Trip Reports - Thanksgiving award trip (in Y) down under

1109 UA 307 BWI LAX 1825 2113 752 10AB

On this trip I decided not to do exit rows, because I was
with my sweetie, and the armrests don't go up on exit
rows. We had checked bags and arrived fairly early so had
plenty of time for martinis (Carol) and beer (me) with
snacks plentifully supplied by Evelyn at the club. Boarded
on time, but there was some kind of song and dance about
the bags loading, so we sat for half an hour; otherwise an
uneventful flight. As we landed in LAX quite late, we barely
had time to get RCC access for Flyertalker TelevisionTDTina,
who met us in the concourse, and share one round of drinks.

1109 UA 839 LAX BNE 2229 0730 744 41JK
1111 BNE SYD 0830 1000 41JK
1111 SYD MEL 1030 1210 37AB

For some reason the reservations computer kept changing our
seats over the space of six months (on United one goes for
award tickets as early as possible - we started off with
37JK, then they turned into 38AB, then we split off segments
and ended up with what we got. We sat with an interesting
Brisbane-bound person who administered an overseas learning
program at Stanford. Both of us chatted briefly with her,
and then for most of the rest of the flight I either was
eating or sleeping.

Supper wasn't bad: sort of roasted chicken (they must have
seen me coming, as my serving was almost all chicken skin),
decent mash, the usual rubbery green beans, and the usual
inedible Rubschlager roll, only this one was white. I don't
know what the other choice was, I think cheese ravioli or
something like that. Cheap wine from a Bay area winery
whose name I wrote down but lost accompanied appropriately
(it really was not that bad, not too sweet, not offensive
on the nose or palate; the Cabernet was better than the
Chardonnay). Thus fueled I slept through some bouts of
what Carol reported to me as pretty severe turbulence.

The second service was a box containing a turkey-cheese
sandwich, Ruffles, and a tiny Hershey bar.

More sleep, followed by the question of whether I wanted
pancakes or an omelet. I didn't really want either but
tried the pancakes to be a good sport. Either that or I
dreamed I did.

I was wakened by the sounds and feel of our airplane slowing
down and descending - mighty early, thought I; and then the
announcement came: owing to severe headwinds, we were having
to refuel in Brisbane. What fun, thought I. Some commotion
on board; it seems that a sizable contingent were heading to
Brisbane anyhow, lucky them, but it turned out that the
logistics of getting the baggage out and finding some
amenable customs and immigration staff at daybreak were too
daunting, and everyone had to stay aboard all the way to
Sydney, despite that that meant people would miss their
connection to Brisbane. Refueling and (I suspect) paperwork
took quite a while, and we landed in Sydney two hours late.
They were kind enough to have held our connecting plane for
us (it was, after all, the same flight number), and so that
took off and landed an hour late. The purser came to me in
the wayback and thanked me for all the business I gave the
airline. No offer of an upgrade, though!

Got some Bundy OP and other stuff at the Duty Free; this
was put to good use during the trip. You are now allowed
2.25 liters of booze duty-free. Customs and immigration
were a snap; the woman at the desk expressed concern at our
Virgin connection owing to the lateness of our flight, but
when we told her we'd booked onto a later flight, she seemed
to express actual relief on our account and pointed us in
the direction of a couple restaurants and bars where we
could relax.

First we decided to hunt up the Virgin Blue counter and get
our seat assignments; good thing we didn't wait, as the
line was huge and took a good half hour to negotiate. The
guy passed my grossly overweight carryon (with the booze),
and at length we trundled down to P. J. O'Brien's for a bite
to eat. I celebrated our arrival with a second VB (first one
was on the plane); Carol had Kilkenny, a light clean malty
brew made by Guinness. For lunch we had the bacon-wrapped
lamb and beef meatloaf, quite good, and notable for having
three meats in one blob; these came with coarsely crushed
potatoes and some long-stewed cabbage; and chilli-marinated
calamari, fried tubes that had been scored in interesting
shapes and marinated in something that tasted like nothing
at all, much less chiles, served over a mesclun-carrot salad
topped with sprouts, with a very sweet sauce Tartare on the
side. Off to explore the mall, which Carol did with alacrity
and I with some reluctance. Exhausted that and still had an
hour to go, but we decided to pass security and wait at the
gate. Security was quick and easy, but for the fact that
the screener confiscated Carol's baby scissors; upon her
protests, some goon came over, and he said they had to go.
We asked for a supervisor and were told first that there was
no supervisor and afterwards by the same goon that "I am the
supervisor." These scissors had passed at a dozen airports
worldwide (plastic-covered blades and all), most recently at
the silly transit security at Sydney before meeting their
demise at little Tullamarine. Carol protested that they had
been inspected and passed at Sydney; this might have been a
tactical error. The guy pulled himself up tall and boomed,
"This is MELBOURNE. MELBOURNE has NOTHING at all to do with
SYDNEY." I was ready to say, I hate Sydney, too, but I
didn't bother. The Virgin Blue area is sad and dark in the
same way that third-world airports such as Dulles are sad
and dark. We tried in vain to find free wireless or any
other entertainment: a slimy bar and some pinball machines
were all there was. Shortly before boarding a family with
a girl who coughed constantly every thirty seconds or so
arrived. We prayed that we wouldn't be seated near her; we
weren't.

1111 DJ 547 MEL ADL 1600 1650 73G 7EF

A quick flight, which naturally I slept through. We deplaned
quickly, but at some point Carol stopped to adjust her
rollaboard, and in that time the little girl went past us,
coughing continuously. Shortly thereafter I acquired a nasty
cold that persisted over two weeks.

We were met at the all-new Adelaide airport (which looks
like any other airport-cum-mall such as are fashionable these
days) by our buddies Kevin JCJDS and Glen J, as well as Glen's
daughter Liz, who was at the airport coincidentally on the
sad errand of seeing off her husband who was going to his
father's funeral.
=

As we were all a bit tired and a bit hungry, we tried a new
storefront about half a mile down Prospect Road from Glen's,
the Ghan Kebab House, which served us pretty decent if bland
middle-eastern food at fair prices.

We started with mantwo, which are meat-filled ravioli with
a sauce of mint, split peas, and a bit of tomato; quite
acceptable. An order of mixed kebabs - beef, chicken, ground
lamb, were standard, not too generous, but decent portions.
Korma curry turned out to be an ordinary lamb stew made with
shin and whatever the Australian or Afghan version of
Veg-All is - this was wholesome but devoid of spice. I hope
the place makes it, but the cook has to be a bit more
generous with the flavorings.

Pallow rice and two kinds of flatbread (both quite similar
but made in different thicknesses and patterns) accompanied.

A satisfying, no frills meal for cheap, close to home.

Being in a state of understandable fatigue, we turned in
pretty early after a brief chat with Glen and his showing us
some of the highlights or lowlights of his booze collection.

=

We slid into a daily breakfast pattern, Carol eating a piece
of toast with the jam of the day along with a bowl of
yogurt, Glen a cheese-Vegemite sandwich, and myself a few
slices of Hahndorf garlic mettwurst, which to everyone's
horror caused me to burp garlic all through the day. Odd and
exotic fruits varied this routine.

A quick early trip to the Gepps Cross farmers' market north
of the city yielded apricots, loquats, mushrooms, sweetcorn,
and some various Asian vegetables, which we used up over the
course of the week.

As I had solos coming up when I got back but didn't want
the hassle of dragging an instrument through all kinds of
security (who knows what they would have thought at
Melbourne), Glen had found a friend of a friend with a
violin I could use when I was there. This person turned
out to be a 90-year-old former member of both the Adelaide
(said to have been a founder) and Melbourne symphonies who
was willing to part with her beloved Vuillaume for a couple
weeks, as she had recently hurt her shoulder and couldn't
play any more. I prevailed on her to lend me a somewhat
less eminent instrument - after all, it was just to noodle
on for an hour a day - and gave her a pep talk on how she
should certainly knit well enough to be able to play again,
and anyway, she could continue teaching.

Our next stop was the ABC concert at Veritas in the Barossa
Valley, where Glen and Carol shared an appetizer plate,
which didn't have anything that interested me (other than
Maggie Beer's liver pate, but I've had that before) tasted
a fairly nice trio of wines, a Riesling, a Semillon, and a
Shiraz-Malbec. I believe we got a bottle of this last for
the concert, but I was too interested in the music to
remember what I drank. Ha ha ha.

The group was the new Australian String Quartet, less
eminent than the old one, but with the advantage of being
made up of four comely and energetic young ladies. Their
taxing and telling program consisted of the 8th quartet by
Peter Sculthorpe, one of Australia's most famous composers
(and whose music, as it turns out, I found a bit of a waste
of time - the woman who had lent me the violin had described
it by making wheep and whoop noises and gesturing with her
arms to the extent she was able to; when the quartet got to
a passage that duplicated the sounds that she had made in
her living room, it was all we could do not to laugh) and
the tortured but exquisite Beethoven Op. 59/3.

The playing was enthusiastic and youthful, but I think that
the music suffered on occasion with the exaggerated gestures
to which such playing is prone. Also there were a number of
odd studently lapses. Cuteness does count for a lot, and the
applause was warm and appreciative.

[It turns out the real Australian String Quartet (who had
parted ways with their board of directors for both artistic
and practical reasons) had formed, with new cellist Peter
Rejto, the Grainger Quartet, which - I found out too late -
was giving a competing concert down in McLaren Vale, which
would have been a better concert and also more convenient to
Hazelwood Park, where the violin had been, only it cost $42
a head, as opposed to free for the other. Perhaps Glen had
deliberately shielded me from this information, in honor of
the emptiness of my bank account, but I'd have gladly paid
the difference, which would have been deductible anyway.]

After the concert - I didn't particularly want to hang
around and tell the artists how wonderful they were - there
was time to look in on Peter Lehmann Wines - now without the
hands-on influence of Peter and Margaret Lehmann but still
an important winery.

We had time to sample a number before closing time.

Eden Valley Riesling 06 - lime and tropicals, lively acid,
Glen and Carol liked this a lot

Barossa Riesling 05 - apple and citrus, a little more muted
than the above; I preferred it as a pretty classic example

Black Queen sparkling Shiraz 98 - this is definitely not
my style, but it tickled my tastebuds more than most of its
ilk - a lot of plums, slightly offdry, but why put fizz
to it?

Eden Valley Shiraz 01 - nice at the price, spicy and very
plummy, not so deep as the below but more ready to drink

Futures Barossa Shiraz 03 - rather alcoholic on the nose,
but creamy, chocolaty, and plummy; pretty typical, pretty
nice

Mentor 01 - minty, licoricy, curranty. A little green for me

8 Songs 01 - I thought this more flavorsome than the below,
with better fruit, but a bit high in the acid

Stonewell 01 - not so concentrated I thought as previous
vintages, but still dark - the chocolate of four years ago
giving way to more coffee, but strength of plumminess was
still impressive

We closed them up, buying a couple bottles of stickies
in the process. As it was still quite light out, we took a
short detour to Lyndoch to visit what had been Ward's
Gateway Cellars - the building is now disused and overgrown
but the vines have been trimmed and kept up nicely! There
is posted at the door a notice from a group called Angel
Pty. Ltd. to take over the winery license, but it's dated
over a year ago. We poked around - I found one door that
was unlocked, and when I opened it hundreds of earwigs and
centipedes fell down on my head. The very picture of
desolation. Ray of course passed away New Year's Day 2005,
having retired a year or two earlier. It was a sad moment,
which Glen and I shared while Carol snoozed contentedly
in the back of the car.

A rollicking and high speed trip back down to the main
highway, with Glen telling tales about his old motorcycle
and various companions he'd entertained in his youth.

On the way up, we'd passed a restaurant called House of the
Red Dragon in a shopping mall; as I'm as close to a red
dragon as most people are likely to meet, we stopped in
for a look on the way back and decided to stay, despite the
place being a tomb at 6 and its having the look of a den of
culinary iniquity: I think we were influenced by the
whimsical zodiac figures on the walls, including the
dragon next to the monkey.

I ordered a rather south Asian meal, given that other than
these things the menu looked like what one might find in a
bad Chinese restaurant with nobody Chinese in it.

Squid satay turned out to be your ordinary squid stir-fry
sitting in some very creamy peanut sauce, heaped around a
citronella-fueled flame. Oddly, the dish tasted quite good,
especially the bits that had fallen into the citronella oil.
We asked for some chiles, which improved it yet some.

Roast pork bee hoon (they called it mee hoon) was
unimpeachable, and the amount of pork was generous. Just
like what you'd get at a noodle stall in Singapore and for
only two or three times as much.

A dish of curry vegetables had your curry-powder-based
sauce and a sprinkle of coconut on top; hokey but tasty,
and Carol is a sucker for anything with coconut in it.

With a bottle of cheap fizz we made a surprisingly
satisfying if declasse and decidedly foreign meal.

BWI-SYD in Y :eek:

great report! ^

I totally agree with the Schulthorpe comment. As a composer he leaves me dead. Having sung some of his works, I swear he makes the jumps just to piss of choirs.

Glen wanted to take us to Pondok Bali, an Indonesian
restaurant that he has bragged about on occasion. We
arranged to meet our friends there, so after a quick
run through Rundle Mall (where I bought some cough stuff,
long needed), we trotted over there only to find that
the place is closed Monday and Tuesday for lunch.

So the five of us wandered down - rejecting my suggestion
of a pub called the General Something Hotel, which was
advertising pitchers for $8 - and ended up at a trendy
place (Kevin's choice I think) called Citrus Wine Bar
and Bistro, which looked way too precious, but we needed
to get something to eat. Looked at the menu, and, well,
we didn't need to eat that much - so everyone just had
appetizers, except for me.

Bread was nice little rolls with tubs of extremely hard
butter; this came at an extra charge.

Pork sausages over corn cakes were unexceptionable,
what can you do to sausages and corn cakes?, but a little
precious, the dish rather too subtle given how hearty such
a meal sounds;

duck tortellini looked like a puny portion, but afterwards
Kevin opined that it had been enough food.

Glen ordered a terrine of ossobuco, which was a little
blob bearing little resemblance to the original meat; it
came with a chutney on the side that would have multiplied
the flavor, only Glen didn't like it. He was also mightily
disappointed that there was no garnish of marrow; I figured
that the staff got to eat it in the kitchen.

Substantial dishes were better - Carol had basil gnocchi,
quite light and good, with braised beef (a pretty standard
stufato, but that is almost by definition good) and some
decent Parmesan; my dish, labeled coq au vin, was quite
fine, although made with half a very small chicken, almost
a poussin, and almost certainly with a Shiraz-Cabernet.

We had the minty and delicious Saltram Mamre Brook Cabernet
04, with good oakiness and currants on the palate and a nice
smooth finish. Too costly here - enormous markups - for a
second bottle, though.

After which we walked back downtown to one of Kevin's
haunts, the Crown and Anchor, to fill the interstices in
our bellies and taste buds.

The good thing about this place is that it sells wine
for consumption on premises at $2 to 5 above retail.

The bad thing is that there's no employee who knows how to
maintain the taps. Kevin says that the guy who used to do
this left a week or two ago, having had an altercation with
the new tack-up-its-butt ownership.

I had a West End bitter, a pleasant brew of no character
whatsoever; the rest had Coopers products: a pale ale that
was palatable but very turbid; a sparkling ale that wasn't
so sparkling, being almost as turbid as the other and a bit
heavy in taste; and a molassesy pleasant dark that reminded
me a bit of the Prior that used to be brewed in Philadelphia
I think. Kevin had a pint of jug wine, of which he murders
the taste by putting it over ice. Afterward, Kevin bought an
absinthe for people to try: there was this curious ritual
involving fire and cracking glasses; the result was neither
very intoxicating nor very interesting. Carol thought it
tasted like cough formula. I was unimpressed by the stuff,
having experienced the real pearlescent thing in both legal
Pernod Fils 1920s and illegal unknown still 1990s versions.

Back home for assorted samplings, a trip to Glen's beloved
Lucky Asian market, a dinner of fu ru rou and stir-fried
kangkong with fish sauce, and so on to alcohol and bed.

[disclaimer: the Glen in this and other posts is not the
famous one]

BWI-SYD in Y :eek:

Yeah, but the armrests go up in Y, which is an advantage when one is
traveling with a sweetie (and neither of us is enormous in girth). I must
admit having made several calls to MP regarding making C seats available
or changing to NZ, but they stonewalled it, and I ended up having to
make do, which was fine.

And 60K x 2 was a pretty painless hit.

I totally agree with the Schulthorpe comment. As a composer he leaves me dead. Having sung some of his works, I swear he makes the jumps just to piss of choirs.

I have no issue with difficulties in the service of music - but
in his case they appear to be kind of haphazard.

Our friend Leonore took us to the Hyatt, where the Riverview
restaurant offers a noontime buffet ($45) and an evening one
at $5 more. Being bargain hunters, we took the former.

I ordered the Henschke Innes Pinot Gris, which was off, and
the only other thing I wanted to drink for less than many
dollars a bottle was the Mitolo Jester Shiraz 04, which
turned out a ripe rich super-chocolaty wine with a bit of
sweetness. This dictated the order of my attack upon the
buffet. Started off at the meat table:

roast lamb with mint sauce was shamefully overdone; I was
probably the first to get to it, and it was gray through
and through; it seemed to be okay lamb, though;

Chinese-style barbecue pork was gristly; the usual cuts
are fatty, which I prefer. Gristle is okay as well, so I
had a few pieces but was not surprised that it remained
essentially untouched when I scoped the table out half an
hour later;

there was a nice gingery flavor to the chicken in green
curry, whose defect was that it had very little if any
chile heat; the chicken was quite fine;

roast chicken looked pretty dodgy but in fact was wondrous,
one of the better chickens I've eaten, not because of any
fabulousness of spicing or melting crispness of skin, but
because the raw ingredient was truly excellent. I had a
thigh, ceding a bite or two to Carol, and went back later
for the other thigh - nobody else had touched the chicken
in the meantime;

roast beef was quite rare but from a cut that managed to be
both tasteless and gristly; this was sided with tender
brilliant green beans, though.

As one of the big draws of this place is lovely Tasmanian
oysters, I cleansed my palate with a couple slices of smoked
salmon (Leonore made most of her meal out of this, which was
quite nice but I thought lacking in texture) and continued
on with a Cooper's pale ale.

On the shellfish and appetizer table, there was a dish of
cold green-lipped mussels in red curry: these had a bit of
fire (unlike the chicken), and the freshness was exemplary.

What was described as Szechwan eggplant was a perfectly
decent soy sauce eggplant with a few flakes of red pepper.

Cajun perch was tender but prefrozen fish coated with a
facsimile of Paul Prud'homme's Seafood Magic.

Large beady-eyed prawns again were offputting of appearance
with their antennae waving in the breeze but delectable in
taste and texture. I had several but didn't see many others
tackling these, certainly nobody in our section.

I ended up taking three trips to the oyster station - a big
silver gravy-boat-shaped thing with oysters (shucked inside
the kitchen) tipped in so they went every which way,
including upside-down. The oysters were excellent and briny
and didn't suffer from being upside-down as the turnover
(har har) was very rapid. Twenty oysters didn't leave me
much room for afters, so I mostly watched as my companions
ravaged the dessert table.

Things tasted at the table included a chocolate buche de
Noel, a flourless chocolate lump (got good notices), a
Christmas pudding (got excellent notices), a mediocre
somewhat soggy almond tart, and an average creme caramel.

A cheese board looked rather like an airplane cheese board.

Carol intercepted the bill before anyone else could.

We returned to Leonore's comfy home and desserted again on
chocolate-coated kumquats (of her own manufacture) and more
Cooper's pale ale.

Wandered again around the Rundle Mall area, got some cakes
(and a most interesting, savory snack - wasabi macadamias)
from Ditters, and looked around the wine store at David
Jones: good selection, astronomical prices.

And we finally made it to Pondok Bali, where Greg, Dorothy,
and Kevin were awaiting us. Place looked pretty forlorn, and
in fact there were no other diners for lunch that day. A
pity; the service is friendly, the food good though mild,
the physical plant attractive in a Trader Vic sort of way.

For starters we had egg rolls, pretty standard; chicken
satay, likewise, but with a very savory dark brown
peanut sauce; and a prawn and cornbread fritter that
Carol liked a lot but I thought a bit hush-puppyish and
bland for an Indonesian dish. These are the same things
that are on the mixed appetizer, but if you order them
separately, it's cheaper (for a multiple order, which we
needed).

Our mains were uniformly tasty but not nearly hot enough:
turmeric fish, dry beef rendang, Surabaya lamb curry, and
salt-pepper squid (which was a bit too literally salted
and peppered); with this we had a big dish of sayur urap,
vegetables tossed in toasted coconut, which I didn't care
for (I wanted gado-gado but was voted down).

Carol contented herself with a bowl of seafood laksa; I
took a taste: excellent.

The major defect of the meal was that we'd ordered the
dishes at various levels of hotness, and they came all
the same, i.e. fairly mild. Calls for sambal and then
sliced chile went out to the kitchen and the food was then
suitably rescued, in the palates of some of us at least.

Desserts included dadar gulung, pandan-flavored rolls
stuffed with coconut and palm sugar, and ketan hitang, a
black sticky rice with coconut, pandan leaf, and jackfruit.
Both were a bit much considering how much we'd eaten;
neither, thankfully, was too sweet.

The wine we chose for all of this was Hardy's Late Harvest
white, a pleasant enough mishmash of Rieslingy and Gewurzy
flavors, balanced and moderate levels of both sweetness and
acid, a pleasant floral-tropical aroma, and an apricotty
finish. We had several bottles of it.

We took off pretty early for Clare, haven been woken by
Chookie the chicken rattling the back door begging for
breakfast. The Clare Valley is a ways north of the Barossa,
through some arid and unpromising-looking country, so not
an insignificant jaunt.

Our first stop was Auburn and its old winery Sevenhill,
which made (continues to make, as well) sacramental wine.
This is where Kevin (a famous character in his day, known
best for disreputableness) had his apprenticeship, so we
got a commemorative bottle of sherry to take back to him.
We were greeted by a large and friendly cat - the first of
several winery beasts (I suppose it makes sense: the French
used to eat the rats who lived in the aging cellars;
perhaps the Clare Valley people get someone else to do the
dirty work) - and a cheery attendant who led us through the
rather gigantic list. We tried few of the stickies and none
of the sacramentals. Most of the wines we found well made
but not special. We were the only tasters while we were
there, but a few people straggled in as we left.

St. Aloysius Riesling 05 - very fruity, spicy, big, pretty
impressive, but not for $29 a bottle

Riesling 06 - sweet nose but very dry and acid on the palate
- notes of orange and tropical fruit, giving over to the
more cloying Juicy Fruit

Semillon 05 - tropical fruit and cat pee, very much like a
Sauvignon Blanc; acid subsided in the glass, and it finished
well, but I still didn't care for it

Chardonnay 05 - heavy oak, out of balance, blackberry
flavors, shortish vanilla finish

Gewurztraminer 05 - lychee and lime, medium sweet, apple-
pineapple finish, pretty decent

Shiraz 04 - a little muted and milky at first, going to a
spicy black pepper attractiveness; a bit too much wood made
it a little bitter

College Red 04 (Cab F mix) - quite green, aroma of old
shoes, didn't care for it despite a long luxurious berry
finish

Dry sherry - a horrid chemically nose that blew off to
show bright citrus, mushroom on the palate, slightly
sweet, long pleasant finish. Took some home

Rose - floral, fruit, tongue-coating, didn't like

Liqueur Tokay - raisins mixed with varnish - didn't like

Liqueur Verdelho - your standard cheap sweet wine, more
of that strange spoiled milk taste, but ok

Fine old tawny - too sweet and obvious; weird flavors
dominated by acidy coffee; long finish.

After a chat with the attendant and making our purchases,
we went on to Stringy Brae, with its two dogs, one large
and black, the other not. It was relatively hopping here,
despite its slightly out of the way setting. I think this
winery has recently won a bunch of awards or something.

Riesling 05 - muted nose, attractive citrus and tropical
fruit came out, I liked it for its restraint

Riesling 06 - orange blossom and lime, honey came out on
the palate, resolved again to the dread bubble gum

Cabernet/Shiraz 04 - lot of alcohol, way too young; pleasant
brambliness, good oak not yet incorporated (has 5% Malbec)

Cabernet 02 - a little green, dumb; couldn't evaluate;
didn't seem up to the level of the other offerings, but
I think it'll come out into its own at some point soon

Shiraz 02 - aroma strangely reminiscent of the Chinese
dish lion's head - pork with Chinese cabbage; couldn't
figure that one out, especially as the palate had honey
and lemon drops, with blackberries coming in - quite
interesting, took some home along with the

Shiraz 00, which wasn't available for tasting on premises,
so we took a bottle with us - when we drank it, if I hadn't
known what it was I would have guessed this as a decent
Tuscan, lots of tannin and old shoes, quite acid; incredibly
absolutely no Shiraz character. Tasted pretty good in the
glass, though with less fruit than I'd like; more meat and
mushroom flavors, quite odd, but went famously with braised
lamb shanks.

Along the way, Carol noticed a sign for a soap store, and we
promised to let her take a look on the way back.

Into town to Knappstein, one of the grand old names and a
favorite of Kevin, who apparently had studied under Mick
Knappstein.

Sparkling Riesling NV - not enough fruit; a good balance
though, with just the right amount of residual sugar; a
slight sulfuriness

Ackland Vineyard Riesling 06 - lots of acid, good fruit,
both citrus and tropical, nice texture

Hand Picked Riesling 06 - funny chemically smell, not
enough fruit, do yourself a favor and spend a couple
more bucks on the Ackland

Chardonnay 05 - melon, pineapple, not too much oak,
rather pleasant

Sparkling Shiraz NV - nice ruby, cherry nose, black cherry
on the palate, good acid and tannin, low residual sugar,
very much more attractive than the same wine I had many
years ago; the pretty but standoffish pourer warmed up just
slightly when I mentioned the differences between this wine
and the one I'd tasted some years before - and how much I
preferred this new leaner style; she offered some details
about the differences

Shiraz 03 - Carol found burnt sugar, I found chocolate and
vanilla; eucalyptus and tannin, quite nice

Yertabuli Shiraz 04 - this is their reserve brand, named
after the Aboriginal word for "windy place" - a complex
wine, plummy nose, mint, coffee, chocolate, plum-apricot,
huge tannin, not ready for some years to come. Long rather
strange (indescribable; I wouldn't go out of my way for it)
finish

Fortified Shiraz 01 - alcohol and plums, way too much
tannin for this type of wine, so a medium very puckery
finish.

Glen bought a bottle of one of the fizzes, and Carol got
me a copy of a book called something like Good Wine and
Bad Language - which turned out to be a nice but tame
set of interviews with some of the major Australian
winemakers. I could write such a book about Kevin and Ray,
and it would be a more interesting but scandalous book.
I'd call it Strange Brews and Bad Characters.

The sign for the soapmaker was mounted on a battered old
truck - it said to turn off the main road, which we did,
only to find nothing. We consulted the tourist map, to no
avail, but noticed that a couple of our target wineries
were on the small winding road parallel to the highway.

And so to Kirrihill, which was hard to find - we couldn't
see it going southward at all but managed to do so while
retracing our steps. We actually found Wendouree, which was
closed (Kevin later claimed that if we had called ahead and
mentioned his name, they might have seen fit to open for us)
and Tim Adams. Glen remembered that Kevin had said something
about Tim Adams but forgot if he was a great guy or a great
what, so we passed up his winery in favor of lunch. The
Kirrihill tasting room is in the basement of a restaurant,
so ...

Riesling 06 - very acid, a barrier to the nice citrus
fruit coming out; the acid dominated throughout

Adelaide Hills Chardonnay 03 - very heavy bitter oak,
boiled sweets, berries, like the overoaked California
Chards we used to get in the '80s and '90s

Langhorne Creek Shiraz 03 - also very acid that dominated
the profile, fruit in the background. Needs a couple of
years of bottle age to tame it

Clare Shiraz 03 - lots of acid and tannin, the old shoes
coming right out, but honey, berries, and a bit of
coconut came out, redeeming the wine.

Above Kirrihill is the Salt 'n' Vines Bar & Bistro, where
Paulett was the winery of the month. It was also deserted
but for us and one girl who served as hostess and waitress
and telephone booking taker (for dinner, I presume). We
wondered whether there was a cook out back.

Turned out there was, and a reasonable one at that.

Salt-pepper squid was the usual South Australian travesty -
I know that it's become sort of the signature dish of the
Adelaide restaurants, but they use way too big pieces of
squid and a way too gross coating (sometimes it's a batter
and sometimes a breading, and sometimes there's more of
it and sometimes less, but it's always flabby) - probably
a bit more heat under the fryer might help, but oddly other
fried things are often fine. Glen ordered a dish of this,
and Carol and I had a seafood combination, which included a
couple pieces of that squid and

grilled scallops in the shell that, however, were pristine
ingredients done nicely, two per plate, with delicious
coral roe (which Carol doesn't like, so I got extra).

A rather heavy batter marred nicely fried prawns, but fried
flathead was a revelation of flaky tender fish - the flavor
was similar to but, I thought, nicer than, that of catfish.

These treasures were piled over and about an undressed
mesclun salad, which, being a good boy, I ate all of.

The Paulett sparkling Riesling was pleasantly off-dry,
the considerable acid delicately balanced by a touch of
sweet; woody aroma and a nice flavor of grapefruit and
apricots - good with the fish but faded before the
prawns and squid;

Paulett Chardonnay 04 was deep gold, lots of glycerin,
tons of oak; mushrooms on the nose, pineapple, raspberry,
lemon, vanilla - rather like a better-quality California
wine; went well with the shellfish but nastily brought
out the mud and algae of the flathead.

We got instructions on how to get to the soapmaker - turns
out she's on a side road but had not bothered to put up the
appropriate "turn here" sign. We found the shop, and Carol
hit it off with her, and as a result of this rather lengthy
visit (as long as our visit to any winery) we ended up
carting away a sizable array of soaps and stuff.

Neagles Rock, another of the new stars, is right on the main
highway through Clare and as such was quite a bit busier
than any of the other wineries. It also has a popular-priced
canteen and a black Lab, which help to bring in the curious
multitudes.

Rieslings:

05 - mellow nose but surprisingly acid, very lively, decent
fruit, I enjoyed this

06 - much acid, tropical fruit, unsubtle; once it settles
down it'll do well

04 reserve - that Clare kerosene in abundance, tropical
fruit hiding behind with a honey finish, interesting

05 reserve - the best of the lot, a quintessential
green-apple Riesling, comfortable to taste by itself but
would go nicely with any number of foods.

Reds:

Cabernet 04 - chocolate, eucalyptus, green pepper, I found
it flawed by the greenness but not unpleasant

One Black Dog reserve 04 - a real winner, lots of mint and
currant (60% Cabernet), slight plastic with chocolate later
(40% Shiraz), long blackberry finish, a first rate wine.

The regular wines are free for tasting; the reserves cost
$2 a pop, but we were forgiven the last charge, having
expressed appropriate admiration for the two others.

I was tempted to buy a bottle of One Black Dog but resisted
as our luggage threatened to become unwieldy.

Having had some successful wines from Paulett at the
restaurant, we continued on to that winery, which is
set spectacularly on a hilltop with an easterly view;
there we chatted with Alison Paulett about various things,
including our friend Kevin and the winery he used to have
- she remembered his dentist's chair, which I presume he
used for nefarious purposes and which perhaps she had once
been a victim of ...

I liked the reds better than the whites.

Riesling 06 - an odd pucker, lots of stone fruit going to
the candy-bubble gum, a sweetish finish; disappointing as
I'd thought the wine might have the oomph to go in a
different direction

Shiraz 03 - sweetish opening, strawberries and vanilla,
a little whiff of the local petroleum (which the local
wineries don't seem to be able to get rid of), good tannin

Andrea reserve Shiraz 03 - uncompromising, smoky and minty,
lots of tannin, Italianate, long fruity finish, excellent.

We asked Mrs. Paulett about where to go next, but she was,
as most of the people we talked to were, pretty guarded on
the topic. Inquired about Mintaro, and she pointed us in
the right direction without comment (I believe her face
showed disapproval, though; but at Stringy Brae they'd
done the same for her, so all's fair I guess).

The winemaker was manning the counter at Mintaro, whose
main thing is fancy labels and a top line labelled with
art deco pictures of famous actresses of ancient times.

Riesling 06 - lemon-lime, a bit off dry; wish it had been
a touch drier

Monarch Shiraz 02 - a bit soft and sweet on the palate, open
fruit, coffee and spice; not bad

Premium Shiraz 03 - chocolate, plums, and raisins; a bit of
alcohol was intrusive on the palate; oaky finish

Belles femmes & grand vin Shiraz 03 - strange balance toward
the acid; chocolate, coffee, and menthol, as though it were
aiming for the style of a big Barossa wine. Quite costly
and not at all worth it.

It was probably the least of the wineries we visited,
but even then the product was not altogether bad.

Glen was a bit fatigued after all this, and Carol, who
doesn't spit, declined to drive on the wrong side of the
road, and I of course am slightly impaired both visionwise
and otherwise, so we took a rest stop at Patrick McGinty's
Parlour at the Tarlee Motel for a Devonshire tea - anyway,
Glen had tea; I had a Grubb's ginger beer (quite gingery
but rather sweet), and Carol had a sarsaparilla vanilla
ice cream float. It's another amusing and unexpected
venue - formerly a motel cum antique shop, it's been
bought by some speculators from the metropolis of Gawler
and in the process of renovation. We took our tea out in
the back garden, which seemed to want to duplicate a
Hawaiian or other Island ambience. A lot of effort for a
motel with, I believe, four rooms.

We arrived back at Glen's house disinclined to go on a
major culinary adventure, and as a result we chose to
dined at home; Glen's contribution was pressure-cooked
Mediterranean-style lamb shanks, leftover, which I altered
a little with a splash of tawny Port; I thought it a
brilliant addition but have no idea what anyone else
thought; I made pork with peppers and onions mixed with
sambal badjak - a spicy somewhat Chinese-like dish; and
finished with some rather elderly sweet corn that we'd
gotten at the farmers' market the previous Sunday - I was
surprised to find that it was still reasonably sweet, not
hopelessly tough, and had some flavor.
=

Leonore arranged to be free for the day, so we picked her
up (major accident just beyond the train tracks, so we
were forced to detour around, seeing parts of the city that
even Glen had never encountered; then on to Victor Harbor
by the main south road. A beautiful and not too warm day,
in the 60s (15-18C) and a jolly little trip. On the way we
saw evidence of a major undertaking under way, and it soon
transpired that this was the beginning of the Classic
Adelaide Car Rally, which didn't mean a lot to most of us
but was the source of modest enthusiasm for Glen.

Luckily it was still early when we arrived at Victor Harbor,
so we got a nice parking spot as the rally organizers were
setting up.

Taking the advice of train-smitten Greg (who is an engineer
at the National Railway Museum in Port Adelaide), we took
the horse-drawn trolley to pretty Granite Island, home to a
colony of fairy penguins (now called, in the spirit of PC,
little penguins); but of course as it was midday, the
penguins were out working. An enjoyable and not very
strenuous hike around the island and then back across the
causeway (saving a couple dollars and in fact to me much
more enjoyable than being pulled by a horse), where we found
the rally in full swing. We lunched at the Original Victor
Fish Shop, where I had the butterfish and chips, Carol the
barramundi and chips, and Glen splurging on the seafood
combination - butterfish (which tasted rather different
from my butterfish), prawns, squid, and crabstick and chips.
We had for accompaniment Cooper's Pale Ale or VB according
to his or her preference. My butterfish (quite different
from the small flat bony article we get, most often eaten
fried whole) was a tender, slightly oily but white fillet
of considerable size; Carol's fish was more delicate and
softer, but I didn't like it as well. Glen had two small
pieces of butterfish, which were somewhat fishier than mine.
The chips were excellent, and we got far too many of them.
I took away the leftovers to make hash browns later.
Watched numerous classic and not so classic cars go by -
from '30s antiques and Corvettes (i.e., classics) to deux
chevaux, a Ford Falcon, and a fairly recent Beemer. An odd
assortment,

Leonore had brought her own lunch, which she shared with us
as well - zucchini slice, fruitcake, chocolate cherries, and
chocolate kumquats, all made by herself, and roast cashews
and peanuts (the peanuts roasted by herself as well).

It was Glen's idea to take us to Goolwa, where we found a
floating photographic exhibition of the famous Murray flood
of 1950-something, a steam-powed paddlewheel riverboat
(Glen was ecstatic), and a brewery (I was ecstatic).

We went on to Hindmarsh Island (an insignificant little
bridge, recently built, is said to have displeased the
native peoples and caused the recent drought) to see the
mouth of the mighty Murray, which we did, although the
pelicans interested us more, and the flies - a hideous
number of them - were much more notable than the river
mouth, which seems hidden amid mud flats. At the end of
the road is a beach that would be one of the wonders of
south Australia were it not for those flies.

Back to Goolwa and the Steam Exchange for some much-
appreciated libation:

Steam ale was strangely familiar; the friendly barman
informed us that not only was it brewed in the style of the
famous San Francisco treat Anchor Steam Beer, it used the
same yeast, imported by some outfit in, I believe, Colorado.

Southerly Buster was a lightly hopped English-style ale,
not notable for anything but its name; it was a bit cereally
for my taste.

Stout was a bit not stout enough and also afflicted with
that same starchy breakfast-cereally type of taste.

The special was Truffles, a dark ale with a gigantic alcohol
content (in the 10% range), flavored with vanilla and lots
of chocolate. Low in carbonation and hops and relatively
high in sugar, it reminded one of a dairy bar fountain drink
- which amused me but didn't compel me.

The IPA, which I'd heard good things about, was off.

I think I liked the "American-style" steam ale best.

On northward, dodging the rally cars, passing a winery or
two (couldn't find them, actually), through Strathalbyn,
a picturesque little town that was the site of the first
Down Under Echo Picnic. The logical road back to Adelaide
was closed to noncombatants, so we detoured up to, where
else, the tasting room at Petaluma/Bridgewater Mill:

Bridgewater Mill Shiraz Viognier 03 - your usual chocolaty
Shiraz, rather high in tannin, and as I mentioned to the
girl, not much Viognier influence - she consulted with the
powers that be, and it turned out that the ratio here was
94 to 6 ... I wondered how raw this Shiraz would have
tasted without that 6%

Petaluma Shiraz 04 - spices and plums, rather fruitcaky on
the opening, with coffee and leather in the midpalate;
berries on the finish, quite nice

Sharefarmers Botrytis Semillon 98 - not quite sweet, with
a surprisingly puckery finish, lots of honey and a bit of
ripe fruit (surprisingly no raisin). Medium amber, rather
reminiscent of wines of the Monbazillac (near where Ian
lives).

There weren't that many other things I wanted to try, so
we were merciful and allowed the tasting room staff to
leave at closing time.

Back to Leonore's via Woolworth's, where we picked up some
steaks for Glen and me, a smoked chicken for Leonore, and
a couple pounds of lamb and beef mince (marked down) for
Carol and to play with. The steaks come in two grades,
economy and special; we got one of each.

Fired up the grill and attempted to cook things rare to
medium-rare. The steaks went all right; but as Carol's
hamburger was just about to turn rare, we slapped some
cheese on and covered the grill to melt it. After a
couple minutes, I looked, and the cheese still hadn't
melted; after a few more, I determined that the cheese
wouldn't melt at all. So we pulled off a well-done but
still reasonably juicy burger with a blob of unmelted
cheese on top - turned out it was fat-free cheese, which
won't melt if you put a blowtorch to it.

The steaks were similar in flavor, the economy only a
little less beefy although with a watery, pulpy texture -
similar to our regular supermarket stuff in the States;
the special was firmer and more robust in every way, but
whether worth the difference in price I'm not so sure.

Our dessert was more chocolate cherries and kumquats.

There was a lot of mince left, so I chopped some onions
and made kofta mix to age in the fridge pending our picnic
a couple days hence.

Central Market day. We took the Prospect Road bus downtown,
as this makes more sense than taking a car in, trying to
park, and so on. Had a good day shopping for the picnic and
for self-catering part of the rest of the week. As usual,
Carol went her own way, looking for things that neither
Glen nor I saw any charm in. We met for lunch at the food
hall across the way, where the bargain hunters eat. The
various stalls all had interesting offerings - the Vietnam
place was the least interesting, though it was fairly
popular; an Indian stall, whose food smelled good but whose
prices were too much by about a dollar was deserted. Korean
and Thai places had their things and their clientele. Three
Chinese stalls - one with saddish-looking dim sum (nobody
seemed to want to eat their food, aside from a Chinese
couple who came in later), two all-you-can-put-on-one-plate
buffets - the lady running the one near the entrance was
palpably desperate when she shoved samples of General Tso
my way ... but I was not in the mood for heavily battered
anything; found the Shanghai stall offering a dish that I
like very much, red-cooked pork belly. I built my plate
this way: a modest bed of yellow noodles, a good-size dose
of pork; a couple spoonfuls of sauteed mixed vegetables
(carrots, broccoli, cabbage), and chicken wings (I think 3
whole wings) to top off. Everything was well prepared and
good tasting except for the noodles, which turned out to be
just horrible, underdone and doughy. As I made my main meal
of pork belly, I didn't overload my plate and so didn't eat
horribly badly. Glen ate from the same place and perhaps
even more modestly than I, though he had both noodles and
rice on his plate. We ate fairly well and fairly copiously
for our five bucks a head; by being more architecturally
talented and greedier we could have eating ourselves silly.

There's a beverage stand in the middle: you can buy soft
drinks, bubble tea, beer, and wine. I drank VB; Glen had
cheap box wine.

Carol got a seafood tom yum from the Thai stall: it was
tasty if mildly spiced but came with a dish of extremely hot
sauce, which she rejected but I then appropriated for my
chicken wings.

We were going to the place where a dozen oysters and a
schooner used to be 10 bucks; now it's 13, and we didn't
have any time anyhow, and besides, the grapes were sour.

=

We were scheduled to visit Glen's daughter Jo and her
husband Murray (along with son Ryan) for tasting a pair of
wines that had been put up for review at the newspaper
they work for; they had already been written up by the
house critic, but the additional input from some outlanders
was thought to be interesting as well.

Jo and Murray live with their son in a pleasant, slightly
upscale suburb, but the one thing I noticed - and noticed a
lot in Adelaide - was how many locks there were on the front
door, and how many of them were kept locked even in daylight
with lots of people in the house. I don't know, maybe bands
of marauding rebels from Banda Aceh or something? Anyway,
it's a nice house, apparently built by the builder with
extra features as it had been meant for his daughter, who
ended up living somewhere else; and so it has powerful air
conditioning, which is especially good as it was topping
out at 35 (95F).

We started off with a clean pointless but refreshing Jacob's
Creek Chardonnay 05 before the tasting of two Barossa wines:

RBJ Theologicum Mataro 02, a smooth and complex wine that
started a bit dumb but had licorice and honey coming out
nicely in the palate. Assertive acidity. A smoky plummy
aspect developed in the glass, and there was a long, tartish
butterscotchy finish.

Diggers Bluff Stray Dog GSM 04 had phenol and shoes giving
way to the aromas of an Indian grocer, with pineapple and
plum in the background. It had a bit more sugar than I
thought it ought, followed by a bitterish finish. I could
see this wine pairing rather nicely with south Asian food.

Our snacks were various kinds of cheese and sausages and
smoked 'roo from the shop in the Central Market, which was
plenty for an afternoon nosh; but it was decreed that dinner
should follow, and Murray was busily grilling things out on
the back porch, and whoever in his right mind says no to
grilled food?

These were packaged goods but not too bad for that - chicken
satays had a decent brined texture and an okay flavor,
though a bit too much fennel; snags "with Texas seasoning"
I thought mild to the point of tastelessness, but Ryan, who
is preternaturally sensitive to spices, found them
mouth-burning hot.

I just happened to have with me some Port Lincoln mussels -
5 lb of them to be precise -, and I added them to the pot,
as it were, grilling them on the still-hot grill after the
snags had been taken off. These were excellent, very briny,
not a dead one in the lot.

Rounded out the evening with Elevenses sparkling Chardonnay
04 from Wayne Thomas (McLaren Vale), a singularly bitter and
grapefruity wine that I rather enjoyed.

Even though I am not a native of South Australia, I am rather pleased to see someone on FT taking the time to look around.


I am very interested in your comments on the Clare wines, but I am surprised that no-one at Sevenhill mentioned Skillogalee to you, which is quite charming with good food and zesty riesling that is common to the Clare valley.

We took off pretty early for Clare, haven been woken by
Chookie the chicken rattling the back door begging for
breakfast. The Clare Valley is a ways north of the Barossa,
through some arid and unpromising-looking country, so not
an insignificant jaunt.

Our first stop was Auburn and its old winery Sevenhill,
which made (continues to make, as well) sacramental wine.
This is where Kevin (a famous character in his day, known
best for disreputableness) had his apprenticeship, so we
got a commemorative bottle of sherry to take back to him.
We were greeted by a large and friendly cat - the first of
several winery beasts (I suppose it makes sense: the French
used to eat the rats who lived in the aging cellars;
perhaps the Clare Valley people get someone else to do the
dirty work) - and a cheery attendant who led us through the
rather gigantic list. We tried few of the stickies and none
of the sacramentals. Most of the wines we found well made
but not special. We were the only tasters while we were
there, but a few people straggled in as we left.

I'd found some nice South Australian scallops with roe at
the Greek fishmonger's at the Central Market (same place
where the mussels had come from), so for breakfast we had
sauteed scallops with sherry and butter over toast, very
nice, if I say so myself; then it was time to gird our
loins and prepare for the picnic itself.

We showed up early at Leonore's and chopped things up and
helped make salads and kebabs and things for the big party.
With what Leonore provided, what we brought, and the
contributions of the other guests, we ended up as usual
with quite an abundance and assortment of food. We'll
draw a discreet veil over the rest of the day, only to add
that we had 15 guests and food for 30. Nothing of great note,
except that one of the guests looked exactly like Henry
Kissinger did when I was at university, several decades ago.

=

Carol had to have her kangaroo and koala fix, so we went
first thing (it was supposed to be 35 (in the mid-90s) later
on) to Cleland Wildlife Park, where we were met by a power
failure that prevented the shop from operating (thank
goodness) but also meant that the credit card machine was
not working, so our smallish supply of cash was somewhat
drained. We spent our allotted three hours or so visiting
our favorite animals: the wombats were hiding, and the
Tasmanian devils were on vacation, but Glen has a delightful
little video of the pangolins, and somewhere there are
incriminating photos of me communing with the wallabies
without a knife and fork in my hands; then to Bridgewater
Mill, which I'd heard a lot about but was unable to fit a
booking in on either of my previous trips to Adelaide.

I think we were sized up immediately, to my initial
amusement and then chagrin.

We weren't important enough to get amuses; to be fair, only
half the tables got them - a couple of larger parties, one
a foursome who dropped names shamelessly before the staff,
one of about eight fairly drunken nobs from the city; also
a pair the woman of whom looked like she was a model or
something, and another pair who although quite slatternly-
looking were treated throughout with kid gloves. You could
tell I was underwhelmed when I was looking at what everyone
else was eating and not noticing my own food much.

Carol started with the tomato terrine, a nice-tasting but
to me not interesting dish that was accompanied by zucchini
flowers stuffed with buffalo mozzarella; Glen and I both
had a peculiar composed dish of grilled scallops, roast pork
belly and, sweet-sour oyster mushrooms - the menu described
the dish as having sweet-sour pork belly and regular oyster
mushrooms; it was fine this way, though the pork belly was
not done so nicely as a Chinese restaurant would have fixed
it. The ingredients were good, but there was no logic that
melded the components. A fried enoki topping was charming
and almost succeeded in doing so.

Glen's roast duck breast and twice-cooked leg were what you
would expect at any restaurant in the civilized world; it
was quite average and would have been a welcome surprise
in Alice Springs was in this self-styled oasis of
sophistication merely another ho-hum duck two ways.

Carol's Kangaroo Island chicken breast with Thai-tasting
vegetables (described as "coconut-green mango salad") was
perfectly fine chicken breast, a little better perhaps than
supermarket chicken, with nice vegetables, especially as
Carol loves coconut dishes. The skin was a tad flabby in
spots, a constant danger if one is trying to do a chicken
breast so it's right and moist.

My few meager slices of saddle of venison were done properly
rare and were served over wilted greens with bacon: a decent
but not inspired dish, the greens (supposedly cavolo nero
but in fact just ordinary greens) with bacon being the best
part of the plate.

The vegetables for the table were beans, broccoli, and sweet
potatoes. They were fine.

There was this odd composed dessert of apple something,
butterscotch ice cream, and "botrytis gelee," again things
thrown together without rime or reason, individually decent,
together decent and no more. The gelee was made from that
Sharefarmers wine that we'd tried in the tasting room.

Instead of which I returned to the top of the menu with
a "confit of beef filet" with kelp and carrot-daikon
salad - this turned out to be a slow-cooked-to-medium-rare
and thus flabby and tasteless piece of meat; the vegetables
were the star, almost justifying the dish, but when you see
me eating around the meat to get to the carrots and
seaweed, you know there's something wrong in the kitchen.

Wines:

Carol had several glasses of Bridgewater Mill Brut, a
quite savory bubbly with flavors of honey and wood, going
to nice fruit and a medium finish.

I started off with glasses of the Bridgewater Mill Viognier
04 and the Petaluma Viognier 05 - the former had an
understated floral nose and opening, tropical fruit on the
palate, and a weakish floral finish; the latter with very
faint tropical fruit with a lot of surprising citrus and
Sauvignon Blanc-iness. With the venison I had the Petaluma
Coonawara Cabernet-Merlot 03, a big wine with good legs, a
plum, anise, five-spicy nose and a plum-cherry palate. It
was slightly sweeter than I thought it would be, no big
problem. With my "dessert" I had the Coonawara Merlot 04,
lots of menthol-eucalyptus on the nose, chocolate-vanilla
and plums in the mouth, and a long plummy finish.

Glen stuck with Hahn Premium, a fairly tasty lager
with good hopping but a bit starchy for my taste.

We weren't important enough to get petits fours, which I
believe is a standard offering at places such as this, if
you haven't displeased the staff, even if you don't get
coffee, which we should have done but didn't.

The bill was too high for the experience, although just
moderately high by city standards.

=

Our choice was to go back and brave the heat at Cleland or
see other perhaps cooler things. So we went to the famous
Germanic tourist town of Hahndorf. My impression was that
it's an even more blatant than usual effort to part us from
our money, but most of the things sold there are things that
I can either get cheaper elsewhere or that don't interest
me at all at all.

Carol went her way down the main street; Glen and I went
ours, which surprisingly didn't involve alcohol.

I was lured into Hahndorf Sweets by the promise of a chilli
chocolate frog - this was actually quite palatable, decent-
quality milk chocolate with a lot of crushed chile; Glen
and I split one, to the shock and surprise of the shop
assistant, who told us that her whole family could barely
manage collectively to get one down. I also got some
peculiar blue candy laces filled with "sherbet," i.e.,
sugar and some acid, maybe citric. I liked these a lot, the
berry blueness more convincing than any such I'd had before.
I like blue.

Stopped at a cafe for a drink, as it was easily 90 in the
shade. We tried two versions of "Lemon, Lime, & Bitters."
Angostura was a fairly lurid reddish color but a well
balanced flavor; Schweppes had an aggressive liminess
but wasn't bad. Turns out Angostura (made with the real
bitters of the same name) uses a 4:1 lemon:lime ratio,
whereas Schweppes uses equal quantities.

After this adventure we tried to get a tasting in at
Nepenthe Hahndorf, but as it turned out we were 45 minutes
late, and they were long closed. And so back home, where a
supper was devised of snags, leftovers, and plenty of
vegetables: sauteed mushrooms, choy sum, and asparagus in
three different styles.

The sausages were interesting: emu ones had a strong livery
aspect, which reminded Carol of the ring puddings that her
mother had loved; kangaroo ones were milder, seasoned with
dominating flavors of thyme and sage and thus tasting very
like Thanksgiving turkey dressing.

Fruit cake, chocolate-coated kumquats, and kumquat liqueur,
all provided by Leonore, who was much toasted in absentia,
rounded out the evening.

goback: Skillogalee was on our list, but the Clare book we had in the
car said it wasn't open when we'd be in Auburn. We missed out on a
fair number of good Riesling producers, but still I was pretty palate
fatigued by the time I got out of town.

Picked Leonore up early, and as we got to the Hills in
record time, hot-footed it to Gumeracha to see the largest
rocking horse in the world (you can climb up to the top,
60 feet up, for $2, honor system) and wasted many minutes
at the accompanying toy store (which of course had made the
rocking horse as an advertisement) before the wineries
opened. We skedaddled as a busload of tourists arrived.

Chain of Ponds has in a relatively short time become a
well-known winery, so we headed there ahead of a massive
cold front: as soon as we went in the door, the heavens
opened up, and we were trapped there, poor us, for the
rest of the morning by thunder and heavy rain, not
exactly what I expect from South Australia in the summer.
I tried to orchestrate a tasting of the highlights of
the line -

Netherhill unwooded Chardonnay 04 - rather candylike, lemon
droppy but with a nice apple finish

The Red Semillon 05 - surprising chiles on the nose, quite
acid, lemon, green and red peppers on the palate; a bit of
grass from an admixture of Sauvignon Blanc

Pinot Grigio 05 - quite acid, a little milkiness on the
palate; shortish, rather uninspired I thought

Purple Path Riesling 06 - tropical fruit, nice finish, I
liked this one

Viognier 05 - honey, loquat, medium finish, not so flowery
as other Viogniers, but I enjoyed it

Corkscrew Road Chardonnay 02 - oak, estery, oak, lemon,
oak, berries, quite California in a not quite complimentary
sense

Morning Star Chardonnay 01 - moderate oak, good fruit, long
finish, my favorite.

Reds:

Sangiovese 04 - cherries, acid, moderate tannin, chocolate
on the finish, a pretty enjoyable wine

Nebbiolo 03 - honey, plums, long plummy finish; both of
these were more "Australian" than "Italian varietal" wines.

Graves Gate Shiraz 04 - plums and mint, not too complex, a
bit too acid but would go with hearty meat dishes

Ledge Shiraz 03 - more suave, vanilla, raspberries,
honeycomb, a nice wine

Cabernet Sauvignon 02 - pencil shavings, menthol, cherries,
pretty classic but on the light side.

The band of severe weather passed, but not before we'd
exhausted the patience of the girl at the counter. (No,
actually, she was very nice, and the only big issue we had
was Glen's alone as he watched sadly when she poured the
remainder of yesterday's tasting bottles down the drain.)

[By the way, this winery is next to Talunga, which we'd
visited many years ago, and where we'd made the acquaintance
of Vince Scaffidi, the winemaker, and had had a great time.
I was looking forward to visiting again and perhaps to
lunching at the restaurant, but as it was during the week
the place was closed. Talunga owns or co-owns or something
Chain of Ponds - the wines, though, are very different in
style, the former more rough and ready Italianate offerings
and the latter more in the polished new style.]

We were unclear on where to go next so found a brochure for
the appropriately named Deviation Road, which was down the
way and over thataway, and so we went.

Big old closed sign, but I reconnoitered to see when the
hours were before walking away toward the car, whereupon
someone popped out and asked if I'd like to taste some wine.

It was Hamish the owner, who was having a meeting with his
marketer, and so we did a quick little tasting before lunch.

Sauvignon Blanc 06 - pinapple, a bit of that grassiness but
not too much, a bit of residual sugar, not unpleasant

Pinot Grigio 06 - tropical fruit all too soon turning into
Bazooka bubble gum, medium finish

Pinot Noir 02 - we didn't taste this, but I got a bottle of
it, figuring we'd have it later; but the opportunity never
came up, and I left it at a friend's house.

Pinot Noir 04 - honey, pineapple, mint, extremely light in
color and on the palate, pretty nice

Cabernet Sauvignon 02 - spicy peppery nose, disappointing
on the palate

Shiraz 03 - medium body, cherries and berries, persistent
finish of black fruit, enjoyed this.

As we were peckish, we asked for recommendations for lunch;
for whatever reason, these two suggested the Bird in Hand
Winery, which, they assured us, put on a nice spread.

Bird in Hand is a bit out of the way, down some country
roads outside the metropolis of Woodside, and we were
plenty hungry when we arrived, only to find that the
deviants at Deviation Road had led us completely astray,
and there was in fact no restaurant nor even a canteen
there. Glen did allow that he had been to a posh function
there some years back, and the food had been good.

Anyhow, it's one of these olive growers that decided to
branch out and make wines, some of which were quite decent.

Olives:

Green - less acrid than I am used to, but a bit salty; nice
nuttiness

Kalamata - excellent, like the Greeks they aspire to, only
gentler in flavor

Manzanilla - a bit bitter, lots of salt; would go well as
an appetizer.

Wines:

Sparkling Pinot Noir - very light color, open fruit, clean,
nice to drink, berries on the finish

Two in the Bush Semillon-Sauvignon Blanc 06 - a bit green,
off dry with tropical fruit on the palate, a touch of cat
pee

Sauvignon Blanc 06 - lots of the usual greenness and acid

Riesling 05 - interesting hydrocarbon nose; apple, pineapple
on the palate, a bit of a candied, apple Jolly Rancher on
the finish - all Clare grapes

Two in the Bush Shiraz 05 - quite light, attractive mint
and cherry flavors

Bird in Hand Shiraz 05 - bunches of slightly overripe plums,
some mint, quite attractive though more tannic than the
above.

Nothing really caught our fancy, so though I suppose we
could have stayed there and noshed on sample olives (and
olive oil, of which they had several kinds, all pretty
similar, offered with little cubes of bread) through the
gathering storm (today was a quite atypical day), our
rumbling tummies took precedence, and we asked the girl
behind the counter for a lunch recommendation. She suggested
the Woodside Providore on the main road downtown.

We found it in short order - there is only one road through
town - and to my dismay, it looked like an upscale deli
run by amateurs. But most of the ten or so tables were
full, so my original motion to just give up and eat at a
pub was overridden. We found a clean table and sat for a
while before a pleasant but amateur waitress came and took
our order. Then a short wait for drinks and a quite long one
for the food.

Panzanella Providore was a generous supply of flatbread
with a standard green salad, some Bird in Hand olives, and
a reddish bean dip. Carol appeared to enjoy it.

Glen's rabbit ragu over pappardelle was extremely meaty,
almost as though it had been made with beef as well as, or
even instead of, rabbit; it tasted like something I'd make
for myself, which is a sort of positive vote.

Farmhouse turkey and pork roll was just like any meat pie
that you might get at a stall for 1/4 the price, except
that it tasted quite strongly of turkey, which is not
altogether bad.

Sri Lankan lamb curry had quite good lamb and quite a
boring sauce that tasted as though it had been made with
supermarket Madras curry powder with a bit of fresh ginger
tossed in; I asked for a dish of chiles, which partially
redeemed the dish.

Carol had the Leland Estate sparkling white - another clean
and characterless wine with strong apple and yeast notes,
not unpleasant at all.

Being the driver and being overseen by Leonore, acting as
guardian angel, Glen made do with Cooper's Premium Light -
good hops but otherwise altogether too light, as it might
be expected to be, as it's only 2-something percent alcohol.

I did a comparison test of the two Pinot Noirs available by
the glass:

Fuse Pinot Noir - dried cherries, licorice, light body,
not much finish

Pike & Joyce Pinot Noir - mint, coffee, pineapple, light to
medium body, slightly more substantial.

Dropped Leonore off and then went off to return the violin.
Had another brief chat with Mrs. Walford, during which she
asked me if I couldn't find a good home for her Vuillaume
(anyone interested in a very nice fiddle for US$100000?)
and then it was time to scrounge something up for supper.
We headed back via the Lucky Asian Market, where I picked
up a big slab of leg pork and some chicken livers. So for
supper we had a liver and onions appetizer followed by the
perhaps oxymoronic pork matsaman and the more standard pork
basil. All received good reviews. With this we had that
also oxymoronic bottle of Chain of Ponds Red (as it's a
Semillon).

Penfold's Aged Tawny finished us off for the night, and
we retired to pack and get some rest before our journey
the next day.

We saved the last bottle of Ray Ward's Gateway Cellars
Special Shiraz 99 for sampling with Kevin - appropriate as
Kevin had been a good friend of Ray and Joan for many
years: the wine was holding up pretty well, getting just a
tad thin in spots. Sad to say, there is not going to be
any more where that came from. In return Kevin brought out
his 1.75-a-liter-in-bulk stuff, which, as one might expect,
was unspeakably nasty, raw unaged wine whose only interest
came from a touch of rot. At length it was time to go to the
airport, so we found a pub guide and chose the Lockley Hotel
for our lunch. Kevin and Glen both had the roast and veg,
which was something like $10.95 with a two-dollar discount
for pensioners. This was a choice between sawdust pork and
rubber-band beef with all the boiled greens and soggy
potatoes you could eat.

Fish and chips provided a quite filling and unexceptionable
lunch for Carol. Note to all: at a fish and chip place, get
the fish and chips.

Those chips were the best part of my schnitzel Diane plate
- the cutlet itself was tough silverside beef, unpounded,
in a heavy sage-thyme breading, covered with brown gravy
with a dose of vinegar and sugar.

Hardy's Brut Reserve was only 13.50, so we drowned our
tastebuds in that. It was fine.

1122 DJ 548 ADL MEL 1500 1645 73G 4EF

The Lockley Hotel is just a mile or two from the new
Adelaide airport, so we got there in time so we could enjoy
the big-city-like amenities of the place, which for Glen,
Kevin, and myself meant the Cooper Alehouse, and for Carol
and Leonore (who had taken the bus from her morning
appointments to see us off) shopping. All was good. The
airport I believe encourages the community to come in
(after a quick and polite security check), and the ambience
is rather like that of an upscale shopping mall. Sensible -
the friends and relations who pick up or drop off passengers
are happy, the shops are happy with the added custom, and
there doesn't seem to be an onerous amount of work for the
security staff.

We had hugs all round before another fairly dull little
flight, spiced up only by the rather pretty flight attendant
flirting quite shamelessly with the rather buff purser, who
for reasons unknown didn't seem interested. As we were now
burdened by heavy luggage, we taxied to the Marque Hotel
in the seaside suburb of St. Kilda.

The reviews are right. For a hotel that opened to much
fanfare just three years ago, it has no ambience at all;
but for that, it was an okay place at an okay rate, and
the location couldn't be beat, given that Carol likes being
near the water. Our austere room, a "superior spa suite,"
was somewhat uninviting though generous in size and with
reasonable furnishings. The bathroom amenities are Bulgari
as advertised but are sparsely provided - one each soap,
shampoo, and something else, and in three days the supply
was not replenished. Also, the free broadband that we'd
seen advertised on one of the sites had evaporated,
replaced by $5/hour wireless that you had to sit on the
floor right by the front door to use. And then, after
several lost connections, some of which meant an additional
login, we gave up and had our Internet fee refunded, which
was promised but forgotten; it was, however, cheerfully
taken off on checkout.

The restaurant and bar were pathetically ignored by
guests and passers-by alike. On day 1, the bar was closed
for a private function; on day 2, the restaurant likewise.
At all other times, both were quite empty, which must be
maddening for the employees as they stare out at the busy
goings-on on Fitzroy Street. As there was nobody else
there, and there were no good smells emanating from behind
the scenes, we joined the rest of the world and avoided
the facilities as well.

Instead, for our first dinner we toured about the shopping
areas a bit, ending up at Sheherazade restaurant on Acland
St. This, despite its exotic name, is a Jewish (but not
Kosher) restaurant, and despite its big banner out front
saying BYO, is fully licensed. I'd seen the BYO and made
tracks for the Safeway, where I picked up a chilled Penfolds
Koonunga Chardonnay 05, a good schnitzel wine (the reviews
posted out front - several of them - claim that it serves
the best schnitzel in Melbourne, and as I felt I'd been
cheated out of a good schnitzel at lunch, that's what I
wanted). Back in there, where the proprietor, a grumpy old
guy, gave us the absolute worst table in the house, directly
in the path to the kitchen. I had a feeling we were about to
experience something fun, so I didn't feel like moving or
even saying anything. The back part of the restaurant, by
the way, was empty at the time, and never did it lack for
table space.

A dish of sweet-sour cabbage and a basket of decent rye
bread came out reasonably promptly, served by a cute
brunette with an American accent. I ordered the Wiener
schnitzel, Carol the chicken schnitzel. We drank our wine
($5 corkage) and waited. Much noise, dishes returned to the
kitchen, interesting behind the scene dramas. There were two
waitresses working the house, ours, who got yelled at
constantly by the owner, and a sullen-looking blonde who
never got yelled at but instead joined in the yelling - I
surmised (correctly, as it turns out) that she was the
owner's daughter.

I noticed that some of the dishes looked pretty good -
the stuffed cabbage, for example; others did not, such as a
puny serving of brisket aside a huge mound of potatoes.

An odd couple came in and were seated at a nice four-top.
She (80 if a day, dressed like a trollop, flaming red
hair) ordered borscht; he (down and out, maybe 60, maybe
her son or boyfriend) ordered yogurt, not on the menu. This
was pointed out to him, but he noted something or another
on the menu that was served with yogurt, so of course they
had to have yogurt, didn't they. Much confusion from their
waitress (ours), but eventually the yogurt did appear.
Not so the borscht, which was served to someone else, but
which eventually did arrive. That's all these two ordered.

Other schnitzels came out, including to people I was sure
had arrived after we did. Two guys were seated at another
four-top. They ordered schnitzels, and those came out
quickly, served by the other waitress. Whereupon there was
an outburst in the kitchen, with our waitress coming out
to tell us (almost in tears) that the owner's daughter had
stolen our order and served it to her table, and further
that they were out of veal schnitzels and had only chicken
left. We paused for more than a few beats. Whereupon the
owner came out and said, of course they still had veal
schnitzels. Whereupon we heard angry voices in the kitchen
and the bam-bam-bam of a schnitzel being beaten within an
inch of its life, the cook clearly imagining that it was
either the owner or his daughter or our less assertive and
in fact not-suited-for-the-job waitress. Or all three.

When they eventually did come, the schnitzels were pretty
good, although mine had in fact been pounded TOO thin.
Carol's chicken one, I thought, was excellent. On the side
- an odd assortment of things, potatoes, corn, and something
green, perhaps carrots: I don't remember - it looked like
elementary school cafeteria food. As we were well beyond
the bottle of wine, we opted to reward incompetence by
having another bottle of that Hardy fizz. We were actually
pretty decently fed for not all that much money, and with
two bottles of wine, we were kind of mellow and not that
upset by anything. We chatted briefly with the waitress,
who promised us she would quit that night and go back to
school, paid the bill, and walked rather unsteadily home.

Interesting report. Love all the detailed food and wine descriptions!

Very entertaining!

-Thomas

Next morning the plan was to get up bright and early, take
the tram to Queen Victoria Market, have breakfast, and do
the Foodie's Dream tour, which is offered (not cheaply) by
the city's tourism bureau. The tram stop is right by the
hotel door; a single ticket, good for two hours, is $3.20,
but a day pass is just double that. We did the day passes
for both our full days.

We wandered around the market for a good long time, but I
didn't see anything promising for breakfast, which put
Carol out a bit, because the carrot for getting up early
was breakfast (a meal I don't care for). I said that she
was perfectly entitled to breakfast, just don't make me
eat it with her, but she said that part of the fun was
actually eating breakfast with ME. So eventually I relented
and got a chicken leg quarter from one of the stalls, and
she found the supposedly award-winning Pida Bakery, which
sold her a very improved version of a McMuffin - eggs and
bacon on a Turkish roll, actually pretty good, if a little
greasy. I should have gotten a half chicken for a buck
more, as it was very tasty. Wandered a bit more through the
nonfood part of the market before it was time to meet at the
tourist office: turned out the clientele this day was 4 of
us outlanders and 2 Australians, both, coincidentally, from
Perth, including a blind woman here for some kind of
conference of blind people. Our guide was clearly more of a
history person than a food person, and we were regaled with
the dates of founding of each part of the market, when each
building was constructed, how many stalls there were, dating
from when, and so on. She put her game face on when talking
about the actual food, but a lot of her commentary was on
the order of "do you know that some people actually eat
kidneys?" The price of the tour includes a large number of
mostly rather ordinary samples, bits of buffalo, emu, and
kangaroo, several kinds of tapenade, cheese ravioli with
pesto, that kind of thing. The only notable taste was of
an organic pineapple from a stand run by someone named
Carruthers or Cunningham or something who used to be a
chef but couldn't find the ingredients he wanted so became
a greengrocer instead. Another stand had sample pineapples
as well, but I was the only one who backtracked to compare
tastes. The organic one was the sweetest I'd ever tried.
Oh, yes, next to the tapenade stand there was a guy giving
samples of a really quite nice Cheddar - but as this was
not on the list, our guide ignored him: I did not. The
last of the dozen or so tastings was at Swords, a wine
bottler; I tried a decent Chardonnay as well as a Viognier
that lacked any character at all. I was all ready to
continue on to a Semillon, but the guide said that as the
tour was over we had to return to the food hall to claim
our free coffee and could come back for more tastings later.
I have no use for coffee and was offered a hot chocolate;
asked for a cold chocolate (which I imagined would be a
hot chocolate only over ice) only to be told that it was
a buck fifty extra. I forked it over and found myself the
proud owner of a large glass with chocolate milk and a
scoop of ice cream on top. Ah, well, it was good, and I
had my pills with me.

Carol had noticed a soap store, so we just had to go back
there; bought some bath salts with not too floral scents
so I could tolerate them; these were destined for the
bathtub at the hotel, which doubles as a spa.

We had noticed that The Earth from Above, Yann Arthus-
Bertrand's show of aerial photographs that we'd seen in
Paris some years ago, was at River Terrace, so we went to
the main tourist office to inquire where that was, to
discover that it was but a block away, toward the river
(duh). There were some new photos interspersed with many
of the most beautiful or meaningful ones from the original
show. A lovely, warm but not hot day, and this was an
interesting contrast to our previous experience of it,
at night in the winter halfway around the world.

We took some random trams to get glimpses of city life and
wasting time before the Victorian Microbreweries Showcase
- also within a few steps of that well-situated tourist
office! Didn't discover much of interest as we went through
the university district and then the eastern suburbs. But
the trip did its job, getting us back to the Atrium nice
and thirsty. For $20 you get 20 tasting tickets (our routine
is to share tastes, so we got 40 of the 50 or so brews
available). Started off slow at 4, but as the workday ended,
the event became more crowded and boisterous. Here are my
rather confused and telegraphic notes from the tastings:

Bright Brewery
Blowhard Pale Ale - hoppy and citrusy; not my style but
liked pretty well
Hellfire Amber Ale - an English-style ale that I thought
not hoppy enough and with a rather dirty aroma
Staircase Porter - coffee, sugar, smooth

Buckley's Beers
Pilz - almost like a real Pils, light apricotty scent,
a bit acid
Original Ale - more of that peachy apricot, more acid

Emerald Hill Brewery
Wheat - lemony estery, I didn't like
Pale Ale - good bitterness, a bit peelike, otherwise not
objectionable, a little too much sugar

Grand Ridge Brewery
Yarra Valley Gold Real Ale - an odd leatheriness, rather
too light for my taste
Gippsland Gold Pale Ale - quite smooth, I liked it - good
for a thirst-quencher but not distinctive
Moonlight Nut Brown Ale - wasn't planning to taste it, but
some guy in the crowd said it was his favorite of the lot;
I found it extremely cereally and didn't care for it
Moonshine Scotch Ale - quite alcoholic, sweet and molassesy
Hatlifter Stout - wheaty, not very stout, but with an odd
puckery extremely dry finish (this one cost double tickets)

Holgate Brewhouse
Pilsner - pretty light, hoppier than I'd expect, average
Mt. Macedon Ale - golden, nice body, sweet finish, nice,
quenching

Jamieson Brewery
Pale Ale - too wheaty, quite floral, not bitter enough,
strangely short finish
The Beast IPA - good hops, citrus, too sweet

Matilda Bay Brewing
Crema - strong coffee aroma, coffee and grounds flavor,
quite peculiar, but designed that way
Alpha Pale Ale - fine tropical fruit, stone fruit, a touch
of citrus (lemon/lime), quite nice
Bohemian Pilsner - good flavor, reasonable hops, nice
Redback Cristal - very clean-tasting, but lemony and
with all the things that I dislike in wheat beers

Mildura Brewery
Desert Premium Lager - standard, weak in alcohol and taste,
so-so
Murray Honey Wheat - honey nose, sweet but with a balancing
lemoniness, decent and unmemorable
Mallee Bull Amber Ale - medium body, a bit sweet, weak
finish

Mountain Goat
Pale Ale - good hops, lemony, good finish
Hightail Ale - rich, very smooth, rather light color, a
molassesy taste, ok
IPA - not enough bitterness, citrus, not like an IPA at all
Surefoot Stout - coffee aroma, no such thing on the palate,
pleasant, quice smooth, sweet finish

Red Duck Brewery
Pale Ale - nondescript but quenching
Amber Ale - good hops but too cereally
Porter - big coffee aroma and on the opening, fairly smooth,
decent

Southern Bay Brewing
Bearings Draught - strange taste of hazelnut, or perhaps
Nutella on rye, interesting, by no means my favorite though
Bearings Ale - a bit sweet, good hops to balance, citrus
Platinum - very clean, apple scents and taste, no finish
Schonbrauhaus Lager - very clean (brewed according to
Reinheitsgebot standards), a nice European style

Three Ravens Brewing
Blond - average, too lemony, too fizzy
Black - lots of coffee, rather sweet, also too fizzy

What's Brewing
Pale Ale - rye flavor, okay
Amber Ale, similar to the Pale but with more hops, a
wheaty finish
Porter - coffee, chocolate, sweet.

The event is held, someone told me, three times a year,
and we were lucky to have caught it.

I made the mistake of not writing down all my impressions
at the time, trusting my memory, which after 40 kinds of
beer and lots of gabbing with brewers and drinkers alike
was necessarily a bit muzzy. But I remember which ones
I liked best - the Holgate ale, the Matilda Bay Pilsner
and pale ale, and the Southern Bay European-style lager.

During the event we chatted with other guests and ended
up inheriting a number of drink chits, which we ended up
passing on to others as it was coming on time for dinner and
what we had hoped would be a show. Took the 112 tram up
Brunswick St. to the general vicinity of Punki's daughter
Khaela's show, where we found Nyala, a sort of pan-African
eatery that looked and smelled inviting. Very pretty and
smiling very black (a relative rarity in this country)
waitress.

We started with a mixed appetizer plate: sambusa were your
standard turnover things; baboutie (bobotie) a ground beef
dish, somewhat simplified from what I know, and ful (beans),
which were quite good, with a curry tomato flavor.

And then a sampler of main dishes:

kuku na nazi - chicken in a mildish yellow coconut
curry, rather tasty but I'd prefer more hot spice;
the jolloff rice that accompanied was rather dry

futari - carrots, potatoes, and cabbage in coconut milk,
a little sweet, pretty good

keek wot - advertised as split peas, came as red lentils
in a slightly fermented tasting sauce, interesting

gomen - potato and chard; of course I didn't care for
this, but I think Carol did

another kind of ful, this one less tomatoey but with some
vinegar kick.

Windhoek lager (Namibia) - extremely floral and cereal,
hard to drink much of

Nederberg Chardonnay - a bit over the hill, with a distinct
taste of oxidation, otherwise good fruit and a pleasant
lemoniness

Toddled out of there quite satisfied and then checked in at
the Rob Roy Hotel for The Blow's performance; it turned out,
alas, that they weren't going on until 11, too late for us
old farts. We left Khaela a note and went off. By this time
it was too late to plan anything else, either, so we just
took the tram, which meandered quite a but before depositing
us a block from the Marque.

===

Carol made me promise I'd take her to Lush, so we did that
bright and early. I really can't spend much time in Lush or
even within smellshot thereof, so she was kind and didn't
take all day. As a result we had more time on our hands than
we had anticipated, and being in the mood for an adventure,
we then decided to take the first tram we saw to its
terminus, which turned out to be Port Melbourne, a good
choice. My understanding is that this was a fairly grotty
industrial area that is upscaling itself rapidly (it has
all the ingredients, good transportation and good beaches).
The tram ride itself was fairly lengthy and boring, but
getting back near the ocean is always a good thing for
Carol's psyche. It was a bright sunny 20 degrees when we
stepped out into the salt air of Station Pier.

After looking with dismay at the rather uninteresting menus
of the upscale restaurants in the area, we decided to lunch
at Waterfront Fish and Chips, the takeaway part of the
restaurant of the same name - the Waterfront has an
irritatingly trendy and irritatingly expensive menu,
whereas its takeaway is relatively sensible in both
respects. We got there just before it opened and got to
look (with bars between us) at the raw ingredients from
which our lunch was to be made. At noon we ordered an
assortment of fried things -

fillet of flake, an extraordinary fish - tender to the point
of mushiness but with a distinct grain; a delicate flavor
calamari - rings in a reddish coating, not bad
prawns - standard
scallops - pretty yummy
chips (i.e., fries) - better than average
whitebait - decent, a humongous serving, of which Carol
partook minimally and I tried without success to finish as
the serving seemed to get bigger as we went along, as well
as colder and fishier.

I also had a half-dozen Tasmanian oysters, which were the
usual thing at a very good price.

To drink: James Boag pilsener - slightly skunked, low hops,
but quenching; Cascade premium pilsener - good, clean,
fairly hoppy.

When we first arrived, there wasn't anyone else around,
but gradually the place became populated; the first were a
couple of old Chinese grannies who said that the food and
service at the takeaway were better than at the restaurant,
not to mention the prices. Then they ended up splitting a
green salad and after that ordering an order of chips, which
they also split. I don't know on what authority they told us
about the details of the two places.

We walked down the shore to South Melbourne and caught a
tram back into town and then back to St. Kilda. We did the
usual thing, looking at all the menus on Acland St., with
nothing quite suiting - taking into account both of the
Chinta Ria restaurants -, so I decided to take a flyer and
poke my nose in at Circa the Prince to see if there was
anything available that night. The hostess looked at us
sympathetically and said that she'd check with the boss,
who looked us up and down before saying that there had just
been a cancellation, but we must show up at and no later
than 6:30. As I'd heard pretty fine things about the place,
we assented to this condition; I asked the nice one whether
we were underdressed, and she said we were just fine, only
many people liked to dress up for the occasion. So we went
back (just down the street) to the Marque and washed up,
changed into our traveling best, which is to say, nothing
elaborate, and headed back, to find a crowd in tuxedos and
fancy gowns. Turns out it was a wedding reception at the
restaurant for drinks before heading off for parts unknown.
But the dining room wasn't open and in fact didn't open
until nearly 7. At which point we were seated in the back
room (not a big surprise, as even having changed we were
a little on the casual side). We were the only people in
the restaurant, not counting the hostess who was there only
intermittently. The waiter hadn't made his appearance yet.

The music was rapoid, pretty loud, pretty objectionable; we
asked if it could be fixed, so they substituted some poor
imitation of Piaf, also pretty loud. I laughed hugely and
gave them a sausage, no, they gave me a sausage, no, we
asked if they could do something about the volume, which
they also did fairly cheerfully.

For starters Carol had the Chandon ZD 03, which I don't care
for but which is an okay bubbly - far more pretentious than
the Hardy's but not substantially nicer; I ordered a Hidalgo
Amontillado, and they poured the Manzanilla; on my pointing
this out the hostess (the waiter still hadn't shown up) was
embarrassed but not embarrassed enough and corrected it
without a word of apology.

The waiter came by with decent bread and butter, which I
didn't much notice. Serving Carol a piece of bread, he
knocked my glass over, so I got another glass, and the wet
spot on the tablecloth was fixed with a sheet of aluminum
foil as a barrier and a big napkin so you couldn't see the
alfoil. Also, the foil served as a reminder, to wit, if
you committed the solecism of putting your elbow on the
table, the foil would make a crinkling noise. I wonder what
is so awful about putting your elbows on the table anyhow.

After which the service became more solicitous, although
only marginally more competent.

Carol was somewhat interested in the tasting menu, but it
left me cold, especially as I could get the things I wanted
a la carte in bigger portions without having to deal with
unpleasant oddities mostly involving goat cheese. We asked
if a tasting menu could be done for one, and of course the
standard and expected answer, that the whole table must
choose the tasting menu, was received. We declined.

Carol started with yabbies in ponzu, soy, and butter,
pretty good, served with excellent scallop sashimi with
mediocre scallions and a rather weird vanilla sauce,
followed by a nice roast pigeon very rare sided with a
nondescript but extremely salty sausage and an incongruous
piece of pickled watermelon. We determined that the main
downfall of the food was the tendency to pile together
various oddments without much regard to whether or not
they went with each other.

I went with three starters, two good and one unmemorable.

A pressed quail with foie gras came as a rectangular
solid about the shape of a Twinkie but half the size,
slices of rare quail, including dark meat (and a few bits of
cartilage, which I didn't mind but most would), sandwiched
together by a tiny amount of not very inspiring foie gras.
This came with a stupidly sweet chutney, parsley salad, and
one of the best papadums I've ever encountered.

Tuna sashimi with lightly cured kingfish (with shallots),
avocado, and wasabi cream was nice as well, the fish done
just right, the avocado puree and wasabi stuff impeccable.

A crisp spiced pork cheek with pickled daikon radish, the
thing I was most looking forward to, was so unnoteworthy
that I can hardly remember even receiving it. There is a
faint recollection of it having been fairly porky but not
nearly cheeky enough. Using all my brainpower I think I
get a taste of five-spice pork and a touch of crackling,
again not nearly so nice as your ordinary Chinese dive
would serve.

The Yarraloch Pinot Noir 03 was quite nice for a Victoria
wine, rather light in body and quite nice with everything
but the yabbies (which Carol had bubbly with anyhow). I
guess the pigeon may have overmatched it a little, as the
wine was on the wimpy side (reminded me of an emasculated
version of the Plum Creek PN from near Grand Junction, CO,
that I used to be fond of).

We were not in the mood for dessert: Carol was slightly
put out by the idiocy of the staff, but I thought it worth
the price of admission.

Interestingly, the place had filled up gradually while we
had our meal, mostly with folks in their Saturday night
best, and shortly before we left we found that there was
in fact no seat unused in the entire house. I hope that
relatively few of the hundred or so patrons had their wine
dumped on their dining partner by the waiter.

It's nice to dine within hopping on one foot distance of
one's bed, but I think we could have eaten equally well or
better at a third of the price at any of a dozen places on
Fitzroy Street.

We checked out, got the wireless broadband fee cancelled,
and waited for our taxi. And two came, from the same cab
company. We went with the first one, who took us on what we
now knew was the direct route to the airport, though as it
was not rush hour it cost perhaps $5 less, and we were there
in short order. Checkin was pretty painless.

There was a big old line at emigration - took half an hour
for a 10-second thank you get out of here. Ran the gauntlet
and was repeatedly bemused by the displays of things you
are not allowed to take on the plane, such as platypuses
and tiger parts.

Speaking of gauntlets, is there any more any international
airport that doesn't make you go through duty-free on the
way to your gate?

The Red Carpet Clubs give me the opportunity to taste things
that I would not otherwise try. Melbourne was a particular
treasure trove, though none of the tastes was anything I'd
run right back for. To wit:

Angove's St. Agnes brandy - interesting apple aroma, not a
touch of it on the rather harsh sweetish palate; burning
spicy finish

Chatelle Napoleon VSOP - apparently chosen as the only
French plonk that would show the Angove's well; harsh
chemical nose, harsh rather sweet palate; harsh chemical
finish

Bundaberg UP - a weaker sister of the OP, with a bit of
sugary aroma after an aniseed-leather phenolic nose; no
burn; rather short

Coruba Jamaican rum - nice gold color, aroma more like the
artificial rum flavoring than any rum I'd ever tasted
before; chocolate and chemicals on the palate; burning
finish.

Lindauer Brut (NZ) - apples on the palate, hint of nuts,
better than what they serve on the plane or at the Lockley
Hotel, but not by much

Black Douglas blended Scotch - nice gold color, sugary nose
(Carol thought it smelled more like a rum) - very sweet,
smoke sneaks in on the finish

Ballantine's Finest - pleasant fruity almost Riesling nose,
malty and sweet on the palate, not bad but hardly Scotch.

Carol enjoyed the cheeses (served with unleavened Kurrajong
Kitchens crackers) and the sun-dried tomatoes and feta;
I had a slice of pumpkin pie (obligatory American flag stuck
into it) and Tim Tams.

She proceeded on to another bottle of bubbly (Red Carpet
has splits; the Air New Zealand lounge has full bottles
with a thingamabob to keep the bubbles in) and a pack
of Emu Bottom Anzac biscuits (with wattleseed), which
are kind of healthy-tasting, sort of nasty.

Soon it was time to run off, so we did.

1125 UA 840 MEL SYD 1255 1415 744 38JK

A lunch box in coach: turkey fritz and cheese sandwich,
a small apple, a small piece of Dove milk chocolate.

Sydney ATC humor (actual conversation) :
- Center, United 840 with you at flight level two three
zero, how are you doing?
- I'll be a lot better in an hour and a half.
[female laughters, various, in background]

Landed about at the right time to find a jam of confused
passengers for two flights, the San Fran, 870, slightly
delayed, and another to LA, 88 or 98 something, very
delayed, like 24 hours, milling about.

1125 UA 840 SYD LAX 1615 1046 744 38JK

We were given the option of staying in the security area or
(threatened with the full screening afterwards) going out to
where the restrooms, shopping, and clubs were. A pretty easy
choice, that. Hightailed it to the Air New Zealand club
where we had been welcomed delightfully some years ago and
were welcomed equally delightfully by the same person.

I didn't care for the food, despite its being of greater
variety and quality than the RCC; Carol liked the pizza
with chorizo and tomato slices (I had a piece; it was okay)
and the assortment of marinated vegetables; I had some of
the extremely gray roast beef, which was quite tough and
tasted rather high, and a piece of coconut-orange
gluten-free slice, which is as nasty as it sounds. The red
wines (I didn't try the white) were -

Oyster Bay Pinot Noir (Marlborough) 05 - light body, a
bit gamy or livery, some black cherry

Stoneleigh Pinot Noir (Marlborough) 05 - slightly rank,
more so than the above, reminding me of "hogget with mint
sauce," although I do not by any means recommend this
pairing, medium body, okay

Tatachilla Partners Cabernet-Shiraz 04 - I think they chose
this, the only Aussie red on the counter, to show off the
Enzedd product; or perhaps it is rather that nobody who
flies Air New Zealand drinks McLaren Vale wine, so it's sat
there open for weeks- it was notable for extreme greenness
on the nose, almost redeemed by chocolate and chile on the
palate but in general too vegetal for my taste.

Carol went off shopping for a sweater while I did this
research. In the end I opted for a nice cold Hahn Premium
Lager with my snack.

Having exhausted the charms of that lounge, we took the
elevator down to the Red Carpet Club ostensibly to check
on our flight (there are no monitors there); but waiting to
sign in, we stood behind numerous people each of whom was
trying interesting special pleadings about how they should
be allowed to get on our flight (apparently the previous
day's flight had been cancelled) instead of the replacement
plane, which was two more hours (making a total of 26) late;
so we went back to the gate instead for the threatened
rescreening. I tried to go to the Business line (which I
think I'm entitled to as a Star Gold), but was bodily shoved
(like, with physical contact, something that should not fly)
into the Economy line; interestingly, the Economy line had
3 people in it, counting us, and Business had over a dozen.

Sydney security humor (actual conversation) :
- Would you like the fast patdown or the slow one?
- [slightly surprised] Pardon?
- The slow one costs ten dollars.
- Okay, but only if I don't have to look at you.
- [slightly surprised] That bad, is it?

Boarded up smoothly and had a perfectly okay flight. Carol
thought that we might have some trouble as she recognized
one of the flight attendants as the dragon lady from a
previous trip we'd taken, but in fact neither she nor any
of the crew seemed to have any attitude problems this day.

Carol wanted multiple gin and tonics, so I pointed out one
flight attendant (I had encountered at least three of this
crew on previous flights) and told her that he would be
happy to provide them, which he was. He was unbelievably
cheerful, and at the end of the flight I gave him a
GTEM certificate.

My meal was chicken stewed with green peppers, sided with
boiled potatoes - surprisingly good - followed by a rather
gelatinous chocolate mousse cake; Carol had tortellini
with meat sauce, which she found quite palatable. After
which, sleep.

The midflight snack box consisted of a roast beef sannie,
a tiny apple, and a lemon cookie from Chicago. I saved the
latter two for later and went back to sleep.

Breakfast was eggs or fruit. I turned it down. The jolly
flight attendant put on a little pout and asked, not even
a little fruit? I didn't tumble to this multiple entendre
until days later. Contented myself with a bite of a banger
from Carol's plate and the apple and cookie that I'd saved.

Customs and immigration were a total breeze; we did see some
young thing who was actually caught with something, probably
not horrible drugs, as neither she nor the official seemed
overexercised about it all - her pleadings were whiny but
not hysterical, and he seemed stern but not threatening. One
used to, as I recall, just turn left and go up an escalator
to the domestic gates; now you have to go outside and back
into Terminal 7. We saw a sign saying United passengers TURN
BACK, and of course we didn't, finding ourselves shortly at
Terminal 6 security, whose line was short, and which, other
than some screener making a public spectacle of someone who
had in some way violated the rule about three-ounce bottles
in one-quart clear plastic bags, was easy and fast, so we
had time for a visit to the club to do a round of e-mail
and get a slug of juice.

1125 UA 278 LAX BWI 1335 2121 752 10EF

A relatively quick and most uneventful flight. The only
notable thing was that Channel 9 was louder than the rest
of the channels and than the PA announcements. We landed a
bit early, our priority-tagged bags came out among the
first, and we were out to Super Shuttle long before they
were ready for us. But at length they were, and not long
thereafter we were home.