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are apparently not uncommon, especially if the hen is young and productive and you have access to unscreened eggs. When you rely on the supermarket and mass produced ova, they become rarer. One in a thousand I've read. . . Today I cracked three eggs, the first a single and then my first ever double yolk, followed immediately by a second twin. One in a thousand by one in a thousand. . .
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An economist might call it diminishing marginal utility. . . the first bottles were sublime, the subsequent ones, though excellent, seemed less magical and enchanting. Has time changed the wine (yes) and have wines changed the taster (yes). This fickleness in my palate, which is modified by experience and mood and company is one reason I have largely forsaken numerical scores. The habit lingers, I still mentally rate the wine I drink (with less assurance and rigidity and generally lower scores* than when I started), but I now see less validity in publishing my numbers.
Rose petal and meat, turkish delight, smoke and rubber gloves. It's still youthful and exotic, while in the mouth supple, slippery and elusive. I'm still enamoured, but now less than before. . . there's a hint of warmth, ink and ginger on the finish, but not enough swish in the tail.
Previously
1,
2* rather than grade inflation, I've gone the opposite way, finding I've become a harder to please.
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Smaller and less chaotic than I had expected, it's walled off and mostly apart from the Crown (Perth) complex. Bookings are not taken, orders have to be placed at a counter complete with its own neon sign,condiments and cutlery are in a wooden tray at the table,and children are not allowed in after nine. . .
The food arrives at speed. I had just enough time to order a beer from the bar. . . The serves are generally large and from my single visit I suspect the best approach is to share everything. The wagu burger sliders ($22) are a triumph. Easily the best burgers I've eaten for years, mostly meat (moist, juicy, and falling apart) with a token layer of pickles. The lobster rolls ($26) guilty, wet and creamy, the pulled pork quesadilla ($22) joyous and authentic. Somewhat less victorious were the Merrywell chips ($15) and the Fried chicken with red velvet waffles ($28). The chips of course were delicious, I just query whether a small tub of fried potato pieces should be fifteen dollars. The fried chicken and waffleswere very good but only in small doses (do order, but share). After a while the sweetness and crunchy toughness of the skin (corn flakes and honey) becomes cloying and excessive.
Desserts come in small jars, though another visit to the order counter is required. Cookies, Cheese cake, Lamington trifle. . . I though the trifle was particularly good in terms of value and taste ($9).
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The pastry is a fairly standard short crust - 250g of flour, 180g of unsalted butter in cubes, 70mls of cold water and a pinch of salt. Combine the flour and salt in a processor, till granular (thermomix speed 6 for 10 seconds). Add the water and salt and process for 20 or seconds till a rough dough is formed. Roll between two sheets of baking paper (till 2-3mm thick) and then refrigerate.
For the custard, a lemon twist - 6 whole eggs, 250g of castor sugar, 135mls of lemon juice, 170mls of cream and the zest of 2 lemons. Combine the eggs, sugar, lemon juice and zest first (thermomix speed 5 for 40 seconds) then add the cream and process again (Speed 5 for further 30-40 seconds).
Prepare your muffin tray - butter the receptacles (18 of them) and place a 1cm strip of baking paper into each depression, which will help you lift the cooked tarts out. Cut the cooled and rolled pastry into circles - 11cm discs and position the pastry into the pre buttered and part lined moulds. When finished refrigerate for a further 30 minutes. Preheat the oven in the interim to 200 degrees C. Now ladle the custard into each pastry case - aim for a three quarter fill and then bake for 10 minutes at 200 degrees C and then a further 10 minutes at 180 degrees C. Remove from the oven, cool for five minutes and then eat while warm.
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With the first the wine was
tainted, with the second the label. . . It's curious that for a drinker the first is a disaster, while the second, a stained label, mainly concerns those who might seek to sell and profit.
The nose is clean and true, though pedestrian and standard. Cedar and smoke, vanilla and blackcurrant. . . it still smells of furniture - wood and polish. . . Spice (star anise) and vanilla in the mouth, it feels encapsulated and enclosed, trapped. . . the tannins meaty and firm only heighten the sense of restriction.
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Bottle sweat. . .
13 percent, cork and around $A60. Austrian and adolescent, but with no spots or frivolity. Intense, searing and essence like. Pure and pulsating, thrusting and forceful. Lime (leaf, zest and blossom) and slate. No petroleum, though you could imagine how it might start from this. White pepper and fleetingly a whiff of toluene. Tart and electric in the mouth, sherbet and powder, salt and grip, sour (of course), fleshy and ginger spiced.
Yes.
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Ornate and pretty within, it's like a dolls house, feminine and bright with few shadows and certainly no dimly lit corners. Fifty shades of green; asparagus, forest, moss, tree frog, pale lime. . . with Roccoco wall paper and mirrors. The light floods in from the windows which overlook the pool, making this the best lit dining room within the Crown Metropol complex.
The food I sampled ranged from average to very good. The steak tartare ($30) had bite but was drowning in Worcestershire sauce. The onion soup ($18) hearty and flavour packed, but over salted, the charcuterie ($26) was mostly devoured by my carnivorous child, what I sampled seemed acceptable.The confit duck with green peas and speck ($38) was again too salty and the duck seemed dry and tough and the skin lacked crispness and crunch. The pork belly ($38) was generous and my favoured dish. Moist and true the micro herbs and slices of apple providing the tried and tested punch line. The roasted leg of lamb ($80 for two) was also very good - the balance of flavours in the sauce in particular. A trio of deserts; the profiteroles filled with vanilla ice cream ($18), chocolate souffle with pistachio ice cream ($22) and the sorbets ($14 for 3 scoops), were well presented and subtle, but again no exclamation marks.
The wine list is relatively short but looks well constructed, a roughly equal mix for France and Australia. By way of example, two vintages of Leeuwin Art series chardonnay are offered. The 2006 and the 2009. The newer release offered for just under two hundred dollars, while the older just over. Curiously the Hotel offers the wine on the room service list for a more reasonable $160. Other well known bottles include the latest Grosset Polish Hill for $95 (an approximate factor of 2 mark up), Pol Roger NV ($180), Jacquesson 734 ($160) and a 2005 Chateau Montrose for $450.
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A lonely half bottle. 11.5 percent, cork sealed, sec. Musk, stone and blossom, white pepper, gingerbread and acacia. A hint of sweetness before a sting of acidity, a finger nail on a blackboard, spine tingling and raw, edgy and nervous. Wonderful texture in the mouth, cold slate, bees wax and once again ginger spice, though clearly not all at once.
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on any given Saturday feels like a middle aged hour, where people mostly over forty try to turn the tide. Cyclists clad in lycra, riding in convoy, whistling, pointing and gesticulating, rushing somewhere. Joggers grimacing and drenched in sweat, the bodies are seemingly bimodal in appearance; tight and tanned or large and bouncing. Hearts monitored and movements tracked, we all make circles around the water.
Image: Though it is far removed, the lines and colours of this bridge make me think of
another place.
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Though they were eaten with a great deal of noise and haste, they took much of the afternoon to make.
Firstly the pulled pork. I started with a 1.7 kilogram piece of meat, a deboned shoulder. This was seasoned with salt and pepper, rubbed with oil and sealed in a hot pan. 3 minutes per side. I used my red Le Creuset French oven. The next task was to assemble the cooking sauce. In a separate bowl add the following; 60g of brown sugar, 60g of salt, 70g of garlic powder, 3 tablespoons of onion powder, one teaspoon of Keen's mustard powder, one teaspoon of white pepper, 150mls of BBQ sauce (I used the HP brand with added woodsmoke flavour), 200mls of Worcestershire sauce and 1.5L of water. Stir and then tip this into the pot which is holding the pork (the liquid should almost cover the meat). Cover and place in a 150 degree (Celsius) oven (preheated) for 90 minutes. Then turn the meat, and reduce the heat to 110 degrees and cook (still covered) for a final 4 or 5 hours. By then the meat will yield and break with a firm poke. Rest, and then remove the meat and pull apart (using hands or two forks). Moisten with 1-2 cups of the cooking liquid and serve in a bun with
guacamole and tomatoes.
I made 10 small buns using 250ml of water, 1 sachet of dried yeast, a pinch of salt, 30mls of olive oil, 200g of spelt and 300g of bakers flour (00). Once the dough was ready and shaped, it was baked at 200 degrees C for 20-25 minutes (while the meat was resting).
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Perhaps not quite as beautiful as
Nakamura, but the flavours are as varied and pure. From the top left going clockwise; orange and tonka bean, ginger and cardamon, rum and coconut, Madagascar, Champagne and salted caramel.
Thank you M.
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Tasting note 1300.
The cork is coated with a fine layer of tartrate crystals, but sadly no
larger stones. The wine itself is superb. I had wondered how well it would age, would it's prettiness seem caricatured and ungainly with time. . . Spiced and sharp, peppers - white andszechuan, meat, sap, hide, rose petals and perfume. Mostly though it's a pepper steak. . . Intense and gripping in the mouth, black olives and tobacco. The concentration is wonderful and the wine is still knotted and hard with no signs of fatigue. A+.
Before.
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I suspect it is not entirely sensible to use Auster's odd and somewhat unsatisfactory trilogy as any form of guide to travel. It does however give a sense of place and has rekindled an urge to visit. . . The three tales;
City of Glass,
Ghosts and
The Locked Room are essentially the same story, retold and refashioned, the same names (Quinn, Stillman, Dark), objects (red note pads and fountain pens) and books (Walden, Don Quixote) reappear . . . A protagonist caught up in something bigger and ultimately more confusing and destructive than they might have initially assumed. . .
I realize that even on that first day I had slipped through a hole in the earth, that I was falling into a place where I had never been before.The language and method is at times contrived, like an intellectual wank. . .
First of all there is Blue. Later there is White, and then there is Black, and before the beginning there is Brown. Brown broke him in, Brown taught him the ropes, and when Brown grew old, Blue took over. That is how it begins. The place is New York, the time is the present, and neither one will ever change.
And ultimately the threads untangle and the flow and direction and shape become amorphous and intentionally unclear. . .
There were moments when the text was difficult to decipher, but I have done my best with it and have refrained from any interpretation. . . As for Auster, I am convinced that he has behaved badly throughout. If our friendship has ended, he has only himself to blame.
Related.
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The third and most satisfying 2011 Margaret River Chardonnay of the year. It's similar in price ($55) to the
Cherubino, but stylistically slimmer and more refined. Peaches and flint, almond meal and curiously but clearly - lime. Flesh with a sting a acidity, almond meal and fabric softener; something lingering, complex and intense. This is poised and on edge, with a wonderful tension between the components. A+.
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