Saturday, December 29, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Christmas looms. Tra la.
Hello, friends - woeful news, I have not been out to dinner in the past week. What with a sick child, extra work and putting up the Christmas tree and lights (yes I know it's early but she is seven and sick and has somehow learnt the lash-fluttering thing already), I haven't had the opportunity. Oh, and regarding the lights, they are clear and static fairy lights, one set curlicued over and around our front patio. I can't abide these flashing mismatched conglomerations we see every year yet my daughter adores them. The fairy lights are a compromise. I won't budge further on this.
So, no review this week, though, as always, I am preoccupied with food, in this case, what to do for Christmas. We celebrate on Christmas Eve in the European style, thus leaving Christmas day free for swimming, lounging and all things hedonistic, with the responsibility of feeding the hordes happily met. We feast on leftovers, drink champagne and laugh a lot while the children splash around. Happy days.
The food then. Well, there will be ham (usually baked with some sort of glaze and served not hot but warmish), there will of course be seafood, and there will not be turkey but yes, chicken. I'm not sure exactly how I will do these things as yet but am whimsically considering paella at present. I will possibly be shouted down on this one. All of this, of course, gives me the excuse to troll through my rather extensive collection of cookbooks, something I can happily spend hours doing.
Amidst all this I shall venture out and dine, a new review the purpose. Here's to expectations being met.
Salut.
So, no review this week, though, as always, I am preoccupied with food, in this case, what to do for Christmas. We celebrate on Christmas Eve in the European style, thus leaving Christmas day free for swimming, lounging and all things hedonistic, with the responsibility of feeding the hordes happily met. We feast on leftovers, drink champagne and laugh a lot while the children splash around. Happy days.
The food then. Well, there will be ham (usually baked with some sort of glaze and served not hot but warmish), there will of course be seafood, and there will not be turkey but yes, chicken. I'm not sure exactly how I will do these things as yet but am whimsically considering paella at present. I will possibly be shouted down on this one. All of this, of course, gives me the excuse to troll through my rather extensive collection of cookbooks, something I can happily spend hours doing.
Amidst all this I shall venture out and dine, a new review the purpose. Here's to expectations being met.
Salut.
Monday, November 19, 2007
The Cairns Yacht Club - 2 Stars
I had friends staying this week, with their baby and 4 year old, so when Friday rolled around and the subject of dinner arose, I suggested fish and chips at the Cairns Yacht Club. This has always been reliably good after a day on the water, or indeed any sort of day that will benefit, at sunset, from a cool drink on a deck overlooking water, the promise of fried fish, done well, and the company of good friends.
The Yacht Club's days are numbered. It hunkers on the waterfront like an old pirate surrounded by slick new upstarts, landlubbers one and all, awaiting its demise. Previously known as The Aquatic Club, it is a little bit of old Cairns and should be savoured before it goes. It puts me in mind of the
old Port Douglas of my childhood where time was something long and stretched out, and no-one had heard of 'resort wear', instead, barefoot yachtees and fishermen mixed with the locals and the occasional celebrity, all saronged, all foolishly tanned, oh, but I digress . . . and childhood memories are notoriously rose-tinted, are they not?
Who, though, does not include fish and chips after a day at the beach in their own rosy collection?
So, we ordered, fish and chips all, excepting L who wanted vegetables instead of salad, paying $3 extra for them. A good table was claimed, the children ran down to frolic on the beach and we adults sipped our drinks and relaxed, anticipating a convivial evening.
Then the food arrived.
L: Oh, I ordered vegetables with mine.
Sullen waitress: No, we always serve salad with the fish.
L: Nevertheless, I ordered vegetables with mine.
Sullen waitress: No, well, you would have had to pay extra for them.
L: I did pay extra for them.
SW then snatches up plate and stomps off.
Five minutes later, SW stomps back, slams down plate and stomps off again.
As you can imagine, we were charmed.
Yes, the fish was good but, hell, it wasn't that good.
If you do decide to eat here, I recommend a bracing drink on the deck before ordering. Music from JD Worthington sweetens the atmosphere somewhat so perhaps just stop right there at the drinks and look elsewhere for your supper.
2 Stars. (One each for the fish and the music).
The Cairns Yacht club is located on the waterfront opposite the Reef Hotel Casino and is open every night. For Barramundi and chips with salad, you'll shell out $17.95 ($3 extra for the vegetables).
The Yacht Club's days are numbered. It hunkers on the waterfront like an old pirate surrounded by slick new upstarts, landlubbers one and all, awaiting its demise. Previously known as The Aquatic Club, it is a little bit of old Cairns and should be savoured before it goes. It puts me in mind of the
old Port Douglas of my childhood where time was something long and stretched out, and no-one had heard of 'resort wear', instead, barefoot yachtees and fishermen mixed with the locals and the occasional celebrity, all saronged, all foolishly tanned, oh, but I digress . . . and childhood memories are notoriously rose-tinted, are they not?
Who, though, does not include fish and chips after a day at the beach in their own rosy collection?
So, we ordered, fish and chips all, excepting L who wanted vegetables instead of salad, paying $3 extra for them. A good table was claimed, the children ran down to frolic on the beach and we adults sipped our drinks and relaxed, anticipating a convivial evening.
Then the food arrived.
L: Oh, I ordered vegetables with mine.
Sullen waitress: No, we always serve salad with the fish.
L: Nevertheless, I ordered vegetables with mine.
Sullen waitress: No, well, you would have had to pay extra for them.
L: I did pay extra for them.
SW then snatches up plate and stomps off.
Five minutes later, SW stomps back, slams down plate and stomps off again.
As you can imagine, we were charmed.
Yes, the fish was good but, hell, it wasn't that good.
If you do decide to eat here, I recommend a bracing drink on the deck before ordering. Music from JD Worthington sweetens the atmosphere somewhat so perhaps just stop right there at the drinks and look elsewhere for your supper.
2 Stars. (One each for the fish and the music).
The Cairns Yacht club is located on the waterfront opposite the Reef Hotel Casino and is open every night. For Barramundi and chips with salad, you'll shell out $17.95 ($3 extra for the vegetables).
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Ratatouille
Always, when watching a movie, I find myself identifying with one or another of the characters. Last week I took my daughter to see 'Ratatouille', and my heart fled out to the character of the critic, Anton Ego, voiced beautifully by the divine Peter O'Toole. This pitiful man, grown skeletal from the lack of anything good to eat, and hardened and cynical from the death of his hopes and dreams of fine food is finally served up a meal that satisfies.
The little rat chef, who's name I have forgotten, decides to cook ratatouille, and as Anton takes his first bite he is plummeted back to a childhood memory where, running in from the fields of Provence, his mother serves him just such a dish.
I am ashamed to admit, dear reader, that tears sprung to my eyes and I was a mess for the rest of the film. Is this not why we love food? The way it can transport us to the happiest of moments, evoke the exotic, prise open the doors of our heart when nothing else can.
Oh hang on, there is music, of course.
This puts me in mind of a new list. My ten all time favourite meals, perhaps.
But for now, work.
Salut, and good eating to you all.
The little rat chef, who's name I have forgotten, decides to cook ratatouille, and as Anton takes his first bite he is plummeted back to a childhood memory where, running in from the fields of Provence, his mother serves him just such a dish.
I am ashamed to admit, dear reader, that tears sprung to my eyes and I was a mess for the rest of the film. Is this not why we love food? The way it can transport us to the happiest of moments, evoke the exotic, prise open the doors of our heart when nothing else can.
Oh hang on, there is music, of course.
This puts me in mind of a new list. My ten all time favourite meals, perhaps.
But for now, work.
Salut, and good eating to you all.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Engaging the Senses
In order for a dining experience to be memorable, all of the senses must be engaged. How often, for example have you been out at table, perusing a menu full of promise, only to be accosted with the very worst of top forty music blasting through a speaker which just happens to be directly overhead? Or, happily sated, your empty plates remain on the table while the one waiter rushes back and forth past you in a frenzy of overwork? Or, the service is perfectly efficient and the view of the ocean sublime yet when your salmon arrives it is curled up and dry with overcooking?
Too many times, no?
This does not mean that sublime food and friendly staff can not override the fact of a view of a car park, or that music can't be loud (as long as it's good) in that funky little cafe that serves authentic tapas (this means small, small plates, people, of something tasty and fresh) or that an order-at-the-counter-and-wait-until-your-number-is-called noodle bar can't make the Top Ten.
However, generally speaking, environment, staff, music and menu should work together, each element complementing the other to transport the diner, to stimulate, beguile and satisfy so that we come back again and again, tip generously, spread the word, feel a little lighter in this too short experience that is life.
Do I expect too much?
Here's to grand expectations, then.
Salut!
Too many times, no?
This does not mean that sublime food and friendly staff can not override the fact of a view of a car park, or that music can't be loud (as long as it's good) in that funky little cafe that serves authentic tapas (this means small, small plates, people, of something tasty and fresh) or that an order-at-the-counter-and-wait-until-your-number-is-called noodle bar can't make the Top Ten.
However, generally speaking, environment, staff, music and menu should work together, each element complementing the other to transport the diner, to stimulate, beguile and satisfy so that we come back again and again, tip generously, spread the word, feel a little lighter in this too short experience that is life.
Do I expect too much?
Here's to grand expectations, then.
Salut!
Monday, November 5, 2007
Fusion Organics - 4 Stars
Last Wednesday, after a long couple of hours mooching around the streets of Cairns ostensibly running errands and paying bills, in the sort of weather that could be described as sultry, nay positively exotic, I walked into the cheery bustle that is Fusion Organics, and was so impressed by the brisk to-ing and fro-ing of the staff that I decided not only on coffee but lunch as well.
I ordered from a menu brimful of the sort of conscience-salving food we all know we should be eating all the time. My choice was a cheese and salad wrap with their home-made mayonnaise and a cappuccino. Simple yet exactly, when it swiftly appeared, what my taste-buds were anticipating. The coffee was good too - Genovese, hot and strong. I took away with me a piece of their most popular cake - a hazelnut torte, which, when I savoured it, was sweet and nutty with a slight meringue style crust - chewy perfection.
The menu promises fresh healthy food, a fusion of organic and other quality produce, and caters to vegetarians, people with allergies (gluten-free, dairy-free etc) and meat-eaters alike. I highly recommend it, particularly for those 'body is a temple ' days when one is feeling rather wholesome and angelic, or indeed for the day after a night of the most devilish of excesses.
Fusion Organics is located on the corner of Grafton and Aplin Streets, Cairns, and is open 9am to 5pm everyday excepting Sundays. A quick look at their website brings the happy news that they will be opening their doors at night from April next year.
Go there. Eat.
Bon Appetit.
I ordered from a menu brimful of the sort of conscience-salving food we all know we should be eating all the time. My choice was a cheese and salad wrap with their home-made mayonnaise and a cappuccino. Simple yet exactly, when it swiftly appeared, what my taste-buds were anticipating. The coffee was good too - Genovese, hot and strong. I took away with me a piece of their most popular cake - a hazelnut torte, which, when I savoured it, was sweet and nutty with a slight meringue style crust - chewy perfection.
The menu promises fresh healthy food, a fusion of organic and other quality produce, and caters to vegetarians, people with allergies (gluten-free, dairy-free etc) and meat-eaters alike. I highly recommend it, particularly for those 'body is a temple ' days when one is feeling rather wholesome and angelic, or indeed for the day after a night of the most devilish of excesses.
Fusion Organics is located on the corner of Grafton and Aplin Streets, Cairns, and is open 9am to 5pm everyday excepting Sundays. A quick look at their website brings the happy news that they will be opening their doors at night from April next year.
Go there. Eat.
Bon Appetit.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
To Freaks and Marvels.
After an enthusiastic start here, I succumbed to the flu, then gave myself a dose of food poisoning. It was a chorizo bought from a local supermarket and yes, I should know better. On the other hand, while one expects that meat from a supermarket, as opposed to a quality butcher, will be below par, one does not expect to spend the night after eating said sausage curled in the foetal position on the toilet floor awaiting the next poisonous expulsion.
I did, however, manage to attend the Yungaburra Festival last weekend and can report that:
1. Mocha's pies are no longer distinctively 'mocha' as I remember them to be from my days in Port Douglas. These pies were so uniquely themselves that after moving to Sydney I found myself walking down a city street one day when that familiar mocha smell stopped me in my tracks. 'Mocha!' I thought, adrift suddenly in balmy, blue, pie-munching memories
and, astonished, looked around to find (gasp) a Mocha's right there before me. 'Oh dear', I remember thinking (rather selfishly I suppose) at the time, 'does this mean a franchise?'
I had all but forgotten these pies of my youth until I spied their stall at Yungaburra. The familiar aroma was suspiciously not there but I bought one for old time's sake, and I'm here to tell you friends, that, though as pies go it was quite passable, it was most certainly not the mocha taste of old.
2. Praise be to Lord Krisna. The feast plate from our lovely jingly friends in orange was the highlight of the weekend, and their lemon ginger cooler was a delightful salve for the slight queasiness that always accompanies the second morning of a festival.
And as for the music, I hereby crown Mal Webb, King of the weekend. This man is a veritable freak, a monster, a maestro, funky and geeky all at once.
Rather delicious all around, really.
You may have caught him on 'Spicks and Specks' of late, you may have heard his musical craftiness on 'The Lano and Woodley Show' or you may google him up and catch him where you can.
Other kudos go to the Space Cowboy who did scary things with swords and neon lights and has my daughter hanging round the cutlery drawer earnestly trying to bend spoons.
Thank you, oh bewinged, pierced and implanted one, for recalling the days of Carnivales , and the Wonders and Marvels therein.
All for now.
Bon appetit.
I did, however, manage to attend the Yungaburra Festival last weekend and can report that:
1. Mocha's pies are no longer distinctively 'mocha' as I remember them to be from my days in Port Douglas. These pies were so uniquely themselves that after moving to Sydney I found myself walking down a city street one day when that familiar mocha smell stopped me in my tracks. 'Mocha!' I thought, adrift suddenly in balmy, blue, pie-munching memories
and, astonished, looked around to find (gasp) a Mocha's right there before me. 'Oh dear', I remember thinking (rather selfishly I suppose) at the time, 'does this mean a franchise?'
I had all but forgotten these pies of my youth until I spied their stall at Yungaburra. The familiar aroma was suspiciously not there but I bought one for old time's sake, and I'm here to tell you friends, that, though as pies go it was quite passable, it was most certainly not the mocha taste of old.
2. Praise be to Lord Krisna. The feast plate from our lovely jingly friends in orange was the highlight of the weekend, and their lemon ginger cooler was a delightful salve for the slight queasiness that always accompanies the second morning of a festival.
And as for the music, I hereby crown Mal Webb, King of the weekend. This man is a veritable freak, a monster, a maestro, funky and geeky all at once.
Rather delicious all around, really.
You may have caught him on 'Spicks and Specks' of late, you may have heard his musical craftiness on 'The Lano and Woodley Show' or you may google him up and catch him where you can.
Other kudos go to the Space Cowboy who did scary things with swords and neon lights and has my daughter hanging round the cutlery drawer earnestly trying to bend spoons.
Thank you, oh bewinged, pierced and implanted one, for recalling the days of Carnivales , and the Wonders and Marvels therein.
All for now.
Bon appetit.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
A packed lunch.
If Paris is a moveable feast then Cairns is a packed lunch on the esplanade, albeit with mangos. Tamarinds shall fall at our feet and there will be kite flying.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Bon Appetit!
Welcome fellow lovers of fine food. I live in Cairns, North Queensland, and it has long been a bug bear of mine that my beloved town is a bit hit and miss when it comes to the high art of the cooking and purveying of food (and all the attendant fun and frippery). I therefore vow to do my humble best to give you a guide to all that is good, and indeed all that is woeful in this city and the surrounding gloriousness that is North Queensland.
So, to all ye who wield a knife and wear the checked pants of that noble profession, beware, Sweet Madelaine is at large. To all ye waiters, best ye wear a smile (and get ye the drinks to the table on time), I am hungry, and I carry a pen.
Reviews will be posted on Sundays. All questions and comments will be answered.
So, to all ye who wield a knife and wear the checked pants of that noble profession, beware, Sweet Madelaine is at large. To all ye waiters, best ye wear a smile (and get ye the drinks to the table on time), I am hungry, and I carry a pen.
Reviews will be posted on Sundays. All questions and comments will be answered.
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