Pine Tree Lane TERRIGAL NSW AUSTRALIA
Phone 43849111
Review originally posted on the 9th of January, 2003
I'm no reclusive. I'd end up with cabin fever. Usually within a day or two the sap begins to rise and my thoughts turn to summer, sweat and tenderness.
So, to the Central Coast with a stop over en route.
Symbolically, the holidaymaker who'd cleverly sewn a pinstripe jacket into a hippyish shoulder bag captured the mood at Terrigal. Amorous couples carrying surfboards and wearing Frangipanis strolled along the beachfront while assorted fry-cooks on stand-by looked on pensively. And the historically famous Florida Hotel distinguished now as the Crowne Plaza, where i was to cook my own steak, ultimately beckoned.
Chefs are all right, but they won't do. They're on show here. One of 'em grinned when the saucy minx at the bistro handed over my 350-g 'Stockyard' rump.
"So... I just add heat, eh? Alright then."
Quite a bit of bravado can occur at these self-cook affairs. However I glibly shared the secret of fire with a couple of builders who'd just arrived, which resulted in further consultancy work throughout the process. Very civilized, in fact, I don't think they ever went back to work.
The surrounding terraced courtyard completes one's immersion into the local culture without a hefty cost, but with comfortable, shaded tables and chairs and a soloist covering Cat Stevens without strangulation.
Caesar salads, nacho's, the Florida's 'curry of the week' were all exhumed competently along with further carcass parts and a pasta dish. The pumpkin pancetta ravioli with sundried tomato and pesto described the kitchens less is more so just add a bit more philosophy.
The food enhances and compliments the fireflies dancing on the beams of summer light, to misquote Richard Clapton, which is the Australian summer coastal town thrill. And The Terrigal Cake Shop, later on, turned the clock back to childhood, to a notionally better time. I was chasing the dolce vita one's by then.
However, a dip in the crisp McMaster's surf before heading home soon arrested this overindulgence.
Publishing the unpublishable while growing up and finding complacency
- Jimmy Olsen
- Sydney, Australia
- So far, much of the content here started life as a rather embarrassing personal journal, but it's now something I can begin to be proud of. In a warped way, both my sites are the growing inbred children of the now defunct parental site: www.butterboxmedia.com and characteristically (if not genetically) remain under construction. So for that I will apologize, but I won't ever say sorry for my inability to deal with the everyday, the trashy, the crappy, the dismissive, mass stupidity, the bland and the empty. Below are a few reviews from long ago that I exhumed from www.landofsurfandbeer.com.au, a site where I once occasionally posted under the screen name of hed. I have not changed the content of the reviews, however I have corrected my naff punctuation, incorrect spelling and frequent inability to use grammar correctly. Who knows? Perhaps one day this too will be corrected. In the meantime, the best hope you have at getting me to post anything about anything is by virtue of either being really terrible or really wonderful. Roll the dice.
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