Our Christmas Feast...Water Buffalo

      My hubby does not always walk life's usual paths.  He likes being quirky.  It's the Australian in him.  But his tradition of unusual Christmas suppers has more than a few Antipodeans scratching their heads.
      The very idea of a holiday ham or turkey on December 25th leaves him cold.  He greatly warms up to non-conventional meals and starts menu planning a few months ahead.  As this relieves me of planning and cooking (and keeps him busy enough to not bother me in planning everything else) I encourage it.  Each year I anticipate a meal I could not possible have anticipated: squab, crocodile, guinea fowl, ostrich sausage, and the like.  Notice these "meals" are all meat. In Kev's book, a vegetable is merely meat that has turned green. I make sure that a few plant based vegetables are in the house just to round out the selection on the plate.
      So what did we have as a Christmas luncheon this year?  Bubalus bubalis  or water buffalo.  Really.    Some of the water buffalo had been marinated in a garlic/tarragon/vinegar mix and some just as it came off the hoof.  Served with asparagus and potatoes.  Rather disappointing it was.  Tasted just like tough beef.  But more expensive.  Officially now checked off my life list.
       Where does one find such a delicacy?  It is only available at very specialized butcher shops where crazed carnivores hang out. O.K., but where does the butcher get his meat?  Hard to believe, but right here in Australia.  Really.
        According to the Australian Government Department of Environment and Energy website (where I go for all my party menu planning):

             Water buffalo were imported to Australia in the 19th century to supply meat to remote  northern settlements. The settlements and their buffalo were abandoned in 1949 and, despite harvesting for meat, hides and as hunters' trophies, feral buffalo spread across the northern floodplains. The Brucellosis and Tuberculosis Eradication Campaign reduced feral buffalo numbers significantly in the 1980s and 1990s but numbers are again very high right across northern Australia causing significant damage to wetlands.

Water Buffalo in the bush.

          Oh, so right here in Western Australia and Northern Territories.  I could have big game hunted my supper!  More surprises--there are city slickers here who actually know that one does not have to travel beyond our shores to find these...Bubalus beauties.  I learn something new everyday.  And anticipate next year's unanticipated holiday meal.



    And now that we've eaten, let us take a quick drive around to look at Christmas lights. And again, an Aussie touch ever present here as well.  This festive lighting  was found at the airport of all places.  Happy Holidays, one and all.

Perth Airport boab tree

Perth Airport reclining 'Roo

 

     

Hi, Bye & Triplets. Random Musings #6

Gus!

     Say Hello to my buddy Gus. He's an Airedale Terrier who I frequently bump into while exercising.  We have much in common, Gus and I: We love walking along the Swan River. We prefer a 'slow and steady' pace. Sometimes our knees creak. We're both really cute. And we love the occasional cookie--especially the expensive kind. Gus' (nameless) owner shocked me the other day by stating that this former abused shelter dog from Sydney is only seven years old. That's 49 in human years.  Gus' slow speed can be attributed to being a bit overweight.  Ummm, another thing Gus and I have in common.  Not much of a dog person, Gus has waddled right into my heart. Occasionally, a collie named Vincent and his (also nameless--as if it mattered) owner come across my path and I say hello to him also.  In fact, my four-legged friend Gus is a great motivator for me to get out there every morning. I look forward to saying hello to him. And both of us ever earlier with a faster step as the days get warmer and warmer.  The sooner finished, the sooner in front of a fan.  We are so smart, Gus and I.

Old at 8 years

     Saying Goodbye to my trusty old cellphone. It served me faithfully for eight years. It fit into my hand and my bag quite easily.  And it also fit into my leather cover from my first cellphone. Technology is making it obsolete.  I'm obliged to buy a new phone that fits only into a child's lost sock and has more bells and whistles than I want.  I am not a technophobe. Those slick smartphones can really come in handy with maps, gps, internet access and the like. Easy to see how people get so glued to and reliant upon them.  And that is where I balk at the idea of getting one (besides being a cheapskate  thrifty.)  Phones are a great tool but not my best friend, social crutch or cleaner of fridge, as handy as that would be.  I would also be a bit nervous about putting my entire life-private and professional-on a single device so easily damaged or lost. And even more wary of turning into one of those phone gawking drones you see on the bus every morning--long rendered by technology incapable of carrying on a conversation with others or even the desire to do so. So hello low tech phone and hello to to all I meet. Lovely to communicate with you.

Twin & Triplet Bananas

     I have Triplets! I've only had twins before so this is really exciting.  OK, maybe just amusing to my eight year-old nephew Nathan and myself. At the Canning Markets lately, I've been finding Siamese twin bananas-two separate bananas side by side under one peel.  These are quite fun but no one seems to want them.  So I get a special deal on them and then pass them out to kids at church the next day and to my nephew. We think these are a hoot.  Yesterday I found Triplets. Way cool.  Nathan is out of town and cannot enjoy it in person so I will turn it into Banana Butter, a happy spread I won second place for at this year's fair.  Alright, I may be amused  by things of little consequence but you have to admit: Twin and Triplet bananas are really cute.


  Author's Note: Found December 24, 2016 at the Canning Markets. QUADRUPLET banana. Yes, all four are connected top to bottom under the same undulating peel. Will be making Banana Butter very soon.

Quadruplet  Banana!

 

Silk Road Uyghur Cuisine...Now Open!

     It's rare that Kev gets super excited about a restaurant opening.  He likes restaurants. He eats in them much more often than I do.  But he doesn't get too worked up about them.  Until a new one took the place of a pancake restaurant (a location that flips owners/food about four times a year) on our local strip.

Silk Road Uyghur Cuisine

      Hello  Silk Road Uyghur Cuisine!   What?  Where?  Uyghur?  I share your confusion but Kev was in no doubt about this. The Uyghur [pronounced Wee-gur] region is the western most side of China just before you bump into Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan. Not easy to find on the map. Not exactly an internationally renown cuisine.  But therein lies its appeal.  We have scores of Asian restaurants on our main drag but none that evoke Old World mystery of the Silk Road. And we were there on Opening Night.

Traditional Uyghur hats

     It was obviously packed with family and friends bringing in flowers, plants, kids and Grandma to celebrate the occasion.  So few non-Asian faces that owner Askar knew who we were as soon we walked through the door. We joined the good will atmosphere as the staff--wearing shirts with the packet fold creases still quite sharp--found their way through a new busy service. We admired regional artwork and coloring of tablecloths and lights while waiting for menus.  And waited longer for our main dishes-mine came first and after a long wait Kev's came and after that his soup.  And we weren't fussed. Our role was to help the staff find their rhythm and taste the mysterious Uyghur offerings.

Uyghur Polo

     And it is clearly a mix of traders and marauders tastes on this part of the road.  Lamb prevails, rice has carrots in it, yoghurt drinks and spice enough for those who like it.  I ordered Polo, a traditional Uyghur rice with two skewers of lamb and salad.  The lamb was not too spicy (and easier to eat off the skewer especially where we were sitting) and the portions filling.  Kev ordered the Tawa Kewap, a lamb shank with bread, salad and yoghurt.   They hadn't mentioned that the lamb is fermented overnight in salt before being marinated and cooked.  This makes it a bit salty but the addition of bread, salad and yoghurt to the same dish was a first for the culinarily adventurous Kev.  Dessert was Kunafe, a Turkish cheese pastry soaked in a sugar syrup and served with ice cream. Again, a multi-regional blend that had never before tickled Kev's palate.  And let us include the traditional salty yoghurt drink--the sweet one was not available as they make their own yoghurt and had not made enough for both versions by opening night.  Happily, all of this food came at a reasonable price.

Where is Uyghur?

Here!

      Good food, happy atmosphere, affordable prices...what more could you ask?  Where's Uyghur?  Our Han Chinese waitress couldn't tell us but the wall at the entrance gives us a clue. A bit far for a meal.  Happily the Silk Road is nearby.

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.

Birthday Parties and Garage Sales

    Some weekends are busier than others. We find ourselves rushing around from one place to another hoping to get in all in and still catch our breath. This weekend was one such experience with some rather interesting trends noticed.

     First, it was the Garage Sale Trail - a national movement to reduce waste by encouraging reuse of items. People and businesses all across the country are exhorted to have a garage sale on the same day. Having everyone on the hunt --or sale-- on the same day benefits everyone: more traffic out looking for sales and more sales for wandering shoppers to find.  
     We joined the fray. We hoped to find a few pieces of furniture to replace the broken garage sale finds of yesteryear.  Not much there but nestled among the usual collection of old toys, 40 year-old Tupperware being sold at new prices, dated clothing and chipped coffee mugs were a few treasures: a Sony Walkman tape player with a solar powered alarm clock, another portable tape player with the all important three equalizer quality controls (neither of these have I seen before) and the a most gorgeous peacock purse.  This never-used, antique piece of art decorated with peacock feathers was selling for $60 and probably worth four or five times that. I was afraid to touch it. The seller was afraid to touch it. She kept this beaute either behind a glass hutch door or inside acid-free tissue paper.  Which is what her grandmother did with the purse.  One would be a hit at the Perth Fashion Festival with this lovely purse but who wants to push the cabinet holding it everywhere?
      Highly disturbing and all too frequently found was make-up.   Used make-up.  Very used make-up.   Ewwwwwww.  Really, people, I know it's a Chanel compact but the powder is now three-quarters gone and who really wants to use the rest?  Crumbling eye shadows, congealed nail polish and mashed eyebrow pencils all had price tags. I almost fainted when I spotted an unused eye shadow refill still in the box.  We did not find this day what we have seen at garage sales in the past.  Used booze. O.K., opened booze bottles being sold by people who don't drink anymore.  And all priced accordingly--the 3/4 full bottle was priced at 3/4 of the purchased price, the half-full bottle asking for half the duty-free price it sold for and so on.  I don't know how I made it to the car before bursting out laughing.  The entertainment value of visiting garage sales sometimes supersedes the bargains found.

I'm 3 years old!

     And then, a child's birthday party.  My first since moving to OZ.  I had not given any thought to what differences there may be but why wouldn't there be in a different place?  This party was well-themed in Peppa Pig, an animated cartoon character watched by all little kids.  Joining the plastic tablecloth and napkins sporting the image were cups, goodie bags, carrying cases, masks, cake decorations, balloons and little raisin boxes. Standard, thus far.
     The food was different.  What would a party be without Fairy Bread? Triangles of nasty cheap white bread spread with butter and doused in sprinkles (called Hundreds & Thousands here in Australia.)  Paper cups filled with jelly (translate that to Jell-O)  and lamingtons (a small vanilla cake rectangle covered in chocolate and rolled in coconut)  all help get the party started. The cake has no ice cream served with it.
     There is a bit of a shift in the party itself here in OZ. Fewer people live in homes with big backyards, so parties are in public parks or expensive party venues that have paint tag games or other amusements ($500 for a kid's party, anyone?)  And in a public park many of the little reindeer games we all enjoyed--Pin The Tail on the Donkey, Musical Chairs, Pass the Parcel--are no longer done. But this park had Zipline (also called a Flying Fox) attraction and a big mud puddle, so all of the kids were happy.
     
    After all this excitement, I took a nap.   It WAS the weekend, after all.

Adelaide--the Pie Floater

    Many places have special foods closely associated with them.  Cornwall has its pasties, Russia has borscht. Boston boasts about its Baked Beans and one goes to Chicago for real pizza.  Adelaide has the Pie Floater as its culinary crown jewel. Indeed, the National Trust now lists the Pie Floater as a South Australian Heritage Icon.
    The Pie Floater, a classic Aussie meat pie doing some synchronized swimming in a pool of pea soup, can be traced back to the late 1860s and was sold from carts starting in the 1870s. Working men, and more recently after-party revelers, lined up to eat a meal that had everything going for it. Walk the streets today and ask about them.  Everyone in Adelaide will say, "Yeah, Pie Floaters. Just look for the carts."  But street food has fallen out of vogue in the last 140 years. Food has moved indoors. And what cart vendor wants to hang around until 3a.m. to service the inebriated falling out of bars?  This icon is proving to be rather elusive but I was determined to try one before leaving Adelaide. Two options were uncovered and I will report on this local comfort food research.

Mr H's homemade Pie Floater

    The Homemade Pie Floater.  Mr H, a friend of my host, stepped up to the plate (using a sports metaphor here, not a kitchen one) and offered to make us some if we invited him to the party. Deal.  Mr H soaked blue peas in water and baking soda for several hours, rinsed them thoroughly and then boiled the peas in fresh water until soft.  Think Britain's Mushy Peas here.  There was no seasoning save possibly for a hint of salt.  The thick soup was ladled into a deep bowl and a warmed up commercially made meat pie of his choice was carefully placed in the middle. These meat pies are not to be confused with pot pies, which have gravy in them. And I don't blame anyone for not taking the huge effort to wrangle a meat/onion/tomato paste mixture into a pastry crust in an artful way. Pull it out of a packet, I say.  The mildness of the peas and pie suited me well but many might use the word bland.  It certainly was filling.

Vili's Pie Floater

    The Pro--Vili's.   Tucked in the middle of an industrial area is Vili's, but it's location certainly isn't a detractor for fans of the bakery.  Vili's is busy and open 24/7 with customers crossing all age, ethnic and social lines.  Skipping their dazzling desserts, I got to order from a long list of pie possibilities (18!) for my floater. I picked a Hungarian pie. Not shy on the paprika and with the the peas being amply peppered, this did a fair amount of dancing in the mouth.  A lot of people like ketchup--ooops, sorry, I mean tomato sauce--on their pies and Pie Floaters and Vili's obliges in an artful way.  But it looks more like a Pie Drowner than a Floater. I'm not sure why some places put the pie on the bottom with the soup on top (quicker to plate up?) or the instructions that sometimes suggest the pie should be upside down (again, why?)

     I had thought of trying one more Pie Floater to better complete the research.  There are two places in the heart of downtown Adelaide, one on William Street and the other in the Central Markets, that sell pie floaters. But neither was available for this research at the right time and, well, three Pie Floaters in four days is a bit more heroic than I feel.   And it exceeds my annual quota I have decided.  I say go ahead a try one.  When in Rome...