Austral-American Food

    When I was in college a new restaurant opened up. It was called Olga's Kitchen and I loved its food and the picture of the Mediterranean-looking lady who spearheaded the place.  Who knew that Greek food could be so yummy?!  I mentioned this to a classmate who snarled back that it wasn't real Greek food and it would never fly anywhere in Greece.  Olga did well because she adapted Greek cuisine to the American palate.  
     Just like every other national cuisine adapts to the palate of its new home.
     And that goes for "American" food in Australia.  And we are not talking about McDonald's here but the staples that appeared on plates in just about every dining room in America--and in every American movie or TV show with a dining table in it.  You knew Mom loved you when she served up meatloaf and mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, turkey with gravy/stuffing/yams/cranberry sauce,  Jell-o with fruit in it, etc. You get the picture. So when I go to events here in Perth that have an American theme, my hopes rise high for a nostalgic meal.  I should know better.
     Yesterday's  tourism industry event had a western hoe-down theme.  Too hot for cowboy wear, we were OK'd for cooler clothing--I did wear my cowboy earrings, bolo tie and best John Wayne accent to get in the spirit of things.  There was a mechanical bull to ride (no, thanks) and a real horse too spooked by its surroundings to oblige the promised rides (drats). Then there was the food: Old El Paso salsa with domestic corn chips, mac and cheese (inedible in any country), cracker crust pizza with either pulled pork or tuna on it (Really? Can someone look up Chicago-style pizza recipes and attempt that, please?), some kind of meat pie (totally Australian), pulled beef on a bun (not tooooo bad) and some nasty mess I cannot name nor could swallow.  And all of it was served in miniature (an act of mercy.)   The desserts were from a Swedish bakery named Miss Maud's and were a welcome--if not overly American--sight.  The mini cherry pies had no solid fruit and too much crust but very edible, the brownies were more fluffy cake than dense treat (a common mistake) and the mini jam filled doughnuts were yummy and disappeared quickly.  I softened my critiques (when asked) by mentioning how foreign foods are adapted to the local palate as I put my unfinished whatever on a passing tray.  The above menu has pretty much appeared at other American themed events--with slightly better success. The menu is right, its execution....Australian.
      For a moment I thought I should change vocations and go into catering real American food.       But, would anyone eat it...?

Music : The Decade OZ Cannot Leave Behind

    The bold caption of the photo above the fold on the front of the weekend paper read  "Boys in black roar back with a bang."  The first paragraph sums up the entire experience perfectly. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it--that's been AC/DC's motto  since they first plugged in their guitars at Sydney's Chequers Nightclub 42 years ago." With the exception of  a few new songs, the concert was identical to the one played at the same venue five years ago.  Guitarist Angus Young, now 60, still dons his trademark school uniform and whips up an audience aged from 14 to 74.  Television stations have cameras outside waiting to hear from the premier (governor) of the state  and anyone else of note give a drooly critique of the magical evening.  A reunion of legends? A final farewell of old rockers looking to spend more time in their chateau vineyards?  

    Hardly. This is business as usual in a nation whose musical clock seemed to have stopped in the 70s.    

    Acca Dacca, as they are affectionately nicknamed, has never stopped. The death of their charismatic front man, Bon Scott, three and half decades ago, nor the dementia nor legal troubles of other band members seems to faze anyone or soften affection. Bon Scott has a statue erected in Fremantle--practically a shrine for locals and visitors alike.  Joining them in the Australian musical pantheon of bands never allowed to retire or change their act are groups like KISS and Cold Chisel. Yes, KISS. Still in platform shoes and greasepaint while padding their retirement accounts with regular tours in the sunburnt land. These bands appear on up-and-coming concerts posters along with current  hot performers like Sam Smith.  I think it provides a measure of comfort to folks who really want to keep the vibe of a happy time in their collective souls.

    But what about those bands whose members fell off the perch entirely or insisted on retiring to their private Scandinavian islands?  Well, thank heaven for tribute bands.  Australia has the only ABBA-approved tribute band which goes by the name Bjorn Again.  Agnetha has never had to shed her white bodysuit and we all sing merrily along to Dancing Queen. Tribute bands have long filled in the entertainment gap when bands like Queen, Eurythmics and Fleetwood Mac couldn't or wouldn't come in personally to perform.  And it just doesn't stop there.  Any performer who remotely looks like Dusty Springfield, Kenny Rogers, Dusty Springfield, Roy Orbison, Dusty Springfield, Johnny Cash, Dusty Springfield, Patsy Cline, Dusty Springfield (oh wait, I've mentioned Dusty before) can hit the solo artist concert trail. Their shows are sandwiched between performances by four suited guys with cereal bowl haircuts on a 'Classical Mystery Tour' and three sequin-dressed ladies in bouffant hairdos singing about baby love. And all keeping us permanently in our happy place.

    Are Australians embarrassed by any of this? Far from it.  Aussies embrace their quirkiness. They own their national musical psyche with fierce pride and unrepentant vigor. In fact, the average Aussie has a problem with a fellow countryman who feels a need to get above himself. Think INXS.  Their music was just too slick, too over-produced, too "American". Why, that just isn't done. They would be ignored completely save for the fact the lead singer used to date a pint-sized, half-talent named Kylie Minogue  who mostly covered others' songs.  A bit of redemption there, mate.

   Oh. I should mention that Jim Morrison of The Doors is not dead.  He is playing at the Bickley Harvest Festival.