Long queue no biggie at Longrain

July 5, 2019 / smikg / 1 Comment

Longrain Melbourne
40-44 Little Bourke street Melbourne

(Visited May ’18)

Well, late May and it was turning out to be a restaurant-heavy week. From the streets off Mornington Main, to Fed Square, to then, the laneways of Melbourne CBD, that last week was seriously bringing it all.

But what exactly WOULD the final hurrah of Autumn bring?

It was a cold night, the Winter settling in a touch earlier and letting us know who was on its way. I found car park within a raised building about a block away and walked over to Little Bourke to wait it out and see who else of my friends would arrive for our overdue catch-up.

Unfortunately for us no one had thought to book. Boo. Once myself and some others were there, waiting for more to arrive, we went inside to put ourselves on a waitlist that the front of house was more than happy to attend to.

Then we went back outside in the Friday cold night, to what else…

Talk.

We talked and talked and talked. We waited and talked for what seemed like 30 minutes. Once our entire party was there we headed in to see if they had something ready for us, but alas we were a tad off –

NEVERMIND. We were seated on the side of the restaurant, kind of like a waiting bay, where some waiters very graciously attended to us.

Drink? Sure I’ll have a drink. I perused the menu and after a couple nearby gave me their not-very-sober two cents, I ordered the Red Dragon cocktail.

Red Dragon – Chilli infused Ketel One Vodka, Peach liqueur, raspberries, coriander, cranberry

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WOAH. Talk about chilli. This had certain, definite, ain’t-no-denying-it, KICK. I sipped and slurped and there were all these other authentic chunky bits floating in my drink, like coriander leaves and little cranberries, and it was just super vibrant and PHWOAR.

I was actually worried I would be feeling it for days, you know… Happy to report that did not happen! 😉

We weren’t there awfully long before we were taken to a round table, so appropriate for the restaurant indeed…

With turntable.

Because share plates was the name of the game here peeps, at Longrain. Sure there were dishes you could certainly order individually, but the turntable enabled a sense of sharing is caring, a oneness with those around you, and a communal atmosphere.

So let’s see how that went.

After a lot of deliberation and careful negotiation with others at the table (you don’t wanna order the same thing now do you) I ordered the –

Green curry, roasted pumpkin, heirloom carrots, apple and pea eggplant

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Of course the dim lighting doesn’t do the variety nor the detail in the meal justice, but even so just as the lighting was underwhelming, so too was my meal.

It was basically a whole chunk of pumpkin in an extremely spicy broth with a variety of other vegies to boot. $30 for really spicy pumpkin. It tasted great, I won’t deny that, but essentially that was it. I thought I was going to spontaneously combust at one stage, what with the chilli coming forth from that meal, on top of my chilli-infused drink! Sweating much? I was reaching for water VERY often.

I did dabble in some other things on the table. There were rice sides, noodles, filled eggnet, and all manner of really fancy looking things zhuzh-ing up the table…

(Some things I tasted on the side)

But I felt a bit weird, mainly because there were some friends that had ordered specifically individually-minded, and others who were sharing. Where were the barriers? What could be had? What was to be shared? What was private? Lines were blurred and set and blurred again, so much so that I had a little of this and a little of that to settle that overwhelming heat, and then that was it.

Inner-city restaurant first world problems… I know.

After our food was cleared (and a lot packed into take-home boxes) we also got some coffees.

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My cappuccino was great, a really calming fix to all that had come before.

It had been a great night, company and all. With all of that fire raging through me, I was sure it would safely carry me through the cold night, and back to the refuge of my car…

Food: 7/10. The food presentation was sensational. Other meals were colourful and creative, yet mine, though tasty, lacked somewhat in individual satisfaction.

Coffee: 7/10. Mild.

Ambience: Really happening and bustling, but with a sense of off-the-beaten-track, hidden alleyway feel. Well duh. Little Bourke street, after all. It was moody, atmospheric, but be warned… those taking photos on their phones, your pics will come out looking like shit due to the mood lighting.

Staff: They were amazing. From the man who took our number down initially to seat us later, the guy who made small talk with us as we got our drinks, and then the waiter who so patiently waited for us while we ‘umm’ed and ‘ahh’ed and asked question after question over the menu… top scores here. Simply brilliant.

People: Lots of friends and dinner-after-work get together’s here. Oh so obvious. I mean we are in the city, right.

Price: $50 covered my meal and cap, and the extra covered the other food I had ‘dabbled’ in from a friend (!)

Advice: Share. Share Share Share.

Or, don’t share don’t share don’t share.

Make it known what is happening. And if you order the pumpkin, make sure you get something like rice on the side. Your mouth will thank you for it.

In a nutshell: Look, if you haven’t already guessed it, the theme at Longrain is sharing is caring… If you aren’t sharing, you aren’t really caring for you or others on the table now are you? Or things will just become awfully confusing and you won’t know where you stand.

So, make a stand! If you go here, make sure you know what you are doing, and order accordingly.

Me personally? Although the service was immaculate, I don’t think I would go back… being a Leo and all, when I catch my prey, I like to have it all to myself… Grains and all.

😉

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I never wanted to use the hyphen (-) for a murdered woman again

January 19, 2019 / smikg / Leave a comment

I attended La Trobe University in Bundoora.

From the years of 2002 to 2005. A couple of my high school friends went there too, however we were all varied in our fields of study.

One such friend and I, though interests apart, chose a general subject to study that saw us come together once a week.

Anthropology. 2 hours a week in the late evening, we would often drive in and then drive back home, taking turns at the driver’s seat, and then once the 2 hours were up, made our long walk over to ‘one’ of the car parks.

There were A LOT of car parks. Back in those years, there were about 8. You had to walk some distance through the buildings and grounds and amidst tall trees and bushes of varying greenery to get there…

But there was nothing to be scared of. I remember even when daylight savings ended, and our walk to the car park was amidst black night, our biggest concern was whether spiders had already set up their webs, and so we walked hands outstretched hoping to God we wouldn’t feel something unsightly crawling on our skins.

The only time I was attacked there, was in broad daylight. It was while walking to a tutorial when something whizzed past my head so quickly and so close, that it stirred the hair on my head. Damn bird.

They were the lethal ones.

Not people. Never ever did I feel unsafe from people.

Days after the fatal assault on Israeli student Aiia Maasarwe, who was involved with the university on an exchange programme and never made it back to her apartment on Tuesday night, and Melbourne and the rest of the country is still left reeling.

Not necessarily because this has never been done before. More, because it continues to.

The feeling of déjà vu is chilling. Only 7 months earlier, a vigil was planned for Eurydice Dixon, who was raped and murdered in Carlton North. Thousands turned up to the silent protest to stand for a woman who was taken unfairly, and also, again so close to home. But that wasn’t the beginning either.

2012 saw the nation horrified at the sudden disappearance of Brunswick woman Jill Meagher. Even before the #metoo movement sparked a chord, 10,000 people marched Sydney Road in protest that once again, a woman could not walk home 5 minutes without being assaulted, raped and killed.

And not even that is the beginning.

Because the problem isn’t with all men. No, far from it. It is the underlying culture that men grow up in, the “boys will be boys,” under-handed sexism, and superior gender that prevails and dominates our everyday life, that is the REAL problem.

It is also the underlying culture that women have to put up with. The cat calls, leers and unwanted attention. The keeping keys on you at all times. Looking over your shoulder. Going out in pairs.

Calling someone as you walk alone.

This is the very act that Aiia did as she walked home for the last time earlier this week. So fearful was she over the 5 minute walk from her regular number 86 tram stop to her apartment, that she would call her sister. To imagine the fear that she held, subdued from her physical space, existing only in her mind, to turn into a full-blown living horror as her sister heard the phone fall, some voices, and then nothing… I can’t even imagine.

I don’t want to. But I remember walking those grounds. I remember the Uni, and how dark everything was at night. I shudder.

As females we message our friends, partners, and family when we get home. Aiia didn’t get to message anyone that night. Her body was found strewn and badly battered, to the point where police are still keeping a tight lid on the horrific details of that night.

“But she shouldn’t have been alone at night,’ my Dad said yesterday as we were talking about it.

And therein lies the problem.

Not with my Dad. The problem isn’t with all of the men in my life, or your life, or even most of the men around us. Because most of the men don’t go around sexually assaulting and then killing people.

But some men DO go around imposing unwanted advances on girls that are alone.

And some men DO go around letting off jeers and whistles and making filthy remarks when a woman walks by.

And sometimes, its these actions that escalate to stuff of full-blown nightmares.

Sadly, females are contributing to this. I say this with hesitation, because as soon as I told my Dad it was not right that Aiia (and every other woman) wasn’t allowed to walk home safely at night, I added

“But, I would never walk alone, and I would never let baby girl do it either.”

We as women, are adding to the dialogue, by saying it is not safe.

The culture remains, and that is the problem.

We aren’t teaching our boys to not rape.

But we are teaching our girls to not walk at night.

…

Jill Meagher

Eurydice Dixon

Aiia Maasarwe

…

PLUS so many more before them. Plus those that are not murdered, but are left with permanent life-time bruises and scars that will horrify their minds for as long as they are alive.

How many more names have to be added to this list before a conscious effort is made to change the way men and women are taught, raised, expected to perform, and excused? How many more hyphens have to appear until repeated sexual offenders, are not put back on the streets to walk amongst everyday people, and given umpteen chances to strike again? (as was the case in the man who murdered Jill Meagher).

You will notice I have not named perpetrators. They are not people. They are inhumane monsters who deserve no name, no voice, no life. Theirs should be taken away, just like those they consciously and with evil effort decided to take.

All that is left now is the memories of those girls, all the could-have beens, should-have beens, and the questions over whether any of this, is leading to change, a conscious effort, anything good, at all.

R.I.P Aiia Maasarwe. Unknown-2019.

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Photo by Zoran Kokanovic at Unsplash

Ex-stuz mi?

December 4, 2018December 4, 2018 / smikg / Leave a comment

Stuzzi
325 High Street Northcote

(Visited November ’17)

I had been to this Northcote café a few times before, each time there meeting a certain group of chicks for a much-needed catch-up.

It had been years since the last visit. But not much had changed.

It was our annual KK catch-up that had me heading on over after a long day out with Hubbie and baby girl, and the company was the same, my old high school friends.

The original, and the BEST.

It was a hot night, and being free of child for the occasion, I was first to arrive. Sure, things had been revamped and done up a bit. I was seated on a medium-sized table alongside the bar in the middle of the café interior. There weren’t many people about, so I sat and watched waitresses meander around, assisting those who needed food and drink, all the while waiting for the Friday night influx on this November day.

Yep, we were killing the KK catch-up, hitting it up mid-November. The shin-dig thing-a-ma-jig was early, but we had to, you know, find time amidst our very busy lives and all.

It’s a modern café, with a couple of large TVs on either side of the walls for all to watch. Nothing inspiring, but still on trend. I checked out the local news, while I ordered myself a drink during the wait for my gal-pals…

Summer Squeeze – watermelon, orange and pineapple

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This was refreshing, and had me feeling the soon-to-be Summer vibe.

It wasn’t long until I was joined by one friend, and then another, and another, and then another, and then we were right and ready, in amongst chatting and laughing and hilarious youtube videos, to finally order.

We opened our KK pressies and had a grand old time doing so, and then soon after, our meals arrived.

I got the Stuffed Chicken Breast – Whole chicken breast stuffed with prosciutto, bocconcini, sun-dried tomato, served with mashed potato, broccolini, topped with a honey and creamy seeded mustard sauce

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My meal was adequate, perhaps to be expected from a café of that type. Appealing to the masses, huge variety of choice on the menu, but perhaps more a jack-of-all-trades, master-of-none type café. My chicken was huge, and as one friend observed about the chicken meals on the table “these chickens are on steroids.” Enough said.

I didn’t notice anything other than tomato stuffed in the chicken – the prosciutto was on the top, and the cheese was possibly in there as well. It was sitting atop mounds of mashed potato, and though I love my carbs, the ‘steroid chicken’ comment had me feeling slightly off, plus it tasted a bit tough. I ate a decent amount of it, but just couldn’t eat it all, making sure I had at least eaten the broccolini. Get those greens in. Thank God for them, or else it all would have looked too beige. I would have rather a smaller, succulent chicken, than one taking pills to be on Gladiator. Also, it was swimming in the mustard sauce, and suddenly everything, not just the chicken, felt overdone.

Big meals were all around the table, and they seemed to be okay… but one friend observed a ‘problem’ with the table parmesan, and that’s all I will say for the sake of being respectful… but it was quickly rectified from our smiley and happy waitress.

The company and conversation far outweighed any food or drink we had that night – but still, it wasn’t as cool as what I remembered it, and nothing to make me wanna come back for in a rush either.

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Food: 5/10. Nothing incredible, but it satisfied my dinner craving. The steroid chicken kind of ended it for me. The fresh juice was the best thing I had that night.

Coffee: N/A.

Ambience: A chilled and relaxed catch-up vibe amongst friends, as we weren’t the only ones on that Friday night catching up in a large group. Casual surrounds on the city outskirts meant it was cruisy, but things were constant, too.

People: Generally a “friends” type crowd… lots of groups, not so much families, and a eating-before-heading-out-later-on-to-party crowd too.

Staff: They were pleasant. Our waitress was the smiliest, others were doing their job. Nothing bad, but nothing overly-friendly either.

Price: Just under $40 for my meal and drink. The price of the meal served the quantity, but sadly not the quality.

Advice: This place will probably do you if you need to catch up in the area with friends, hence our night…

Also, there is parking out the back that leads directly into the rear of the café, so try that first, or else you will need to look for parking along High street at peak hour time – so let’s just say arrive early.

In a nutshell: I think this place didn’t amaze me only because I have had so much better restaurant/café meals since my early visits there so many years ago. It has a vast menu that caters to many, but that is essentially all.

It’s nothing overly bad… but nothing overly inspiring either.

Sorry Stuzzi… nothing ‘appetising’ about coming back here anytime soon.

A cozy/crazy Social

May 19, 2018May 19, 2018 / smikg / Leave a comment

Fitzroy Social
222 Brunswick Street Fitzroy

(Visited April ’17)

I’m ashamed to say, that the thought of heading over to Fitzroy from the Port Phillip Bay-side of town, on that Thursday night, Good Friday Eve… well it felt like more of an effort and a drainer, than the desire to see my high school friends was.

I mean, the group of us only get together every few years or so. All 6 of us. And so that should have been incentive enough, right?

Yeah, but now high school is over: I’m a Mum, I’m a wife, and I’m an inventive cook too, who was just freaking out over how the hell I was gonna bake all the Easter goodies I was planning on before Easter on Sunday.

But I soon whooped my ass into gear, and as soon as I was all dolled up, I felt much more, Fitzroy ready.

I knew Fitzroy well. I had worked in the area and walked its streets often, many, many years ago. In doing so, I thought I knew what kind of place I could expect. Small, cramped, dark. Meals at the bar, sitting up on some tall stools, looking down the line at each other and barely able to hear ourselves over the band music. I knew we were having dinner there, and one of the girls was pregnant, so I figured it must be somewhat ‘family’ friendly…

I just didn’t know how that would be.

Well, when I luckily pulled right up to the front and parked (my first surprise of the night) I then walked in through the open doors, and got my second surprise.

This place, was HUGE.

It was high, open-spaced, and light. Yes there was a bar, on the left upon entry, and it was long and wide. But also, occupying more than 3/4s of the space, was the seating area. Tables were throughout, along with those that backed onto booths against the wall, and dotted in amongst all of this were purple couches, all high backed and posh and definitely standing out, used as seating as well.

The toilets were out the back, near where our group was eventually seated, and these were spacious and funky looking too.

As I positioned myself in the booth next to my friend, I looked at these seated works of art, and thought ‘damn. I want to sit in one of those.’

They looked out of place, and yet in true eclectic Fitzroy style, they totally fit in.

And then there was the greenery.

Greenery, you say? In a Fitzroy bar? Where the hell could they fit such greenery?

Why, on the ceiling of course.

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It was an interesting and welcoming sight, a nice contrast to the hustle and bustle of all the diners hanging out and catching up on the floor. I loved it.

Once all the girls (and one beau) had arrived, and we were only visited three times by the waitress who was coming to take our order but we were still not ready, we finally ordered.

I got a glass of the Cape Schanck Pinot Noir (from the Mornington Peninsula, of course)

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And soon after as the meals arrived, so too did my meal:

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Now alas, all I can go on is memory, because the guys at Fitzroy Social are so efficient they have already changed their menu, a month on from my visit there! And of course the chicken I had is no longer on it. But I can remember there was a kind of mustard glaze-sauce on the chicken, atop creamy mash, and the carrots were honeyed.

I do recall I enjoyed my dish, however it needed a side, vegies or chips or something. The mash was a small serving. No fault of the menu, it did clearly state what I received, I just should have paid attention more. I enjoyed the mustard flavour against the sweet carrots, and hey… it just meant I had more room for dessert.

After eating, taking the traditional group photo followed by stupid-face photo, a few of the girls headed off, leaving the ones that were left deciding to go for the Dessert Box

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(Apologies for the disgustingly dark photo, the dim lights in that part of the room made it awfully hard)

3 of us went for this, which consisted of full portions of their regular desserts: peanut butter cheesecake, caramel and Nutella pie, salted caramel and popcorn panna cotta, and a scoop each of raspberry and coconut sorbet.

My faves were the cheesecake, panna cotta and raspberry sorbet, but they were all good in their own right. Going the shared dessert box with friends is quite possibly the best idea, you get a taste of everything. Gluttony at its finest.

After this it was my cue to exit, and I left the last two girls behind, with the bright lights and slowly increasing volume and rowdy natures that were on the increase, behind. Back to the beach, driver.

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Food: 7/10. A varied menu for all – burgers, meat, fries, salads and much more.

Coffee: N/A.

Ambience: Bustling and happening, yet still chilled and casual. Sit at the bar… sit at a booth. Sit at a purple couch. Do whatever. But we’re in Fitzroy, outer-city suburbs, so you would only expect just that. It started off at a stable volume when I was there, and the music and chatter only increased throughout the night. It wasn’t too loud that you couldn’t hear your friends talking across from you at the table, so that I appreciated.

Staff: The waitress tending to us was very smiley and polite, and offered suggestions when needed. She was Fitzroy-savvy.

People: A real mix. There were groups of friends, and I expected it to be a much younger crowd, but I did see a couple of kids here and there with their parents! It is definitely a younger crowd, 20-30s, but it was nice to see that littlies were welcome too.

Price: I paid about $35ish for my portion of the bill. I can’t say for sure about the chicken, but the estimate was in the high teens to low 20s, and I do recall thinking it was reasonable for that area – I had the chicken, glass of red, and shared in the dessert box.

Advice: If you’re arriving 7-7:30pm you may just get lucky like I did and score parking like RIGHT OUT THE FRONT. Arrive later, and your risk. There are 2 hour parks around the area, and despite what passers-by tell you – pay for a ticket! The bloody signs are so contradictory, they almost want you to think you don’t have to pay, when indeed, you do. I have seen people getting fines for parking without a ticket, and not getting a new one when their last one expired – trust me. Or if you don’t mind walking, go to a flat-rate car park and walk a couple of blocks…

If you’re into funky, retro things, book a booth. It’ll become your facebook profile pic, I have no doubt.

Finally, go the dessert box. You’re going with someone right? Friends? A Man? Your Mum? Unless you go there alone maybe don’t order it… what the hell, you only live once right? Eat ALL the desserts!

In a nutshell: A real surprise of a bar I must say. Expansive, airy, and contrasting textures and sights, made for a great evening with friends. The menu is varied and caters to most palates, and the room is divided into play and eat, so that you can dine with friends and hear every word they say, or have the club vibe happening and seat (and eat) up at the bar. A cool blend of both, and I think all kinds of Social interactions will work well here, way into the future…

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Friends, Facebook & Fakery

November 18, 2016November 18, 2016 / smikg / Leave a comment

Start rant.

When a friend, or a collection of friends gives you more anguish than happiness, sometimes you have to wonder.

At some point, despite emotions, despite history, despite memories, there is a point where you have to ask yourself:

‘Is this person worth my valuable time and effort?’

‘What are they bringing to my life?’ (i.e joy, positivity, great times, support, love, loyalty)

And in famous Miss Jackson’s words

‘What have you done for me lately?’

Friendship is not about just taking, so don’t take the above incorrectly. But when you feel you are always trying, being the instigator, making the plans, and starting the chase… you really do get tired of it soon enough.

I’m feeling this way about a couple of people right now. It’s when you feel like you are the one always bending over backwards and making the effort, and the other party is purely placid, responding to you only by your active example.

Also what bothers me, is the arse-sucking. I have a friend that sucks arse so much, it is almost painful to witness. Clearly she is not sucking my arse or else I wouldn’t mind, let’s be honest. But I feel she places her loyalties in places where they are not really appreciated… I know this says a lot about me and our friendship. Of course I believe she should place her loyalty with me, as I am loyal to her.

But nope. For some unbeknownst reason to me, whether she feels she can’t relate to me, or I’ve pissed her off too many times, or I hate to say it, but is envious of me… I don’t know. But it bugs me that she is the way she is.

Also facebook. It’s amazing the high school bullshit that continues on that forum long after those turbulent years are over. Like, even 15 years later. I realised today there are people who are in contact and send lovely messages to my friends, whereas they completely ignore me on facebook… and yet they had the gall to add me to increase their ‘friends’ total.

And in turn I see, certain friends of mine are still continuing the arse-sucking that was also so prevalent in high school, by sucking up to people who they don’t need to anymore. Newsflash! Hello, we are not in high school anymore, it’s the real world! But apparently, this arse-sucking IS the real world. I see there are many people, those of my arse-sucking friends, and those who want their friends total increased, who participate in this petty game of ignorance, fakery, and insincere niceties, all so that they can be ACCEPTED.

Isn’t that what it’s all about? Everyone wants to be accepted. Sure, even me, which is why it bugs me so that my friend sucks arse to the wrong people, and even those arses from high school ignore me online. We all want to be liked, wanted, and accepted.

And so when someone pisses you off, that’s why it’s so hard to let go. When it’s a friend. A sucking-arse friend. And even when it’s that mole from high school.

Rant over.

The Extra Day

February 29, 2016February 29, 2016 / smikg / Leave a comment

That’s what the Leap Year brings us.

The Leap Year makes up for the fact that the year is not precisely 365 days long. It’s 365 and a quarter, to be (almost) precise. For those playing at home, 365.2422 days to be minutely exact.

We go by the Gregorian calendar, which uses 365 days in a calendar year. Back in the day, Pope Gregory XIIIs astronomers worked out this system to adjust to the fact, which will need to be re-evaluated in about 10,000 years when we are long gone. But for now, it works. Every four years, February 29 appears.

And why February? February used to have 30 days, while August had only 29. When Caesar Augustus became Emperor, he wanted to add 2 days to ‘his’ month, therefore stripping Feb of its two, and adding them to August.

Interesting stuff.

But this all became super-interesting to me back in the year 2000. I was in high school, and a school friend told me that on the extra day of a leap year, you were meant to do something different. Not many customs relating to this day actually mention this, it’s always the usual ‘women can propose to men’ thing you hear more often than anything else.

I don’t know if he was telling the truth; if he was twisting things to make his actions that day seem much more plausible; or whether he was having me on – either way, what he said made an impact.

I still think of Feb 29 as a day to do something different. Leading up to today, I didn’t know what though – what would I do with these extra 24 hours? I mean, not a whole lot, seeing as I’m sitting here typing at work. But still. It gives you hope, possibility, excitement… an extra day? When you think of it like that, in this time-poor, fast-paced, go go go world, it means a whole lot.

And then I think: well why can’t we think of every day, as a day to do something different? Worthwhile? Exciting? Daring? Inspiring?

I’m drumming my fingers at my desk here, anxious to get inspired and make things happen…

And then I remember: aren’t I doing that already?

Before you look at what you can do, look at what you have done already. Grow on that. – SmikG.

Food for thought. What have you been doing?

Sun Room Buffet

May 27, 2015June 9, 2015 / smikg / Leave a comment

The Conservatory
Level 1 Crown Entertainment Complex, 8 Whiteman Street Southbank

Something about the word ‘buffet,’ just makes you drool that little bit more. Is it the thought of an endless amount of food on offer for the one price? Is it the thought that rather than agonise over the seemingly endless food choices in the menu, you can try a little bit of everything? Or are we a gluttonous breed that just wants to nom nom nom?

Does anyone actually realise that our stomachs can never digest more than our eyes can absorb?

With high hopes of a banquet feast, we ventured off to The Conservatory on a Sunday for lunch, to celebrate our 6 year wedding anniversary. Awww. I had booked in advance, and upon arrival we were immediately seated at a table with high chair for baby girl ready and waiting. Superb.

The room was amazing. We weren’t seated near the windows, but even so you could see the city skyscrapers and the Yarra River below. Sun room indeed. It was an amazing location. The interior had great high cathedral-like ceilings, and though everything, from the white décor to the staff presentation to the customers themselves, were of a very high and poshy standard, there was a warmth to the atmosphere too. Maybe it was the surprise of the glorious sun shining through on that Autumn day.

It was a very nice feeling to know we were going to be there for the next few hours.

Our lunch buffet session was to last from 12:15 – 3:00pm. I had plans to have little plates and try to taste a little bit of most of the dishes on offer there. I certainly couldn’t try a bit of everything, not only because not everything is to taste, but really? It would be a difficult job stomaching too many flavours together.

As I haven’t food-blogged recently, and having the wonderful bonus of our daughter getting cranky in her high chair, I forgot to photo my first dish. So I kind of had it again for this posts’ sake.

Following are the photos I took on the day, with some brief descriptions.

My lovely wine, with the unmistakable white background and Hubbie’s meal.

No I don’t eat prawns, cheese and bread together – the bread and cheese were for baby girl. The prawns were lovely and fresh, really enjoyable.

She didn’t like the cheese, I think it was a bit of a rich, heavier cheddar, so I later brought back bocconcini which she loved.

I had a kind of sweet chilli chicken salad, which had a decent kick to it – I liked that. I had a few rice paper rolls, which also had a bit of bite due to the lemongrass I think, and I chose those specific ones because I was on a prawn-fest and was craving seafood.

The sushi had cucumber and prawn with some kind of paste, and also not pictured I tried a mussel which had spicy oil flavours drizzled over it. All were great. I was surprised how much I enjoyed the chicken salad though, considering there were no carbs in it.

I next had food from the Indian/Asian station, which comprised of vegetable and pork dumplings with soy sauce, a spicy papaya salad, tandoori chicken, a mild potato curry, and I think what was saffron rice.

I loved the vegetable dumplings – I should have gotten more of those. The papaya salad surprised me too with its spices, whereas the chicken, potato curry and rice were warm and comforting.

By this stage I had had 4 plates. Some were small, some comprised of light seafood, but still four plates equalled a bit of consumption. I took that opportunity to give myself a needed food break and try to find a change room for baby girl.

*Parents, take note.* By all means, take your nappy-wearing children out with you, everywhere, anywhere you dine, much like we do… just be advised that if eating at the Conservatory, you will have to jump on a golf buggy to find the nearest suitable toilets.

I went through two levels before I found a very kind Crown employee who discovered there was a baby change table in the disabled toilets of The Waiting Room, one ground below Conservatory. Take note parents!

It was probably a good half hour by the time I came back to the table, to see Hubbie brimming with happiness over his half-eaten smorgasbord of a dessert plate, telling me he’d just ordered a latte. So I had to catch up.

So did baby girl.

Above dessert plate: A raspberry tart, brownie, goats cheese cheesecake, macaroons, and some fruit with chocolate-dipped strawberries in the middle.

And I seriously thought I was going to go back for more! I couldn’t. The dessert station was a work of art in itself, my God. There were so many things I wanted to try, that I just couldn’t after I’d finished my plate… sigh.

I actually enjoyed my raspberry tart the most, although everything tasted great. Baby girl had bits of dessert here and there as well as some fruit, and then of course she had her babycino which looked great.

My coffee was great too, a much needed finishing-line drink after all that food.

Apart from the day being a celebration of when Hubbie and I exchanged vows to each other, it ended up being surprisingly punctuated by more nostalgia when I discovered that my high school homegroup teacher was eating with his family for a birthday celebration, just two tables over. I haven’t seen him for 13 years, yet we recognised each other almost immediately! It was a happy addition to a wonderful day, and it was great to see again, one of the people who positively impacted me during those crucial high school years too. What a (not) coincidence 😉

Food: 8/10. A lot of it, of a great standard, and very fresh. I almost find this difficult to rate, and explain, because usually when you eat at a restaurant you have chosen a meal that has most times been created by the chef, a meal that should be a wonderful balance and/or contradiction of flavours that dance in your mouth and that leaves you feeling satisfied, happy you ate there, and amazed at the creativity of the dish. When you dine at a buffet, YOU create the way your dish looks, YOU decide what is going to go with what and at the end of the day YOU are the responsible one for what you have eaten. Singularly, the dishes at the Conservatory were consistently great-tasting and the presentation of their food in the stations and of the stations themselves, was amazing. It’s the only food-presentation they are in control of, before we come in slap it on our plates and upload it online to show off to our friends.

Coffee: 7/10. Smooth. We discovered that the first round of coffees was free (part of the price you’re already paying really) when you are lunching there, with any subsequent coffee rounds at an additional price. With a coffee/foam each, we left happy about that.

Ambience: Really lovely. Everything looks so polished and refined, the staff breeze on by, and the people dining there are all dressed up and looking so smart… it’s an upmarket buffet experience. With views of the city coming at you through the windows, you kind of lean back in your seat and go “ahh, I could get used to this.”

Staff: Fantastic, accommodating, which I expected nothing less considering the establishment and price we paid. Our waitress in particular was really kind and friendly, explaining everything to us on arrival, and tending to our needs and baby change requests 🙂

People: There were those celebrating milestones like us, and then there were those that are so rich they rocked up an hour into service and left earlier than everyone else because they do it once a month. Generally an older crowd, I would say 30 +. A few families though, and many large groups of people, it seems to be a social gathering meeting ground.

Price: Our Sunday lunch was $95 pp. We ended up paying $212 in total with my $10 wine and Hubbie’s $12 beer. $12 for Crown?! Get your wallets ready drinkers. Children under 4 do not pay, which is great seeing as most toddlers appetites are so all over the place. (I think children 4-12 years pay 50% of the adult price). Baby girl enjoyed her bread, cheese, cheesy pita bread and bits of vegies, and of course the cake. There are things to suit the kiddies, don’t worry, especially from the dessert station – make your own ice cream cone? Hell yeah even I’ll do that!

Advice: Book in advance, no matter what. I booked 6 days in advance and lucky I did, as I hadn’t realised the Logies were on that night at the Crown! Booking wasn’t an issue though.

As for the food, I would suggest two things.

1: eat the things you like, whether they are a tired and true favourite, like in my case the fresh prawns, and the vegetable dumplings. Eat a lot of them too.

2: try different and interesting things that you have always wanted to try. I know this is in contradiction to the above point, but if you take these two things on board, you’ll leave happier. For example, I had the saffron rice, the sushi and then the macaroons for dessert – all great items which I enjoyed, but these three things I eat quite regularly, and if we’re being honest, they tasted about as good as all the other times I ate them. I was happy I tried the spicy chicken salad, because it was a different dish for me, however I wish I had also tried some of the Asian stir-fry and noodle dishes. It had been my intention, I just got too full and then it was dessert time. Also, rather than the macaroons, I should have tried one of the other magical looking sweet treats… you just gotta check out that food station. Food for thought.

In summary of the above, eat what you like but that which you don’t get to eat often!

In a nutshell: I would love to go back. They cater for dinner and breakfast as well, so you can always find a suitable time to buffet there. Taking my above two points in mind, I would go back with a vengeance. A beautiful food-lovers experience.

Bring back the school photos

April 17, 2015 / smikg / Leave a comment

I was chatting to a work colleague today when I came across an interesting thought. As usually occurs post-coffee consumption.

We were discussing the years that go by way too quickly, and I noted how I seem to be stuck in the year 2001. Every time someone mentions the ’90s, for a brief moment a part of me recollects ‘ahh, just a few years ago.’

Mmmm, nope. Try going on 15 years ago. 2001 coincides with my last year of high school, and for some reason, my head just wants to live in that time.

I mentioned how the start of high school is so drastically different compared to the person you are when you leave at the end of Year 12. There is so much growth and development, so many changes, physically, emotionally and mentally, that occur in those 6 years. And then you leave school, go on to further study or find work, yet those following years are kind of a bit of blur. You get married, and throw in some more unfocused years, where everything just seems to blend into the next.

Thinking of the image I had of each high school year, it hit me: photos. We had photos to mark each year of our school lives, something that abruptly stopped when we entered the real world. That photo wasn’t only a snapshot of the physical (and horribly awkward) changes we were undergoing at the time, but if you recall your school photos, take out the old album and leaf through the pages, you’ll have names, scenarios, moments and feelings come through to you. That one photo represents your entire year, your entire state of being, not just at school, but in this “thing called life” (as Prince says).

We need the school photos to come back.

That’s what’s missing. That’s why the days, weeks, months, years, all blend into one another and follow the other in this indistinct conga line of blur.

Recently, the years don’t seem so blurry, and that’s because they have been punctuated with approximately 5,610 photos of baby girl since her sweet arrival into our world. All those photos of a girl who isn’t even two, paints a strong picture of the time before her birth, her first year with us and these current months as she develops into a vibrant, happy, energetic and beautiful soul.

But I still kinda need the 12 years in between, the ‘missing’ years : from the end of year 12 to actually having her.

A yearly photo will fix all that. Where we can get dressed up in appropriately-themed yearly uniform, don our sporting cheesy smiles and get into position for a pose that when we look back, will tell us all we need to know about that year that was.

Dead on Time

December 7, 2014 / smikg / 1 Comment

Unlike my previous estimation, in the past week and a half I’ve attended 3 funerals. Not really a record I wanna be making, or breaking.

Death has been not only a present factor in my life, but in the lives of my family and friends. Two functions this month have been cancelled because of said Deaths, with one notably being scaled-down due to a family members passing.

Throw in some other bad news from the media, also of a ‘Grim’ nature, and it just feels like the start of what’s meant to be a very festive month, has started off very, very sad. I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s been affecting everyone. It has to be planetary, it’s too much of a coincidence.

Something occurred to me while I was at the most recent funeral (and which I’m hoping was my last). I had entered the service only a few minutes after the start time, but the Italian priest was already well underway into his piece. He was speaking with such conviction, that I wished I could understand what he was saying. It sounded important, and like it might just change my life. Nevertheless I kept listening, trying to remember what I could of the language I’d dabbled in at high school when I was 13.

Sitting there, I suddenly realised that with all 3 funerals, I’d been, we’d been, late. Not by much, only a few minutes past the hour for the commencement of the service, but still. Few minutes past, and we were late.

I thought of other occasions held in churches, not of a sad nature. Weddings never started on time. Christenings, you could bet your life they’d be running late, babies being surely unpredictable and all. These joyous, happy, memorable occasions never ran to schedule. Arriving as a guest, LATE, you would be forgiven for not being on time… because the guest-of-honour would most likely not even be there yet.

Life. Death. The living are late… and the Dead don’t wait. They don’t wait for no one.

These thoughts kept circling in my head. The living are late: we have all the time in the world, yet really, it’s the one thing we all complain about – lack of time. And the deceased have no where to go, yet they are punctual. On time. For what? The afterlife?

So maybe, we should keep complaining. Keep running late. Running late, we have somewhere to go, someplace happy to be. Someone to see, and company to laugh with.

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.