The Death of Retail Price

On The Border

2012-01-06T09:33:00.000+11:00

So the holiday period has come and gone and here we are in a brand new year with a whole set of new hopes, goals and obstacles to overcome. It is a fair cliché to assume most of those around you have made their resolutions and God willing may even see them through to at least March. Don't know what it is about New Years Eve that convinces certain people that one chapter in the book of their lives is about to end and another is about to begin but every year it happens and by this time next year they will have forgotten what their resolutions of the former year was. It's cute. And its only human. Maybe we only make resolutions because we expect more from ourselves and feel the only way to make a change is by somewhat daring ourselves to aim higher, be stronger and have more focus. More often than not most of those around me bring in the new year with a hangover and self pity from all the partying, not exactly the most optimum way of starting afresh. Or maybe its that we regret the actions of the previous year, or even feel shame or lack of accomplishment; 'this is my year!' They all tend to tell themselves. What makes these 365 days any more different than the last? The seasons generally stay the same and while the population of the world continues to grow we are all guaranteed that politicians will lie, people will die and you will continue to hate your job and/or your boss. But maybe that's what a resolution is all about; convincing yourself to see things from another perspective. Using the calendar as a reason to be more positive and to expect more from yourself and those around you.

Me? Well, I'm not one for making resolutions, I just kind of do things. For example, back in 2007 for no reason whatsoever I chose not to drink. Not because I had a drinking problem (in fact I rarely drank back then) and not only because I wanted to challenge myself but because it was something to do. It broke the expectations those have of you when you're around them and as a result I became that socially awkward guy at a party who watched others get drunk and left early without saying goodbye. Not exactly a success, but I did it. Never once have I made a resolution to quit smoking or lose weight, I've just decided to do it, treating every day as I usually would regardless of holiday season. So then what makes this year so different that I've actually chosen to partake in this collective 'resolution' pact? Well, I've well and truly accepted my new home, which is well outside my comfort zone; there will be heat waves, there will be cyclones. It is also going to be a very busy work year for me, the most physically and morally demanding one of my life. And I do indeed need a vehicle to drive the ambitions and expectations I have of myself. No need to bore you with the specifics but I'm already off to a great start, so I suspect that it should only get better. And if not, I have 359 days before I can try again. Ha!

Slow Motion

2011-12-10T19:11:00.000+11:00

It has been three months and four days since I arrived here in the Tropics. Not only have I had to adjust to a new state, city and lifestyle but I've most certainly had to adjust to the change of weather, environment, wildlife and scenery. There has been a great deal of compromise by just being here, that's not including my job where I eat, sleep, work and play. For the first six weeks I had to acclimatise and was ordered to not physically exert myself, however I was still required to attend physical training sessions daily (sometimes twice a day) and be fully functional for work. Surprisingly my body got used to my surroundings incredibly quick and by the time the 'Wet Season' began (which unfortunetly happens during the entire season of summer) I was ready to attempt my basic fitness assessment, which I passed with flying colours. So, for the next six months I merely have to maintain my physical strength, endurance and agility. And with the Christmas period dawning on me I've been granted a month of holidays, in which two weeks I will be sent back home, south of The Island. And all on my employers dime. With the money I'm saving on the flight cost alone I will be hosting a bunch of lunches and dinners for my friends to show off my fresh skills and to merely pay them back for all those times they put good food in my belly.

And that's the thing. When I began shift work inside the local kitchen I got off to a great start, so well in fact that the veteran cooks and chefs couldn't stop complimenting me and showing me off to others. Although I felt incredibly uneasy about the way they were treating a newbie I went along with it. That was until I was put on the seemingly simple task of preparing rice and vegetables for 150 diners. Considering the bulk and scope of their expectations they simply left me to my task since they had so much faith in my abilities. Because I was completely oblivious to the amount I had to produce and timings in which everything needed to be prepared and cooked I failed epically. Their trust and faith in me dwindled until they could no longer trust me with any kind of dish. Suddenly I was being compared to other newbies who were completely terrible in the kitchen. However I was determined to prove them wrong and insisted they keep me on rice and vegetable prep - and I continued to fail. This affected me badly; I was stressed all the time and constantly thinking about cooking to the point where I couldn't rest easy when I was awake or asleep. Then one day I started doing things right. After a few more weeks of perfecting what turned out to be a simple task I was put back onto main dishes and sauces. Now I can't get enough compliments about what I produce simply because I have finally settled in and am far more confident in my abilities. Feels good, man.

Two Days of Winter

2011-11-11T19:32:00.002+11:00

The one thing about my job that I need to expect is to expect the unexpected, especially as a newbie or junior. Your days can quite easily turn from a short 6 hour shift to a 12 hour one in mere moments. When I arrived at work today (after a 2.4KM run) there were about 7 of us on shift and then all over a sudden there were only 3; the majority of staff were removed from the kitchen and sent to another site to cater for a function. The unique thing about where I work is that the kitchen are inhabited by various groups of people, for example I belong to a certain branch that provides a specific service, and to signify this I wear black buttons on my chef whites, a black neckerchief and a black apron. Those from other branches within the organisation wear yellow, blue, purple and so on. It took about 10 of the purple staff to feed about 70 people today, I'm told. Just a few weeks ago we had a sit down dinner for 100 and it was taken care of by 4 of our branch, including myself. And that was at the end of a 15 hour day. The people you work alongside do truly make a difference to your own work, progress and perception of your purpose in the workplace. Just today after finishing up in my regular kitchen I was sent to another kitchen across-the-way to work with people I am not at all familiar with. And boy do they do things very differently. My shift-of-staff is by no means perfect but I'm certainly glad that I'm learning good habits from them and not the very many bad habits I notice of others.

Hot & Cold

2011-10-24T20:40:00.000+11:00

Things are very different in this part of The Island. Also, there is a distinct reason I no longer venture out passed sunset; I'm a magnet for shitty situations that often lead to trouble. Okay, so I was convinced last week to visit the local casino over the weekend. Not only did I want to avoid going out but I didn't want to get drunk either. However, in the name of letting my work colleagues know that I'm not afraid of the dark I did in fact join them out on the town. Not one to gamble or pay stupid amounts of money for beer (which I get tax free at work, where I conveniently live) I didn't really enjoy myself at first. Watching people piss away hundreds of dollars on poker machines and thousands on the tables I didn't really understand what I was even doing there. So after a three beers and a cup of coffee I decided to stop drinking, though my body still needed to visit the bathroom regularly. For most of the night I was walking to and from the toilets without any trouble, that was until around midnight security guards stopped me from re-entering the gaming area for being "drunk". My colleagues were inside and for some odd reason I didn't have my phone on me so I had to wait until they decided to leave, which was thankfully sooner than I expected. Then while they were lingering in the lobby for some unknown reason I decided to visit a nearby side-bar just outside the gaming area to grab a beer, mostly to be a defiant twat. At this point I was angry, insulted and bored. So I carried the beer back into the lobby and that's when security swarmed, reminding me that I'd been "cut off" and that I couldn't drink. The only option left was to skull the beer in less than 3 seconds, flip them all off, yell some kind of random obscenity and leave the casino.

The situation didn't take too long for me to get over, by the time we were back on the street and walking back to the car I'd mostly let my frustrations go. That was until out-of-nowhere a bunch of police officers literally grabbed me by my hands and pulled me across the street where they were conducting random drug searches. Considering my line of work and standing in the community and the complete unprovoked aggression from this group of officers I let loose on a torrent of questions. Knowing my rights and knowing I can say anything that isn't threatening or laced with profanity I just wouldn't shut up. As soon as they realised who I actually was they calmed down and just let me talk until I ran out of steam. After a brief pat down they handed me back my possessions and apologised the best they could without admitting guilt or wrongdoing, and in turn I apologised for sounding like a douche and making their job hard, though maybe suggesting next time they ask my permission to touch, detain and/or search me. Oh, if only it ended there. A few minutes later I was sitting in front of my car awaiting the return of my colleagues when a very large number of police officers walked passed me as if they were about to stop or start a riot. And for some reason I couldn't shut my mouth; accusing them of aggressive tactics, questioning what this country had come to when innocent people are simply man handled and searched at random and commenting on how redundant their actions were.

Eventually one of the officers from the group jumped right in my face and told me to "shut the fuck up!" By now I had a witness sitting next to me, so he thought best or whatever it was he wanted to do and moved on. That didn't stop two cops behind him from coming up to me and explaining what is was they were actually doing. Again, I accused the officers of being aggressive and treating people like criminals for being out on a Saturday night. At this point noone could have shut me up. Even in my own head I was trying so very hard to stop myself from swearing or saying anything threatening. They then demanded ID and again changed their tone once they realised who I worked for and what it was I did for a living. Once they calmed down, I calmed down. Then I explained to them that I was from a state where the police needed reasonably grounds to a) search someone and b) touch and/or detain them. And walking down the street with friends just minding your own business was not grounds for such aggressive behaviour by law enforcers. They reminded me I was no longer in that state and the business is conducted very differently here. They then suggested I not get arrested so close to my birthday. It should go without saying that a colleague promptly drove me out of the city and back home.

No TV

2011-10-11T18:30:00.002+11:00

Y'know, for a moment there I thought I was developing a drinking problem. After a three day marathon effort of drinking (24 bottles of beer, 4 bottles of champagne and 1 bottle of vodka) and a day of suffering from minor alcohol poisoning I figured I'd maybe gone too far but as it turns out I didn't. For one thing, I don't drink every day, only on my days off...usually; I have the next two days off and not a drink will be in sight, I will also have two days off early next week and I will remain dry. Secondly, I have an almost full bottle of wine in the fridge that I used for cooking that I'm not even considering tasting. Also, on the way home from work I was offered a beer and instead of taking part I decided to go to the gym and then hit the pool. Come next weekend though I will be drinking again, but hopefully with a little more self discipline and try to maintain an easy buzz over the three days and maybe even be a little more social, even though I've been enjoying my alone time very much. Since leaving South of The Island and arriving in the Northern Tropics I've been more outgoing than I have been in years. Not only am I doing physical training on a daily basis (sometimes twice a day), playing table tennis and swimming but I'm in town and the beach regularly. And when the wet season slash cyclone season slash bullshit summer heat begins I will be isolated by nature itself. So, I'm very thankful I don't have a drinking problem. On the flip side I have been watching a lot of TV. But if American television has taught me anything (and lets face it, it has taught me everything I know) its that you can never get enough. I'm okay with this!

Day in the Life

2011-10-05T19:35:00.001+11:00

A day hasn't gone by when I haven't heard the bizarre and often amusing noises of my new surroundings. Mother nature never sounded so excitable. There is no doubt that I like this place and that I'm falling into a entirely new comfort zone; after most of the year in the unpredictable and somewhat isolated posting of the southern parts of The Island I find the absolute contrast of the tropical north far more wild and untamed. Equally unpredictable but in a more dangerous and vicarious way. For example, there are actual crocodiles in the river system around my accommodation. Snakes also. And spiders that move at the rate of a bullet that jump. They actually jump. A little one of the fuckers attached itself to me while I was driving just yesterday and made it almost impossible to kill it. That's not to say I'm not an equal amount of danger to myself; during my first week here I managed to tear a chunk flesh out of my right elbow, put a gash in my left thigh and put a hole in my right foot, all the while bruising my entire left arm and foot. But life is good. No, life is great. It really is. Not only am I being paid to do the very thing I love doing (prepare and cook food) but I'm obligated to keep fit and healthy. With full medical coverage and an abundant supply of knowledge, gym equipment and various and vast terrains I can basically scale the mountainous surroundings with reckless abandon.

Today was my second day in the kitchen. After spending the last six or seven months in a training facility I can't help but think that while the basics that I was taught are absolutely essential to my progress as a chef but that the most of it really didn't prepare me adequately for this new-found environment. That's not to say that the staff here aren't accommodating to my reluctantly amateur nature. Thankfully they've already noticed that not only am I very keen to learn, adapt and excel but that I need only be told something once and that it will get done. And even though my level of fitness is only just passed the basic requirements I am indeed doing all I can to improve on every level. That even on my rest days I'm coming into work and doing physical training with the crew. And that straight after work I'm hitting the gym. Just today I did two 10 minute jogging sessions, 30 minutes of core strength training, 6 hours of hard work in the kitchen, then 65 sit ups followed by 20 minutes on the elliptical runner and then a further 40 minutes of swimming in the pool. Five days a week I'm expanding my horizon with food and fitness. If I'd have known things would be this good this time last year I most likely would have had a more positive attitude over the last 10 or so months. Never too late to start.

Backyard Hike

2011-09-26T18:36:00.003+10:00

Not only am I surrounded by quite a stunning environment but also by the most bizarre and violent series of animals.

On The Road

2011-09-20T19:54:00.004+10:00

Two weeks ago I drove the entire east coast of Australia. It was a long, lonely though often beautiful and therapeutic journey.

The various landscapes, small towns and long straights and dangerous kept me occupied for the entire time I was behind the wheel.

Right Field

2011-09-11T17:54:00.004+10:00

The quality of food we produce in a field kitchen is quite amazing.

And tastes as good as it looks!

Thanksgiving

2010-11-25T21:30:00.007+11:00

It is seriously going to hurt when I leave this beautiful city. The reality only just hit me.

Can you tell I've been busy exploring my favourite places one last time? My legs are sore.

South Curl Curl

2010-11-23T16:28:00.008+11:00

With 30lbs on my back and shoes that weren't in the mood to cooperate with a slippery surface I managed to stumbled, slip and slide right onto my ass, thankfully I had a bag to absorb the impact. No more than a minor cut and a bruised ego. Guess it was better time than any to pull the camera out and capture the dangerous though secluded edge of my most favourite beach in all of Sydney.

On A Personal Note: Resignation

2010-11-20T05:00:00.004+11:00

After a year of what felt like the worst job in the world I can finally put my feet up and relax for the next 10 days. Not only did I make it through it all but I managed a bunch of achievements I never thought possible:

- Although the work van was an ugly piece of junk I didn't crash it or receive any traffic fines.

- Failed to resign two times and made it stick on the third attempt.

- Didn't take a single sick day and had my remaining two weeks of holiday time paid out.

- Learned to compartmentalise friends.

- Didn't punch, strangle, shoot, stab or push my boss in front of truck.

- Was not responsible for the biggest screw up of the year, that award goes to the boss.

- Lost a lot of weight and trained my body to do 50 sit ups and run over a kilometer in 7 minutes.

- Developed a whole lot more patience.

- Didn't sleep with anyone I worked with or anyone in the building.

- Learned how to make a box.

- Paid the car, credit card and state debt fines off. Even managed to save a few thousand dollars.

- Fell in love.

- Made it to the very last day. The very last hour, in fact.

Indulgence

2010-09-12T21:18:00.001+10:00

After two large bottles of beer, a double shot of whiskey, a double shot of scotch and a single shot of honey bourbon I decided to cook up a storm last Friday night. The following day I was expected to spend a good twenty four hours with two close friends at their home where I would cater dinner, snacks and Sunday lunch. My first dish was grilled firm tofu in a Moroccan sauce with corn. The next was a brown rice salad that had baby spinach, coriander/cilantro, lemon, salt and shallots/scallions. After that I made a bunch of my delicious vegetable kebabs that was seasoned heavily by three very different cultures (South American chili, Italian herbs and Western spices) along with a stack of chicken drumsticks that had chucks of butter to hold the flavours to the skin. I also used the butter and some fresh garlic (with some Italian herbs) to make garlic bread, along with a Turkish style tzatziki that was made from yogurt, lemon, garlic, salt, baby spinach and parsley. Oh, and a large serving of pesto pasta salad with freshly shaved Parmesan and freshly diced red chili. And for dessert I constructed a gorgeous trifle made with lemon cake, custard mixed with honey, orange mango jelly and bananas. And for good measure I also made a simple batter of honey banana muffins and placed them in a tin to be baked for anyone who didn't want trifle. There was also a French onion dip that I'd prepared and a tub of store bought hummus and chili tomato salsa.

For Saturday lunch we ate at a very nice Western Sydney Retired Serviceman's Leagues (RSL) club where I ordered a seafood platter, which I enjoyed with a complimentary beer. For dinner I had a bottle of wine and a whole lot of the food I'd prepared. Sunday breakfast consisted of sandwiches made by the man of the house which had avocado, tomato, cheese, egg and friend bits of Fake Bacon between slices of multi-grain bread. By the time lunch came around another BBQ was lit up and it was lamb chops with whatever left overs we could fit in. After lunch there was still enough for dinner. Saturday was broken up between a long walk through the suburbs of Parramatta, a quiet moment for a drunken deep and meaningful conversation that was sparked by a discussion about our favourite television sitcoms and three very enjoyable films chosen by each one of us. In an attempt to play with the dogs I fell on the floor and unexpectedly passed out, waking up a few hours later only to shuttle myself into the guest bedroom. The Sunday morning involved us taking the dogs to a park and kicking a football around before heading back to their place for a game of Scrabble and one more film. We discussed there attempts at having children and my efforts to join the army - the very reason we were celebrating at all. They thoroughly enjoyed the food and considering one of them was a vegetarian I made a superior effort to cater for everyone, even the dogs; they ate the hell of my cooked chicken. Can't say I blame them.

Take A Bite: Part Six

2010-09-07T08:52:00.003+10:00

In order to lose the massive amount of weight I'd gained I took to walking 10km/6miles per day. It was the peak of summer and at the time I was living in Western Sydney, which isn't close enough to the coast to get the fresher, cooler winds. It was the best I could do with what I had, which was mostly nothing; I slept on a futon bed that was supposed to be a lounge chair, all of my clothes fit into one degraded cardboard box and the only pair of shoes I had were long worn out. But every day I would get out of the house and walk. Before I knew it I was losing weight. Ecstatic and motivated by the success I continued to push myself to walk longer and faster. This proved to be a problem once the few clothes that I did have began to fall off me; not having any belts I had to resort to AV cables of simply holding my pants up by the inside pocket, or better yet jamming my wallet between my gut and the pants. This eventually motivated me to find full time employment, which I fortunately found. It was a hotel in the city where I was given a position that required me to sit on my arse all day and take phone calls, so it was a win/lose situation. This wasn't helped by the fact that I'd discovered a set of scales at the train station near the hotel that gave me a printed read-out, up until this point I really didn't know how much weight I'd been losing and it was clear to me that I'd stopped losing any at all. So I took drastic measures to counter my inactivity.

Anyone who knows me knows that I can a lot. Breakfast and lunch is usually small but dinner is always something large enough to feed a whole family. The biggest benefit of working at a hotel was that they provided breakfast and lunch in a little canteen area however the food was often stale and inedible, which caused me not to eat much at all. Then I would get home and eat even less. And just before bed, so that I could sleep with a full belly, I would eat kilos/pounds of apples, grapes and carrots. Even though I had a great deal of fruit in my diet I was seriously malnourished by the time I stopped the dieting nonsense. Eventually I lost enough weight that my old friends didn't even recognise me but it was a serious cost to my health. In an attempt to educate myself on health and fitness I took it to the other extreme; it got to the point where I ingested stupid amounts of protein powder and supplements. On the plus side I was gaining some serious muscle but I was making myself sick by putting so much unnecessary waste through my system. And this went on for many months, I was even carrying a little pill box around just so that I had my fish oils and B shots with me all the time. Eventually I learned that good protein can be taken from real food and so can the oils and other essential minerals and vitamins, so I stopped pissing away my dollars on it and began wising up to the real balance of good eating and regular exercise.

Take A Bite: Part Five

2010-09-05T10:32:00.001+10:00

One of the most foolish beliefs I've ever had is that peanuts are healthy for you in large amounts. Sure, they're fine by the handful but not by the 2lb/1kg bag full. About seven years back I figured that I ate way too many solid meals whenever I had the munchies so I decided to bring home large bags of nuts and devour them in one sitting. Calorie for calorie I was pretty much eating chocolate. Assumptions don't just make an ass out of a person it can make a huge ass out of them. It could also kill; don't ever buy discounted sushi at the end of summers day, you're just asking for trouble. It took a while for me to finally try sushi and once I did I was hooked. Believe it or not I have never been adventurous with food, even these days I'm very cautious of whatever is on offer and more often than not will go with something safe than something new. Sushi was a huge step for me in that not only was I trying something raw but it was fish, which for the most part of my life had been a sacred ingredient due to my poor upbringing. At first I tried a sushi roll, then some sashimi, then some miso soup and it was all just amazing. Even though I was quite out of my depths as far as knowledge of the Japanese culture was concerned I did pay big dollars for good food whenever I had some to spare. However, soon after I discovered the stuff I was almost put in hospital after eating some stale salmon which quite literally poisoned me to the point where I felt like I was dying. The only other time I'd felt so terrible was the time I was poison by a bucket of KFC causing me to vomit inside the family car. Apart from that my stomach has been quite resilient against bad food. Oh, wait there was that one time with a chili burger...

My father introduced me to alot of things as a teenager, he even attempted to have me start smoking at a very early age, thankfully I was always an intelligent child who knew right from wrong and always refused no matter how aggressive he was. One of the things I submitted to easily was chili, it was one of those things that truly intrigued me since the overpowering pain shadowed any kind of flavour I was meant to draw from it. As it was slowly added to my foods in increasing quantities I began to realise that there was indeed a magnificent flavour behind the burning sensation. It was my very first addiction; often I would sneak into the kitchen and pour chili sauce on two bits of white bread and top it off with some cheese slices and try not to cry while it set my insides on fire. So, the more new foods I had the more I added the firey spice, whether it was a sauce, dry flakes or whole fresh or pickled red or green chillies. Then one day it quite literally disabled me for most of a week. The hamburger that I'd eaten before the pain began was questionable without the spice; I had bought it from a local Chinese milk store and their "beef" really didn't look like any kind of beef I'd ever seen, however since I didn't have a great deal of money I ate what I was given. A couple of days later I managed to crawl out of the bathroom. It would be quite sometime before I ate anything questionable again. These days I'm on and off with chili since it appears to cause bleeding ulcers every time I over indulge, well, I'm sure its an ulcer but there is always alot of blood and pain. Always.

To be continued...

Take A Bite: Part Four

2010-09-03T09:00:00.002+10:00

My very first attempt at cooking was a major disaster. It was supposed to be a bolognese sauce but it turned out to be something so terrible I had to throw the pot into the trash along with its contents. Armed with a few dollars my father had given me and no recipe I bought all the ingredients I believed went into a pasta sauce, while I was right about most of the ingredients I absolutely failed with technique and managed to burn and under cook the food all at the same time. My excitement got the better of me and if there was anything I was taught as a child it was if at first you don't succeed don't ever, ever try again. So, I didn't. This led to one of the biggest regrets of my life; for the year or so that I was living with my father and his new wife I never once stopped to ask her how she cooked. Although I usually sat nearby watching her I foolishly let the technique and knowledge of a superior Turkish chef flutter by. To this day I'm yet to find recipes to the food she prepared, which is a tragic shame. These recipes were obviously handed down to her as a child and referred back to the early days of the post-Ottoman Turkish culture. It was because of her food that I realised that there is a great history behind the many kinds of foods in the world. Thankfully she has three daughters and they will all be taught one day to carry these pages of history with them. Although my sisters may never cook for me it makes me proud to know they will have some powerful knowledge behind their aprons.

A few years ago I made another attempt at cooking, making that a gap of about a decade between then and the bolognese disaster. It was a Westernised Indian dish that consisted of beef and a number of spices. Even though I had no idea what sort of technique I needed to be employing I created an amazingly powerful tasting dish. It was rich in colour and flavour. It was just perfect. But it was expensive, which brought a damper on the whole experience; even though I had long broke away from my poor family I wasn't exactly rich so cooking from scratch wasn't something I could do regularly because of the debt I was in and the lack of full time employment. At that point in my life I was living a soon-to-be-married couple and we often shared as much of the food and utilities costs as we could so thankfully I didn't have to eat junk all the time, however the year prior to that I had lived alone and managed to gain 55lb/25kgs which means I had enough junk in my system as it was. The reason I was so overweight was for the same reason my mother had blown up like a balloon, sadness had gotten the better of me and I began to over indulge in foods I actually believed were healthy. And even if they were I was eating an excessive amount. Ironically enough I was also committing welfare fraud whilst working part time and not declaring my income, so there was plenty of dollars to spare on the mountains of crap that I ate. This was the point in my life where I was eating so much that I had to lay on my back so that I could breathe. It was going to take a serious education to reverse the damage.

To be continued...

Take A Bite: Part Three

2010-09-01T20:58:00.001+10:00

My mother and step father were a strange couple, for the first few years of their relationship they were deep in love, that was until my mother fell pregnant with my sister. It was all down hill from there. Not only did they both refuse to find stable employment but they claimed for single-parent welfare payments. Soon after my sister came into the world my mother fell into a deep depression and as a result began to eat and eat and eat. Considering we were poor it was quite a sight to see her and my step father gain so much weight. After the welfare office caught up with them they were forced to find another form of income so they endeavoured down a path of quick-rich schemes that ultimately fell flat almost instantly. One particular venture saw them buying whole cakes at retail prices and selling them in separate sliced portions. On paper it was a genius idea but as it turned out it was an ass backwards step that led to the break down of the entire family. The biggest mistake they made was allowing their confidence over-run logic; "purchasing" two massive chest fridges and stacks of cakes without even gathering information on a potential market didn't help, as far as they were concerned they would sell their cake to their fellow cult-church members and make a pretty penny. Soon enough they were left to eat all the left over cake in a bid to not have to waste it. I had only just reached double digits and still I was old enough to know that if that much cake was good for you we'd be eating it all the time. Oddly enough I refused more often than not.

This doesn't mean I didn't have a sweet tooth - being hungry was one thing but saying no to sour drops or soft snakes was just insanity. Although I refused to devour the mountains of baked goods I did all I could to get my hands on spare change whenever and however I could; back in those days any corner milk store had a lolly counter where you could confidently declare how much money you had and they dispense a mixed bag of lollies in exchange. To this day I still recall the one shop at Liverpool train station that I had to walk past every day that was dedicated entirely to sweet treats. One of the first things I did when I started stealing money was buy huge bags of whatever the hell I wanted from that shop. And it was stolen chocolate bars I relied on during my short stint of living on the streets. Then somewhere along the lines I drifted away from lollies altogether, instead I started smoking and drinking coffee and alcohol. By this point my palette had completely changed and sweet things weren't sweet enough and there was never enough salt. Many years ago I quit smoking and I never really noticed that enhanced sense of taste ex-smokers talk about, bizarrely enough that happened when I recently quit drinking coffee. As soon as I removed caffeine from my diet I could taste and smell things so much better. But that didn't really matter since I'd long eliminated adding salt or sugar to my foods, yet another reason why KFC style fast food is difficult to swallow. These days my taste buds rely on the sweetness of sugar-free lollies, chewing gum and soda. If only they could invent sugar-free chocolate that was edible.

To be continued...

Take A Bite: Part Two

2010-08-31T08:57:00.002+10:00

Those little packets of instant noodles have a great alternate life, you simply remove the flavour satchels and crush the contents, once its as finely crushed as you desire you simply add the flavour and eat. It was a meal that cost about .30c at most and even as a young teenager I couldn't afford it so I had to beg my friends for theirs in the school yard. For as long as I could recall I was in charge of my own lunches and considering how poor my mother was it usually consisted of peanut butter on stale bread, which I rarely ate. Based on my diet alone I know now that this is what caused me to be so disruptive in class throughout every one of my days in school. It wasn't until I was about twenty three years old that I started eating three solid meals a day, so up until that point my body tended to hoard whatever it was given. As a result sleep was poor, I was easily distracted, susceptible to illness and I carried a sickly feeling around with me all the time. When I lived with my father as a teenager I did have the occasional three-meal-day but it often consisted of left-over KFC for breakfast, kebabs for lunch and KFC for dinner. Before I left for good he was baffled why I was so overweight and made me very conscious of it. So, I started swimming, as a result I did start to lose weight and gain alot of strength. And to top it off I was starting to feel fresh and healthy. About this time my father had re-married a woman who was a phenomenal cook. Even though I still wasn't eating regularly I was indeed eating like a king whenever I did eat. Bless her cotton socks, all she knew was Turkish food and she did it well! Then the local pool I'd been visited caused me to develop a severe ear infection. It was the one and only time in my life I had to be taken to hospital. It would be many years before I tried exercising again.

Earlier this year, to save money, I packed two pita rolls with peanut butter in it for lunch everyday. Not only was I saving a pretty penny but it was highly nutritious; I always made sure the bread was fresh and a moderate amount of peanut butter was always used (until Chandi started making them - the AMERICAN way, not that I complained). When I think back of all those times I threw out my stale peanut butter sandwiches at school I recall that those were the only times I truly knew that we were poor. Living in a ghetto neighbourhood meant nothing to me because all the kids were eating so much better, even if it was a .30c packet of instant noodles. When I was eating the pita rolls earlier this year I didn't feel poor at all but rather rich with knowledge; knowing the nutritional value and that fact that it was accompanied by two apples gave me a sense of nourishment, an almost homely feeling. I'm told food is supposed to do that to you, its supposed to transcend the initial feeling and make the soul feel at ease. But it does make me wonder how different things would be if I'd been fed appropriately throughout my school days because I was a top marks student whenever I could concentrate. To someone who is British or American it is probably a strange concept to rely solely on the food you bring from home but someone such as myself it is one of those basic things that changed the course of my entire life. When I was busted all those times as a teenage by the police for stealing so much no one ever really knew the real reason I bothered breaking the law at all - I just wanted to eat.

To be continued...

Take A Bite: Part One

2010-08-29T21:20:00.002+10:00

Nutrition and fine dining was to me as a youngster what dental hygiene is to a British citizen. Although I was introduced to authentic Turkish as a child the days and nights of home cooked food faded into the distance the more distant my mother and father became with each other and the families they'd abandoned and been abandoned by. Back in the 1980's fast food was still an emerging culture in Australia, up until that point it had been a very bland culture as far as cuisine was concerned then the Asians came from all corners of the Pacific and Mainland and brought their flavours along with the Greeks and Italians. McDonald's was cheap and easy but fast food wasn't the real thing unless it was cooked by people from a foreign land. To this day Australians has integrated into its culture the basic premise that food must remain real no matter how fast, cheap or bad it is. So, even though my parents had become distant to their own cultures they did embrace the changing world around them, and then something bad happened to my mother and step father and we were suddenly broke. Poor and living in the ghetto neighbourhoods of Western Sydney we survived by what little was brought into the kitchen thanks to welfare, then they were caught by the authorities for welfare fraud and suddenly we became even poorer. For whatever reason my mother refused to find a job and keep it and my step father did the same. As abusive and terrible as my father was he eventually became the better option between the only two I had.

Spending weekends with him was always a treat; he would work at a kebab shop in the city CBD and I would wander the city at my own pleasure just as long as I checked back in with him every hour or so - the greatest paradox about my father was that he cared enough for me not to get hurt unless it came at his own drunken hands. But that was just fine with me since I got to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. He of course introduced me to fast-style Turkish food along peanuts, improvised stews and salads. Until I began living with him I didn't truly know what an olive was or how much better salt makes food taste. Strong cups of Turkish tea found its way into my hands every morning and so did the occasional glass of carbonated radish juice, yogurt drink and beer. Then as I became a troubled teen who was too much for him to handle he began to neglect my nutrition and instead feed me KFC day in, day out. It would be years later before I would realise that all the excess weight I gained during those years was due to the increasingly poor diet; I went from a slender good looking athletic type to a very fat and unattractive young man. As charming as I was I couldn't get a girlfriend for years because of it. Years! Once I realised exactly what the problem was I took on every challenge I could to better myself with the staple of life; long before I truly understood the science behind flavours, textures, mixes and temperatures I managed to educate my palette until I had my very own language when it came to cooking and eating.

To be continued...