In the interests of a New Year, new resolutions and new things, I thought it was about time to come clean on a few things about myself. Call it a 12 step for foodies. Since I feel I am among friends, which Dear Readers you are, I feel time is ripe to confess a few things. A foodie confessional of sorts. Let me start…
I am a notorious overfeeder. When I serve someone a piece of cake, it’s a gigantic slice, and second and third helping are always welcome at my place. But I did kill many goldfish and plants this way and my cats were obese.
If it’s dinner time on Monday, I have already thought of what I am going to have for breakfast, lunch and dinner on Tuesday.
I don’t understand when people push away the tray of baklava saying “Oh just one piece for me, it’s so sweet!”. I can literally eat half a tray of baklava, although it isn’t a pretty sight when I do. I can also eat multiple moon cakes.
I was convinced truffle oil was good – until I tried a truffle and realised that the oil tastes nothing like the truffle. Next time I’ll pour gasoline over my pasta for a similar effect.
I walked around for half a day without realising that I had icing on my dress.
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There are noble pursuits, the climbing of Mount Everest, the pursuit of an Olympic medal but Your Honour, allow me to share my pursuit. No, not just the pursuit of Happiness, although this would be considered an adjunct of this, but the pursuit of the best Peking Duck in Sydney. It goes alongside my pursuit of the best Xiao Long Bao dumplings (IMHO at Shanghai Night provided the skins are intact followed by Din Tai Fung whose skins are always intact). Just because one is looking after their tastebuds (and I’ve come to realise my pursuit of food is not about feeding my stomach, but more keeping my tastebuds entertained), doesn’t mean that it isn’t as worthwhile a pursuit. And it seems I have a group of people who were happy to join me!
@Gourmetrabbit and I were talking about Peking Duck, as people that are obsessed with food tend to do. If you know me you’ll know that even talking about food makes me incredibly hungry and she suggests that we get some Peking Duck. She starts searching on her phone for some good locations that we both haven’t tried yet and before you know it, we have a little group, all hungry for Peking Duck in two cars on the way to Eastwood where we’ve heard the Peking Duck is rather good. Also along for the ride with @gourmetrabbit and I are Perama chef @davidtsirekas, @pandas4 and her husband.
The queue
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I was having a Julie & Julia moment. It was just after the beginning of January and a good 2 months into Summer before I made my first Summer ice cream. I knew why exactly and it was because my problematic freezer was unable to get to the requisite temperature in order to chill an ice cream bowl. It decide to revolt in the most alarming way too. I had someone at my house who is a renowned food critic and food writer, and as I was getting out some milk from the fridge for our tea when I tried to close the door and the top of the door has dislodged itself from the hinge. The stupid fridge was only a few years old yet somehow it had decided that on that day of all days, it was going to throw a tantrum. I would have preferred my husband to wander out of the bedroom in his underwear at that point*.
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Getting over your holiday is probably the worst thing about being on holidays. I’m never quite ready to let them go. This week was one where I idled between being back at work and still being on holidays as Mr NQN had to go back to work but I wasn’t quite ready to give up the holiday lifestyle. Instead, I sought out my friends to play with. M and her boys love the beach and when I’d heard of Bondi FM’s cafe and radio station just off Bondi Beach’s busy promenade, we knew it would be perfect for a sunny Summer’s day – something of a rarity these past few sodden weeks.
We happen upon a miracle park just outside it on Curlewis Street which is surprisingly not charged at an extortionate rate (rare for Sydney). We follow the yellow and white thongs to the entrance and make our way past a room with a fabulous chandelier and an animal hide rug and past the radio booth where the DJ is playing music.
The man behind the counter looks at us surprised as if he doesn’t expect anyone to walk in and we walk through to the main cafe area. There are comfy worn lounges, what looks to be an outdoor picnic area where a group are frolicking, an astroturfed area and seating in many styles from share benches to tables. Radio Bondi 88.0 FM has been broadcasting since 1996 and it uses an open-narrowcast license which allows them to use less than 1 watt of power. This is why only Bondi and nearby suburbs can receive it but it has online listeners from over 120 countries.
A man smiles and lets us know he’ll be with us in a minute. Many minutes pass without event so we send the boys to get our menus. They are still serving breakfast at 12pm which I am grateful for as I have a hankering for French Toast and M feels like a salad. The boys are hot and tired and say that they don’t want to eat anything but she orders them the chocolate fondue which comes with fruit salad, marshmallows and popcorn.
Mango and Berry Smoothie $5 each
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“Well it calls for A LOT of butter” the waiter at L’Atelier de Joel Robuchon informed me assuming perhaps that this very statement might put me off asking for the recipe for Pommes Puree aka mashed potato. Little does he know that:
a) I’m one of those people that if you tell me I can’t do it, I’ll try even harder to do it
b) I unashamedly love butter
There are certain dishes that some chefs are known for and Joel Robuchon is known for his mashed potato. I thought “Oh I’m sure it’s nice enough, but how good could it be?”. Like most of you, I’ve had some fabulous mashed potato so why would his version be necessarily that different. So I took a spoonful and was reduced to a gooey buttery mess. It was utterly buttery and creamy and smooth yet light. How could this be? How could it taste So. Damn. Good.? And that’s when I called the waiter over to try and wrestle a recipe out of him or at least a hint. Of course he wasn’t going to give away the secret apart from the excessive amount of butter in it and the mash remained a distant but very fond memory.
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