So, we went to Campsie Food Festival today "The Seoul of Sydney"...although there was surprisingly few Korean stalls.
As I sit to write, I realise my experience of food festivals (& food courts for that matter) has a very similar flavour and predictable pattern.
I start with excitment and anticipation - the smells, the chatter (and in Campsie, the multiculturalism) - it's the vibe of the thing that whets my appetite! As we canvas the first few stalls I'm internally trying to work out what dishes I feel like, while frantically elbowing my way to the front of each stall to see what deep fried goodies lay in the bain-marie.
We laugh at how ubiquitous turkish gozleme is now at any market - 10 years ago it was the exotic rarity - and reflect on how times have changed.
As we pass Japanese takoyaki, Korean skewers, Korean takoyaki, Australian sausage sizzle, Lebanese, Indonesian, Indian, french crepes, dutch poffertjes...the familiar frustrating ritual begins. We must look at every stall before making a decision of what to buy, and prices must be compared if a similar product is being considered. Although the Senegali stall sounds fun and different, careful discussion reveals its basically just meat and rice.
The perception of value for money generally dictates our first purchase - which happens to be a mixed Korean plate on today's occasion. The flavours are new and strange, although not entirely unwelcome, but the kimchi is barely touched, and as we finish the plate we realise although our physical hunger has gone, but our mental appetite for something exciting has not been satisfied.
And so the dance of the second purchase begins.
Perhaps we shouldn't get anything...but we're here and it seems fun...the Korean is basically the same as the Japanese...we can easily make pancakes at home...whatever we get had better be worth it...the little one is getting fidgety...should we get 4 or 8...
We do decide to get another dish, but in inevitable style, it was slightly disappointing - uncooked takoyaki mixture, and the reality that the octopus balls will always be better than the prawn or crab mostly because it comes with the best sauces (tonkatsu bbq sauce and mayonnaise, with bonito flakes, rather than the paltry weird seafood mayo).
As we leave, tired by all the noise and distressed by the plastic waste, I wonder if the trip has been worth it. It comes down to expectations, and perhaps the careful reconnaissance that goes into each purchase in fact lifts the bar too high for any market stall to reach. I have become so spoilt for choice that I expect a crazily new food experience and yet, festival food will always be heavily seasoned, mass produced and hit-and-miss with the cooking.
I think it's about setting myself some new challenges. Enjoy the experience - savour the atmosphere. Be spontateous with the first purchase....and if disappointed, don't buy the second one...just go home and make myself some pancakes.
Allsorts and Candy Canes
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Thursday, November 11, 2010
reflections on the webnet
Ok. So I'm not even sure if you call it the web, or the net, or something else these days. Behind the times? Perhaps. But my last post got me thinking.
I confessed to my husband that 'my latest purchase' was too serious to be lighthearted and hence eminently readable, but also not intelligent enough to read and be educational.
Blogs are basically a monologue right? But since one reads them in the quietness of their own space, one can stop reading whenever, and flick to a page more interesting. Generally this would be considered rudeness if the context was two people talking, but with the barriers of screens and little-bits-of-information-flying-through-the-air-somehow (I'm sure there is a techy word for this), it is entirely appropriate to tune out, stop reading or even rubbish a blog post.
Maybe this isn't a bad thing. It leads to honesty, and you don't have to cover up your true thoughts by faking body language (pretending you're interested when you're not). You can make thoughtful comments, instead of saying the first thing that comes into your mouth. The new ways of communicating provided by the internet mean we have to become accustomed to a whole new set of social conventions. I just don't think I've worked them out yet. And I think I still prefer the old system (extrovert tendencies I guess).
In most conversations I wonder (and perhaps worry) what people are thinking about what I'm saying. It's sometimes scary to find out what people really think, but often you can guess.
Perhaps it's scarier to never find out what people really think.
I confessed to my husband that 'my latest purchase' was too serious to be lighthearted and hence eminently readable, but also not intelligent enough to read and be educational.
Blogs are basically a monologue right? But since one reads them in the quietness of their own space, one can stop reading whenever, and flick to a page more interesting. Generally this would be considered rudeness if the context was two people talking, but with the barriers of screens and little-bits-of-information-flying-through-the-air-somehow (I'm sure there is a techy word for this), it is entirely appropriate to tune out, stop reading or even rubbish a blog post.
Maybe this isn't a bad thing. It leads to honesty, and you don't have to cover up your true thoughts by faking body language (pretending you're interested when you're not). You can make thoughtful comments, instead of saying the first thing that comes into your mouth. The new ways of communicating provided by the internet mean we have to become accustomed to a whole new set of social conventions. I just don't think I've worked them out yet. And I think I still prefer the old system (extrovert tendencies I guess).
In most conversations I wonder (and perhaps worry) what people are thinking about what I'm saying. It's sometimes scary to find out what people really think, but often you can guess.
Perhaps it's scarier to never find out what people really think.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
my latest purchase
(I occasionally have an aversion to capitals, and I think it's because I hope the words are slightly less emphatic if they are in lower case, just in case I didn't really mean them after all.)
My latest purchase was the wonderful Bokashi Bucket. I have been planning on buying one ever since a friend said they only had one plastic shopping bag of rubbish a week, because the rest went into their Bokashi bin or recycling. I have been storing old stew in the fridge for a few days, just so I could 'Bokashi' it instead of putting it into landfill (proper nouns just ask to be made into verbs!). I have often been horrified by the amount of food waste our little family has, and although when we travelled to a developing county, I witnessed much poorer people also wasting food, my conscience still bites.
My excitement at the purchase was only mildly curbed by my husband's cynical comments. He cheekily claims it is merely a compost bucket, knowing I will respond passionately. I claim it is much more than a compost bucket because of the EMs (effective micro organisms) which break down the waste and cause fermentation. On reflection though, I guess this is what a compost bin does (with natural micro organisms in the soil..?), it's just we cannot house one in our unit.
Like most things, the initial joy of my new purchase will probably be taken down by the frustation and drudgery of using and maintaining it. I know the theory of setting systems in place to make it easy, but the fact that its out on the balcony concerns me that it will be too much bother some days, because it will take me 3 mins to dispose of the compost instead of 30 seconds. I can only hope that the plight of our earth will continually weigh sufficiently on my shoulders such that my butt stays in gear...
My latest purchase was the wonderful Bokashi Bucket. I have been planning on buying one ever since a friend said they only had one plastic shopping bag of rubbish a week, because the rest went into their Bokashi bin or recycling. I have been storing old stew in the fridge for a few days, just so I could 'Bokashi' it instead of putting it into landfill (proper nouns just ask to be made into verbs!). I have often been horrified by the amount of food waste our little family has, and although when we travelled to a developing county, I witnessed much poorer people also wasting food, my conscience still bites. Apparently the average household has about 11kg of rubbish per week, and about half of this is compostable food waste. If food waste is thrown in to landfill, it creates methane. I knew eating beef is bad for the environment, but I didn't realise it takes 50,000L of water to get some beef on your plate! I don't think we're going to turn vegetarian anytime soon, so the take home message for us is to enjoy it all and not waste a morsel (or at least be organised to freeze leftovers). See foodwise.com.au if you'd like to be alarmed by more statistics.
My excitement at the purchase was only mildly curbed by my husband's cynical comments. He cheekily claims it is merely a compost bucket, knowing I will respond passionately. I claim it is much more than a compost bucket because of the EMs (effective micro organisms) which break down the waste and cause fermentation. On reflection though, I guess this is what a compost bin does (with natural micro organisms in the soil..?), it's just we cannot house one in our unit.
Like most things, the initial joy of my new purchase will probably be taken down by the frustation and drudgery of using and maintaining it. I know the theory of setting systems in place to make it easy, but the fact that its out on the balcony concerns me that it will be too much bother some days, because it will take me 3 mins to dispose of the compost instead of 30 seconds. I can only hope that the plight of our earth will continually weigh sufficiently on my shoulders such that my butt stays in gear...
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