transport at federation square

now i'm not muscling in on we do chew our food.

BUT i just want to tell about my lunch yesterday.

i went to transport at fed square. i had a hankering for some sort of seafood with pasta, and chilli and garlic and oil. you know the drill. i'd been in at uni, and then in flinders lane finding beads for some old costume jewellery. but that's another story.

i was peckish and had time. i walked past macdonald's and hungry jacks. i was drawn to fed square, though god knows why. i think it's barren and ugly and too too bright.

on the specials menu they had prawns with spaghetti and everything else i wanted.

for $12.50

oh great, i thought. it'll be one of those teeny serves.

i got a glass of some sort of pinot grigio for $8.50.

then the pasta was ready. they have those little buzzer vibro things that let you know when to go up and collect the food.

the pasta was nice. but, and believe me when i say this, there were too many prawns.

there's no such thing as too many prawns!, john yelled in amusement when i told him that night.

but yea, in my mind, there can be too many prawns. these prawns were beautifully cooked. they were plump and they had that wonderful teeth-feel when i bit into them.

but really, there were too many of them.

or was it a case of not enough pasta?

lunch parts one and two. vegetarians beware! content includes mention of animal flesh and carcasses and gratuitous bone grawing reference.

just ten minutes ago i was standing at the kitchen bench enjoying the first part of my lunch. this is a ritual that i indulge in occasionally, and i feel it connects me back through time, to my peasant forebears (whether real or imagined).

last night we had roast chicken. princess loves the drumstick, and the other two kids prefer breast. john likes breast and thigh (natch). i love thigh, drumstick and wing. i am a sucker for bones. (of course, i hear you say.)

what i like to do the next day is pick at the carcass. i stand there, and lean over and sort through it like a wide-hipped italian mama at the fruit market, picking out the best roma tomatoes. i was good and did not comsume any skin. i am trying to be good. i did however get off every speck of meat. my grandmothers, both dearly departed, would be smiling right now, if not clapping politely. i'm sure they both did it too, but in private. it is a private ritual; perhaps some sort of bulimic-psychology is attached to the fact that it's best done alone, without anyone watching. it's not graceful and it aint pretty. it's maybe a culinary equivalent to the "bad naked" that jerry seinfeld so cringed over. [remember, there's good naked and bad naked. bad naked is trying to unscrew the tight lid of a jar, naked.]

my sister does this too, and we got it from our mother. [the chicken thing, not the naked thing. stay with me.]

then part two of lunch is possibly near the top of my top ten quick lunches using leftover rice or pasta. this was a portion of rice from yesterday, fry in frying pan (just heat through really, until it starts to stick. you've put a little bit of oil in first.) then break two eggs on top, stir them through and cook. add some shredded cheese, wait til it's all blended and gorgeous, then a little nice salt and ground pepper.

part three of my lunch is sitting out on the kitchen bench; it's undressed salad from last night. i don't know that i will eat it as i'm full from my other two indulgences.


the fish always stinks from the head downwards.