Wild and Woolly

Ok it has been simply ages (again) since we had a surf, call it a period of suitable mourning for the departure of dear Joeleee Bling? And I guess that we did all wear black (see pics).

Anyway, not to be perturbed by the wintry cold of south eastern Australia in June, Andreas, Serge, Pistol and I saddle up and head down to Phillip Island. The swell chart says there is heaps of size and nary a skerrick of wind in the air so we are all pretty excited (especially me after 3hrs of driving, Dre I am never doing the Port Melbourne morning trip again. Heh). However we're greeted by tiny and messy waves on a low tide, dang! Smith's is flat and even Woolamai looks tame without a single soul out. Well someone has to be first in the water we figure so down we go and into the chop, carefully avoiding all the fishermen casting out into our break and giving us bemused looks. We are swiftly met with that ol' chestnut, that ol' trick, that ol' illusion, that misjudgement of size from carpark vs size in-the-water, how it undoes us again! The waves are considerably larger than we thought and getting bigger as time progresses. What's more they are creating a constant stream of white froth that seems to never ceasingly spew from the ocean, washing us pathetically back against the shore as one might spray leaves off one's driveway with a hose (pre water restrictions). Only once do we get out the back to get mashed by rogue killers and ungracefully spat back onto the sand. Somewhere in all this we catch a bunch of foaming dubya-dubya ('white water' for the un-initiated) and tell ourselves that it is worth it at least just to get in the water (which is true). After that the only place open is the san remo bakery where the friendly lady undercharges us for everything we buy which left me with a moral dilemma: do you give back the 3 dollars extra change even when you know the thing you bought will taste awful?

Not to end on a low note we head back to town for rounds of G&T's, pizza, back street fitzroy pubs and more G&T's, lovely day out I say!

PS I only put the embarrassing pic of sergio up for posterity because it is the last know photograph of his gloves and funny bonnet after they were left on the roof of the car when we drove off :) sorry no pic dub, taken pre your arrival.

Welcome to the fold

Geddit? origami? fold?

anyway, great to have another blogger Jen, and just sorry that your first burger write-up was of the 'not tasty' variety!

and yes that frog is from a single square sheet of paper, for some more amazing origami check out here, he's Robert Lang, a former researcher with NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory and he's reinvigorated origami by studying the mathematics that underpins it. His novel folding techniques have allowed all sort of new designs that were previously thought impossible, in particular have a look at the insects he's done

No sauce please

No bacon, no beetroot, just the burger in a bun with cheese. And the lettuce and tomato on the side…and no sauce – I prefer to add that myself.

Because burger customisation is a modern consumer’s prerogative. Gone are the days when I would have to wait 20 minutes holding up the well established production line for someone to pluck every pickle slice and dust off the mustard from my Big Mac, nowadays a ‘plain cheeseburger’ is a perfectly acceptable variation. And with such a wide range of options it makes sense that flexibility should be an important ingredient in the recipe for tasty burger success.

So it was with great assurance and furious hunger that I set about ordering my latest burger. Emotions in this particular situation are exacerbated by the heightened sense of anticipation as I watch my companions receiving mouth-watering feasts all around me while I wait patiently in appreciation of the extra time and effort being invested in my minimalist meal. Finally, just when I’m beginning to fear that my stomach rumblings are audible over the DJ’s sound system, mouth watering with a hunger preserved since lunchtime, it appears, plate bursting with sustenance, a veritable dream-burger…Play it cool, marvel at the creativity of the square bun, slowly munch a chip or two (too much salt, but that doesn’t matter), and then one big happy bite…

…And that turned out to be the only bite I could take. I could almost feel my digestive juices sighing and trudging back to their hidi-holes as the rapture became repulsion.

The dimmed lighting and fancy presentation (the square bun not so clever now) couldn’t distract from the glaring molecules of blood-infused pinkness staring up at me from the meat patty.

In adapting the prescribed burger on the menu in suede bar (http://www.suedebar.com) to my own peculiar tastes I must’ve upset the chef… with all my individual specifications I never thought I would need to state a requirement for the burger to be actually cooked!

The surrounding empty plates suggested that others’ burger-eating experiences hadn’t been quite so traumatic (and provided a useful outlet for redistribution of my inedible leftovers (didn’t want this crazy chef to think that I hadn’t enjoyed his effort!)).

And although the taste could be washed away by the remedial qualities of Corona, the psychological scars remain. It’ll be at least a week of chicken nuggets and cheese toasties before I’m back on the burger wagon…