Email to:Master Chef Riverina Style!
God help me……..
Another series of the risible MasterChef. AND don’t even try laying the ‘you just don’t get it’ one on me…..
Call me self-obsessed, call me shallow, call me Peri-Demi-Semi Menopausal – call me anything you like but waiting around for four hours to see whether Amanda’s double crusted stingray tentacle stayed on the bed of triple dandelion infused cous cous – or fell off – is not my idea of even a passably pleasant night.
I like (no demand) that my culinary experiences are exciting, memorable……
It’s a family tradition going back to the sixties: a tradition underpinned by passion and natural yearnings to show love by saying unforgivable things around a huge laminex table groaning with iceberg lettuce, pesticide-enhanced tomatoes and the crowning glory – a four foot stack of devon.
And make NO mistake, this was a family always looking for the next big thing.
(The Next Big Thing! Cr: langleyo: flickr)
So when the ground breaking ’Red Steer’ Restaurant opened in Wagga Wagga, Hec and Gwennie, and their five partly grain fed girls, were among the first through the two colossal horns framing its imposing teak stained plywood door.
Inside, a clever use of space: tables and chairs placed at seven-inch intervals.
The spectacular backdrop?
A state-of-the-art 150 foot long stainless steel grill appliance capable of shooting flames to ceiling height. Framing it, a massive glass ‘open’ counter filled with six tonnes of crushed ice and 19 tonnes of prime Riverina beast.
After being seated by the ‘Red Steers” smiling young staffers (dressed in impeccable fire resistant overalls), gourmand Hec came into his own.
‘Magnificent, bloody MAGNIFICENT. IT’S called a self-cook flame grill kids - which means……..
…….I get to pick what we’re havin’ and I get to cook it….’
Before (by then) a very flushed Gwennie even has a chance to say: ‘Be careful, we all love you on payday,’ Hec’s gone…….
……Only to emerge 30 seconds later from the slaughterhouse cum kitchen, sporting a (big) regulation chef’s hat and full white apron which is (unfortunately) a bit small. Which mean the ties are straining at his bum.
But, in the scheme of things, that’s nothing.
Because other families trying to celebrate shotgun engagements or cancer all-clears are shocked to see our personal chef demonstrating Samurai-like two handed knife skills while lurching towards the beast cabinet.
Hec’s repeatedly waving an abattoir grade knife high in the air, bringing it down hard on an industrial size sharpening stone.
The noise – the overall effect - is blood curdling but thankfully no-one has to endure it for long.
Because within 40 seconds, the ‘Red Steer’s’ most audacious self-cook-flame-griller has thrown seven (’one each’), eight pound T-bones at the furnace.
Then bravely, even petulantly - with just one small spatula at his disposal – Hec’s desperately trying to control the (a) sudden surge in fire activity (b) white hot globules of fat coming straight at him and (c) clear and present dangers threatening his dignity.
The ‘Red Steer’ is suddenly quiet:
Has THIS Master Chef, this man of passion and nerves of steel, finally gone TOO FAR?
Thrilled to report - a resounding NO.
*We returned to the ‘Red Steer’ on several occasions during the next few years. It was always good. But while no-one dared say it the magic of that very first visit could NEVER be recaptured.
*********************************************
So, so where to now…..? You’re very welcome to come in here and tell me that ‘MasterChef’ is brilliant – because anyone who knows me will assure you I’m pretty broadminded…….and one of the things I hold dear about kerriejean.com is its role as a forum for the free exchange of opinions/ideas – however whacky.
And do I need to say it? It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy when folks just report in on what’s happening in their lives. Trust me, the very first mistake you’d make would be to think: ‘Why the hell would I do that?’ So…..go on.
All posters take a deep breath…and just click on the ‘comment’ thingo and follow the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo – just ignore it
Tags: Master Chef
Prawn Cutlet Award
April 26th, 2010 at 4:01 pm
I had a steak at a restaurant last night.
I asked for ‘well done’ NOT what arrived: ‘Well and truly f******’
Dear The Dude,
Just as long as you didn’t join the tawdry ranks of those appalling creatures who take great delight in sending things back to kitchens.
*If a person goes on and on and on in a restaurant and demands another meal – which they’re likely to send back too – you have in front of you a very unpleasant specimen. KJ.
April 26th, 2010 at 7:02 pm
KJ for once I agree with you…..
All those little bits and pieces of fussy shavings and dribble like sauces – DISGUSTING!
Let me describe for you a typical childhood feast at my place……a succession of hares, partridges, mullet, chickens, suckling pigs, lamb on the spit, pilafs, pates, skewers full of off cuts, oysters, tarts, brioches, wafers, sherbets, old wines and caviar – all of which were put away (furiously).
Greek and loving it,
Again, I am forced to remind you. This site’s credibility relies on honest report backs.
And again, your crazy exaggerations put it at risk.
Hares and partridges, I can believe.
Tarts and wafers? IMPOSSIBLE!
KJ.
April 27th, 2010 at 4:53 am
It started with a boy,
A Boy called Troy.
Started with a sniff,
Never thought,
It would end like this.
(Sniff)
April 27th, 2010 at 8:03 am
Aahh the good old Red Steer…
KJ, you may be sad to hear that the self cooking facility no longer happens there, so if you are desirous of a bit of succulent self-cooked steer’s bottom, you have to cook it at home or the Bridge Tavern (so I hear).
Love the experience of a Steakhouse, especially when one is with a party of people and all are happy……..except for the lone complaining vegetarian (there is always one).
I do think too that legislation banning vegetarians from the precincts of Leeton has been repealed.
Dear Stoney Point,
You’re right about the joys of the (increasingly hard to secure) Steakhouse experience. I blame MasterChef.
My research indicates that the ‘Red Steer’ has been replaced by something called ‘Tumbleweed’ – definitely a case of taking the current fad involving the use of local produce TOO far. I blame MasterChef.
* Anti-discrimination authorities did force Leeton Council to repeal its anti-vegetarian by-laws. Too little, too late. Leeton’s last known vegetarian, Gus, left town in 1986. I blame Gus.
KJ.
April 27th, 2010 at 10:50 am
These days a girl does not dare leave her seat unattended.
And that’s just at work! KJ.
April 27th, 2010 at 5:57 pm
Art’s Bar & Grill, Leeton.
I wish Daddy was still with us…
Daddy, all the way from Baton Rouge. Daddy the Marine who settled in Leeton, Australia after marrying a girl from the legendary Cannery.
So Daddy came here, built a house in Acacia Avenue, taught me to play craps and baseball, and to play the banjo.
He helped me (Daddy would have said hepped) to start Art’s Bar and Grill – now a mecca for Leeton’s elite (all three).
I wish Daddy was still with us.
That’s because Barlowe, PI, was drinking here today, and his friend G.I.N. German came in dressed in top military dress.
He made General Douglas MacArthur look like a toy soldier.
Ribbons, medals, highly polished Sam Browne Belt, sword, pistol, cap. Boots you could use for a shaving mirror. Four stars decorated his epaulettes.
On his breast he sported a name tag:
G.I.N.GERMAN, V.C.
G.O.C.
Iraq-Afghanistan
Recruiting Officer
LEETON.
To be continued……
April 27th, 2010 at 6:40 pm
Hec is not alone.
ALL men are Fire Worshippers.
April 28th, 2010 at 5:11 am
Hec must be forgiven for his indiscretions at the ‘Red Steer’, namely: I GET TO PICK WHAT WE’RE HAVIN, AND I GET TO COOK IT.
This genuine ‘feed the man meat’ bloke did not know that the sneeky Steer was on the ground floor of Australia’s burgeoning ‘Nice Way to Get Rid of Staff’ policy.
Not long after, other ’steering’ committees throughout the country adopted the ‘DO IT YA BLOODY SELF POLICY’.
No more bus conductors…. fill up your own tank, no more getting your windscreen wiped…..
And just when a bloke thought it just could not get any worse than ATMs with higher fees than the face value of my withdrawals, I find myself in The Fresh Food People’s emporium.
I look for the 12 items or less lane. Gorn. Replaced by the DO IT YOURSELF lane.
Away goes Nambid, scanning my four items and ‘Pleased to do so Madam’.
Anyone else spotted the latest staff shedders?
Come in Greek and loving it…….she of the the news breaking OVAL CREEP story.
TLM.
TLM,
A close-knit country family travels 100 miles to spend time together, break bread…..
And then….you come right in placing IDEOLOGY at the centre of the magical experience.
NEXT, wild claims that you’ve received a Government flyer titled: ‘DIY Emissions Trading Scheme’. KJ.
April 28th, 2010 at 7:53 am
Ah sorry everyone but there’s a bit of a crisis here….
Nine-year-old transferred from ‘non-scripture’ to Catholic scripture class because – in his words – ‘Felix said that in Catholic scripture you get to play with guns.’
He’s returned home very disappointed because all they did was ’sing about Jesus’.
NOW, I’ve got to explain his quick conversion back to atheism before 9am today.
Also, re food matters- same child told me that he beat FIVE class vegetarians in arm wrestling yesterday!
Dear Greek and loving it,
Just copy this note for said child to present today.
Dear Principal,
You have left me with no option but to sue……
My gun toting child is distraught after attending something called ‘Catholic Scripture’. His favourite weapon was confiscated – AND he was forced to sing.
We NEVER sing at our house. We trade weapons and Praise The Lord for the right to do so.
You will be hearing from my lawyer.
Regards.
Greek and loving it. KJ.
April 28th, 2010 at 3:36 pm
Super Dean just put out the best Super Dean newsletter ever!
Dear The Lonely Scholar,
Very pleased to hear that……now, get a paper bag, put it over your mouth and breathe in and out deeply.
AFTER you’ve calmed down, write back and tell us what Super Dean said. KJ.
April 28th, 2010 at 5:24 pm
*The story so far…..
Recruiting Officer General G.I.N German is telling Art (of Art’s Bar & Grill, Leeton) about his plans…..
Read on…..
Should be easy to recruit because of the drought, he (G.I.N German) said.
Drought’s over, General German.
But this is still The Irrigation Area Without Water.
Where’s the recruiting office?
Here, Art. Sure you won’t mind?
That’ll be just swell.
Knew you’d say that.
Daddy was in the Army. A Marine.
Please get his medals and convey them here. They might be useful.
That’ll be swell, General.
By the way, General, what sort of recruits you looking for?
People of both sexes, People of Peace…..those who would rather Make Love, Not War.
Do you have a name for this new intake?
Certainly, The Riverina Swingers Battalion.
Swingers?
That’s what I said, dear boy. People of flexible habits.
To be continued……..
April 28th, 2010 at 7:50 pm
Haven’t there been a lot of natural disasters lately? (Oh sorry, now where was I….?)
YES – the Super Dean’s glorious newsletter.
Firstly he thanked all of us for staying calm and stagnant in a time of great adversity.
Dozens if not hundreds of us littered in hotels from Abu Dhabi to Shanghai fretting about classes missed, research applications postponed.
The airline grounding reminded him of his days as a early career researcher….
A hostile stand-off with a group of students at a Swedish university.
Prior to his scheduled lecture, he received a message saying that the students wouldn’t be coming – lecturing was now a form of fascism. They were sorry, but if he recorded a cassette tape they would be able to listen.
He REFUSED to do so and gave the lecture to an empty hall!
Dear The Lonely Scholar,
Is there nothing that your Super Dean hasn’t done? Is there ANY known adversity he HASN’T faced -
(including 18-year-old marauding Scandinavian fascists) AND conquered?
*Just the thought, the mere thought of the man throwing big slabs of marbled beef at a flame grill………
KJ.
April 29th, 2010 at 6:54 am
You mean wife-swappers?
That is putting it crudely. People with broad minds on our fair broad streets…..people determined to make the most of life after summer’s lease.
Do you have any HQ – headquarters – in mind?
Certainly, we shall start immediately in the highest ranks of the Pentagon, and the top brass in Whitehall.
Why?
Isn’t it obvious? All of our wars are started and maintained by sexually deprived males, and frustrated politicians. We are also preparing to take in the top people at the United Nations. We even have a Gay Honour Guard.
Gay?
Certainly, old chap. Ever hear of a war started by someone who likes to imitate Marlene Dietrich?
…..Underneath the lantern, by the palace gate. Darling, I remember the way you used to wait…….
But how can this bring peace?
Easily, the moment any disptue breaks out a command will come from On High.
The command?
CHANGE PARTNERS IMMEDIATELY!!!
Have you approached any Leeton people to recruit them?
One.
One?
Yes. A woman named Kerrie Jean…
What did she say?
Well, I thought I would break the ice with a sonnet from The Bard:
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
What did she say?
GET OUT OF HERE YOU DIRTY OLD WIN-ON.
I am, however, not discouraged by this setback.
The Riverina Swingers’ Battalion will BRING WORLD PEACE, mark my words.
Good luck, General German.
Thanks, Art. A glass of Absinthe, if I may, before I approach that charming couple in the corner. How are you, Barlowe?
Swell, kiddo. Just swell. I just finished a case involving a Dame. There’s always a Dame. Am I right, or am I right?
True enough, old cabbage, true enough. Cheers. Now about my new Swingers’ Battalion…
To be continued…..
April 29th, 2010 at 2:42 pm
They brought in a similar self-cook arrangement in the restaurant of the Bygalorie Motor Inn (Yanco Avenue, Leeton) during my latter years at Leeton High School.
Being innocent of the world of dining out beyond Chan’s Hong Kong Restaurant and the dining room at the Yanco Club, I pronounced it a classy innovation.
My father, a more worldly creature by far than I, by virtue of having been at one stage a professional tractor-deliverer and hence having spent half the weekends of his youth dining out in the cafes of Sydney, pronounced it an outright gyp.
He quite rightly pointed out that not only did a raw steak cost you more than a cooked one would at the Soldiers’ Club, but that you also had to do all the work yourself – instead of sitting down and waiting with a cleansing ale….
He said it was like hiring someone to build you a fence, and then they show up at your place, drop off a bunch of planks and a hammer and then leave.
Dear Roma Street,
I’m very pleased your dad – while delivering tractors – never by chance happened upon the ‘Red Steer’. He would have been FURIOUS!
I have to disagree about the Soldiers’ Club being a centre of real steak activity.
It, for me, will always remain the ‘home of the superior prawn cutlet’.
*My favourite Leeton restaurant ever was ‘The Red Gauntlet’ – a chic establishment on top of the Town Centre Motel, Wade Avenue.
There were pine tables with red cloths AND candles. EVERYTHING came with cream (’So a prawn cocktail to start with, will you have cream with that?’) and best of all, I loved the strange (though compelling) feeling of eating two floors up…….
Also had a couple of ‘romantic’ dates at ‘The Red Gauntlet’ – EVERYONE looks great under flickering candles!
Did you ever sample the supreme delights of ‘The Red Gauntlet’?
KJ.
April 29th, 2010 at 5:16 pm
Dear Carnivores,
The place to go for a sizzlin’ steak was the old Journos.
The piece of cow arrived on a read hot piece of iron in a wooden surround.
A large bib was tucked around the diner’s neck.
Bon appetit!
My late friend, the columnist Ron Saw, was waitin’, waitin’, waitin’ when he saw a fresh sizzlin’ portion arrive at the table of a barrister.
The lawyer was paged and went off to take a telephone call.
Now we all know that a sizzlin’ steak has to be consumed IMMEDIATELY.
In the name of humanity and culinary science, Ron hopped into the vacant chair and devoured the sizzler.
The barrister returned to find Ron in corpus delicti.
It is a true story.
You can read all about in the Law Reports:
Crown v. Saw: wilful and unlawful destruction and illegal possession of Grain Fed Aberdeen Angus.
It caused almost as much fuss as the time the late (aren’t they all) columnist Eric Baume (remember the first Beauties and the Beast?) dumped a non-paying poker machine out of the window and on to the footpath below, where it broke open and began paying to passersby.
Or the time a sub from the Oz opened fire on the bar with his pocket of change, the staff ducking and weaving as he smashed most of the bottles…….
Or the time the whole of the editorial staff on The Oz went to lunch and came back 24 hours later precisely with the apology: ‘Sorry to be late back.’
The past is another country… I was barred from the club before I became a member….
You had to do such things to have any respect…
Dear Mr Chadwick,
What wonderful memories! I too had visits – to THE club in Chalmers Street.
The conversation, the bonhomie!
But as a young journo – in surveying the scene – only one thought occupied my mind: ‘This is great experience for an aspiring war correspondent….’
Thank you. KJ.
April 29th, 2010 at 6:13 pm
Basket case? Junk debt?
I’m here to say that Greeks may never pay tax (true, true) but they are not ungenerous.
Yesterday, my youngest and his friend went busking on the main street of one of Aussie Greeks’ busiest thoroughfares.
I asked: So what are you going to play? Beatles? Neil Young? Nup. I’m going to play the Flinstones theme and Ricky will play ‘Smoke on the Water’.
You’re going to take turns?
No, we’re playing them at the same time – it will be louder.
You don’t think it might sound better if you played the same song at the same time?
Mmm, we’d probably get more money but who cares?
An hour later the boys returned with $60….
I did suggest they contribute to the failing economy of Greece – but I fear the $ will be inserted into a slushie machine in a cornerstore owned by Sri Lankans.
Dear Greek and loving it,
I’m all for the highly stimulatin’ slushie plan.
NO-ONE wants highly creative boys suffering Compassion Fatigue well before they even enter their teens.
*I contracted CF when I was only nine. The tragic thing? I’ve never recovered. KJ.
April 29th, 2010 at 6:47 pm
VALE, PETER PORTER……
Vale, Peter Porter
Never read you enough,
Yes, but I oughter.
April 30th, 2010 at 1:00 pm
Recruitment for the Swingers’ Battalion is POISED…
I can read interest in the eyes of Leeton citizens of both sexes.
Surely, peace is at hand.
I have engaged the Leeton Swingers’ Singers for street corner rallies.
Art’s Bar & Grill is our HQ.
‘The Irrigator’ newspaper has refused to publish our material.
I may have to place the area under military command.
To be continued…..
April 30th, 2010 at 8:58 pm
He called her fat,
She bit off his ear,
There are just insults,
A girl cannot bear.
Blood on her furs,
By way of demur,
Say something bad,
Verbal malodorous….
Make NO mistake,
She’s carniverosis.
http://www.smh.com.au/world/he-called-her-fat-she-bit-off-his-ear-20100430-twwr.html
May 2nd, 2010 at 1:25 pm
No, KJ – I never sampled the heady cosmopolitan atmosphere of the Red Gauntlet.
In my day, the up-scale dining estabishment du jour was The Plantation, on the corner of Kurrajong Avenue and (I think) Coolibah St.
The Plantation was white-washed on the outside and had tinted windows and a dim, candle-lit sort of vibe inside. The building now serves, or did when I saw it last, as an amusement arcade.
Dear Roma Street,
How could I have let slip from memory the buzz which surrounded ‘The Plantation’…
I didn’t ever get to grace a table but there was a always running commentary around town about the ‘who’s who’ WHO were ‘The Plantation’ set……captains of the rice industry, local girls making it big on the catwalks of Wagga, crazy thespians from the Musical & Dramatic society…….
If those besser brick walls could talk…….
KJ.