Pliny was pleased with the Premier's definition of a bogan. Salt of the earth, he thought as he walked into the city on Sunday morning. I can live with that.
He entered the Premier's Box. Everyone was looking anxiously out of the windows at the sky.
The Premier came over.
Big day today, he observed. Let's hope the rain keeps off.
Yes, said Pliny. I suppose it could be dangerous.
By the way, said the Premier, I have something for you.
He handed Pliny a brown paper bag.
What's this? said Pliny.
It's your sandwich from last Thursday, said the Premier. I had someone ask the guard to retrieve it.
What! said Pliny. I hardly want it now!
Ha ha! Gotcha! said the Premier. It's not really that sandwich. It's a replica.
In that case, thank you very much, said Pliny. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll watch the races.
The morning flew by and soon it was time for the big one, the Clipsal 500 V8 Championship. It was raining, then it wasn't, then it was. No one knew what sort of tyres to put on.
Pliny was glad he was in the Premier's box out of the rain. He began to feel a little peckish. Should he eat his replica sandwich or go over to the table that was loaded as usual with complimentary gourmet food and wines? What would a proper bogan do? He didn't know.
He looked out of the window. His man Whincup was in the lead. That was good. The Holden man.
One of them anyway. He wondered what it really meant to be a Holden man.
Thoughtfully he bit into the Premier's replica sandwich.
Showing posts with label wine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wine. Show all posts
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Chocolate Stream of Consciousness
Mmm I've just eaten a chocolate it was a Sorini chocolate Li Feng gave me a whole tin of them this morning. What's a Sorini chocolate I suppose you are wondering, I wondered that too especially as it was given me by Li Feng. Did she buy it in Chinatown and was it a Chinese chocolate or did she buy it in Newton which would make it more likely to be Italian. Of course I know Sorini sounds Italian but the Chinese make Italian chocolates I have no doubt. There is nothing written on the tin. What do the chocolates taste like, the answer is they taste like Bertie Beetles only round.
I just booked two places at the next Sprigg lecture which is on the 17th. I wonder if Pliny would like to go it is just up his alley. It's about a woodland rehabilitation initiative in the Mount Lofty region aimed at restoring habitat for a suite of birds. A suite of birds, Pliny would like that. And I think he would enjoy sitting in the Pacific Cultures gallery under a straw alligator suspended from the ceiling with the walls on both sides lined with primitive weapons, hearing all about the suite of birds. And if they didn't offer him a glass of wine at the beginning he wouldn't mind because he wouldn't be expecting it, just like he doesn't know I've got Sorini chocolates.
I just booked two places at the next Sprigg lecture which is on the 17th. I wonder if Pliny would like to go it is just up his alley. It's about a woodland rehabilitation initiative in the Mount Lofty region aimed at restoring habitat for a suite of birds. A suite of birds, Pliny would like that. And I think he would enjoy sitting in the Pacific Cultures gallery under a straw alligator suspended from the ceiling with the walls on both sides lined with primitive weapons, hearing all about the suite of birds. And if they didn't offer him a glass of wine at the beginning he wouldn't mind because he wouldn't be expecting it, just like he doesn't know I've got Sorini chocolates.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Must Cakes
Thank you for those last three blog posts, I said to Pliny this morning. They were very entertaining.
I did my best, said Pliny.
Yes, you did. And Pliny, I didn't know you were so fond of cake.
Well, I am rather partial to it. But of course, I rarely eat it.
Neither do I. But I sensed you were complaining. I'm not averse to baking one every now and then, for a special occasion, and eating it too. Would you like me to bake you a cake? I could try the Erupting Volcano.
No, don't do that, said Pliny. Writing about it was one thing, but I don't think I could face eating one just yet.
Well, what kind of cake do you like?
Do you know, said Pliny dreamily, there was a cake I used to really like. It was called Must Cake.
Alright I'll have a go at that. What's the recipe?
Let me see......said Pliny. You take a modius of wheat flour....
That's easy, I said.
Then you moisten it with must.
What's must?
It's a wine sediment, from the lees of the wine.
This is sounding lovely already, I said.
Yes it adds a wonderful flavour. But that is just the beginning. You add anise, cummin, two pounds of lard, a pound of cheese, and the bark of a laurel twig. Mix it all up and make it into cakes. Then you place them on bay leaves and bake. Ahh. The aroma! I can almost smell it now.
So can I, I said. But you sure about the lard? People nowadays are not very fond of lard. And all that cheese as well! It would be awfully rich. What if I leave out the lard and the cheese, and use a bit of olive oil instead?
Pliny looked glum.
Goodbye my dream cake, he said.
I did my best, said Pliny.
Yes, you did. And Pliny, I didn't know you were so fond of cake.
Well, I am rather partial to it. But of course, I rarely eat it.
Neither do I. But I sensed you were complaining. I'm not averse to baking one every now and then, for a special occasion, and eating it too. Would you like me to bake you a cake? I could try the Erupting Volcano.
No, don't do that, said Pliny. Writing about it was one thing, but I don't think I could face eating one just yet.
Well, what kind of cake do you like?
Do you know, said Pliny dreamily, there was a cake I used to really like. It was called Must Cake.
Alright I'll have a go at that. What's the recipe?
Let me see......said Pliny. You take a modius of wheat flour....
That's easy, I said.
Then you moisten it with must.
What's must?
It's a wine sediment, from the lees of the wine.
This is sounding lovely already, I said.
Yes it adds a wonderful flavour. But that is just the beginning. You add anise, cummin, two pounds of lard, a pound of cheese, and the bark of a laurel twig. Mix it all up and make it into cakes. Then you place them on bay leaves and bake. Ahh. The aroma! I can almost smell it now.
So can I, I said. But you sure about the lard? People nowadays are not very fond of lard. And all that cheese as well! It would be awfully rich. What if I leave out the lard and the cheese, and use a bit of olive oil instead?
Pliny looked glum.
Goodbye my dream cake, he said.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Resilience
It's very hot, said Pliny the Elder, fanning himself with a piece of paper.
Yes it is, I agreed. Thirty eight degrees. Thanks to global warming. Would you like an iced coffee?
No thankyou. A glass of water will suffice. And I don't feel very hungry either. What are we having for dinner? Something cold I hope?
Mince, I said. You're welcome to have it cold, but personally I think that would be repulsive.
True, said Pliny. But it would be better than what I had last night.
What was that? I asked.
Nothing, he replied.
Why, aren't you very well? I enquired.
I'm perfectly well, but you were not home at dinner time last night and there was nothing to eat and so I had nothing.
Oh dear, I'm sorry. We went to a lecture in the city. We had nibbles and drinks afterwards.
Oh. Was it nice?
Very nice. Sushi, crumbed prawns, smoked salmon, cheese triangles, spring rolls, wine. And there was such a lot of it. Hardly anybody came, because of the heat. The caterer looked very disappointed. I think he was worried he wouldn't get paid.
What a shame. What was the topic of the lecture?
Resilience. Developing a Resilient Australia in an Age of Uncertainty.
There is a degree of irony in that, said Pliny.
There is, I agreed.
Yes it is, I agreed. Thirty eight degrees. Thanks to global warming. Would you like an iced coffee?
No thankyou. A glass of water will suffice. And I don't feel very hungry either. What are we having for dinner? Something cold I hope?
Mince, I said. You're welcome to have it cold, but personally I think that would be repulsive.
True, said Pliny. But it would be better than what I had last night.
What was that? I asked.
Nothing, he replied.
Why, aren't you very well? I enquired.
I'm perfectly well, but you were not home at dinner time last night and there was nothing to eat and so I had nothing.
Oh dear, I'm sorry. We went to a lecture in the city. We had nibbles and drinks afterwards.
Oh. Was it nice?
Very nice. Sushi, crumbed prawns, smoked salmon, cheese triangles, spring rolls, wine. And there was such a lot of it. Hardly anybody came, because of the heat. The caterer looked very disappointed. I think he was worried he wouldn't get paid.
What a shame. What was the topic of the lecture?
Resilience. Developing a Resilient Australia in an Age of Uncertainty.
There is a degree of irony in that, said Pliny.
There is, I agreed.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Under the Stars
Last night we went to see Chris Isaak playing at Barossa Under the Stars. This was because we had free tickets. We went on a coach. It was nearly a 2 hour drive out to the Barossa, once we left the city it was all dust and straw. But the Barossa was a little greener, we saw vines and peach trees and even some grass.
Barossa Under the Stars was held in a huge field surrounded by wind-tossed trees. They were wind-tossed because it was very windy. In front of the trees in a semicircle were food and wine tents. In front of the food and wine tents there were chairs and tables and people sitting at them.
Everyone there was kind of old. It was not something to be depressed about if you were the same. Everyone had brought comfortable folding chairs. Everyone was drinking 5 dollar wine out of 5 dollar glasses, and eating hamper food, oysters, burgers or curry.
It was already none too warm when the warmup band started playing at half past 5. It was too windy to catch it all. When Tina Arena came on at 7 the sun was coming in low under the clouds blinding her. She kept her sunnies on and sang The Look of Love.
By the time Chris Isaak started playing it was dark. The wind had dropped but it was very cold. I had two jackets on and a scarf and was thinking of getting out the fleecy blanket, geriatric as it might make me seem; at least it was dark.
Let me describe. In front of us were about 200 rows of darkened people. Beyond them, the stage, lit up yellow pink and blue, bristling with light boxes, equipment, instruments, the Silvertones, and Chris Isaak playing in the middle in a red suit. He looked a little like Tintin if Tintin had a longer face. To the right of the stage was a screen on which you could see Chris Isaak if you couldn't see him very well in reality, an existential thing this is, to think about. To the right of the screen and some way behind, is a row of pine trees. Above the pine trees, a sky of darkest blue with black clouds edged with frothy coffee. Rising between two pines is the moon. The moon is 88 percent of full. Pine trees are pointy. Therefore the moon appeared to be rising obliquely between the pines. All the more amazing as, the moon being closer to the right hand tree, the missing 12% of the moon, which was ( or rather wasn't) on the left, might well have been expected to compensate for this.
This would certainly be easier to describe to you if I had a pencil.
Barossa Under the Stars was held in a huge field surrounded by wind-tossed trees. They were wind-tossed because it was very windy. In front of the trees in a semicircle were food and wine tents. In front of the food and wine tents there were chairs and tables and people sitting at them.
Everyone there was kind of old. It was not something to be depressed about if you were the same. Everyone had brought comfortable folding chairs. Everyone was drinking 5 dollar wine out of 5 dollar glasses, and eating hamper food, oysters, burgers or curry.
It was already none too warm when the warmup band started playing at half past 5. It was too windy to catch it all. When Tina Arena came on at 7 the sun was coming in low under the clouds blinding her. She kept her sunnies on and sang The Look of Love.
By the time Chris Isaak started playing it was dark. The wind had dropped but it was very cold. I had two jackets on and a scarf and was thinking of getting out the fleecy blanket, geriatric as it might make me seem; at least it was dark.
Let me describe. In front of us were about 200 rows of darkened people. Beyond them, the stage, lit up yellow pink and blue, bristling with light boxes, equipment, instruments, the Silvertones, and Chris Isaak playing in the middle in a red suit. He looked a little like Tintin if Tintin had a longer face. To the right of the stage was a screen on which you could see Chris Isaak if you couldn't see him very well in reality, an existential thing this is, to think about. To the right of the screen and some way behind, is a row of pine trees. Above the pine trees, a sky of darkest blue with black clouds edged with frothy coffee. Rising between two pines is the moon. The moon is 88 percent of full. Pine trees are pointy. Therefore the moon appeared to be rising obliquely between the pines. All the more amazing as, the moon being closer to the right hand tree, the missing 12% of the moon, which was ( or rather wasn't) on the left, might well have been expected to compensate for this.
This would certainly be easier to describe to you if I had a pencil.
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