10 days, 10 lessons – My Holiday in Australia

Posted on September 24, 2008 by Lyrical Lemongrass

Lesson No. 1

When travelling during the Ramadhan month, DO NOT expect the husband to drive all the way from Jalan Ampang to Shah Alam within 2 hours during peak hours to pick you up and send you to the airport.

Because he won’t make it.

And you may just miss your flight to Australia. Unless, of course, by some stroke of genius you decide to drive yourself to the airport, break all speed limits, dump your car in the open air carpark with hourly parking rates, and rush in to LCCT to check-in just on time.

And pray that the husband finds the spare keys so that he can locate the car and drive it back, because there’s only 25 bucks left on the Touch ‘N Go prepaid card which you zapped for the parking.

Lesson No. 2

If like me, you decide not to spend 20 bucks by pre-booking your seat on Air Asia X, do not expect to ask your friends (who did pre-book their seats) to get a nice aisle seat for you. This is because you will still be allocated a seat, so do request for that aisle seat you have your eyes fixed on. Failing which, you end up being sandwiched between the businessman who uses the corniest pickup lines on the stewardess sitting diagonally opposite him (oh, you have Chinese features…good thing your mother taught you Mandarin hor, but your body shape ar…can tell look like Malay lor), and the sleeping beauty on the right who spills over to your side everytime there is air turbulence.

Lesson No. 3

Air Asia is punctual. So don’t bother booking a connecting flight to Sydney 5 hours later (in anticipation of a delay by the Malaysian carrier) coz by the time you visit all of ONE duty free store in the Gold Coast airport, it would take a whole 8 minutes, after which you will wonder if the book you’re carrying will last the remaining 4 hours and 52 minutes. (It won’t.)

Lesson No. 4

Learn to bake. Viva la pavlova.

Lesson No. 5

When visiting the Sydney Fish Market, it is best to bring your wallet. If you fail to bring cash, and you’ve already booked a place on the guided behind-the-scenes tour of the fish market, you will need to spend some time explaining to the guide, in front of the other 15 people who did turn up with cash, why you cannot go on the tour. Thick skin is absolutely necessary. Of course, the guide will most likely tell you that it is only 7.00 in the morning, and things will get better eventually, so tag along until some money magically appears. And of course, if you pray hard enough, and you’re able to make a call to a very sleepy uncle, the wallet will be hand-delivered two hours later by a stylo-milo uncle in sunnies and an open-top Beemer. The two hours before that is a painful lesson in poverty and starvation.

Kumamoto and Pacific Oysters

With money in hand, try the fresh seafood, both raw and cooked, at the market. Remember, eat outside and risk sharing your scrumptious seafood meal with the gulls.

Lesson No. 6

EAT! Scour the Sydney Morning Herald Good Food Guide for an idea of what’s good out there.

Longrain Restaurant

Try Longrain, a restaurant with only 3 long communal dining tables, for a touch of Thai….

The food at Longrain is refreshing, and that’s how it is when one uses and pairs only the freshest of ingredients. Dining in Longrain, one can almost feel the energy at this place; there is a festive air as groups of people find their places at the long tables. And this is what communal dining represents – camaraderie, friendship and sharing.

Longrain
85 Commonwealth Street
Surry Hills, Sydney

Lesson No. 7

View from Altitude, Shangri-La Sydney

Make sure you get a table by the window, especially when you’re on the 36th floor overlooking the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House.

Barramundi

For modern Australian cuisine with European influences, this is a great restaurant to dine at. Service is excellent and attentive. And if you’re thinking of surprising that special someone, call ahead and ask for this:

Ain’t nothin’ like swallowing your very own diamond.

Altitude
Shangri-La Sydney
Website HERE.

Lesson No. 8

Always carry a spare camera. Because when the right moment comes, you want to be able to capture it and show off the amazing National Geographic-like pictures of the whales that you saw after braving the tumultuous waves out in the unpredictable seas. “Thar she blows!” you shout excitedly, and reach for your SLR, only to find that. it. has. stopped. w.o.r.k.i.n.g. And the only proof you have is this:

Note: For pictures of the real thing, see Precious Pea’s blog.

Lesson No. 9

Throw away your watch.

Relax.

Contemplate.

Rejuvenate your senses.

Breath.

The Bathers Pavilion
Website HERE.

Lesson No. 10

Embrace love.

The good people of Abu Dhabi may view pictures HERE.

9 hours where???

Posted on October 30, 2007 by Lyrical Lemongrass

‘Nine hours,’ I mused.What would you do if you had nine hours to spare?
(A) Play Grand Theft Auto until your eyes turn red from the bulging veins;
(B) Read Larousse Gastronomique (all of 1,360 pages) cover to cover;
(C) Sleep; or
(D) Have dinner at Abu Dhabi.

It was a tough decision. Really.

With minutes to spare before the plane landed at the Abu Dhabi airport where nine long transit hours awaited, we were still undecided.

As we stepped into the crowded airport and noticed the number of people sleeping on the floor in the cramped surroundings, the only obvious answer stared us in our faces. We headed for the first exit straight into the blustering heat of Abu Dhabi and hailed a cab.

Nothing prepared us for the heat. It didn’t slowly creep up on us, like how it is here in Malaysia. This was more of a guerilla attack – quick and sudden. In less than five seconds, my clothes were drenched.

Nevertheless, our spontaneous attempt at adventure prevented me from dwelling too much on my wet T-shirt look as I drank in the stark scenery en-route to the city.

The breaking of fast had taken place just a few minutes earlier as we exited the airport. It was a heartwarming sight to see groups of people clad in loose robes gathering around huge plates of food. Quiet conversation. An overall atmosphere of thanksgiving as dusk fell on earth.

The handsome Tom Cruise lookalike air steward and transplanted blogger, Kat, had both recommended the Lebanese Flower Restaurant to us, so with only nine hours to spare and no Lonely Planet guide, we took their advice. I threw caution to the wind on Arabian etiquette and walked straight in to the restaurant, hoping that I wasn’t breaking any laws (that is, in itself, an indication of what an ignoramus I am).

My ignorance was further amplified when I looked at the menu, having eaten middle eastern food only once before in Al-Nafourah in Le Meridien. Thankfully, there were pictures and an amazingly patient waiter who struggled to explain the various dishes to us.

We were given a plate of raw and pickled vegetables which we presumed was the equivalent of getting peanuts at a chinese restaurant prior to the meal. With a squeeze of lemon juice, it was a refreshing start to the meal.

The hummus came complimentary too with a side helping of pita bread. Essentially made of ground chickpeas, the hummus came with olive oil poured in the centre of the “well”. I enjoyed swishing pieces of pita bread in the hummus – such a simple dish but oh so satisfying.

Little did I know that the next dish would also be made primarily with chickpeas. The falafel is approximately the size of a ping pong ball and is fried until it turns golden brown. The closest Malaysian dish which I think resembles a falafel is the paruppu vadai although that is made with lentils. The texture, however, is somewhat the same. The falafel was served with a tahina sauce – a smooth creamy textured sauce made of sesame seeds.

By this point, I had chickpeas coming out through my nose. So it was a relief to see our main course, a mixed grill dish, arrive. The charred smell of the meat tantalised my nose and cleared it of all the excess chickpeas. There must have been something in the marinade that made the different types of meat taste so wonderful. The good thing is that the meats didn’t come masked in sauces, thus enabling us to enjoy the dish for what it was.

The final dish was a mistake for two reasons. Firstly, we had over ordered, so there was no way we could finish eating this. Secondly, the escalope cordon bleu came with a sauce that screamed commercial tomato ketchup and the thick cut fries served on the side didn’t help alleviate my negative reaction.

Despite the final dish, we left the restaurant stuffed and contented. With another six hours to go before catching the connecting flight, we whiled away our time seated in the lobby of the luxurious and opulent Emirates Palace. It certainly beats being cooped up in the airport together with 1,000 other passengers. 🙂

To the glorious people of Abu Dhabi, click here to view pics. 🙂

Bakewell Pudding…..or Kaya Kok?

Posted on October 24, 2007 by Lyrical Lemongrass

It is 1860 in Bakewell, Derbyshire. A visiting nobleman arrives at The White Horse, a local inn. He spots a sullen faced woman yawning at the Reception, and approaches her.

‘Harlow. Here got food ah?’ he asks.

Mrs. Graves, upset at the rude interruption to her lovely daydream about nasi lemak with sambal sotong and lots of ikan bilis, gives him an irritated look and scurries to the kitchen to check on supplies and emerges with a triumphant look.

‘All gone already,’ she proclaims. ‘Only got strawberry tart. How?’

‘Aiyah, strawberry tart only ah?’ he sighs.

‘Ya lor. Today got Siti Nurhaliza concert, everybody go to JB to see her, so we don’t prepare so much food here lor.’

He hesitates. His stomach rumbles. A strawberry tart isn’t much of a consolation when one expects to eat mutton peratal.

‘Harlow, we don’t have all day to decide! You want or not??’

‘Okaaaay la,’ he says. ‘Sure don’t have mutton peratal ar?’ he continues hopefully.

Mrs. Graves snorts in disgust and yells the order to the cook. ‘ONE STRAWBERRY TART. TABLE FOUR!!’

Fifteen long minutes go by.

‘One KAYA KOK!’ the cook says as she plonks the pie in front of the hungry nobleman.

‘But I order strawberry tart wor,’ he says.

‘I heard “kaya kok”, okay!!!’

The nobleman wonders which part of “strawberry tart” sounds like “kaya kok” and looks to Mrs. Graves, hoping to get some support. But Mrs. Graves is fast asleep, dreaming of curry laksa with plump, juicy kerang.

He takes a bite of the kaya kok. His eyes widen in delight. ‘Mmmmmm, so tasty!!’

The cook looks at him and thinks he’s a little crazy. She decides not to tell him that she had forgotten to stir the egg mixture into the pastry for the strawberry tart (which she had heard clearly enough), and in her haste to cover up her error, she had spread it on top of the pastry instead.

‘What you call this ar?’ he asks. ‘Kaya kok?’

‘Ya lor. Why? Never heard before izzit?’

‘Cheh. Kaya kok sound obscene lah.’ he says.

The cook rolls her eyes, ready to dismiss him and return to her reverie beside the fireplace in the kitchen.

‘I know,’ he exclaims. ‘Since we are in Bakewell, we call it the Bakewell Pudding LAH!!’

She walks away, muttering obscenities under her breath.

The nobleman leaves the inn, happy at his new discovery. The next week, droves of people turn up at the inn to taste the wonderful new dessert called the Bakewell Pudding.

THE END?

Well, not quite. And whatever happened to Mrs. Graves and the cook? They couldn’t handle all the extra workload, so they sold their recipe to one Mrs Wilson who turned it into a million dollar business, and I can assure you that at least Mrs Wilson lived happily ever after! For the version of the story unadulterated with sambal belacan or kari kepala ikan, check out their official website HERE.

The Old Original Bakewell Pudding Shop,
The Square, Bakewell,
Derbyshire, UK.

Tel:01629 812193

As always, for residents of the glorious nation of UAE who are unable to access my flickr photos, click HERE for pics.

Note: For a quick and easy recipe for kaya (not kaya kok, but hey, half’s better than none), check out Argus World.

A Whiff of Lemongrass

NOT a food blog

Category Archives: Bits and Pieces: Holidays