What is life like in the kitchen in the Australian outback?
Cooking on an Australian station does not induce placidity of mind. In the first place it is a seven-day-a-week job; in the second it very often happens that one or more of the men are late to meals having been delayed by sheep-work in a paddock; and in the third place the hours are long, and the cement or wooden floor of a kitchen is particularly hard on a cook's feet.
On account of those drawbacks cooks are scarce, good cooks are priceless, and all cooks are martinets. A cook's uncertain temper is, therefore, regarded with the indulgence given to lumbago, or gout, the sufferer receiving all consideration and sympathy. (p. 59)
So begins Chapter 14, "The Passing of a Cook," in
The Sands of Windee by Arthur W. Upfield (originally published 1931). The cook on the particular station in the book, called Alf the Nark, was ready to leave his position on a remote sheep station in the wilds of Australia; the date is 1924. At the last meal he cooks:
After beating his triangle calling the men to dinner, Alf the Nark began to cut up two roast legs of mutton. Usually the first man entered the kitchen-dining-room precisely ten seconds after the triangle was struck, but this day the men were in bed and asleep, and it was fully ten minutes before the first of them arrived...
"Soup?" snarled Alf.
"Please," came the sleepy answer.
"Soup?" snarled Alf to the next man, and so on... Then "Ive 'ad enough of this. If yous think I'm going to be on deck orl the blasted day and 'ang about 'ere arf the night waiting for yous to grease yer 'air, you're mistaken. There's yer tucker. Eat it or chuck it art. I'm finished." (p. 60)
And so Alf leaves for the nearest tiny town "visions of whiskey-bottles drawing him on." Bony, or Police Inspector Napoleon Bonaparte is already on the scene. He's presented himself as a horse trainer and laborer, but Bony is actually a man of many talents -- and in fact has a university education. His reason for being at this station is to investigate the mysterious disappearance and presumed murder of a man who had recently visited the owner of the sheep station. He's hiding his position as an inspector, but he is open about his education and talents.
Bony quickly volunteers to take over the cook's job:
At six o'clock he was up cooking the men's breakfast; and the men, who thought they would have had to cook their own meals, were highly gratified. (p. 62)
Bony uses his new position to advantage; as the author describes his work, we learn a lot about the outback:
The vacancy in the men's kitchen ... presented to Bony a sure avenue of winning his way to the hearts, via the stomachs of Moongalliti and his tribe. ... Had he been a full-blooded aboriginal they would never have accepted him as one of themselves.... As a half-caste, and a strange half-caste, he would at all times be regarded with suspicion; but as a station cook, with somewhat of their racial blood in him, he could successfully bribe them and win a measure of friendship with food, for food and the getting of food occupies far more of the native mind than any other subject. (p. 63)
Bony bakes bread, serves morning lunch, midday lunch, afternoon lunch, and dinner. When asked to explain why he wants to be in the bush. He says:
"I wanted to go ahunting as my mother's father had hunted, and I wanted to eat flesh, raw flesh, and feast on tree grubs, and then lie down in the shade and go to sleep, fed full and feeling the wind play over my naked skin." (p. 65)
In the course of the book, the author at least briefly describes many meals, from genteel teas and marriage celebrations to native feasts. The clanging of the kitchen triangle, calling the workers to their meals, punctuates the passing time for the workers and owners. The portrayal of Bony and his dual identity uses food in what I find a most interesting way. Of course the plot is really the key, as Bony discovers the full story of the mysterious disappearance.
The overt and indirect attitudes of characters in the book toward the aboriginal natives -- and clearly, also, the author's attitude -- are really condescending and even demeaning. However, the details are of great interest, as they refer to a time now lost, when the native people were still free to live as they pleased, and hadn't been forcibly settled on reservations in the unfortunate and unhealthy conditions that followed. I hesitate to judge the attitudes that the author held so long ago in the terms that are now familiar and politically correct. The use of food to portray this lost civilization, even disrespectfully by modern standards, is very interesting.
We had very delicious food at Fortis. We went there at the recommendation of the staff of the motel. We would never have found it as it's several miles from the motel on a dark street behind not one but two high chain-link fences. The building looks very small, but has many dining rooms and bar areas. As we were finishing, a singer began singing -- all her announcements were in Spanish, and the other patrons all sang along. In short, we lucked out.
Here's what we ate at a favorite restaurant of Myrtle and Howard last night. Chalupas and shrimp tacos.
Howard with a fanciful sculpture
Yesterday we went to the St.Louis Zoo. Some animals are spending the winter indoors, or are not on display, but many of them were outdoors enjoying the warm sunny weather. The smells inside the penguin house and the antelope house were pungent, but not as dramatic as in the summer. The lack of leaves on the trees made the Big Bird House seem a bit bare as well.
Baby giraffes always seem so awkward in the way their legs fold underneath them. I suspect though that they are actually more flexible than their elders.
St.Louis has several "hills." Lorenzo's is in the old Italian neighborhood now known as "The Hill." You can see from the photos that this restaurant serves a very updated and pretty trendy version of the old-style pasta and Italian desserts. Still, Jay had cannoli (which are more traditional than the depicted chocolate and individual berry dessert). I had a scoop of straticelli ice cream after my salad and liver with pearl onions and balsamic reduction. In the food pictures: a closeup of bruschetta, chicken on pasta, and Jon's 21st century Italian dessert.
The views of the critics seemed to be a primary driver of the choice and organization of materials on display. I picked out this quote from Harry Truman. I'm very amused that he chose this food metaphor to characterize the abstractions of his time.
Since this is a food blog, I selected a work titled "The Dinner Table," to illustrate this post. I also liked a painting called "The Ice Box," which was said to be a comment on consumerism.
Finally, I'm including a picture of Saint Louis of France, the iconic statue that dominates Art Hill -- but this view is from inside, as the day was terribly rainy, and we didn't go out in front. So you can see the reflections in the museum window overlaid on the statue.
The wallpaper in the restaurant seemed very Vietnamese to me:
Before we left, Ruby lit the candles.
Larry and Lenny with the Lindenman's wine
Elaine making Latkes
Roasting the Leg of Lamb
Lemon Layer Cake
Her recipe includes a substitution for the pot cheese that is traditional and that our mother used: a mixture of cream cheese and cottage cheese. The taste is right!
We celebrated with our friends Elaine, Bob, Mario, Megan, and a few others. Delicious latkes, brisket, and everything that goes with them.
"Snow: 70% chance of precipitation." When we came home this evening, our thermometer said -4. Going ever more to the south approaching California looks very inviting.
What is life like in the kitchen in the Australian outback?
Mona Lisa often lends her image to food ads -- in these two, she helped out with contests for trips to Italy. I've often mentioned my amusement at Mona Lisa's appearances as a food advertiser. I don't think I've posted these before.
Florence Fabricant, food writer for the New York Times, today wrote: "Good for the Goose: An English Christmas" about the book Elizabeth David’s Christmas. The article reviews many of the recipes and types of food covered in the book, which was edited from David's notes after her death.
It's a few days early for latkes, but here they are. Unfortunately, some of our guests didn't make it through the snow, so I'm offering them this picture as a sort of consolation. Sorry, guys!
