Bound to go Astray

History shows us Hispters and beards were already well acquainted

Sung to the tune 'Botany Bay'

Farewell to food choices forever

Farewell to small producers as well

Farewell to the artisans of yesterday

Cos we’ve hurried their certain death knell

Singing we’re headed toward calamity

Singing we’ll all suffer dismay

Singing we’re headed toward ruination

And we’re bound to go astray

There's the captains of industry a-steering

There’s the shareholders and stakeholders too

But the poor old producers in the fields

being robbed of their hard-earned due

Taint selling their wares I think about
Taint cos I worry bout whats fair and whats right
But because of a big bad duopoly
It keeps me awake all through the night

These many long years I've been watching
And for how many more I cannot say
realizing cheaper foods are transported from
Lands that are many miles away

Oh had I the influence of high office
I'd decree to all in our land
remove the jackboot from our farmers necks
and put the money back into his hand

Now to all my kin and my countryfolk
Take warning from what I've got to say
be careful in what you’re a-purchasing
Or you're bound to go astray

Red Velvet Lounge centenary

Once every 100 years only!

Chefs n Tatts part two

For most of my adult life I have felt like I belonged to a different tribe. My trouble was despite having a fairly unique perspective on life I never really had a way to show my ‘colours’. It was in my teenage years my fascination with tattoos bloomed and with it, the search for my tribe which would take me to my mid-life before it revealed itself.

From an early age I associated them with a lack of conformity to authority. Back then, there was still a whiff of stigma reserved for those ne-er do wells that sported tatts. My dad, a working-class autodidact from the burbs saw them as a betrayal to the working mans’ intellectual promise, a yoke of sorts to keep one strata of society in its place and yet cruelly perpetuated by its own class. I was warned that I would not be welcome home if I was ever to get a tattoo, such was his sentiment and commitment to the proletariat. This put my old man at considerable odds with many of his work colleagues who wore their colours with pride and this pride resonated with me.

I was however somewhat of an aesthetic dilettante and skulls, daggers and dragons just didn’t do it for me. There was something mildly amusing about seeing one of Dads workmates, Warren, a jovial Printing College teacher, pushing snags around a barbie with a sleeve tattoo of a menacing-looking crested Dragon-this chap was SO not a Bad-ass it wasn’t funny.

On one hand, I viewed the Tatt as Bad-ass calling card writ large but at the same time, so many ordinary people actually had them. This left me conflicted as I knew I wasn’t a Bad-ass at all no matter how much I exaggerated my high school record to girls at parties but I also had no intention of being part of the Mr Joe Average team either, which was the really tragic thing.

So for years as I dreamt of symbols and shapes to adorn my skin, work, family and life kicked in.

For many years I had been feeling like a lead guitarist who couldn’t play a note until one day, through the fog and for a time just out of my reach, an image morphed sharply into focus.

‘That’s it!’ I exclaimed to my wife, ‘my tattoo has arrived!’ and with it I preceded to make an appointment with a Tattoo parlour much to her bemusement.

Researching parlours I concluded that they fell into roughly two camps. One: frequented by petty crims and gansta-wannabes probably underwritten by the local Bikie gang and two: The ‘Salon’ type-affair with frothing Gaggia machine, warehouse chic and staffed by people who probably model for Frankie magazine.

What one did you think I chose?

Sipping my macchiato I discussed my design I ‘lifted’ from the net with a young bloke covered in ink, a few face piercings and a trucker hat worn roguishly off-kilter. I was surprised to learn that the technique was to make a traceable outline of the design, imprint it on my skin and then go around its edges with the ink-filled machine. He informed me that the procedure for the tattoo size I had chosen would take about four hours and might be best done over two sessions. I was a bit concerned when he admitted ‘he had not done anything quite like this before’. I went suddenly cold.

At this point, being a tattoo novice, these are not the most comforting words one can hear. As my arm was being cleaned I scanned his tattoos.

OK,

skull-check

dagger-Check

lion/dragon/wolf check Ok not so bad

Oh Shit! I nearly tore off the bib when my eyes rested on the familiar and troubling image of George Lucas’s universally loathed Star Wars character, Jar Jar Binks!

Noting my winced look he said, ‘Yea, got that one when I was seventeen and I’ve regretted it ever since’.

You know what, I started to relax then. It was curious, my fears about regretting getting it done and all that dissipated when this guy freely admitted that he had made a bad choice.

It had taken me over twenty five years to make my mind up and I knew that this was going to be a choice I would never regret. The machine whirred into life, he looked at me and I did my best Cool Hand Luke impersonation,

‘Bring it’ I grumbled.

In the months prior to getting my ink done I had written several tweets and a blog post lampooning the modern day malady of chefs and their tattoos. I posed the question: ‘Do trade schools offer tattoo advice these days?’ Catching up with a friend in a hip Melbourne café I was rolling my eyes whilst explaining to her the constant parade of chefs who had their ink on display.

‘Er, it’s kind of ironic now, you being a chef and having a Tatt too?!’Oh dear! The joker had become the joke.

My middle daughter certainly thought so as she said back at home; “Dad whenever I’m sad I’m gonna look at your tattoo and think ‘Mid-life Crisis, and laugh and laugh!”

Hmm.

My oldest daughter on the other hand is very keen to get one. She’s crazy about getting one on her lower back. My wife and I have informed her that these are colloquially referred to as ‘Tramp-Stamps’ and are deemed déclassé even by bogans now and they invented them! But she’s adamant that hers would be a post-ironic kind of statement that people of her crew would ‘get’.

I said the only thing that I’ll allow you to ‘get’ tattooed on your lower back will be; ‘If you can read this, you’re too close!’

Having said all that, I can understand her wanting one, after all, she’s just trying to find her tribe.

Tuesday night Social

Tuesday night social

With

Free soup and bread!

Starting Tuesday 31 July

Red Velvet Lounge, Tuesdays, 5.30-7pm

It takes a while to settle into a new town and its not always easy to meet people, even if you’ve lived here for a while.

So every Tuesday from 5.30 to 7pm I’m opening the doors of the Red Velvet Lounge and will be serving free soup and bread for those who are seeking a bit of sustenance, friendship and warmth.

All welcome

Please note: regular RVL services will not be available

See you then

Cheers Steve and Cate

Foodie Fairytale

Inspired by this excellent post I thought I might have a crack too.

Once upon a time in a land far far away, a kind lady decided to open a little shop serving cooked food she prepared in her homely kitchen.

Kind lady cooking

Throughout the land she was known as an inspired cook and people cherished the thought of getting an invite to her table so naturally word spread quickly about her new venture and excitement gathered. This was helped in part by the beatific and golden-haired Clan of Bards, whose duty it was to keep the people up to date with such news. 

Clan of Bards-today was a 'Golden hair free day' at the office

From their lofty tree-houses they would polish their words and carve them onto wooden tablets which they would then sell. Every year while all the people in the land were busy with commerce, agriculture and industry they would gather in the forest and determine who was the most erudite and then celebrate them with a tribute of song, dance and especially words. It became a tradition for many children to enquire in a cheeky, knowing way that indicated an onset of maturity; ‘If the Clan of Bards are celebrating one of their own in the forest but no-one is there to hear them, does it happen?

The unwashed rabble of the Gobla-Blogas

Back to the kind lady in the little shop. Unfortunately for her the news also travelled along the cobbled streets, into the drains, down the cracks in the pipes, into the sewers and the septic underworld where the dark-hearted Gobla-Blogas dwelled. 

Forever cast into the depths and margins for crimes against the status quo they lived a double life. Some, respected town-folk, upright citizens and even star pupils but all shared a dark secret, they all kept an Imitating-Iguana as a familiar.

A magical Imitating Iguana

These Imitating-Iguanas were a magical lizard which could carry the voice and opinions of their owners into the dreams of anyone in the land who happened to be sleeping. Trouble was, sometimes these opinions were not very well thought out, often had terrible grammar and were likely to be malicious and nasty.

But more than anything else, they also loved to get in first before the Clan of Bards got around to spreading the word in their floral way.

The beatific and golden haired Clan of Bards despised them with a passion and resented the all too easy way these Gobla-Blogas could get into the people dreams because they understood it took patience and craft to fashion a learned opinion.

Anyway leading up to the shops opening, the kind lady started noticing a few dark shadows lapping at her doorway and she felt a cold chill when several fork-tongued Imitating-Iguanas scuppered about, one even scratching at her window with its claw.

‘But I’m not even open yet!’ she thought to herself.

Eventually the big day arrived and excitedly she came downstairs to unlock the door for the first day’s trade. The little dining room quickly filled and soon she was dishing out lovely restorative goodness from her humble kitchen. Her spirits were high as she closed the door on her first day, exhausted but elated-she had done it!

What she didn’t realise than in the bags of very diner that day was an Imitating-Iguana! Yes, those malevolent Gobla-Blogas were her ONLY customers and while the rest of the people in the land slept that night, they were hastily whispering into the ears of their Imitating-Iguanas whose alert stillness was only broken by their occasionally flicking forked-tongues.

As people slept through Shaun Micalefs new show, the Gobla-Blogas spread their opinion

Everybody knows-with apologies to Laughing Len

Everybody knows that the menu is loaded 
Everybody orders knowing this
Everybody knows that service is over 
Everybody knows should’ve gone fix prixe 
Everybody knows the reviews will be mixed
when you feed the poor & you’ll eat with the rich 
That's how it goes 
Everybody knows 
Everybody knows that the steam boat is leaking 
they should’ve listened when the auditor was speaking 

Everybody talking to their mobile devices 
Everybody wants lower prices 
And a place to pose 
Everybody knows 

Everybody knows that you love top end tucker 
Everybody knows that you really do 
Everybody knows that you've eaten your fill 
Ah give or take a night or two 
Everybody knows you've been discreet 
But there were so many people you just had to tell 
with your phone on loudspeaker 
And everybody knows 

Everybody knows, everybody knows 
That's how it goes 
Everybody knows 

Everybody knows, everybody knows 
That's how it goes 
Everybody knows 

And everybody knows that it's now or never 
Everybody knows that it's me or you 
And everybody knows that you can stay open forever 
Ah when you pay a bill or two 
Everybody knows the deal is rotten 
suppliers in the corner laying forgotten 
your accolades and your no-shows 
And everybody knows 

And everybody knows that the Plague is coming 
Everybody knows that it's moving fast 
Everybody knows that the chicken Caesar 
is just a relic of the past
Everybody knows the scene is dead 
But there's gonna be an invoice on your bed 
That will disclose 
What everybody knows 

And everybody knows that you're in trouble 
Everybody knows what you've been through 
From the bloody cross of the good food guide 
To the shopper-docket melee too 
Take one last look at this report of dread
Before it blows 
And everybody knows 

Everybody knows, everybody knows 
That's how it goes 
Everybody knows 

Oh everybody knows, everybody knows 
That's how it goes 
Everybody knows 

Everybody knows

Restaurant closures

Pick up a newspaper these days and you’ll be informed that yet another high profile restaurant has gone bust. However for every high profile casualty, there are numerous smaller players that go to the wall without so much as a mention.

But a shiver of dread has reverberated throughout the hospitality industry as it comes to terms with news of the North Group demise. If a high profile operator such as this can fail. What does it say for the rest of the industry? Are we just seeing the tip of the iceberg as far as restaurant closures is concerned? Or is this particular closure simply the result of poor management?

Ask a young chef what they would like to achieve in their future and ‘opening their own place’ is usually the response. For many chefs, investing years working and gaining experience in numerous kitchens of note is the most conventional method toward fulfilling that dream. Yet this experience, though highly valued, does not automatically guarantee the business acumen to run a successful restaurant or café.

For numerous chefs the accountant or business strategist is an anathema, a harbinger of doom at the worst and a culler of creativity at the least. It seems that the advice of these fiscally learned people is oft interpreted as trying to meddle with the chefs’ vision to the point where the menu is in fact shaped by their informed overview. This is a very challenging situation that many chefs find themselves deliberating.

Do I go with the safe option? Everyone likes a chicken Caesar so it makes sense to put that on the menu. The accountant smiles contentedly.

Or

I haven’t worked for x amount of years and pushed myself hard in order to put a bloody chicken Caesar on my menu. The accountant looks anxious.

My point is: Is the safe choice always the best one?

If you are an innovator the answer has to be a resounding no. What would Melbourne’s culinary landscape resemble today without visionaries like Donlevy, Stephanie & Mietta to pave the way?

This is a prime motivator for many aspiring restaurant and café owners. Set the trend, be a game changer, leave an indelible mark.

The problem is for every genius that strikes out on the path of individualism and makes it a success there are countless others who do not have the skills, contacts, drive and it must be said, luck and good timing to reach the lofty heights of achievement. Throw in an economic downturn, rising produce and labour costs and the balancing act becomes even more acute.

This is where business advice is essential.

It would be a dull world indeed if all the menu choices offered were from one homogenized list, approved by accounting central but surely a reality check now and again might just keep the grim reaper from the door?

It’s a sad day when a hospitality venture shuts and someone’s hopes come crashing down but spare a thought for the many suppliers and staff that lose as well. Many suppliers carrying large debts often don’t recover themselves from a restaurant or group failure and this is a news story that you don’t often read about.

When it comes to hospitality ventures we don’t seem to apply the same scathing judgement that we usually reserve for banks and big companies who go bust due to mismanagement.

It might be convenient to dismiss such failed ventures as ‘victims of the times’ or ‘they were ahead of the curve’ but this is trivialising the impact that such closures have on many other people.

Each business has a duty to make money and hospitality businesses are no different. This duty extends not only to the operators, but equally to the staff and the suppliers. The problem is we seem to blur the line of this conventional expectation when it comes to food businesses and this way of thinking really needs to change or we’ll have even more restaurants going under.

Cygnet-Tasmania's artisan food hub

What is it about Cygnet?

In the last few years apparently more people have moved into the Cygnet area than in the last ten years combined. What evidence to I have to substantiate this claim you ask? Well it has been collated from various sources, the post office, the real estate agents, the servo, the IGA and the newsagent.

It seems the little hamlet of Cygnet ticks many of the boxes that appeal to those intending to make the sea-tree change. However this occurrence is not limited to the cashed-up self-retiree, the alternate life-stylers or the young families seeking an idyllic country alternative to the stresses of city life.

The area of The Huon Valley, Bruny Island and The D’Entrecasteaux Channel has become a magnet for people eager to begin a food orientated business.

An initial tally of some of these businesses that spring to mind are:

An Abattoir

3 gourmet butchers

4 cheese makers

3 chocolatiers

Numerous wineries

Numerous cherry orchards

Numerous apple and pear orchards

Numerous strawberry growers

Numerous soft fruit growers

Numerous blueberry farms

Numerous beef, sheep and pig farmers

A stone fruit grower

2 ice creameries

A traditional sourdough and wood-fired bakery

Numerous cafes, pubs, take-aways and restaurants

A coffee roaster

Direct fish sales

Numerous oyster leases

Two major Salmon farmers

Trout farms

Rare breed animal breeders

Several venison producers

A couple of specialized vegetable growers

Numerous country markets

Numerous honey producers

A saffron grower and negotiant

An artisan salmon smoker

Numerous organic vegetable growers

Numerous small holders

Numerous flower growers

A truffle negotiant

A few hazelnut growers

Many roadside fruit and vege stalls

A few fruit and vege shops

Numerous olive groves

Numerous jam, relish and preserve makers

Two fudge producers

Two essential-oil distilleries

A commercial mushroom farm

A commercial tomato farm

A rabbit producer

Just off the top of my head. What might be next?

It went like this

They don’t mean anything to me

What don’t?

Reviews

Oh Really?!

Well bad OR good ones, what matters is: our customer like us.

Ooh ..Right. So…You don’t care at all?

Nuh, I mean why would I? They either like us or they don’t. In this business there are just too many other stresses, you can’t start worrying about what every bloated well lubricated scribe is going to write about you. Its best just to ignore them completely, like my old head chef used to say: ‘Fuck them and fuck them too’

I don’t think that’s very helpful. I mean why antagonise them? Anyway didn’t your old chef lose all his Chefs Helmets in the guide?

Yes but that’s was HIS point! Just because he took his eye off the ball just once, they nailed him for it. A career of twenty years, gone, whoosh! Just like that.

Yes but he did..

What!

Well he did cook drunk on more than one occasion.

A man can have a couple.

And smoking a lit joint during service is never a good look.

That was prescribed medication; you know from a doctor, everyone knew he had a nervous tick.

It wasn’t the ‘Tick’ we all knew about but it certainly rhymes with ‘Tick’. Those poor waitresses at the Tribunal Hearing could practically draw it from memory such was the frequency in which it appeared.

Yes yes yes but what has that got to do with his COOKING?

Well, it does kinda amount to someone that has lost the plot a bit surely?

Maybe, or maybe they were just out to scalp him? A bloke with e rep like that, well bringing him down could make your name if you were a middling reviewer couldn’t it? A bit of notoriety, instant fear into the hearts of chefs and restaurant owners everywhere. I mean, that’s what happened, almost overnight. Everyone was saying there goes that bloke that shit-canned Rufus McGinty, wiped him of his Chefs Helmets! Fuck that, not for me. I’ve banned all of ‘em from coming in.

So..you’d ignore them if you got a good review?

Absolutely!

Really? A part of you wouldn’t be happy?

Nuh.

I find that a little hard to believe quite frankly.

Oh Yeah?! We have pictures of all the cities so-called restaurant reviewers so all the floor staff can identify ‘em and then we boot ‘em out.

Really? You kick them out? Has this ever happened?

Yea a few months back when that Bob Downes bloke came in, Fausto ID-ed him at the salad bar an asked him to leave tout sweet.

No!

Yep and out he went, hopefully never to return.

Whistles-Gee you are fair dinkum aren’t you?!

Yep. Seriously I could not care less, they mean nothing to me

Mobile phone rings (the Macarena)

Clears throat, ‘Hello, this is Lance Sterling’

Is this Lance Sterling, of the Hound and Hound’s-tooth?

Speaking

Catches eyes of companion and rolls eyes skyward whilst making internationally recognised hand motion for ‘wanker’

We are pleased to announce you have achieved One Helmut rating in the new guide and your invitation to the gala dinner is in the mail.

Silence

Hello, Mt Sterling, are you there

Yes, I’m here.

You must be very happy

I’m…speechless really

Laughs, that often happens, see you at the dinner-hangs up

Looking at the phone-We got a chefs helmet!

Hmm, you really told them didn’t you?

Well what could I say?

You could've said ‘No thanks’ especially after that whole palaver about 'not caring'

But it’s a Chefs Helmut, they don’t just give them away, you have to earn it.

Yes but what about all that ‘I don’t care’ bizzo?

Yes I know, but that was then.

What do you mean?

I didn’t have a helmet then but now I do, things have changed.

Exasperated-How have they changed?

Oh be quiet, you’re always whining! Just because you don’t have a helmet doesn’t mean you should dis-respect the institution that is the Guide

I can’t believe this?!

Go on, buzz off and take your petty jealousies with you

How the family name evolved

Check it out Homies!

Stop the inhumane treatment of yeast!

Animal activism is on the rise worldwide yet here in Australia, with a few notable exceptions, we are largely complacent as a nation in not bringing these issues into the mainstream. Just yesterday in the US the practice of gavaging ducks and geese for the production of Foie Gras was outlawed in California-could this be the start on a new dawn in worldwide animal liberation?

The film you are about to view was sent to me today by some local activists. Its shocking depiction will hopefully stir something in you to get motivated and do something to change outcome for yeasts the world over. Remember start small, think global and act local like these brave advocates did. Protect all creatures great AND small.

Vegemite, Please Spread the word!

Battery vegemite squashed into small jars and stacked onto cramped shelves are common, to Australia's shame

the lineage of vegemite through the ages

how politicians leverage off vegemite without any concern for its welfare

a shocking display of vegemite gluttony