Table as if it was some kind of oasis. There were plenty of people hanging around outside, either waiting for takeaways, or for a table inside. Luckily there were a couple of outside tables still free which suited us.

Sultan’s Table is a bit of an Enmore Road institution. It always looks busy and inviting, located on a corner, with the big dining room open to the street and every available surface fringed with lights. When we tell people we are now wending our way along Enmore Road, the places they refer to are Hartsyard, “that cheese place with the funny name,” and Sultan’s Table.

We settled ourselves in, and proceeded to over-order. Again. I’m beginning to think it might just be us.

When the Mixed Dips, Mixed Grill, and Imam Bayildi, were on the way, we thought about drinks. Sultan’s Table is byo and of course, we hadn’t. Luckily there is a serve yourself fridge full of soft drinks. We helped ourselves to some culturally inappropriate Passiona, in place of the the ginger beer we really wanted, but which they didn’t have.

Other punters seemed to be ignoring the drinks fridge and venturing further afield. While we were there, a steady stream of runners headed out to the nearest bottle shop, only to return minutes later with armfuls of six-packs and bottle-shaped brown-paper bags.

Another pedestrian of note was an ernest looking young punk, hustling along with a mic stand under his arm. Enmore Road does have its charms.

The dips were terrific. Eight of them, arranged very attractively. Plenty of hot and crunchy-outside/soft-inside turkish bread to wipe around in them. Yummerific.

Imam Bayildi turned out to be a whole eggplant stuffed with goodness, and the Mixed Grill had the tastiest and tenderest lamb I have had in a long time. The chicken and the adana were pretty good too, and there were plenty of salads and flat bread. Yum and double-yum. We managed to sort out all the protein and most of the dips, but there was an embarrassing amount of sumac-coated onion and red cabbage left on the platter when we paid up.

5/5 Debs – just the right amount of salt. (In other words we didn’t notice.)

3/5 Susans – there is an accessible toilet but you might have to move a car to get to it.

4/5 Wendys – pretty good value for more than we could comfortably handle.

I had been looking across the road at Cow and Moon all night and had noted that the queue had not yet stretched out the door and around the corner. Usually when we are ready for a bit of icy sweetness to finish off the evening, the queue is far too long, so we keep walking, heading for Hakiki, or even Gelato Blue. So even though we shouldn’t, we did.

My coffee and blood orange were excellent. Strop’s fortunes were more mixed. Her caramel popcorn was terrific – although in slurping up a taste, I managed to inhale a piece of popcorn which led to a bit of a coughing fit – but her nectarine was a bit too subtle for a friday night wander home, through the crowds of Enmore Road and King Street.

I think our next venture has something to do with meatballs that don’t come from Ikea. See you then.

Faheem Fast Food – Not entirely a flubboodha-free zone

March 27, 2016 by Andrew Christie 2 Comments

Everybody was all like “Ooh, ooh, I want to come to Faheem’s,” which suited us because more people means more dishes to try. But then of course it was all, “I can’t do Friday…” and “… they’ve changed the roster…” and “…they changed it back again…” then there was, “…this bug is going around the school…” and of course “…jetlagged.” So it was a bit of an easter miracle that four of us were able to synchronise our schedules and home in on Enmore Road on Saturday night.

The final make up of the party was Strop and me, with the Stropolina and her new beau, the Lifesaver, so at least there were enough of us to seriously over order without looking too greedy.

Faheem Fast Food is a bit of an urban legend around our area. Its fluoro lighting, tiled walls, and no-nonsense tables have been greeting taxi drivers, families and hipsters since… well, for a very long time. They serve up splendid Pakistani and Indian dishes in a very timely manner, so much so that it has restored my faith in nominative determinism.

Our first stop though, was a little bar called Midnight Special, because Faheem might be fast but he is not licensed. Strop and I stopped here last Tuesday before going on to see the wonderful Tedeschi Trucks Band at the Enmore Theatre. As well as good beers and an excellent blues soundtrack, they were offering bao buns with a variety of protein based fillings. I thought that the pulled pork with lots of Asian flavours was particularly yummy, but Strop compared the actual bao bun as being a bit like a thong. Which led to a brief moment of confusion until she clarified that she was referring to footwear. On Saturday night the place was a lot more crowded and the soundtrack a lot less interesting (70s/80s hits and misses — all filler, no thriller). We had our one drink and toddled on up the road to Faheem’s with the soundtrack now changed to the Stropolina going “I want to go to that one… and that one too, ooh look at that, it too.” Good that she is so loyal to the family enterprise. I’m not sure what the Lifesaver made of it all, especially when we tried to explain to him the concept of rating accessibility according to the Susan Scale. He was able to point out the best late night kebab spots on Enmore Road though, so he is already proving his worth.

We were seated at the back of Faheem’s, just outside the kitchen, and conveniently close to the help-yourself-to-drinks fridge. My only stipulation on the ordering front was that we had to have something from the tandoor. Strop and the Stropolina handled the rest of it.

In no time at all a splendid spread was laid out in front of us. A whole bright-orange-with-black-charcoaly-bits tandoori chicken, was quickly followed by, dahl, chick peas, a goat korma masala, aloo gosht, and of course, garlic naan.

It. Was. All. Excellent – although the Stropolina did think that there was too much “flubboodha” in the goat. This is her term for any animal-based food that is not meat. She has a very low tolerance for discrete bits of fat, gristle or any kind of connective tissue. We have learned to make allowances as she has so many other redeeming features.

Faheem provides a no-frills service. Help yourself to soft drinks, lassi, or chilled water from the fridge. The glasses are just as likely to be hot, coming straight from the dishwasher, but at least the water is cold. It is relaxed, cheerful, and extremely tasty. You need to go. Now.

In terms of ratings:

Accessibility: 5/5 Susans – and there is a carpark out the back.

Value? Up there I’d say, 4/5 Wendys.

Salt? Didn’t notice, so I guess that is 5/5 Debs.

Midnight Special though, deserves a special accessibility mention. The toilets are up three stairs, which means 0/5 Susans for them.

Next up might be a Portuguese Chicken joint, I’ll have to check and get back to you.

Hobart: MONA and Aloft

March 20, 2016 by Andrew Christie Leave a Comment

Back at the end of February, Strop and I took ourselves off to Hobart for a long weekend as part of our wedding anniversary celebration. The main motivation for going to Hobart was that we were getting sick of being asked if we had been to the Museum of Old and New Art (MONA) yet, and having to shake our heads sadly while we were told “Oh, you must go, it’s” [choose from the following list: “amazing”; “wonderful”; “different”; or “well, I’ll let you make up your own mind, but you must go”].

So eventually we did, and with the anniversary as an excuse we splurged on the fancy boat tickets to MONA and a nice dinner afterwards at a newish restaurant overlooking the harbour.

We started our Big Day in Hobart with a trip to the edge of the bush for a breakfast date with old friends of Strop’s, Bob, Fran, Isla and Charlie. We spent a wonderful couple of hours eating excellent pancakes in their newly extended home, enjoying the view of Mt Wellington through an enormous window, and talking about kids, gardens, books and kayaks. Fran dropped us back into town just in time to be handed a glass of champagne on the ferry to MONA.

The thing about MONA is the weird way the building has no real external image. It’s kind of like there is no there, there. The building is mostly below ground, built into a headland overlooking the Derwent River. It only emerges in a few seeming unrelated structures to let in light or to provide access. As such it is a hard place to get a sense of from the outside, which explains why all the visual images used to promote MONA are of the internal spaces or of the collection.

It might be the landscape architect in me but I quite like this approach to designing such a significant building. Making it more of a place than a thing, but it does take a while to get used to. Inside, the galleries are arranged vertically, dug into the raw sandstone of the headland. The accepted approach seems to be to dive in, heading down as far as you can go and then work your way back to the surface, by which time you will be gasping for some refreshments and of course, needing to buy some postcards.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA — The Rules according to Gilbert & George

The big exhibition at MONA was a George and Gilbert retrospective. Before this exhibition my only knowledge of these two was of their pudgy, be-suited personas, when occasionally appearing on television. Their art though, is amazing. Terrific graphic styles and motifs. I loved it. They kind of reminded me of a pommy, and slightly more politically focussed version of our very own Mambo artists.

We spent most of the day at the museum exploring all the galleries and having lunch on a grassy terrace overlooking the river. It was a Saturday and the gallery was quite busy but it didn’t detract from our appreciation of the place. One of my other favourite works was a long tunnel with a sound sculpture that responds to movement. I was lucky enough to go through the tunnel on my own and get the full effect of the sounds building and bouncing around as I moved along. When there are more people in it, the clarity of the effect gets a bit lost.

After our big day out we had a little lie down in our hotel before dinner at Aloft. It is a fairly new restaurant and we were only able to get a booking for 8:30 which is a bit late for us, especially after a big day out arting about. Still, anniversary and all that, have to put in.

We were pretty hungry when we arrived back to the same new pier the ferry to MONA had left from earlier in the day. The restaurant is in a lovely space, upstairs at the end of the pier, with big windows looking out onto the harbour.

Our waitress was young and charming, providing lots of useful information on the options. We decided on the banquet as it meant that we had fewer choices to make. Strop was keen to try an orange wine and the sommelier was very helpful, suggesting wines to go with the various dishes.

The food is very high concept, concentrating on the quality of the mainly local ingredients rather than on stunt presentations. We started out with a water egg custard thing and crunchy pigs ears.

As we ate, the room started to thin out, the earlier sittings heading off home or to shows.

Most of the food was great, but I did find some of it too salty. Particularly the lamb, it was probably a 1 out of 5 on Deb’s salt scale.

Apart from the salt issues, things were going swimmingly until 10 pm, when things suddenly started going pear-shaped. Our waitress must have finished her shift because she suddenly appeared with a jacket over her work clothes and sat at a nearby table to have a glass of wine with the couple dining there. Unusual, but kind of charming. Then groups of people started arriving and sitting up at the bar, chatting to the kitchen and floor staff. This all coincided with us being forgotten – as if we had just dropped off the radar. Whoever was supposed to take over from our waitress mustn’t have been able to see us because our water glasses were left empty, to the point that Strop had to actually wave her glass in the air to get a refill. By this time the other tables were thinning out, and it seemed like the staff just wanted to get away and chat with their friends. It was very odd.

Luckily, the dessert was excellent. Strawberries and blueberries in a fennel sauce with goat curd sorbet. Yummo. Then we were presented with the wrong bill. The waiter came back with the right one, and he did apologise but… There was a sense that the staff just wanted to hang out with their mates rather than look after their customers. None of it was horrible, it was just a bit of a surprise, and a contrast to the service earlier in the evening. It was definitely at odds with the image they present, as a high-end restaurant. Maybe it’s just a small town thing, a function of everybody knowing everybody else.

Our departure, after paying the correct bill, went un-noticed by the staff.

On a more positive note, the access is excellent – 5 out of 5 Susans. The Wendy value scale is a bit more problematic. 3 Wendys, maybe.

So, have you been to MONA yet?

Shaahi Tandoori – Doesn’t always come with a floorshow

March 12, 2016 by Andrew Christie 1 Comment

I blame Strop. I blame her for my complete lack of professionalism in regard to this blogging business. I should have a schedule, and I would have, if only Strop would stop having birthdays. And if she hadn’t married me, we wouldn’t have had to go to Hobart to celebrate however many years it’s been now. And if I hadn’t been cooped up in a big, aerialised, aluminium tube with a bunch of sick people I wouldn’t have caught man flu…

Actually I blame David Walsh for creating MONA. If he hadn’t done that, then we wouldn’t have felt like the only people left in Sydney who hadn’t been to see the wall of vaginas and none of this would have happened.

So on behalf of David Walsh and Strop, I apologise for the yawning chasm that is the last month on this blog. It won’t happen again. Ever. I promise. Cross my heart, all of that. Never, ever. Ever.

Before we were so rudely interrupted, I seem to remember a trip to a surprisingly enjoyable Indian restaurant. In terms of sub-continental cuisine on Enmore Road, Faheem’s Fast Food casts a very long shadow that hides all other curry joints. I had never noticed Shaahi Tandoori before this visit, but I’m pretty sure we’ll go back. Particularly for the Goat Curry and the Salted Lassi. Yummo.

We sat at the front table with an excellent view of the buses roaring past, and the passing parade of pedestrian punters on their way to the Enmore Theatre. Tonight the crowd appeared to be predominantly of a certain age and greyness. Well, the men were, I suspect a bit of colouration was at work in many of the women’s hair. One of the entertaining things about a night out on Enmore Road is the changing nature of the street crowd depending on who is playing at the Enmore Theatre.

A very sweet and attentive young woman took our order which included Paneer, Chicken 65, Aloo Mattar and Garlic Nan, as well as the goat and the lassi. One of the problems we have found with dining on our own is that we want to try a lot more dishes than we can actually eat. We usually make a pretty good effort though, a clean plate is a good plate, but we pay for it on the walk home.

The Paneer was a bit heavy for my taste but the Chicken 65 was terrific. Basically fried chicken but with all the flavours. I’ll go back for that one too. The Goat Curry was dark, succulent and spicy. Lucky we had the Salted Lassi. I’ve never had it before and it was terrifically refreshing, as well as easing the effects of the chilli.

While we were working our way through too much food, Strop caught a glimpse of a pair of nephews walking up the other side of the street. As she leapt to her feet and rushed out the door I took the opportunity to nab another piece of fried chicken. Strop waved and hallooed across the road, and Keir and Charlie waved back. I kept eating.

Five minutes later Keir and Charlie showed up at Shaahi Tandoori. Apparently their family were just down the road at Cow and The Moon having a refreshing gelato. Young Charlie’s tolerance for watching his aunt and uncle eat food that he wouldn’t touch with a light sabre, was understandably low, so they didn’t stay very long.

Strop and I were back to enjoying the food, trying to decide if we could discreetly undo our belts a couple of notches, when Keir returned. This time he and Charlie had Emma and Will in tow. While Em came and joined us at the table, Keir and Will, proceeded to put on a floorshow outside on the footpath. Enmore Road has everything you need for a night out. You can see part of the show here.

When Charlie couldn’t stand it anymore, Em took her tribe and headed for home, while Strop and I wandered back down Enmore Road.

At the Enmore Theatre the reason for the greying crowd became apparent. Icehouse were playing.

Faheem’s Fast Food is next up on Enmore Road, I’m looking forward to the comparison.

And now for the ratings: Accessibility – 5 Susans; Value – 4.5 Wendys.