ragingyoghurt

Category Archives: cake

6

at maruyu the other weekend, i could not resist this package of choco pies. mochi choco pies! a whole box of ‘em for $2.50! maruyu sits on clarence street, a block west of the queen victoria building — possibly the best city block in all of sydney, with this two-level japanese minimart (that’s, maruyu), an affordable and unfussy french cafe, and a very interesting exhibition space within doors of each other. i’ve gotten many a bargain at maruyu. sure, a lot of it was exotic junk food just past its expiry date, but this one is still good until at least january next year.

so i opened the box, and was somewhat surprised by the size of this little packet. i mean, i assumed each one would be individually wrapped — it’s the nature of this sort of asian snack food, but i really did think that seven to a box would yield a slightly larger pie. what with the plastic wrapper within the carton, and then another cardboard tray in which the little packets of choco pies were nestled, it was a much smaller handful than what i had expected when looking at the picture on the box.

and then when i got that sachet open, all i could do was laugh at the tiny disc inside. choco pie? it looked more like an after-dinner mint.

when i first saw this on the shelf, i was drawn to the mochi part of it, and then the black sesame. that it was covered in chocolate was a bit of a bonus i suppose, but chocolate in asian confectionery is decidedly hit-or-miss. sometimes it’s floury, or grainy, or oily; sometimes it just has a peculiar wrongness. such a gamble, but in this case — chocolate-covered black sesame rice cake — it was a gamble i was willing to take. plus, y’know, two-fiddy.

this particular chocolate — a thin shell — broke with a soft crack when i bit into it, and melted smoothly away. it was not too sugary, and had a rich, dark chocolatey flavour. the soft chewy mochi, which replaced the marshmallow portion of a traditional choco pie, pleased me with its mild sweetness. the inner layer of black sesame paste delivered a nutty taste that lingered, and it was all i could do to stop myself chasing it with another serve.

so i’ll concede that these turned out to be the perfect size after all — the delicate and well-considered balance of the various flavors and textures just called to be contained in a package this petite. and i grant that the individual wrappers make you pause a while, instead of just shoveling the little cakes into your gob, one after the other, until they are all gone, because they are that delicious.

if only they’d thought to put more of ‘em in the box.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 2 September 2010 at 10:49 pm
permalink | filed under cake, candy, chocolate, packaging, snacks

8

more pink cake! we found ourselves in newtown on friday afternoon, quite famished, and stopped into black star on our way to an errand. being close to the end of trade, there wasn’t all that much left in the counter. on the counter, however, was a large jar of macarons. such pale, encrusted beauties. when i learnt they were rose and lilac, i was a little bit hesitant, because apart from rose, i am not a fan of floral flavours in food.

i should not have worried. the biscuit was crisp and then chewy, and then all heady rose perfume wrapped up in smooth ganache.

it was so good in fact, that post-errand, even with the sidewalk stools piled up high and the countergirl wiping down the counter for the day, we sweet-talked our way into buying another one.

on saturday, an impromptu and fun excursion with my cousin took a displeasing turn after lunch when we found no cake in the city.

no. cake.

to be precise: we did not want dried-out-from-sitting-in-the-display-case-all-week cake (city center); we did not quite want fancy french moussey gateaux (the rocks); we did not want spongy airline chinatown cake (chinatown). two of us wouldn’t have minded cupcakes, but one of us has an ideological issue with them. so we went our separate ways and in lieu of cake, the kid got her first pair of lace-up shoes: silver all stars.

zoom-zoom.

and we saved the cupcakes for sunday. this is what you get when you rock up to cupcakes on pitt and tell them you don’t need a box for your cupcakes because you are going to eat them right away: a little cardboard cupcake caddy. adorable, no? my zero-packaging plans were derailed, but if i remember to tuck it into my wallet, i will always be ready for a cupcake on the run.

i expect i will always be ready for this raspberry cupcake: moist raspberry cake, and a fat swirl (and then some!) of raspberry buttercream. infinitely pleasing, and gone in four chomps.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 25 August 2010 at 12:24 am
permalink | filed under around town, cake, kid, snacks

7

we headed out of melbourne for a mini-roadtrip. it’s not my favourite thing, sitting in a car for hours at a stretch, watching the scenery whiz past, however the regional bakeries sort of make it worthwhile.

it was just after 9 on day 2 when we entered the bakery on the main street of kyneton — the country cob, i think it was — looking for a breakfast that would last us the drive back to the city (and out again to the snow). i cast my eye over the standards in the counter: scrolls, snails, slices, and would probably have settled for a large lamington when i caught a flash of colour from an adjacent display case.

look at that amazing pink cake! filled with chunky jam and just the right amount of cream, topped with sugary pink icing and shredded coconut. the cake itself was moist and strawberry-flavoured in a most agreeably artificial way. when it was gone i had to have a couple of stern words with myself about not getting another one for the road.

the other thing i like about the countryside is its easy curation of vintage signage. sometimes it’s a small moment of pleasure as you past it at 100km/h on the highway. other times you might arrive at a little town where the highway is the main street, and you might stop for a while for a more leisurely review.

pink cake can make you foolhardy, and will propel you into the middle of the road so that you can get a picture of that historic tea mural on an old building on the other side. or you might stand in the gutter just so you can fit a giant rooftop ice cream in your viewfinder.

these lovely signs will soon be just a smidge closer. come january, i am moving to melbourne. in short, the alternately estranged and absent boy came to the decision that he might actually want (and like) to have his family around him. for the last year or so he has been working a new job in melbourne, both of which factors have made him far less grumpy than we have been used to. so, we shall see.

i had been somewhat resistant to relocation, but then a couple of months ago i read of loobylu’s crazy plan to pack up a suburban melbourne existence and head off on an island adventure in british columbia. it struck me that melbourne wasn’t such a stretch after all.

what will be a challenge, will be packing up the house. i’m hoping that when i open up the boxes on the other end of the move, there will be less — maybe even a lot less — than i have around me right now. i like my stuff, and people who’ve been around here have been kind enough to point out what a blast packing it up will be, but i’ve also been reading of people who live with 50 things (or even 75, or 100 things). so, um… we shall see.

i am working on convincing myself that it’s actually just the idea of my stuff that i’m attached to. so far i have been very bad at even starting the cull, and i know this relaxed attitude will turn around and bite me in the ass in four or five months.

in the meantime, i calculate how much gelato i can eat at messina before the summer arrives, and i watch the sunsets over the harbour, coloured ever more rosy by their finiteness. aside from my lovely aunt, who cried out, “how can you leave me?”, people have been saying, “oh melbourne! i love melbourne! i’d happily live in melbourne!”, and i’m hoping that they follow through and come with me.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 14 August 2010 at 12:32 am
permalink | filed under art, boy, cake, trip

4

so, golly, it was just about a month ago that we were in melbourne. warm-and-sunny-in-the wintertime melbourne, whoulda thunk it. we did such typical school holiday stuff as go the the circus (the amazing circus oz, with no horses or elephants, but wonderful and strong girl-acrobats, and funny and hot — h.o.t. — boy-acrobats, and a rocking live band) and hide out in the tim burton exhibition on the one day it did rain.

first off though, we braved the sunday crowds at the queen victoria markets. i don’t know how i never noticed this before, but in-between the boreks and bratwursts there is a stall — colour of earth — that offers a big range of ready-made pizze. what made the choice even more boggly of mind is the number of different bases available. there were regular bases in white and wholemeal, but then there were a number of gluten-free bases. now, my normal reaction to a gluten-free version of something which is not traditionally gluten-free is to grimace and turn away, however these bases were a rainbow of happy toy colours, corresponding to their flavours: black rice, corn, pumpkin…

i couldn’t go past the beet and meat: hot salami, fetta, capsicum, zucchini and olives on a bright pink beetroot base. they didn’t heat it up for quite long enough in the oven — the center of the bready round was stone cold. however the bits around the sides had developed a pleasing crust around the chewy, slightly mochi-textured interior, and the toppings were generous and fresh.

a couple of days later, we caught the tram to port melbourne, and then made the long trek along the beach to st kilda, just so that we (ok, i ) could get ourselves a kugelhopf from monarch cakes.

they sat in the window, like puppies in a petshop, waiting to be picked. all slightly misshapen in that lovingly handmade way. i picked my cake, and the countergirl weighed it.

“this one’s a bit heavier, because there’s more chocolate inside. is that ok?”

more of that thick, sludgy chocolate wrapped up in chewy, sugar-dusted yeasty cake? well, yes! she rang me up, and that was the week’s breakfast sorted.

one afternoon, we showed up at journal, by the door of the melbourne city library in flinders lane. it was packed to the point of throbbing, and the chatter and clatter of peak lunchtime was more than a little confronting. a harried waiter pointed us to two newly vacated seats at the corner of a large communal table, and then disappeared into the crowd for some 20 minutes before coming back to take our order.

which gave me plenty of time to consider the chalkboard menu. i picked the endive salad, expecting a few leaves on a plate with a dribble of dressing. so i was surprised and pleased when a great mound of shredded endive was delivered, barely concealing many strips of prosciutto, walnuts, and clumps of mildly musty blue cheese. a textural masterpiece! there was even bread, for mopping up the tart dressing.

it was delicious, but i must admit, there was so much of it that towards the end, it almost became boring. almost. nevermind, dessert would surely recalibrate up my palate.

because journal sits within that 10-metre city block of tasty treats, all we had to do was go round the corner, and buy ourselves a little cupcake each, from little cupcakes.

i had the bite-sized pistachio cupcake: moist, nutty cake with exquisitely piped frosting, and a gem of a pistachio placed just so. perhaps next time i’ll be having the large pistachio cupcake.

and then yes, the drizzle kicked in, and we hightailed it to the bowels of the australian centre for the moving image, where we admired the very large and very strange body of work that tim burton had created since even before he went to art school. drawings and models and costumes and statues, and clips of edward scissorhands and alice in wonderland, and a perplexing japanese-slash-new wave version of hansel and gretel that the kid quite enjoyed.

(though i suspect her favourite part was actually the back room with the low tables and pots of textas where ordinary folk like us could sit and draw their own monster outcasts.)

the exhibition goes until mid-october, and i’m recommending it if you like tim burton, or strangeness, and monsters, and drawing.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 12 August 2010 at 11:48 pm
permalink | filed under around town, cake, lunch, trip

2

more infirmary pudding.

i was in surry hills yesterday, to say goodbye to an old friend. well, ok, to be exact i was in east redfern, to divest myself of the flat i used to live in. i have not been inside my old building for about five years, but it was scrubbed clean and filled with diffused morning light, and i missed it afresh. an oldish lady from cremorne bought it, with the slightest twitch of her paddle. she wore a hot pink cardigan with mother-of-pearl buttons; the topmost one was in the shape of a star.

after papers were signed, i had a celebratory rawa paneer dosai at maya on cleveland street, and a post-lunch stroll down memory lane, which in this case was quite literally bourke street, surry hills. we popped into christopher’s cake shop, where the kid picked lemon and strawberry shortbreads, and i picked a half dozen aniseed rusks and this majestic tub of caramel fresh cream.

we walked through the city and rode the bus home, and some time later i found myself afflicted with the most terrible headache — that kind of radiating pain that reaches from the top of your head back down to the base of your neck. my sinuses played along to the beat. was this miagraine or meningitis, i wondered, before taking two tabs of paracetemol and settling down to wait it out.

when the pain subsided, i sat up in bed with a copy of “the new yorker” and my little pudding. it consisted of caramel-tinged whipped cream, two layers of light-as-air sponge, and a crown akin to liquid amber — look how it glows! the scent of burnt sugar from this smooth and sticky caramel was strong, but the taste surprisingly tangy. it was a pleasing treat, much like the no-chewing-necessary airline desserts you used to get before they started serving commercial ice cream bars after lunch service.

of course, it would have been even more pleasing if there’d been a trifle more cream.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 27 June 2010 at 9:18 am
permalink | filed under around town, cake

2

i thought i’d escaped the cold that the kid brought home from school the other week, but i was fooled. it was just biding its time, and when it finally struck last thursday, it gave little indication that it would be sticking around for more than a week, and certainly no warning at all that it would turn into a raging sinus infection that would block up my nasal passages for two whole days, and then cause alternating numbness and pain (though mostly pain) in the entire right side of my face, as well as a disconcerting and piercing ache in my right ear. this is day number three of pain beneath cheekbones, dizziness, and funky rainbow snot. not to mention the green goblin gunk that i still keep coughing up from my lungs.

at least i can breathe through my nose again. aside from that, i was especially happy to get my taste back.

because this afternoon i got to fully appreciate the cereal killer from adriano zumbo patissier. it looks like a glass topped in frosties, does it not? but they lacked the caustic sweetness of this most cherished childhood breakfast cereal. instead these comforting layers of vanilla-flecked creme anglaise, condensed milk jelly, “milk bottle chantilly” — variations on a theme of soft — and yes, crunchy cereal, were the perfect mild and milky pudding for this convalescing correspondent.

i have been remiss in eating my way through the latest zumbo collection, but bel has been taking inventory over here. nice job, lady!

posted by ragingyoghurt on 26 June 2010 at 12:07 am
permalink | filed under cake

3

i’ve been juggling projects, and the fairground music (metaphoric) in the background is at a pace that is at the same time jaunty and unsettling, rather than frantic and horrifying. i have new spectacles, with a new — lower! — prescription, which has made it such that my left eye no longer feels like it’s being wrenched out of its socket after a not unreasonable amount of time in front of the computer. the constant rain has also been a help, keeping me inside, hunched beneath my mossy green poncho, with my trusty oil heater close by. really, i can’t complain; it’s all good.

it’s been raining for just over a week now. last sunday, we stepped into the grey and wet, and onto the slick deck of a sydney ferry bound for circular quay. we were there mostly to go to the MCA zine fair, and indeed we must’ve done four or five laps of the trestle table maze, because the kid has a girl crush on sonya gee and spent much of her time at the fair nestled in sonya’s lap behind her stand of ‘kind of like a party bag for the unwell’ — “zomg you’re sick”.

in between, we delved into the MCA proper and made a half-hearted attempt at appreciating the biennale, and headed out across the road for lunch and pastry in the drizzly courtyard at la renaissance patisserie.

we started off sharing a baguette filled with poached chicken and aioli, and it was pleasant and all, but we knew we were just passing the time until dessert. unfortunately, there were no rose cream macarons on offer that day (my number one favourite, you may remember from before), so we made do with a trio of jasmin (number two favourite), passionfruit-chocolate, and cassis. the la renaissance macaron is consistently perfect: i have never encountered a brittle hollow shell, and the plump, moist biscuits hold a good amount of well-flavoured filling.

at the counter, the kid had also requested this sunny dome of a gateau — the mango-jasmin mousse cake. beneath the golden jelly skin, it was lush and light, and the two separate mousses atop a thin sponge base burst with fruitiness. not quite halfway through though, the kid stopped, quite bewildered, and whispered urgently, “there are strange beans in here.” upon investigation, i uncovered an entire nest of pinenuts hidden in the mousse, which is all fine and good if you like pinenuts… but we don’t. here’s a fun rainy day activity: pick all the covert pinenuts out of your otherwise enjoyable mango-jasmin mousse cake.

the rainy day fun continued once i got home with my bundle of swag:

two issues of vanessa berry‘s “disposable camera”, each one a rambling little freeform narrative. one has an intriguing recipe for red rice involving a whole tomato, and i will surely give it a try. the other has an amazing fold-out thought map and a reference to the one bit of “microserfs” that i remember: where one of the characters has a meltdown and locks himself in his office, and his colleagues, concerned, slip flat foods like cheese slices under the door to him. i also got some sweet mini comics from miss helen, to whom we were recently formally introduced and with whom we shared pizza and table-top drawings of kawaii cupcakes.

a couple of aisles down, i got a tiny and adorable japan guide from dudley redhead, and the heartfelt memoirs of one girl’s relationship with tamagotchis. (the girl’s name is zombetty.)

from the table of georgia perry and my candy castle, i procured “nu yoik”, a dazzling technicolor tribute to new york, in photographs and hand-drawn type. the kid picked the hilarious “kitten club”, full of cheesy cat pictures improved through the power of collage.

from the same table, i got a two-pack of mini posters: “things to know”, containing such hand-lettered gems as fetes are fun, and absolutely everyone should own a yellow + white striped beach towel, and everyone has two stomachs. one is solely for dessert. so true.

and then, from, uh, the same table, i could not go past the little compendium of illustrated junk food, nor the “save room for cake” colouring book, whose page of macaroons (sic) you would have seen beneath the macarons i told you about earlier.

i found a bunch of typewritten stories from maddy phelan, of which “ladybeard” — about her physical and psychological struggles with, and eventual embracing of, her hirsuteness — was particularly engaging; i still don’t know quite what to do with my hair. i also really liked “POTATOES” (much the same way i like potatoes), with its quirky little drawings and its potted history of… potatoes:

back in my day, everything was made out of potatoes.

we had to walk 15 miles to buy a sack of potatoes and they only cost 5c. or perhaps it was 5 shillings. i can’t remember. and i’ll have you know, our shoes were made out of potatoes.

and so on.

the bumper zine of the collection is lee tran lam‘s sold-out “speak-easy #11: the french issue”, really a magazine of interviews and recollections interspersed with photographs stuck down using ribbon and decorative masking tape. i’m still savouring my way through it, but i especially liked the list of memorable food experiences over lee tran’s four visits to france. the aisle of decorative sugar in the bon marché food hall in paris holds a special place in my heart too!

posted by ragingyoghurt on 30 May 2010 at 2:17 am
permalink | filed under around town, art, bookshelf, cake, kid

3

back in sydney, i wasted no time in recapturing a little bit of european je ne sais quoi. a week after touching down i talked singapore girl into a spot of luncheon at le grand cafe. we have figured out by now, that the best time for lunch at le grande cafe is “early”. just before noon, there are no queues, several empty tables, and a glass case full of options.

all morning, i’d been thinking of the terrine and cornichons that i’d enjoyed on a previous occasion. i considered maybe branching out and trying the duck liver parfait with brioche. however, once i discovered that the baguette on offer that day was filled with duck confit, my choice was made.

they showed up at the table a little while later, one for each of us. the sandwich had been freshly toasted, and there was a satisfying crunch to the baguette before it gave way to succulence: i was pleased to find that the bread was generously buttered, and the filling dressed with mayonnaise, and of course, to start with, there was a good amount of naturally occurring duck fat. it all made for a very moist and tasty mouthful. the slices of crisp, sweet onion provided a good foil to the fat, as did a little dimpled bottle of orangina.

we had planned ahead and picked our desserts when we ordered our sandwiches at the counter, to save us from rejoining the queue when the lunch crowd eventually swept into the cafe around 1. the attentive waitstaff brought them to the table as soon as we were done with the baguettes.

for me: the caramel tart, which turned out to be more of a very nice pastry shell filled with a sort-of creme brulee. the surface of it lacked the crackly, sugary shell of a proper creme brulee, but the mild caramel flavour and light custardy texture was pleasing all the same. the jaunty little beret of a biscuit bore a striking resemblance to a cookie from famous amos.

singapore girl had the petit pot au chocolat, which turned out to be too much chocolat for a girl who had just eaten a baguette filled with three kinds of fat. beneath the nutty crumble topping was a deep expanse of rich, dark, chocolate. at the bottom of that, was a puddle of thick caramel. perhaps she should not have also ordered a hot chocolate as a postprandial bevvie; there was still a good amount of pudding left when the waitress came to clear the table. (by contrast, the caramel tart was completely gone.)

we rolled out the door then, and had barely gone ten metres when we came across gaffa, three floors of art space / shop / cafe housed in a handsome pink heritage building. downstairs it’s little rooms of covetable and affordable contemporary jewelry and objet d’art; upstairs it’s galleries (and studios) around a central sunlit airwell.

one of the exhibitions we perused most appreciatively was food&company, an unprecious curation of food-related stuff: photographs, drawings, tiny interactive installations, and some lovely crockery. here’s the flourishing, by gemma o’brien.

ahh… so nice to see the flourishing of unstuffy, inspiring art space in the heart of this grimy city.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 22 May 2010 at 12:21 am
permalink | filed under around town, art, cake, lunch

2

it had become a habit towards the end. a couple of times a day, i’d summon the airline website, and click on the special link for updates on the volcano situation. wednesday, when we were due to fly, i clicked and read that airspace was gradually opening up but that our flight, already rebooked from the sunday past, was cancelled.

so i called the airline to change our flight once again, maybe for the coming weekend, and instead of the regular hold music, i heard a recorded announcement that the cancelled flight had in fact been reinstated. i was so stunned that i wasn’t even sure i’d heard right. i stayed on long enough to speak with a real person, who said that, yes, we’d be flying that night.

:(

it was mid-morning, and my mother was out buying cuts of pork and chicken so that she could make dumplings and pies for the long days ahead. i sent her a txt. i also sent one to my sister, beavering away at her deskjob, and she wrote back shortly afterward: i see i do not deal well with change.

my mother showed up at the door a half hour later, with bags of meat. stoically, she began making a tray of chicken pies. i went downstairs and attempted to pack two weeks of accumulations and roughly four days of vague happy plans into my big black baggage.

the night before, we’d sat, the four of us exiles (and honorary exile) in volcanic ashland, at a not-too grimy laminate table at HK diner in chinatown. spread in front of us: a platter of peking duck, a saltfish and chicken hotpot, a large dish of noodles fried up with nothing but beansprouts. i gazed fondly at the expanse of shiny food, and said, “so this is what it feels like, to be a refugee”. oh how we laughed at our good fortune.

now, fate laughed at us. outside it was warm and sunny; inside, behind shutters, i wrapped jam jars in knits and nestled them tetris-like and fingers crossed in a cradle of folded tshirts.

but we still had to eat. a little past lunchtime, the kid and i left my mother rolling out puff pastry, and headed up the road towards euphorium bakery. it was late enough that most of the sandwich counter had been depleted — only a few lay forlorn amidst the crumbs of the empty cabinet. i was too sad to eat a regular sandwich, so i picked an alternative from the display: the whoopee.

back home, the others ate their sandwiches as i finished up my packing, while a disagreeable feeling gnawed at my stomach. when i was done, i made myself a cup of tea and ate half the whoopee. under different circumstances, i’m sure it would have been delicious: a couple of moist, cakey, dark chocolatey biscuits held together by a respectable amount of lightly sweetened cream. as it was, i ate it too quickly, all hungry and preoccupied, and it caught in my throat like a handful of dry crumbs.

the other half i left for my sister, and she ate it standing up in the kitchen when she returned that evening, while we waited for the taxi to show up to take us to the airport. i think she found it… bittersweet. the chicken pies were golden on the counter. the pork dumplings would just have to wait for another day.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 18 May 2010 at 10:40 am
permalink | filed under cake, chocolate, nellie, trip

5

ten days into our london holiday, i found myself on hold on the phone, cup of tea going cold, waiting to speak to the airline about possibly resheduling our flight home. we were due to leave that night, but the airports were still closed due to ashy skies. three hours and forty-two minutes of hold music later, i had five minutes of pleasant chat with a helpful man in india, and hung up with a numb and sweaty ear, and a new departure date three days away.

with a whoop, we pulled some clothes on and burst out into the sunshine. the columbia road flower market would still be on for a good three hours or so. though of course, we weren’t there for the flowers, oh no.

i still had fond memories of my cupcake at treacle from four, count ‘em, four years ago. where does the time go, i ask you. such worrisome concerns dissipated as we moseyed about the shop, which seems to have doubled in size since our last visit. there were some very covetable bits of crockery on display, as well as candles in such flavours as cucumber sandwiches.

and there were the cupcakes, in two sizes and several variations of chocolate and vanilla, displayed in large drawers behind the glass counter at the front. the smiley shopgirl was dressed up like the technicolor 50s, and gamely encouraged us to choose exactly which cupcake we wanted. mine was perfectly nice — the cake itself had a light chocolate taste and a fine, crumbly texture, and there was just enough of the not-too-sweet frosting — although much of my enjoyment came from standing in a doorway, trying to keep out of the way of the flower market crowd, by a window display of novelty puppy dog mugs.

i had also been looking forward to visiting rob ryan‘s shop, ryantown, which did not disappoint, filled as it was with his wonderfully schmaltzy papercuts. even the plate glass window was not spared, nor a very desirable umbrella with £45 price tag.

resisting the urge to buy stuff makes me hungry, so i was pleased when we made it to the end of the road, and my sister pointed out campania gastronomia, where lunch could be had. ’twas a homely sort of place, with rickety old tables and chairs, yellowing snapshots tacked to the wall, and a clatter of mismatched cutlery and vintage china. every torta and pudding on show looked hopelessly homemade too, in a good way, mostly.

but we wanted savoury. to share, a very pleasing antipasto board with three sorts of cheese in different degrees of stinky saltiness, and as many kinds of cold meat including great pink circles of pistachio mortadella. there were slippery strips of marinated capsicum, and olives, and hunks of bread drizzled in oil, and even after that, i still thought that i’d be able to tackle the sausage risotto.

i was wrong. it was a veritable lake of salty, buttery rice, with nuggets of meaty sausage all the way through. it was delicious, and i wished i could’ve eaten more of it. as it was, i couldn’t eat more of anything, not even the fat chocolate biscuits i’d seen on the way in, sandwiched with ricotta, and then wrapped up in a twist of greaseproof paper.

we were all smiles though. we felt like we’d won the grand prize, not having to get on the plane that night. the possibilities were endless.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 14 May 2010 at 12:51 am
permalink | filed under cake, kid, lunch, trip
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