Crab, glorious crab

Actually I'm not an expert on Crab and wasn't looking forward to having to dismantle one for its meat but Mb had been told of a Colombo restaurant, Ministry of Crab, which is highly ranked in a survey Asian restaurants and which is booked out daily. Mb made our reservations two months ago and when we arrived there last night we encountered a more casual venue than I was expecting but one with loads of atmosphere.

I enjoyed the quality of the dishes we ordered if not the work needed to get at the meat in the main courses. I suppose I'm averse to getting my fingers sticky and messy.

The open kitchen

Crab and avocado salad

Crab pate, the glass jar contains treacle which you pour over the pate

Chilli Crab

Crab Curry

Doggy play date

Brunch today with Hn, Mb and Mk. The excuse for brunch was the first play date between Hn's Groodle and Mb's Spoodle which is a cross between a Cocker Spaniel and a Poodle.

This is a Spoodle

Dogs have play dates. I'm learning something every day. Luckily dogs don't require fancy foods or liquids when they date. Adults do. The dogs were completely satisfied with bowls of water. I needed scrambled eggs, turkish toast and a hot chocolate for my part in the date.

Hn's Groodle jumped at me. Mb's Spoodle did not. Mb is obviously a more effective doggy mother than Hn.

Snags? or a snag?

I suppose the writing was on the wall when A invited a court yard full of people for lunch to celebrate her new barbecue only to have most of them regretfully decline as she had unwittingly chosen Mothers Day for the occasion.

We few invitees without any maternal commitments who accepted the invitation arrived with our barbecue related contributions to find that, without telling us, A had decided to have a non barbecue, sit down lunch instead.

On this surprise, at least, A had gambled successfully. The weather turned dramatically after our arrival...

...and poured with rain whilst we remained dry, eating A's hastily re-jigged kitchen cooked lunch menu.

Dumplings anyone?

Taking my seat for 'Single Asian Female' I immediately had a yearning for Yum Cha or something similar.

The main set was a family run Chinese Restaurant. Don't be fooled by the empty seats in the auditorium. By the time the play commenced every seat was occupied.

The ladies who lunch?

L and W decided we should have meet for lunch ahead of Christmas. 'We' being a group of six former co-workers plus two hangers on (read one husband and one gay friend) who periodically socialise over lunch. L and W would be described by some as 'fag hags' but that is a term I have never liked; it sounds tacky and pejorative to me. They chose the location, a Pizza restaurant in the CBD which the others didn't fancy from the experience of previous visits but, hey, I eat occasionally at the Golden Arches so what do I care.

The day before the lunch both L and W dropped out for personal reasons leaving the rest of us to lunch at a venue most didn't want to attend. The socialising was enjoyable but the others criticised the food (predictable) and (rightly) challenged being charged for a non appearing salad. The bill was adjusted.

I didn't notice the apparently slack service the others commented on and was content with my Pepperoni Pizza minus Olives. No doubt I reeked of garlic afterwards.

Lunch at a venue no-one wanted to attend organised by two ladies who failed to attend.

Pho

I enjoy a Chicken Pho meal on a cold day

Let us eat cake

Home made by a Czech friend. More savoury than sweet. Delicious.

Time for lunch

After a morning at the Piazza Navona, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps it surely was time for some lunch.

What could be better than pizza in Roma?

Food queues

Oh how we pitied those poor burghers of the Eastern Europe Communist regimes in the 1980s and earlier. The burghers who had to queue for hours to enter supermarkets to purchase the odd loaf of bread or a can of tinned food forlornly displayed on near empty shelves.

Those indignities didn't befall we smug residents comfortably ensconced in our First World Western democracies, did they?

Fast forward to 2016.

This is a queue in the affluent Sydney suburb of Woollahra two mornings before Christmas Day.

Of course, this is not a food shortage queue. This is a queue for the fashionable shopper. The ones who want to purchase their Christmas meat from a shiny, fashionable, expensive butchery where the word 'shortage' is never uttered nor understood.

In case you want to be a part of this nonsense, the name of the butchery is Victor Churchill. Those who reached the head of the queue this morning were greeted by a gentleman wearing tails and a top hat (of course) and a young lady who could take their order and swipe their credit card, all before they were admitted through the hallowed doors.

I wasn't in the vicinity for the butchery or the queue. I was headed to the chicken takeaway store next door.

A hospital meal

(The Treasury Casino)

The hospital entertained its volunteers at the annual Christmas lunch today. The photograph above is not an image from our volunteer lunch but - as captioned - from an advertisement for functions offered by an Australian casino.

The hospital is very generous in its acknowledgement of the work and participation of volunteers. Our lunch took place in a hospital function room which was decorated in grand and tasteful style. The three course meal was beautifully presented and very tasty. A seafood selection for starters (prawns, oysters, salmon, crumbed calamari and crumbed fish pieces) was followed by ham and turkey and vegetables for the main course. Christmas pudding and custard, coffee and tea, mini chocolates for dessert completed the lunch. Oh, and wines, orange juice and sparkling water accompanied the meals.

The theme for the lunch was 'a splash of silver'. I wore a silver bow - in reality a decoration for present wrapping - poking out from my shirt pocket 'kerchief style'. Cs was a bit of a stick in the mud pointing to his grey hair as his splash of silver. No-one, though, could match our volunteer manager dressed, dare I say it, gayly, with his silver coloured crooner style hat, silver sequinned jacket and silver coloured shoes.

Milanese treats

Friends currently in Italy enjoying their stay in Milano (and enjoying treats like these).

Food, glorious food

Melbourne's reputation for fine dining I am sure is justified. I've made two visits there in the past month and street level cafes were bristling with customers both times. I imagine finer and more expensive dining is also thriving but I made no attempt to try that out on these visits.

I spent less than twelve hours in the southern capital yesterday and my senses were sorely tempted at several sites in the city.

Hopetoun Tea Rooms

A patient queue suggests the Tea Rooms have quite a reputation

More queues, this time in a laneway for Doughnut Time

A lavish array of doughnuts

I succumbed to temptation at the Arts Centre with this Mango and Pineapple Cheesecake. The chocolate ball was hollow inside.

One customer's soup is another's sauce

I ordered Pork Won Ton soup and paid the associated price ($11.50) but when eventually it was delivered I was given Pork Won Tons in Peanut Sauce ($15.50).

It wasn't actually what I wanted but I took it. No extra charge.

This is the second mishap with my order from the same food outlet. They are not especially efficient. Luckily, for them, the food is tasty.

Homeward bound

The weekend, or at least that part of it spent in get together, is over too quickly.

A morning breakfast of scrambled eggs, grilled tomato, bacon and mushrooms always tastes so good when prepared by someone else. It did again this morning.

Some more leisurely banter and sitting around completed the morning until the not so mad dash to the nearby airport for my flight home.

Back on the tarmac in Sydney a little more than an hour later with the mundane tasks of laundry and ironing ahead.

Taxiing towards Terminal 2 at Sydney Airport

The farm and an oriental touch

This morning was spent at The Farm Byron Bay which is a'working farm' turned into a leisure enterprise with retail and food/cafe outlets.

There were plenty of families about as well as obviously locals identifiable (if I may comment so) by their mode of fashionable attire (trendy shorts, casually draped tops, and up market sandals) and sun/wind touched yet curiously unblemished faces.

A couple of snaps.

Afterwards we shopped at the local mall for this evening's meal, the theme of which was decided as oriental in respect of our Beijing connections. The meal comprised Mongolian Lamb, Crispy Beef strips and Curried Prawns.

Dessert was a Panna Cotta which as dictated by Masterchef judges as a requirement did wobble impressively.

Ballina bound

My few loyal regular readers will know that I regularly have get togethers with some close friends from our days working as expatriates in Beijing.

In our case we meet two, sometimes three, times in a year across the three locations of our residences, namely Sydney (myself), Brisbane (Ll & Fd) and Ballina (Mt).

This weekend Mt is hosting us in Ballina. The flight up was uneventful and punctual. The Jetstar aircraft, as usual, was tightly packed in both respects. Most seats taken and the one (economy) class structure leaving little leg or wriggle room for tall people like me.

Mt met me at the airport and we were at home ten minutes later. Ease of traffic and short travel tines being one of the joys of living in a regional town like Ballina. Ll & Fd arrived from Brisbane by car a few hours after my arrival. As is often the case were also joined by Rs & Gg, good friends who were not Beijing expatriates but whose company we all enjoy.

Menu this evening courtesy of Mt was Parsnip Soup, Lamb slow cooked in red wine served with healthy vegetables and store bought cheese cake for dessert.

Grubs up!

Back at the DOG

For a couple of years Cs and I spent many a Tuesday night having dinner at the DOG. Two meals for the price of one. Two main meals for the single price of just the dearer selection.

The menu didn't change and truthfully we were probably bored with the food but it was a cheap meal out and the clientele, heavily based on British and Irish Tradies on working holidays in Australia still wearing their construction work clothes provided irresistible eye candy.

Oh, this is the DOG;

The affectionate nickname for the Duke of Gloucester Hotel in the Sydney suburb of Randwick.

Then came disaster. The restaurant section changed hands. The menu changed and the two for one Tuesday became two burgers for the price of one. The real disaster, though, was that the Tradies stopped coming.

That was about six months ago.

I suspect that the hotel regretted that change. The management of the restaurant has changed again. So has the menu and two for the price of one has returned. Not so, it seems, have the Tradies returned. The menu is slightly pricier but at least a degree of choice has returned. We enjoyed out meal there this evening and whilst Tradies were not in evidence there enough eye candy to encourage us to return. For a while at least.

Woy Woy

We spent today's 'seniors Thursday' meeting up for lunch in Woy Woy. It is a 75 minutes train journey from Sydney's Central Station passing through tunnels and beside the Hawkesbury River along the way.

Incidentally, type Woy Woy, on my MacBook and autocorrect changes the first Woy into Why but not the second Woy. Why?

We lunched at Woy Woy Fishermans Wharf. Seafood only and fried fish only. I would have preferred some grilled fish but the location was attractive as was the weather so the lunch was a pleasant enough occasion.

Across the road a local, historical pub, the Ye Olde Woy Woy Hotel. A 'footwear must be worn at all times' venue.

The return train journey coincided with the end of the school day and the carriages were filled and emptied by school students at several stops along the way. The students were clearly from selective schools in the area. We knew this for the simple fact that the faces of these students were without a single exception Asian and Sub-continental in appearance. Are there no 'Ginger Meggs' types at our selective schools? Or maybe they are collected by mothers in massive SUVs and do not face the indignity of travel by public transport.

That figures

I guess it is obvious that a chef/kitchen hand needed for a 'fast paste' kitchen should have good English skills too.