Oink Oink

October 2, 2006 at 7:33 am (Uncategorized)

Recovery days really put me in touch with my inner swine. Yesterday, after throwing ourselves into the surf to get the hearts started, Llew and I went to our local cafe before our old internal HQ aortas got any misplaced ideas about what was in store. Heart-stopper brunch, coming right up. The place is called Jellyfish, and it is dangerously close to our apartment. We treat it like an extension of our living room. In fact, Llew said to me one afternoon, as we lay sprawled across their outdoor banquette, belching and scratching our swollen stomachs, “I feel as comfortable here as I do at home…” I’m sure the staff wish we were a little LESS comfortable than we are, but anyway, I ordered what I thought was a reasonably restrained meal: sausages, baked beans and sour dough toast. Llew ordered the Jellyfish Breakfast, which is the whole nine yards: bacon, sausages, mushrooms, tomato, eggs, toast etc. And he ordered a side of Hollandaise. That creaking moan you hear is the sound of arteries clogging…

That was just the start of our day of recovery. People who aren’t ravenous after a big night out wouldn’t last very long around here. We’d eat you. I don’t understand how some people can say “Oh no, I can’t eat anything the next day…” Really? Well then, stand aside, sister, and I’ll show you how it’s done. As my friend Tamsin said to me this morning “You’re a machine.” A machine that resembles a truffle-hunting pig, I presume…?

After brunch we let the food settle for a couple of hours, and then I got hungry again. I’ve already admitted to eating a whole box of Barbeque Shapes yesterday elsewhere on the blog (for those of you not in Australia, they are highly addictive savoury biscuits), but what I failed to mention was that whilst I was nuzzling the box, snout first, Llew was putting away an entire bag of microwave popcorn. During this frenzied activity, we only took time out to order our recovery takeaway, because who can cook, right, after a night on the turps? Certainly no one in this house.

Second course arrived about halfway through our dvd – Manhattan Murder Mystery, a great Woody Allen movie starring Allen, Diane Keaton, Alan Alda and Angelica Huston. Is that not the perfect cast?? We loved it. Alan Alda for President. So then our Thai arrived and now seems as good a time as any to tally that up, too: spring rolls, little sausage balls (the TASTIEST little spicy morsels, they are so, so good), pad thai with prawns, beef and basil, and rice. Yes, it was hefty going. Thankfully we also ate oranges at the end, just to help wash it all down.

Today – well, it’s a public holiday, so I slept in, which was grand. Then I had my morning swim – unfortunately alone as Llew had to work today. A coffee later and I was on the Jetcat going into town to meet Llew and a couple of friends for lunch, because as you might have guessed by now, all we do here in Sydney is swim and eat. We went to a little trattoria called Young Alfred’s, which is at the bottom of the stately, sandstone Customs House building at Circular Quay. It’s been a stinking hot day, so we thought we’d better manage the heat by gorging ourselves on pizza e birra. I’m pleased to report we were successful in that mission. Now, I’m so full of dough and other miscellaneous food stuffs from the past three days of decadence and rampant wish fulfillment that I look four months pregnant. I’m having my little dough baby any day now.

My only consolation is that we are not alone in this weekend of excess. Sydney was heaving all weekend with a population bent on enjoying the sunshine and various festivities, such as the Manly Jazz Festival and the start of Good Food Month. The boats were out on the harbour, the bikini-clad were burning on the beach, and the bread basket was being passed around several hundred thousand outdoor tables. Oh, I do (hiccup) love Sydney (hiccup) in the springtime…

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2 Comments

  1. Ruanne said,

    Doctor,
    I’m glad to read that my food obsession is perfectly normal. My parents and aunt are here (for six weeks) and we spend the weekend at Mount Rainier National Park. The log cabin we stayed at had a journal for visitors to write about their experiences. Mount Rainier was glorious, 14 000 foot high volcano covered in glaciers, temperate rain forests, giant cedars, elk, we even saw a black bear, etc., all confirmed by numerous previous journal entries. But journal entry was a detailed description of the meals we ate and what we drank. The cabin had a kitchen and we brought three boxes of food with us for the weekend and ate very well. Also, we spent most evenings planning what we’ll eat this week – lime and coconut prawns are on the menu.
    xRuanne

  2. doctordi said,

    Wow, six week visitors…around here we call that “dossing.” Dossing usually involves someone you met in a youth hostel in Budapest seven years ago arriving on your doorstep expecting the reception of a long-lost twin, and then setting up permanent and increasingly infuriating camp on your couch. Parents and aunts, I have to say, are unusual dossers. Parents normally snap after a few days because they’re so set in their ways. Aunts…I have no experience with this particular life form. But I’m genuinely intrigued that you come from a family, Ruanne, that can spend this kind of close-proximity time together. Seriously, I’m impressed! And Mt Rainier sounds fantastic, although black bear sightings would probably freak me out as much as they would thrill me. Bears just aren’t as cuddly as they look. I love log cabins, though, and I wouldn’t mind a look at that food journal. Let me know how those lime and coconut prawns go – they sound delicious!

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