Table for one?

On my wanderings around Tasmania I happened upon a Greek cafe called Kouklas, that has an enviable position facing the Tamar River about 25km north of Launceston.
It was no secret, either, going by the number of cars parked outside and the bustling dining room. But I decided to try my luck anyway, as I figured there must always be room for one more, small person.
"Is it possible to get a table for one?" I asked a friendly-looking waitress.
"No chance," she shot back.
I noted there were a few tables for two around the place, but assumed they were reserved. I wondered if the cafe did takeaway.
"Unless there's one outside?" She said, perhaps feeling sorry for me. But she checked, no such luck.
"Unless you want to share?!" She was happy at this idea.
"That depends..." I hesitated, thinking I would hate to impose upon a couple's romantic interlude.
"Oh," she misread my thoughts: "They're not good looking!"
We both laughed, and I did what she told me: followed and stood meekly by a table that seated an elderly couple while she asked them if they would have me. It was like waiting to see if you are going to be picked last in the school footy side.
They did agree and we made some idle chit chat, while they ate and I stared around at the walls... Two minutes later the same waitress appeared with another, even better, idea:
"There's a table outside in the sun if you want that?"
I did.
I was glad I got a table as it meant I was able to enjoy a delicious spanakopita (that was decidedly more pricey than the one I remember fondly eating in Greece for one Euro 90 cents) and an amazing Greek custard pie that I ordered to takeaway.
But as I sat there, soaking up an unseasonably warm Tasmanian afternoon, I could only conclude that it's not difficult to realise why people avoid dining alone like the plague.

Mini Me(al)

Apologies for the lack of blog updates, but I have a very good excuse: I've moved to Tassie.

Now, to turn to the art of the minature. Just as baby clothes have a way of prompting squeals of amazement and joy from middle-aged women, food on the itsy bitsy side make me go a little ga-ga.

Take this for example:

I'm no beer-drinker, but even I was tempted to get this 'tasting platter' from Zierholz in Canberra. I mean, too cute! And after trying these 60ml versions out you can choose a pint of your favourite to continue your merry way with.

Another minature serving that impressed, was the teeny tiny bottle of milk which comes with a cuppa at the Auction Rooms in North Melbourne. (Note: An awesome breaky venue). I like to think they have found a way to shrink normal-sized glassed bottles.... ah, let me dream.

Then, of course, there are those minature servings that come with any degustation menu.... though you know my feelings on those. So maybe it's just the drinks I like on the wee side. (No pun intended.)

Special April Guest: Fussy Fanny

Food lovers are a dime a dozen. This month, we hear from a much rarer breed: someone who doesn't like to cook, won't tune into MasterChef religiously and could think of a zillion things preferable to sitting down at the dining table to pig out....

I don’t like food.

There, I said it. And before you roll your eyes: no, I don’t have an eating disorder (although I have been accused of having a mental illness), any strange allergy and I am not obese. I’m just a fussy eater and don’t get the fasciation with food.

Let me explain myself. I’m a 30-year-old woman who has never really grown out of eating like a child. Foods I love include: McDonald’s, cheese and vegemite sandwiches, mashed potatoes and chicken twisties.

People are often shocked when I just look at a dish - be it lasagne, a greek salad or even good old pizza - and refuse to eat it. My reasons? I don’t like the look or smell of it.

But how can you say you don’t like it, if you haven’t tasted it, I hear you ask? Easy, I just don’t want to try it.

As you can probably imagine this has affected my life in many different ways. But to be honest, it usually upsets and angers friends and strangers a lot more than it does me. For example... Friend: ‘‘Hey guys, let's go and get Mexican for dinner!’’ Me: ‘‘No, I wont eat anything from there." Friend: ‘‘Indian?’’ Me: ‘‘Nope, nothing there either.’’ After the whole group of friends crack the poops with me, I’m usually dragged off to a restaurant where I don’t eat a single thing on the menu. Then, I get a large cheese burger meal (the only thing I eat from McDonalds) on the way home.

Over the years, I’ve offended my friend's Nonna after refusing to try her lasagne, had a mate accuse me of a being a burden on people and made a friend's new boyfriend cook a whole new batch of mashed potato after he dared to put garlic in the first dish.

Never has my strange ways with food affected me more than travelling overseas. Always weary not finding things I will like on menus during every trip I’ve ever been on, I pack my suitcase full of savoy biscuits and vegemite. Yes, I would much rather eat this than a traditional dish in Thailand, or frogs legs in France.

After befriending a Danish girl in the UK she took me home to meet her family. Her grandmother had a feast prepared for me, including a quiche, duck dish and desserts that I couldn't identify. I was horrified. The family spoke little English, so my friend translated that I wouldn’t eat anything. The Danish conversation went on for some time, with all of them looking at me shaking their heads. I imagine it was something about me being a ‘‘weirdo’’ or ‘‘ungrateful.’’ I sat there and ate nothing.

People are always saying to me: ‘But you don’t know what you are missing out on'. Well of course I don’t and probably never will, cos I’m not gonna try it!

A short list of some of the foods I don't eat:

• Pizza- (There is not one single flavour you could tempt me with.)


• Cheese - (Except for cheese slices...yes yes i know it is plastic...but i like it!)


• Salad (Except for beetroot. No tomato, no lettuce, no capiscum...none of it!)


• Coffee (Never tried it, but I even hate the smell.)


• Chinese broad beans (There is a strange tin of these on my desk as i write this... I will never eat them.)


• Stir Frys (I dont really like things all mixed together.)


• Sushi (I can't even look at it without wanting to throw up.)


• Chicken parma (I love schnitzel, but I hate all the stuff added to parma!)


• Pasta (I do not eat any other pasta except for Spag bol...)


• Curry (Under no circumstances do i eat curry... and don't try and trick me and put it in meals...I will know.)


• Garlic (See above!)


• Kebabs (I just dont like what they look like)


• Sour dough bread (This does not taste like white bread and quite frankly wreaks my meal when I order scrambled eggs and it comes out on this horrible bread.)


• Quiche lorraine (What is this anyway?)


• Fried Rice (Too many things i can't identify in this...)


• Capers (I only recently discovered these...but I will never eat them...)


• Kangaroo (come on....I mean...Skippy?)

It's official

The Fellowship of Food (the fresh new title of the second food group I'm in) met for the second time at Maedaya in Richmond.

Stepping into this ''Izakaya'' was like stepping into a Tokyo bar. But the petite size means it isn't suitable for larger groups so we were seated upstairs in a not-so cosy area.

We left the ordering to our waiters and they brought a range of goods - from chicken strips to thin slices of pork to and pieces of green capsicum - that we were responsible for cooking on small charcoal grills placed in the middle of the table.

Is it just me, or is there a sense of irony in going out to eat only to have to cook the meal yourself?

The food was plain and, depending on whether anyone was paying attention, sometimes burnt. But there were a number of sauces on the table to add flavour. The most interesting being sesame sauce and spicy miso.

It was a fun, group thing to do but just too much effort and too much smoke in the face! My favourite thing was the plum wine and green tea fondant (strangely enough, it works) for dessert.

I can't wait to go back and stay downstairs where the food is cooked for you and all you have to worry about is how to fit everything in that you want to try. Plus the sake.

Be nice, and share

There's a moment that always happens when I'm dining out with a group of people. It happens when the meals arrive, after I've checked out what everybody else has ordered and decided I want to try them all.

It involves me trying to bully others (some very unwilling) to give me some of their food to try. I'm not greedy, I always offer a bite of mine to eat in return. But some people are not interested in what's on other people's plates. They like to keep their's to themselves - capitalist style. Clearly, I'm a commie at heart.

This is why I'm attracted to the idea of dégustation. This French term means "a careful, appreciative tasting of various foods". You don't pick anything from the menu. Instead, the chef designs a range of small courses to illustrate their skill in the kitchen and the best of that season's produce.

On Saturday, I had the dégustation menu at Jacques Reymond in Prahran. It was a flavour sensation and painfully beautiful in presentation.

There were some absolute standouts:
- lemongrass, spinach and rock lobster soup
- a barramundi steak that was caramelised on top with almond and came with an addictive flavoured yoghurt
- venison carpaccio
- both desserts

The first dessert was served in a tiny martini glass with layers of pineapple, passionfruit and banana, liquorice ice cream and honeycomb. The second was four tastes of chocolate that included a dark chocolate mousse I wanted to die for.

Jacques, if you can put out the mousse in a tub, I will eat it all in one sitting on my couch.
The service was lovely, and so was the private room we were seated in. I couldn't recommend this restaurant enough for a special occasion.

There's just one thing I find hard to get over when it comes to dégustation, and that's the serving size. I know, I know, you appreciate it because it is a little taste and that's why you can get through so many courses... but the glutton in me rails against tasting delicious somethings again and again and again without the satisfaction of a full stomach.

Being cross just comes with Easter

Have you noticed the way hot cross buns and Easter chocolate start appearing in supermarkets as soon as Christmas goodies are marked down and shipped out?

I mean, you can buy these Easter wares a good two to three months before the actual Christian event. It's consumerism at its worst... but I love it.

Because even though I know these things are special because they only come around once a year, I love them so much I could eat them all year round.

I know places like Phillippa's have a real rep when it comes to bun superiority, but Baker's Delight traditional taste pretty good to me - and you don't have to line up for them.

When it comes to chocolate, there is nothing better than a Red Tulip Elegant Rabbit. I also have a soft spot for Cadbury Crunchie bunnies and Lindt - but the Elegant is the ultimate.

So much so, that years back my sister and I penned this ode:

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,

elegant rabbit

of long ears and short tail.

Your flowing form,

perfection.

Your genteel good looks,

flawless.

Your festively colored foil,

cool to touch.

Yes, so cool, too cool...

maybe i'll just smack you upside the head, crushing your puny cranium and oversized ears against the kitchen table.

Your guileless eyes didn't see that comin, did they?

Now who's elegant bitch.

Special March Guest: Off the Chain

The Dinah's Club special monthly guest series continues with a reflective piece from an eater who found she couldn't handle the tooth.

SOME girls love to shop, others prefer to gossip, but I seek a culinary fix to flavour my world. If eating were a hobby I would have it on my CV; it makes me happy, I do it every chance I get, I’m always hungry for more and I’m actually good at it.

People marvel at the amount of food I consume, they say ''hey check out this freak she has three stomachs or something'' or ''are you cow because you just graze on food all day''. Some are suspicious because for someone who eats so much, and has such a small pie hole, I’m not a very big girl.

So when I recently got my wisdom teeth removed and my diet was suddenly restricted to that of a three-month-old all my joy was pulled out with my teeth.

There’s more to getting your wisdom teeth taken out than the excruciating throbbing of your raw gums, the nausea and looking like an obese drooling chipmunk. It’s the boring menu you’re really stuck with that hurts.

They tricked me like a five year-old by saying I could eat all the ice-cream I wanted but after my second bowl of ice cream for breakfast I realised cold liquids weren’t going to satisfy this swollen fat head.

That’s when my relationship with food turned sour like the milk in my fridge I refused to touch without a spoonful of coffee in it - but hot foods and liquids were also out. It doesn’t leave you with much and I don’t care how many different flavours of ice cream there is – it is just not filling enough!

My mum was trying her best cooking all kinds of soup and trying to puree rice until it looked like dogs vomit but my stomach wasn’t being fooled. Eat jelly they said! Try a smoothie they cried! But really, I’m not interested in having custard for dinner again! And liquid foods are all sweet except for soup, which all tastes the same after you add salt.

This temporary fast I call ‘the suffering’ was over soon enough but my teeth taught me one wise lesson: never underestimate the joy of chowing down a hot juicy steak whenever you want.

And that, my friends, is why they call them ‘wisdom’ teeth.